355
As, about noon, the sonne so fervently
Wex hoot, that [al] the prety tender floures
Had lost the beautè of hir fresh coloures,
For-shronk with hete; the ladies eek to-brent,
That they ne wist where they hem might bestow.
360
The knightës swelt, for lak of shade ny shent;
And after that, within a litel throw,
The wind began so sturdily to blow,