Wide were his shoulders, and small his girdle's span,
His hair close-curled, and very fair to scan,
In all the world is not so fine a man.
Erembours saw him, and so to weep began.
Ha, Reynault, ha, true love!
Count Reynault mounts into her highest towers
And sets him on a bed of broidered flowers,
And close beside him sits fair Erembours.
Then they take up their loves of former hours.
Ha, Reynault, ha, true love!