So was the love that Merow taught to me.
“The days of my delight had passed like wind
Over the water, and had died away;
My lutanists and falconers were far;
And I sat lonely and a prisoner,
With Praetextatus, guarded carefully,
When Merow came to Rouen with a troop
Of young, light-hearted warriors, the close
Friends of his venturous youth and confidence.
How could he look on me with gentle eyes