| [Poems from the Vernon MS] | ||
“Ladi,” seide Bernard, “God ȝelde hit þe!
Tel me more of Myn askyng:
Þi swete sone, what dude he?
Whi nolde he stonde wiþ fihtynge?
Bi kynde skil I may wel se
He mihte hem alle to deþe bringe.
Swete ladi, tel þou me
Al his semblaunt and his berynge!”
Tel me more of Myn askyng:
Þi swete sone, what dude he?
Whi nolde he stonde wiþ fihtynge?
Bi kynde skil I may wel se
He mihte hem alle to deþe bringe.
Swete ladi, tel þou me
Al his semblaunt and his berynge!”
| [Poems from the Vernon MS] | ||