Which late ffyl the sylve same yeer
A thousand toold ffro the Natiuite
Line 10
Off Cryst Jhesu by mevyng circuleer
Fourty and oon, at Londone the Cite;
That our lord of merciful pite
The twenty day monyth of Novembre
Lyst to renewe of his benignite
Line 15
A memoryal, as I can remembre,
With-inne the boundys of that towne
Maad his grace wit newe light to shyne,
To greet reiosshyng of al this regioun,
Vpon a day, pleynly to termyne,
Line 20
Off hym that is kyng, martir, and virgine,
Blyssed Edmond: whoos merytes to ag|gregge,
Our lord Jhesu, by grace which is divyne,
Wrought a myracle at Tempse vpon the bregge,
His gloryous martir ffor-to magneffye,
Line 25
Day of his ffeeste, at ffoure afftir|noon —
Thyng doon in opyn may nat gladly lye.
On that bregge, bylt of lym and stoon,
Chyldre to pleye assemblyd were in oon;
Among which sone of a ffleccheer,
Line 30
Tendre of lymes so as he myght goon,
Was among hem, of age but thre yeer.
Which of custom ther pleyes did or|deyne, [folio 88]
Lyk ther conceyt, of verray Innocence.
Tyme of ther play to-gidre thre or tweyne
Line 35
Kept ther dispoort, in whoom was no diffence(!).
A droof of oxes cam fforby ther presence
Passyng the bregge; the chyldre wer so neer:
Oon of the beestys by sodeyn violence
Cauht in his hornys the chyld of the ffleccheer,
Line 40
Lefft hym vp-on heyghte toward the Oryent,
Ovir the wal caste hym in-to the fflood —
Sondry peple beeing ther present:
Off aventure somme on the bregge stood.
But Jhesu Cryst, moost benigne and good,
Line 45
Which of mercy lyst for man to sterve,
For our sake spent his precious blood:
The seid chyld of mercy lyst preserve,
As I toold erst nat fful thre yeer of age —
A monyth lasse, as I reherse can,
Line 50
Born thorugh the bregge with the wawes rage.
Off compassyoun a pitous noyse gan,
The bittir teerys doun by ther cheekys ran
Off suych as sauh westward them be-fforn
Toward Cooldherberwe passyng "the Swan"
Line 55
How, by myracle, the seid chyld was born.
Grace of our lord, knet with good aventure,
Gaff to this chyld a special avauntage:
That so tendre a litel creature
Born with the streem ffelt no damage,
Line 60
Nat astonyd of look nor visage.
Casuelly a botman fforby went,
Merveyllyng cam ner in his passage,
Into his vessel the litel child he hent,
Afftir an ebbe, whan the fflood gan ryse; —
Line 65
As ye haue herd, Cryst Jhesu was his guyde,
As þe processe pleynly doth devyse.
Vpon the bregge in the same tyde
The childes modir sat in hir hous besyde
And knewh no-thyng what of hir chyld was ffalle.
Line 70
Tyl a woman cowde no lengere byde,
Ran a greet paas: which did the modir calle,
With wepyng and sobbyng of hir cheer
Sparyd nat but pleynly toold hir al.
The modir saide: the chyld in no maneer
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No poweer hadde to reche vp to the wal;
But whan she knewh of hir childes ffal
By a greet oxe cast in-to the fflood:
As modrys weepe at ffeestys ffuneral,
Lyk a mad woman, ffuryous and wood
Line 80
She ran hire out, lyst ffor no-thyng spare,
As creature moost Inffortunat,
Hir her to-torn, of kercheves maad al bare,
Crying allas, with sorwe & dool chek|maat,
Off sodeyn ffurye al disconsolat.
Line 85
And so she ran by howsys to the place
Off Temple streete, took heede of noon estat:
Tyl she met a gentylman by grace,
Which appertenyd, as it also is toold,
To a baroun dwellyng ther-be-syde,
Line 90
The lord Fanhoop, which heeld ther his housoold.
The seid servaunt of ffortune in that tyde
Vpon this woman sadly dyd abyde
Amyd the streete, lyst no fferther goo,
Tyl it stood soo that grace lyst provide
Line 95
He knewh the cause and ground of al hir woo;
Hadde of hir constreynt greet com|passyoun,
Serchyng the cause of hire compleynyng.
"Allas, quod she, my child is throwe doun" —
Dysespeyred ffully of his ffyndyng;
Line 100
"But, gentyl sere, telle me now o thyng:
This day what ffeeste is in the kalendeer,
