So, through his sorwe and hevy thoght,
510
Made him that he ne herde me noght;
For he had wel nigh lost his minde,
Thogh Pan, that men clepe god of kinde,
Were for his sorwes never so wrooth.
But at the laste, to sayn right sooth,
515
He was war of me, how I stood
Before him, and dide of myn hood,