400 |
To every wight she woxen is so deere |
| And worshipful, that folk ther she was bore |
| And from hir birthe knewe hir yeer by yeere, |
| Unnethe trowed they, - but dorste han swore - |
| That she to Janicle, of which I spak bifore, |
405 | She doghter nere, for as by conjecture, |
| Hem thoughte she was another creature. |
|
400 |
To everyone she soon became so dear |
| And worshipful, that folk where she had dwelt |
| And from her birth had known her, year by year, |
| Although they could have sworn it, scarcely felt |
| That to Janicula, with whom I've dealt, |
405 | She really was a daughter, for she seemed |
| Another creature now, or so they deemed. |
|