After he walketh softely a pas,
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Compleyning, that hit pite was to here.
He seyde, "O lady bright, Venus! alas!
That ever so wyde a compas is my spere!
Alas! whan shal I mete yow, herte dere,
This twelfte day of April I endure,
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Through Ielous Phebus, this misaventure."
Now god helpe sely Venus allone!