| The dubberment dere of down and dales
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| Of wode and water and wlonk plaines
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| Bilde in me bliss, abated my bales
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| Forbidden my stress, destroyed my paines
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| Down after a strem that drightly hales
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| I bowed in bliss, bredful my branes
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| The firre I folwed those floty vales
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| The more strength of joye myn herte straines
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| As fortune fares theras ho fraines
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| Whether solace ho sende other elles sore
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| The wye to wham hir wille ho waines
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| Hittes to have ay more and more
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| More of wele was in that wise
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| Than I couth telle thagh I tom hade
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| For erthly herte might not suffise
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| To the tenthe dole of tho gladness glade
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| For thy I thoght that paradise
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| Was there other gain tho bonkes brade
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| I hoped the water were a devise
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| Between mirthes by meres made
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| Beyonde the brook, by slent other slade
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| I hoped that mote inerked wore
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| Bot the water was depe, I dorst not wade
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| And ever me longed ay more and more
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| More and more and yet well mare
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| Me liste to see the brook beyonde
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| For if hit was fair there I can fare
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| Well loveloker was the firre londe
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| Aboute me con I stote and stare
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| To finde a forth faste con I fonde
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| Bot wothes mo ywis there ware
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| The firre I stalled by the stronde
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| And ever me thoght I shokle not wonde
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| For wo there weles so winne wore
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| Thenne newe note me com on honed
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| That meved my minde more and more |