And al mi uolc riche

Sette to fleme,

That nuste ich under Criste

Whar heo bicomen weoren.

Buten mi seolf ich gond atstonden
Uppen ane wolden

And ich ther wondrien agon
Wide yeond than moren.

Ther ich isah gripes
And grisliche fugheles.
Tha com an guldene leo
Lithen ouer dune.
Deoren swithe hende,
Tha ure Drihten make.
Tha leo me orn foren to,
And iueng me bi than midle,
And forth hire gun yeongen
And to there sae wende.
And ich isaeh thae vthen
I there sae driuen;
And the leo i than ulode
Iwende with me seolue.
Tha wit I sae comen,
Tha vthen me hire binomen.
Com ther an fisc lithe,
And fereden me to londe.
Tha wes ich al wet,

And weri of soryen, and seoc.

Tha gon ich iwakien
Swithe ich gon to quakien
Tha gon ich to binien

Swule ich al fur burne.

And swa ich habbe al niht

Of mine sweuene swithe ithoht;
For ich what to iwisse
Agan is al mi blisse;
For a to mine liue

Soryen ich mot drive.

Wale that ich nabbe here

Wenhauer mine quene!

And all my good people

Set to flight,

So that I wist not under Christ,
Where (that) they were gone.
But myself I gan stand
Upon a weald,

And I there gan to wander
Wide over the moors;
There I saw griffins,
And grisly fowls!

Then came a golden lion
Moving over the down ;-
A beast most noble,
That our Lord made;—
The (this) lion ran towards me,
And took me by the middle,
And forth gan her move
And to the sea went.
And I saw the waves

In the sea drive;

And the lion in the flood
Went with myself.

When we two came in the sea,
The waves took her from me;
But there came swimming a fisà,
And brought me to land.
Then was I all wet

And weary from sorrow,

When I gan wake

and sick.

Greatly I gan quake,
Then gan I to tremble
As if I all burnt with fire,
And so I have all night
Of my dream much thought,
For I wot to certainty

Y- gone is all my bliss;

For ever in my life

Sorrow I must bear.

Alas, that I have not here
Wenhaver, my queen!

That Riht hedde him i-demet wtouten endinge;

Al heo chaunged hire mood,
And bi-foren the kyng heo stood.
Fader, I the biseche, herkne to me;
I ne may for-bere to telle hit the
Hou hit me thinketh a wonder
thing

Of Merci my suster wilnyng,d

Justice now comes in

Riht i-herde this talkyng
Anon heo stod bifore the kyng.
Thi dougter' heo seith 'I am I
wot bi thou

For thou art kyng, riht domes-mon
Castel of Loue. Edit. by R. F.

* Delivered, handed over.

b Bent, boughed.

• Doomed.

4 Desire.

'Fader, Ich sigge the for-thi Thou ouhtest nougt to heere Merci Of no boone that heo bisecheth the, Bote Riht and Sooth ther-mide be. And thow louest Soth and hatest lees,

For of thi fulnesse i-comen Ich wes.
And eke thow art kyng Riht-wys,
And Merci herte so reuthful is
That gif heo may saue w hire
mylde speche

Al that heo wole fore bi-seche,
Neuer schal be mis-dede a-bouht
And thou kyng schalt be douted
rigt nouht.

Thou art also so trewe a kyng, And stable of thougt in alle thyng For-thi me-thinketh Merci wilneth

Woug

And speketh to-geynes Rigt i-noug.
For Riht con hym in prison bynde,
He ougte neuere milce to fynde;
Milce and Merci he hath for-loren,
He was warned ther-of bi-foren.
Whi scholde me helpe thulke mon
That nedde of himself pite non?
His dom he mot habbe, as Soth con
sugge

And al his misdede a-bugge.''

Ther beth righte domes mitte
Alle thine workes beth ful of witte
This thral of whom my sustren

mevyn

Hath [dom] deserued as ge gevyn. WEYMOUTH, Lond., 1864, pp. 15–18.

• Say.

Re-buy, pay the penalty for. With thee.