[MS. Harl. No. 2253, fol. 73, r°. of the reign of Edw. II.]

Alle that beoth of huerte trewe,
A stounde herkneth to my song,
Of duel that deth hath diht us newe,
That maketh me syke ant sorewe among;
Of a knyht that wes so strong,
Of wham God hath don ys wille:
Me thuncheth that deth hath don us wrong,
That he so sone shal ligge stille.
Al Englond ahte for te knowe
Of wham that song is that y synge;--
Of Edward kyng that lith so lowe,
ӡent al this world is nome con springe.
Trewest mon of alle thinge,
Ant in werre war ant wys,
For him we ahte oure honden wrynge,
Of Christendome he ber the prys.
Byfore that oure kyng wes ded,
He speke ase mon that wes in care,--

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