the lady blanche, regardless of all her lovers’ fears,

to the ursuline convent hastens, and long the abbess hears.

“o blanche, my child, repent ye of the courtly life ye lead.”

blanche looked on a rosebud, and little seem’d to heed.

she looked on the rosebud, she looked round and thought

on all her heart had whisper’d, and all the nun had taught.

“i am worshipped by lovers, and brightly shines my fame,

all christendom resoundeth the noble blanche’s name.

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nor shall i quickly wither like the rosebud from the tree,

my queen-like graces shining when my beauty’s gone from me.

but when the sculptured marble is raised o’er my head,

and the matchless blanche lies lifeless among the noble dead,

this saintly lady abbess hath made me justly fear

it nothing will avail me that i was worshipp’d here.”