  A lover sate alone All by the Golden Gate, And made exceedynge moan Whiles he hys Love didde wait. To him One coming prayed Why he didde weepe. Said he, “I weepe me for a maid Who cometh notte to mee.” “Alas! I waite likewise My Love these many years; Meseems ’t would save our eyes If we should pool our tears.” And so they weeped full sore A twelvemonth and a daye, Till they could weepe no more, For notte a tear hadde they. Whenas they came to see They could not weepe alway, Each of hys Faire Ladyee ’Gan sing a rondelay. “My Love hath golden hair,” Sang one, “and like the wine The red lips of my Fair.” The other sang, “So’s mine.” “My Love is wondrous wise,” Sang one, “and wondrous fine And wondrous dark her eyes.” The other sang, “So’s mine.” “My Love is wondrous proud, And her name is Geraldyne.” “Thou liest!” shrieked aloud The other. “She is mine!” “She plighted ere I died Eternal troth to me.” “Good lack,” the other cried, “E’en so she plighted me!” “Beside my bier she swore She would be true to me, For aye and evermore, Unto eternityee.” The twain didde then agree, In their most grievous plight, To fly to earth and see The which of them was right. Alack and well-a-daye! A-well-a-daye alack! Eft soons they flew away, Eft sooners flew they back. For when they had come there They were not fain to stay, To Geraldyne the Faire Her silver weddyng daye. |
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