But never durst he tell her his grievánce; Withoutë cup he drank all his penánce. He was despaired, nothing durst he say, Save in his songës somewhat would he wray 3268 His woe, as in a general cómplainíng; He said, he lov’d, and was belov’d nothing. Of suchë matter made he many lays, Songës, complaintës, roundels, virëlays; 3269 How that he durstë not his sorrow tell, But languished, as doth a Fury in hell; And die he must, he said, as did Echo For Narcissus, that durst not tell her woe. In other manner than ye hear me say, He durstë not to her his woe bewray, Save that paráventure sometimes at dances, Where youngë folkë keep their óbservánces, It may well be he looked on her face In such a wise, as man that asketh grace, But nothing wistë she of his intent. Nath’less it happen’d, ere they thennës 3270 went,