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Perle, plesaunte to prynces paye
To clanly clos in golde so clere;
Oute of oryent, I hardyly saye.
Ne proved I never her precios pere.
So rounde, so reken in uche araye,
So smal, so smothe her sydes were,
Quere-so-ever I jugged gemmes gaye,
I sette hyr sengely in synglere.
Allas! I leste hyr in on erbere;
Thurgh gresse to ground hit fro me yot,
I dewyne, fordolked of luf-daungere
Of that pryvy perle wythouten spot.

Sythen in that spote hit fro me sprange,
Ofte haf I wayted, wyschande that wele,
That wont was whyle devoyde my wrange
And heven my happe and al my hele.
That dos bot thrych my hert thrange
Mr brest in bale bot bolne and bele.
Yet thoght me never so swete a sange
As stylle stounde let me stele,
For sothe there fleten to me fele,
To thenke hir color so clad in clot,
O moul, thou marres a myry juele,
My privy perle wyhouten spotte.




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Pearl, to delight a prince's day,
Flawlessly set in gold so fair
In all the East, I dare to say,
I have not found one to compare.
So round, so radiant in array,
So small, so smooth her contours were,
Wherever I judged jewels gay
I set her worth as truly rare.
I lost her in a garden where
Through grass she fell to earthen plot;
Wounded by love beyond repair
I mourn that pearl without a spot.

Since from that spot it fled that day
I waited oft, in hope to see
What once could drive my gloom away
And charge my very soul with glee;
But heavy on my heart it lay
And filled my breast with misery.
Yet no song ever seemed so gay
As that quiet hour let steal to me
Though in my heart one thought ran free,
Her fresh face wrapped in earthly clot;
Earth, you have marred her purity,
My secret pearl without a spot.


Pearl, pleasing [enough] to satisfy a prince, set skillfully in gold so fine; out of the entire East, I am bold to say, I have never found her peer. So round and radiant in each display, so small and smooth were her sides, [that] whatever I judged bright jewels I considered her alone quite unique. Alas! I lost her in a garden; through the grass into the earth she went from me; I pine away, injured by love's power, for that secret pearl without a spot.

Since in that spot it sprang from me. I have often waited in great longing [for] that which used to remove my sadness and lift my happiness and my contentment. This [grieving] strikes me to the heart; my breast in affliction swells and festers. Yet I thought that [there never was] so sweet a song as that quiet moment let steal to me [and which] truly flowed to my senses. To think of her colour [i.e. her face] so enclosed in clay. O earth, you mar a lovely jewel, my secret pearl without a spot.

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