When I was held in the pavilion
Of my very noble and beautiful lady,
I felt myself burnt in the candle’s flame,
As the butterfly does:
   I blushed like vermillion,
In the brightness of a spark,
When I was held in the pavilion
Of my very noble and beautiful lady.
   If I had been merlin
Or had I strong enough wings,
I would have guarded myself from she
Who struck me with the sting
When I was held in the pavilion.