Ne haue þerynne so grete lykyng,
Þe lesse to wurschyp heuene kyng.
[A Tale of Bishop St. Robert Grostest of Lincoln, and why he lovd Music.]
Y shall ȝow telle, as y haue herd,
Of þe bysshope Seynt Roberd;
Line 4740
Hys tonamë ys 'Grostest
Of Lynkolne,' so seyþ þe gest.
he loued moche to here þe harpe,
For mannys wytte hyt makyþ sharpe;
Line 4744
Next hys chaumbre, besyde hys stody,
Hys harpers chaumbre was fast þerby.
Many tymes, be nyȝtys and dayys,
He had solace of notes and layys.
Line 4748
One asked hym onys, resun why
he hadde delyte yn mynstralsy:
he answerede hym on þys manere,
why he helde þe harper [harpe.] so dere,
Line 4752
"Þe vertu of þe harpe, þurgh skylle & ryȝt,
wyl destroye þe fendës myȝt,
And to þe croys by godë skylle [folio 32a:2]
Ys þe harpë lykened weyle.
Line 4756
Anoþer poynt cumfórteþ me,
Þat God haþ sent vnto [O, to H.] a tre
So mochë ioye to here with eere;
Moche þan morë ioye ys þere
Line 4760
with God hym-selfë, þere he wonys;
Þe harpe þerof me oftë mones;
Of þe ioye and of þe blys
where God hym-self wonys [woneþ.] and ys.
Line 4764
Þare-for, gode men, ȝe shul lere,
whan ȝe any glemen here,
To wurschep God at ȝoure powere,
As Dauyd seyþ yn þe sautere,
Line 4768
"yn harpe, yn thabour, and symphan gle,
wurschepe God, yn troumpes, and sautre,
