Julius.
Helpe us euer to oure saluacyon.
O ȝe martirs Martynyan and Processe,
Now al oure floures begynneth to fade;
In þis erthe, Martyn, is but wrec∣chidnesse,
Syth þat Adam put þeron his spade.
Now mercyful god, þat al þing hath made,
For þe translacyon of Seynt Thomas
Bryng us ones to his endeles solace.
Lo now tyme passith of chyrry fayre:
Therfor I pray ȝou þen, Brethren̄ seuyn,
That I may be one of Benet-ys heyre,
Where ȝe ben yn Relyques of heuyn.
Jentyl broþer Jhesu, bryng us þer euyn—
That were to me a gracyous fortune.
Now help þe holy bysshop Swithine.
I mette a while with blessid Seynt Botulphe,
Now, sacred Seynt Kenelme, with þe I mete,
Prayng þe with hert þis Seynt Ar∣nulphe,
Bryng me to þat mery daunsyng so swete.
A, gentyl mayden O seynt Margarete,
And noble Praxede, lete me bere ȝoure trayne,
And ȝoure also, Lady Magdalayne!