I. Engles, I compose a new “discord”, remembering you in whom I find comfort in my dire straits, for love wounds me deeply with its lance, just as it wounds you, save that you have joy and pleasure of it and I tribulation. And my trust in my lady would have inflicted on me a fate worse than death, but a happy leave-taking delivered me from the compact she had broken; for in contention I parted from her, with the guilt on her side, but afterwards she sought reconciliation with me, wherein I have fair hopes.
II. She thought, it seems, to punish me grievously, for she placed her love in jeopardy, whence I could expect to die. Without a doubt, Andrew of France did not surrender so graciously, for there was gladness for me in the assurance, as best as I could understand it,
III. that I should never lose her nor love another, and that I could remain sure of her, wherever I went, for she would hold her heart ever close to mine.
IV. If I could but reach her, my Fair Knight truly raised me high when she was pleased to gird upon me the sword wherewith to destroy jealous slanderers. She is fair, yet does not paint her face, and no clever, high-born prattler can give himself airs on this account. She may justly constrain me, for she is my sovereign lady, and she alone.
V. But however much she constrains me, no more will I bewail any hurt which comes to me from her, but I will thank her for my good fortune, and will shout the noble war-cry of her name. And if she deigns to take me, I shall come to her stealthily,
VI. in the manner of Tristan, who turned watchman, until Yseut went to him. May I deserve to die by the sword, if ever I should reveal so great an honour, were it granted me, so that he is foolish who should ever watch me for this.
