Geoffrey Chaucer

“ THE STORY
120This forseid African me hente anoon,
121And forth with him unto a gate broghte
122Right of a parke, walled of grene stoon;
123And over the gate, with lettres large y-wroghte,
124Ther weren vers y-writen, as me thoghte,
125On eyther halfe, of ful gret difference,
126Of which I shal yow sey the pleyn sentence.
127'Thorgh me men goon in-to that blisful place
128Of hertes hele and dedly woundes cure;
129Thorgh me men goon unto the welle of Grace,
130Ther grene and lusty May shal ever endure ”

“ Nature held on hir honde
373A formel egle, of shap the gentileste
374That ever she among hir werkes fonde,
375The moste benigne and the goodlieste;
376In hir was every vertu at his reste,
377So ferforth, that Nature hir-self had blisse
378To loke on hir, and ofte hir bek to kisse. ”