Song II

Like some rare queen of old romance Who loved the gleam of helm and lance Is she. A harper of King Arthur's days Should praise her in a hundred lays: The queen of Love and Chivalry— O Dieu te garde, mon coeur, ma vie. And crown-wise plaited is her hair, No crown of woven gold more fair Could be. And very queen-like, too, the smile That lightens every little while A face too fair for men to see, O Dieu te garde, mon coeur, ma vie. She is not over kind, I know; The queens were gracious long ago, Ah me! Queen Guenevere would give a kiss Ofttimes to Launcelot, I wis— I would that I were loved as he! O Dieu te garde, mon coeur, ma vie.