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Updated: June 8, 2025
For he was making a sirvente in praise of Guenevere. So Duke Jurgen of Logreus duly rhapsodized of his Phyllida. "I borrow for my dear love the appellation of that noted but by much inferior lady who was beloved by Ariphus of Belsize," he explained.
He saw the icy caverns in which the hail-stones lie piled in monstrous bags, the lightning-bolts in their crystal jars, and even the prisoned storm-winds. You may be sure that, when he could so arrange it, Phyllida's garden had quite the finest variety of weather. For Eye-o and Ear-o would tell him about her. "Tell me, what is Phyllida doing?" Giles would say again and again.
A few days passed, and Giles, wandering here and there through the quiet house, felt very lonely indeed. Finally he could stand it no longer, and said to himself, "Phyllida must be on her way home now; I shall walk down the highway and meet her." So he turned all the animals loose in the fields, and putting a few slices of bread and cheese in his pockets, set forth upon the road.
Such a poem is Nicholas Breton's ever charming Phyllida and Corydon, printed above his signature in England's Helicon.
When the festival was over, the enchanter and the wonderful animals went back, loaded with royal gifts, to their own little house and lived happily there to a good old age. Once upon a time a young husband and wife named Giles and Phyllida lived in a cottage in the heart of a great plain.
At the end of an hour's ascent, he found himself at a turn from which the Thunder Valley, the chasm through which it opened into the plain, and the wide plain itself, could all be seen. Giles lingered there a while, trying to see his own cottage, or perhaps Phyllida on her white horse; but he could see neither one nor the other. So he began to climb again.
And because somewhere in the heart of this dark valley storms were brewed, whose dark clouds, laden with lightning and hail, poured from between the crags of the valley out over the land, this valley was known as the Valley of Thunder. According to an old legend, out of this valley a king should one day come to rule over the people of the plain. Giles and Phyllida kept house by themselves.
"That's the way with Chloe and Phyllida in Arcadia," said her father. "But not here," said Betty. "In the house, I was detained a little while, for the housekeeper wanted me to explain my recipe for taking out the grease spots." "A little while, sister?" said Harriet. "It was through the dancing of three minuets, and the country dance had long been begun."
And Eye-o would answer, "She is out in the garden gathering plums"; or, "she is in the kitchen making gingerbread." And then Giles would say to Ear-o, "Tell me, what is Phyllida saying?" And Ear-o would answer, "'Oh, would that my lad were home!" Two years passed, and Giles, who had found no opportunity of escape, began to lose hope of doing so. Never again, he feared, would he see Phyllida.
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