From “The Man of Study's Prologue” by Edyth leBelle

WHAN that Aprille with his shoures soote
The droghte of Marche hath perced to the roote,
And bathed every veyne in swich licour,
Of which vertu engendred is the flour;
Bifel that, in that sesoun, on a day,
In Godstow at the Abby as I lay
Redy to wenden on aventure
To fayre France wyth no chaunce secure,
At night was come in-to their hostelrye
Wel nyne and thirty in a compaignye.

There wer among hem scolars bright,
Ane of the most strong did Stanley hight,
Who wended with his cossin fayre Adele,
The one he loued nat wyselie but to wele,
Who came the seynted Edith for to seke;
With swete breeth and countenaunce meke.
Both wer the woorth of olde rauenes halle
And sawght in felawschipe what might hem y-fall.

And nowe I tell yow of the tragedye
Of head and herte that Stanley from studye
Drew into the londes where fowl ickor dwelt,
And battailed with it whiles his cossin knelt
Sekyng that which onelie seyntes could giue;
That reysed hir up to dye whiles Stanley liued,
Though chaunged, as they tell me, into fey,
So he could pass a decade as a day.
He hir watched grow in feyth and in powr
As he rebuilt old Camylottes tower,
Feryng shee unwitting chose the waye
Of that old godde they had had to slaie.
“Nat yet,” and then “nat yet” again quod he
As he hir watched in his unyielding eie,
And he her gaue all that he had to giue,
Thynking he culd do nothing els but liue
And loue the one he culd nat taick to wife;
Knawing one dai he wulde haue to wield the knife.