| [Poems from the Vernon MS] | ||
Oure ladi seyde: “His herte was stif,
And mekely suffrede al her fare;
Monnus soule him was ful lef,
Wiþ his blod he bouȝte hem þare.
He seiȝ me stonde in serwe & gref,
Wiþ wepyng and wiþ muche care:
Mi serwe dude him more gref
Þen alle þe peynes he suffrede þare.
And mekely suffrede al her fare;
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Wiþ his blod he bouȝte hem þare.
He seiȝ me stonde in serwe & gref,
Wiþ wepyng and wiþ muche care:
Mi serwe dude him more gref
Þen alle þe peynes he suffrede þare.
“And þat was ful wel I-sene,
Whon he tok me to seynt Ion;
Meke he was, wiþ-outen wene,
Þat tyme he loked me vppon.
Þen wox my serwe couþ and grene,
Of anguissche I mai make my mon.
I wol þe telle al be-deene
His harde peynes euerichon.
Whon he tok me to seynt Ion;
Meke he was, wiþ-outen wene,
Þat tyme he loked me vppon.
Þen wox my serwe couþ and grene,
Of anguissche I mai make my mon.
I wol þe telle al be-deene
His harde peynes euerichon.
| [Poems from the Vernon MS] | ||