For pricking on the softé gras,
So fierce was his couráge,
That down he laid him in that place
To maken his stedé som solace,
And gave him good foráge.
Ah, Seinte Mary, benedicite,
What aileth this love at me
To bindé me so sore?
Me dreaméd all this night pardé,
An elf-queen shal my leman be,