Guido Orlando, Singing
Befits me praise thine empery,
Lady of Valour,
Past all disproving;
Thou art the flower to me—
Nay, by Love’s pallor—
Of all good loving.
Worthy to reap men’s praises
Is he who’d gaze upon
Truth’s mazes.
In like commend is he,
Who, loving fixedly,
Love so refineth,
Till thou alone art she
In whom love’s vested;
As branch hath fairest flower
Where fruit’s suggested.
This great joy comes to me,
To me observing
How swiftly thou hast power
To pay my serving.