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[Chronicle of Fabyan]

[by Robert Fabyan

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[Myrrour to the Churche/and of the Countrey the strength.]
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[Myrrour to the Churche/and of the Countrey the strength.]

Myrrour to the Churche/and of the Countrey the strength.
Compassion of Gylty/to them shewynge mercy.
A fader & a leche/an herd and louer at length.
Of his people/cosyn to vertu and of allye.
In feyth and in hert/and eke in mouth holy.
Of whom the flesshe nowe holdith this Sepulture.
But the Spirite is in heuen euer to endure.
To this nothynge noyed/nor faute of sepulture.
He lyueth southly/for deth which he not drede.
Hath hym hense tane/but yet he hoped sure.
This right wyse man/thoughe sometyme he were ladde.
As a bryttell vessell which with the erth was cladde.
And sōme whyle felle/yet efte he rose a noone.
Wherfore he nowe shyneth as doth an Orient stoone.
By helpe and meryte nowe hath the dumbe his speche.
Of this blessyd man/And to the blynde his sight.
Restorid of God/as this daye doth vs teche.
And he of the Flesshe hath gotten nowe the fyght.
And vpper hande with a trihumphant myght.
By vertue whereof/he lyke a conquerour.
Of the highe Heuyn nowe sittith in the Tower.