Farre in the countrey of Arden,
There won'd[988] a knight, hight Cassemen,
As bolde as Isenbras:
Fell[989] was he, and eger bent,
In battell and in tournament,5
As was the good Sir Topas.
He had, as antique stories tell,
A daughter cleaped[990] Dowsabel,
A mayden fayre and free:
And for she was her fathers heire,10
Full well she was y-cond the leyre[991]
Of mickle curtesie.
The silke well couth she twist and twine,
And make the fine march-pine,[992]
And with the needle werke:15
And she couth helpe the priest to say
His mattins on a holy-day,
And sing a psalme in kirke.
She ware a frock of frolicke greene,
Might well beseeme a mayden queene,20
Which seemly was to see;
A hood to that so neat and fine,
In colour like the colombine,
Y-wrought full featously.[993]
Her features all as fresh above,25
As is the grasse that growes by Dove;
And lyth[994] as lasse of Kent.
Her skin as soft as Lemster wooll,[995]
As white as snow on Peakish Hull,[996]
Or swanne that swims in Trent.30
This mayden in a morne betime
Went forth, when May was in her prime,
To get sweete cetywall,[997]
The honey-suckle, the harlocke,[998]
The lilly and the lady-smocke,35
To deck her summer hall.
Thus, as she wandred here and there,
Y-picking of the bloomed breere,
She chanced to espie
A shepheard sitting on a bancke,40
Like chanteclere he crowed crancke,[999]
And pip'd full merrilie.
He lear'd[1000] his sheepe as he him list,
When he would whistle in his fist,
To feede about him round;45
Whilst he full many a carroll sung,
Untill the fields and medowes rung,
And all the woods did sound.