I, hight Gonzalo de Bercéo, going

"I, hight Gonzalo de Bercéo, going On pilgrimage, came one day to a mead, Green, and well-peopled with fair plants, which blowing Made it a place desirable indeed To a tired traveller; the sweet-scented flowers Gave forth a smell that freshened not alone Men's faces, but their fancies, whilst in showers Clear flowing fountains to the sky were thrown, Each singing to itself as on it rolled, Warm in midwinter, and in summer cold." BERCÉO.

"It was the month of May, a glorious tide, When merry music make the birds in boughs, Dressed are the meads with beauty far and wide, And sighs the ladye that has not a spouse: Tide sweet for marriages; flowers and fresh winds Temper the clime; in every village near Young girls in bevies sing, and with blythe minds Make each to each good-wishes of the year. Young maids and old maids, all are out of doors, Melting with love, to gather flowers at rest Of noon—they whisper each to each, amours Are good—and the most tender deem the best."