Quand je fus pris au pavillon
When taken to her retreat
Charles Orléans
When taken to her retreat
By my lady, well-born and fair,
I was scorched by the candle's heat
As butterflies are everywhere.
My confusion was complete
Under her eyes' lightning glare
When taken to her retreat
By my lady, well-bred and fair.
Had I been a merlin fleet
Or with wings to cleave the air,
I would have saved myself from her
Who pricked me with her spur
When taking me in her retreat.
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