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This Sowdanesse, whom I thus blame and warye, |
| Leet prively hir conseil goon hir way. |
| What sholde I in this tale lenger tarie? |
375 | She rydeth to the Sowdan on a day, |
| And seyde hym, that she wolde reneye hir lay, |
| And cristendom of preestes handes fonge, |
| Repentynge hir she hethen was so longe; |
|
| Now this sultana whom I blame and harry, |
| Let, secretly, her council go their way. |
| Why should I longer in my story tarry? |
375 | She rode unto the sultan, on a day, |
| And told him she'd renounce her old faith, yea, |
| Be christened at priests' hands, with all the throng, |
| Repentant she'd been heathen for so long. |
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