In the gloom of the stern castles of Windsor and of Bolingbroke, in the Tower of London, side by side with his gaolers, he lived and moved in the world of phantasy of the _Romance of the Rose_.

Venus, Cupid, Hope, Fair-Welcome, Pleasure, Pity, Danger, Sadness, Care, Melancholy, Sweet-Looks were around the desk, on which, in the deep embrasure of a window, beneath the sun's rays, he wrote his ballads, as delicate and fresh as an illumination on the page of a manuscript.

For him it was the world of allegory that really existed.

He wandered in the forest of Long Expectation; he embarked on the vessel Good Tidings.

He was a poet; Beauty was his lady; and courteously did he sing of her.