| [Poems from the Vernon MS] | ||
“Graunt Merci, dame, God ȝelde hit þe,
Wyf and Maiden, Moder Milde,
Þat þou hast so muche i-told me
Of serwe of þe and of þi chylde!
Now am I siker, wher þat I teo,
In wode, in water or in felde,
To make þe foule fend to fleo,
Þat euer was so wod and wylde.
Wyf and Maiden, Moder Milde,
Þat þou hast so muche i-told me
Of serwe of þe and of þi chylde!
Now am I siker, wher þat I teo,
In wode, in water or in felde,
To make þe foule fend to fleo,
Þat euer was so wod and wylde.
“Ladi, for þi muchele wo,
Þat neuere no tonge may of telle,
Þe serwe of þe and him also
Þat him dude þe Iewes felle:
Leeue vs neuere skape þer-fro,
But euer-more In ioye to dwelle;
Whon we schul dye and henne go,
Schilde vs from þe pyne of helle!
Þat neuere no tonge may of telle,
Þe serwe of þe and him also
Þat him dude þe Iewes felle:
Leeue vs neuere skape þer-fro,
But euer-more In ioye to dwelle;
Whon we schul dye and henne go,
Schilde vs from þe pyne of helle!
| [Poems from the Vernon MS] | ||