That in his herte brende as any fyr
So woodly, that his wit was al forgeten.
For wel, thoghte he, she sholde nat be geten
And ay the more that he was in dispair,
1755
The more he coveteth and thoghte her fair.
His blinde lust was al his covetinge.
[A-morwe, whan the brid began to singe],
Unto the sege he comth ful privily,
(80)