UBI SUNT QUI ANTE NOS FUERUNT?
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!
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!