My love, my faire, I dream of thee
Thine softest smile, golden haire
All things mine would I forsake
Of thy love might I partake
Faire Gwendolyn, easily, would I spurn
This broken kingdom sure return
My king, betrayal, I would not have shown
Had thy beauty then been known
And now with greate sorrow do I behold
Thy sweet love and fairness untold
Your servant in all things, Lancelot