| [Poems from the Vernon MS] | ||
Þat tyde twelf-Moneþ at Masse he stod
Holyliche wiþ deuociun good:
And in þat same tyde apliht
He sayȝ a swiþe selli siht,
A comeli ladi, so dresset and diht
Þat al þe world of hire schon briht,
Comeli Corouned as a Qweene,
Tweyn Angeles ladden hire hem bi-twene.
He was so Rauischt of þat siht,
Al-most for Ioye he swounede riht.
He fel doun flat bi-foren hire feet,
Þe teres of his eȝen he doun leet,
He grette hire wiþ wel mylde steuene
And seyde: “ladi, Qween of heuene,
Moodur of Ihesu, Mylde Marie,
ffor my moodur Merci I crie.”
Holyliche wiþ deuociun good:
And in þat same tyde apliht
He sayȝ a swiþe selli siht,
A comeli ladi, so dresset and diht
Þat al þe world of hire schon briht,
Comeli Corouned as a Qweene,
Tweyn Angeles ladden hire hem bi-twene.
He was so Rauischt of þat siht,
Al-most for Ioye he swounede riht.
He fel doun flat bi-foren hire feet,
Þe teres of his eȝen he doun leet,
267
And seyde: “ladi, Qween of heuene,
Moodur of Ihesu, Mylde Marie,
ffor my moodur Merci I crie.”
| [Poems from the Vernon MS] | ||