And from all wandring loves, which mote pervart His safe assurance, strongly it restrayne.

Eftsoones they heard a most melodious sound, Of all that mote delight a daintie eare, Such as attonce might not on living ground, Save in this paradise, be heard elsewhere: Right hard it was for wight which did it heare, To read what manner of music that mote bee; For all that pleasing is to living eare Was there consorted in one harmonee; Birdes, voices, instruments, windes, waters, all agree.

In this so pleasant place the shepheards flocke Lay everie where, their wearie limbs to rest, On everie bush, and everie hollow rocke, 235 Where breathe on them the whistling wind mote best; The whiles the shepheard self, tending his stocke, Sate by the fountaine side, in shade to rest, Where gentle slumbring sleep oppressed him Displaid on ground, and seized everie lim.

En esa tumba, cuya inscripción es el mote de mi canto, reposa en paz el último barón de Fortcastell, Teobaldo de Montagut, del cual voy á referiros la peregrina historia.

The purest and most translucent salt water shows under certain luminous rays a multitude of little bodies as restless as the dust motes that dance in shafts of sunlight.

If ever I did honour thee aright, Or sing the thing that mote thy mind delight, Doe not thy servants simple boone refuse, But let this day, let this one day, be mine; 125 Let all the rest be thine.

So faire as mote the greatest god delite; Two eager dogs did her pursue in chace, Of which the one was blacke, the other white.

"Of clerks good plenty here you mote espy.

For had the equall hevens so much you graced In this as in the rest, ye mote invent* Some hevenly wit, whose verse could have enchased Your glorious name in golden moniment.

One day as I unwarily did gaze On those fayre eyes, my loves immortall light, The whiles my stonisht hart stood in amaze, Through sweet illusion of her lookes delight, I mote perceive how, in her glauncing sight, Legions of Loves with little wings did fly, Darting their deadly arrows, fyry bright, At every rash beholder passing by.

And from all wandring loves, which mote pervart His safe assurance, strongly it restrayne.

"But first, I pray you of your courtesy, That ye ne arrettee it nought my villainy, Though that I plainly speak in this mattere, To tellen you her words, and eke her chere: Ne though I speak her words properly, For this ye knowen as well as I, Who shall tellen a tale after a man, He mote rehearse as nye as ever he can: Everich word of it been in his charge, All speke he, never so rudely, ne large.

Cabbage tree : Mote yar : Nuytsia floribella :