But who ere saw, from night's dark bosome, spring A morne soe fayre and beautifull?

[From the Millere's Tale.] Fayre was this yongë wif, and therwithal As any wesel hire body gent and smal A seint she werëd, barrëd al of silk, A barm-cloth[50] eke as white as morne milk Upon hire lendës ful of many a gore, White was hire smok, and brouded al before And eke behind on hire colére aboute Of cole-black silk within and eke withoute.

Ces mornes visions troublent son coeur, pareil A la nuit.

Nay Gemulo and Silvio, contented bee: This night let me intreate ye you will take Such cheare as I and these poore Dames can make: To morrow morne weele bring you on your way.