She raught him a ring of rich red gold,
With a blazing stone that stóod high in bezel,
And blink’d as bright as the beams of the sun;
Weet ye well, it was worth wealth unmeasured.
But the knight refused it and said to that fair:
“I wish no gifts for good, my gay, at this time,
I have none to offer, and nought will I take.”
Then pray’d she the prince and press’d him again,
But he swore by his sooth, and still her denied,
And she was sorry he forsook and said at the last:
“If the ring ye refuse, for its semblance too rich,
And ye would not so highly be holden to me,
I shall give you my girdle; your gain is the less.”
She took lightly a lace that loop’d round her body,
Knit on her kirtle, under mantle so clear,
A green silk girdle with pendants of gold,
Fair gauds and golden gear’d at the edges.
Then gaily again the girdle she offer’d,
A trifle unworthy, woúld he but take it.
But he would not (quoth he) anywise in the world
Either gold or gersom, ere God him vouchsafe
The chance to achieve that he had thére chòsen.
“And therefore, I pray, may it not displease you,
Let bé your business, to your boon shall I never
agree.
Full well my debt I know
For your blithe courtesy,
And whatever wind may blow
Your servant shall I be.”