And throstles sang, would have no rest. 
  He pressed to pull fruit with his hand,
    As man for food that was near faint. 130
  She said “Thomas, thou let them stand,[34]
    Or else the fiend thee will attaint! 
  If thou it pluck, soothly to say,
    Thy soul goes to the fire of hell;
  It comes never out or Doomesday, 135
    But there in pain aye for to dwell. 
  Thomas, soothly, I thee hight[35],
    Come lay thy head down on my knee,
  And thou shalt see the fairest sight
    That ever saw man of thy country.” 140
  He did in hight[36] as she him bade;
    Upon her knee his head he laid,
  For her to pay[37] he was full glad,
    And then that lady to him said: 
  “Seest thou[38] now yon fair[39] way, 145
    That lieth over yon high mountain? 
  Yon is the way to heaven for aye
    When sinful souls are past their pain. 
  Seest thou now yon other way,
    That lieth low beneath yon rise[40]? 150
  Yon is the way, thee sooth to say,
    Unto the joy of Paradise. 
  Seest thou yet yon thirde way,
    That lieth under yon greene plain? 
  Yon is the way, with teen and tray[41], 155
    Where sinful soules suffer their pain. 
  But seest thou now yon fourthe way,
    That lieth over yon deepe dell? 
  Yon is the way, so wellaway! 
    Unto the burning fire of hell. 160
  Seest thou yet yon fair castel,
    That standeth over yon highe hill? 
  Of town and tower it bears the bell,
    In earth is none like it untill. 
  For sooth, Thomas, yon is mine own, 165
    And the king’s of this country;
  But me were lever[42] be hanged and drawn
    Or that[43] he wist thou lay me by. 
  When thou com’st to yon castle gay,
    I pray thee courteous man to be, 170
  And whatso any man to thee say,
    Look thou answer none but me. 
  My lord is served at each mess
    With thirty knightes fair and free;
  I shall say, sitting at the dess[44], 175
    I took thy speech beyond the sea.” 
  Thomas still as stone he stood,
    And he beheld that lady gay;
  She came again as fair and good
    And also rich on her palfrey. 180
  Her grewhounds filled with deer-blood;
    Her raches coupled, by my fay;
  She blew her horn with main and mood[45];
    Unto the castle she took the way. 
  Into the hall soothly she went; 185
    Thomas followed at her hand;
  Then ladies came, both fair and gent,
    With courtesy to her kneeland[46]. 
  Harp and fithel both they fand[47],
    Gittern and also the sawtery[48], 190