or such a wench. Full brighter was the shining of her hue, Than in the Tower the noble 971 forged new. But of her song, it was as loud and yern, 972 As any swallow chittering on a bern. 973 Thereto 974 she couldë skip, and make a game, 975 As any kid or calf following his dame. Her mouth was sweet as braket, 976 or as methe, 977 Or hoard of apples, laid in hay or heath. Wincing 978 she was as is a jolly colt, Long as a mast, and upright as a bolt. A brooch she bare upon her low collére,