“I, Gonzalo de Bercéo, in the gentle summer-tide,

Wending upon a pilgrimage, came to a meadow’s side;

All green was it and beautiful, with flowers far and wide,

A pleasant spot, I ween, wherein the traveller might abide.

Flowers with the sweetest odors filled all the sunny air,

And not alone refreshed the sense, but stole the mind from care;