Under the light of Phebus bemes clere.
And so, for anguisshe of my paynes kene,
And for constraynte of my sighes sore,
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I sette me doun under a laurer grene
Ful pitously; and alway more and more,
As I beheld into the holtes hore,
I gan complayne myn inward deedly smerte,
That ay so sore †crampisshed myn herte.
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