"Bewailing in his chamber thus alone,"
despairing of all joy and remedy, "for, tired of thought and
wobegone," he had wandered to the window, to indulge the captive's
miserable solace of gazing wistfully upon the world from which he is
excluded. The window looked forth upon a small garden which lay at the
foot of the tower. It was a quiet, sheltered spot, adorned with arbors
and green alleys, and protected from the passing gaze by trees and
hawthorn hedges.
Now was there made, fast by the tower's wall,
A garden faire, and in the corners set
An arbour green with wandis long and small
Railed about, and so with leaves beset
Was all the place and hawthorn hedges knet,
That lyf* was none, walkyng there forbye
That might within scarce any wight espye.
So thick the branches and the leves grene,
Beshaded all the alleys that there were,
And midst of every arbour might be sene
The sharpe, grene, swete juniper,
Growing so fair, with branches here and there,
That as it seemed to a lyf without,
The boughs did spread the arbour all about.
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