_Jack._ Seest thou not yon farmer's son?
He hath stoln my love from me, alas!
What shall I do? I am undone;
My heart will ne'er be as it was.
O, but he gives her gay gold rings,
And tufted gloves [for] holiday,
And many other goodly things,
That hath stoln my love away.
_Friend._ Let him give her gay gold rings
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem