men, as I guess; Men love of [proper] kind newfangleness, As birdës do, that men in cages feed. For though thou night and day take of them heed, And strew their cagë fair and soft as silk, And give them sugar, honey, bread, and milk, Yet, right anon as that his door is up, He with his feet will spurnë down his cup, And to the wood he will, and wormës eat; So newëfangle be they of their meat, And love novelties, of proper kind; No gentleness of bloodë may them bind. So far’d this tercëlet, alas the day! Though he were gentle born, and fresh, and gay, And goodly for to see, and humble, and free, He saw upon a time a kitë flee, And suddenly he loved this kite so, That all his love is clean from me y-go: And hath his trothë falsed in this wise. Thus hath the kite my love in her servíce, And I am lorn withoutë remedy.”
And with that word this falcon gan to cry, And swooned eft in Canacéë’s barme. Great was the sorrow, for that hawkë’s harm, That Canacé and all her women made; They wist not how they might the falcon glade. But Canacé home bare her in her lap, And softëly in plasters gan her wrap, There as she with her beak had hurt herselve. Now cannot Canacé but herbës delve Out of the ground, and makë salvës new Of