There would be no hell, there would be no sorrow,
There would be no fear, if it were not for me.
Tr. Kuno Meyer
"The kind Hart's Tears were falling." (stanza 7)
To day my Lord of Amiens, and my selfe,
Did steale behinde him as he lay along
Under an oake, whose anticke roote peepes out
Upon the brooke that brawles along this wood.
To the which place a poore sequestred Stag
That from the Hunter's aime had tane a hurt,