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But ay cleer day to any mannes sighte.

Under a tree, besyde a welle, I say

Cupyde our lord his arwes forge and fyle;

And at his fete his bowe al redy lay,

And wel his doghter tempred al the whyle

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The hedes in the welle, and with hir wyle

She couched hem after as they shulde serve,

Som for to slee, and som to wounde and kerve.