Through-out al the grene wode wyde.

'A! goode Nightingale!' quod I thenne,

'A litel hast thou been to longe henne;

For here hath been the lew[e]de Cukkow,

And songen songes rather than hast thou;

105

I pray to god that evel fyr him brenne!'

But now I wol you telle a wonder thing:

As longë as I lay in that swowning,

Me thoughte, I wiste what the briddes ment,