Were beth they biforen us weren,Hound{.e}s ladden and havek{.e}s beren, And hadden feld and wod{.e}? The rich{.e} levedies in hoer{.e} bour, That wereden gold in hoer{.e} tressour, With hoer{.e} brightt{.e} rod{.e};
Eten and drounken, and maden hem glad;Hoere lif was al with gamen i-lad, Men kneleden hem biforen; They beren hem wel swith{.e} hey{.e}; And in a twincling of an ey{.e} Hoere soul{.e}s weren forloren.
Were is that lawhing and that song,That trayling and that proud{.e} gong, Tho havek{.e}s and tho hound{.e}s? Al that joye is went away, That wele is comen to weylaway, To manie hard{.e} stound{.e}s.
Hoere paradis they nomen her{.e},And nou they lien in helle i-fer{.e}; The fuir hit brenn{.e}s hever{.e}: Long is ay, and long is o, Long is wy, and long is wo; Thenn{.e}s ne cometh they never{.e}.
Dreghy here man, thenn{.e}, if thou wilt,A luitel pine that me the bit; Withdrau thine eys{.e}s ofte; They thi pine be oun-rede, And thou thenk{.e} on thi mede, Hit sal the thinken softe.
If that fend, that foul{.e} thing,Thorou wikk{.e} roun, thorou fals egging, There ne there the haveth I-cast, Oup, and be god chaunpioun! Stond, ne fal namore adoun For a luytel blast!
Thou take the rode to thi staf,And thenk on him that thereoune yaf His lif that wes so lef: He hit yaf for the; thou yelde hit him; Agein his fo, that staf thou nim, And wrek him of that thef!
Of rightte bileve thou nim that sheld,The wil{.e}s that thou best in that feld, Thin hond to strenkthen fonde, And kep thy fo with stav{.e}s ord, And do that traytre scien that word; Biget that murie londe.
There-inne is day with-outen night,With-outen end{.e}, strenkthe and might, And wreche of everich fo; Mid god him-selwen ech{.e} lif, And pes and rest without{.e} strif, Wel{.e} with-outen wo.
Mayden moder, heven{.e} quene,Thou might and const, and owest to bene Oure sheld agein the fende: Help ous sunn{.e} for to flen, That we moten thi sone I-seen, In joy{.e} with-outen hende. Amen!
