Ha, la belle blanche aubépine!
He smiteth a stave on his gold citole,
From her mangonel she looketh forth,
Ha, la belle blanche aubépine!
'Who is he spurreth so late to the north?'
Honneur à la belle Isoline!
Hark! for he speaketh a knightly name,
Ha, la belle blanche aubépine!
And her wan cheek glows as a burning flame,