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Dubbed wern alle tho downes sydes
Wyth crystal klyffes so cler of kynde.
Holtewodes bryghte aboute then bydes
Of bolles as blwe as ble of Ynde.
As bornyst sylver the lef onslydes,
That thike con trylle on uch a tynde.
Quen glem of glodes agayns hem glydes,
With schymeryng schene ful schrylle thay schynde.
The gravayl that on grounde con grynde
Wern precious perles of oryente,
The sunnebemes bot blo and blynde
In respecte of that adubbement.

The adubbement of tho downes dere
Garten my goste al greffe foryete.
So frech flavores of frytes were,
As fode hit con me fayre refete.
Fowles ther flowen in fryth in fere,
Of flaumbande hwes, both smale and grete.
Bot sytole-stryng and gyternere
Her reken myrthe moght not retrete;
Fir quen those bryddes her wynges bete,
Thay songen wyth a swete asent.
So gracios gle couthe no mon gete
As here and se her adubbement.

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In splendour shone those downland sides
Clear did those cliffs their nature show,
And, bright about them, woodland rides
With tree-trunks blue as indigo;
Like silver, each leave open slides
And gently flickers to and fro;
When broken cloud above them glides
With shimmering sheen I see them glow.
The gravel on the ground below
Was precious pearls of Orient light;
The sunlight's beams could scarcely show
Against that glorious splendour bright.

The splendour of those bright hills there
My spirit freed from my side fate;
Refreshing was the fragrance clear
Of fruits, as though of food I ate;
Birds flew in all the woodland near
Of myriad hue, both small and great,
Cytole and cithern none could hear
To match a sound so delicate;
The notes their wing-beats did create
Made sounds of such sweet delight
Such charm no man could fabricate,
As here in all their splendour bright.


Adorned those hillsides with crystal cliffs by nature bright. Lovely woods were set about them with tree-trunks as blue as indigo. The leaves, which quivered thickly on every branch, slid over each other like burnished silver. When the gleam from clear patches of sky glided over them they shone most brightly with a lovely shimmering. The gravel that crunched on the ground was precious pearls of the Orient. The beams from the sun were dark and dim compared with that splendour.

The splendour of those beloved hills made my spirit foresake all its grief. So fresh was the fragrance of the fruit that it refreshed me like food. Birds there flew in woodlands together, of gleaming colours, both small and great. Neither citole-string nor cithern player could reproduce their lovely harmony, for when those birds beat their wings they sang with a sweet accord. Such pleasing sound could no man capture as here, and see such splendour.

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