This knight, of whom my tale is specially, When that he saw he might not come thereby⁠— That is to say, what women love the most⁠— Within his breast full sorrowful was his ghost. 2057 But home he went, for he might not sojourn, The day was come, that homeward he must turn. And in his way it happen’d him to ride, In all his care, 2058 under a forest side, Where as he saw upon a dancë go Of ladies four-and-twenty, and yet mo’, Toward this ilkë 2059 dance he drew full yern, 2060 The hope that he some wisdom there should learn; But certainly, ere he came fully there, Y-vanish’d was this dance, he knew not where; No creaturë saw he that bare life, Save on the green he sitting saw a wife⁠— A fouler wight there may no man devise. 2061