For myrth of Phebus tendir bemës schene{2};
Swete war the vapouris, soft the morowing{3},
Halesum the vale, depaynt wyth flouris ying{4};
The air attemperit, sobir, and amene{5};
In quhite and rede was all the feld besene{6}
Throu Naturis nobil fresch anamalyng{7},
In mirthfull May, of eviry moneth Quene.

O reverend Chaucere, rose of rethoris{8} all,
As in oure tong ane flour{9} imperiall,
That raise{10} in Britane evir, quho redis rycht,
Thou beris of makaris{11} the tryúmph riall;
Thy fresch anamalit termës celicall{12}
This mater coud illumynit have full brycht;
Was thou noucht of oure Inglisch all the lycht,
Surmounting eviry tong terrestriall
Als fer as Mayis morow dois mydnycht?

O morall Gower, and Ludgate laureate,
Your sugurit lippis and tongis aureate{13}
Bene to oure eris cause of grete delyte;
Your angel mouthis most mellifluate{14}
Oure rude langage has clere illumynate,
And faire our-gilt{15} oure speche, that imperfýte
Stude, or{16} your goldyn pennis schupe{17} to wryte;
This ile before was bare, and desolate
Of rethorike, or lusty{18} fresch endyte{19}.

{Footnotes:
1: _dream_