Ich mette of hym anoþere fair metyng:
Line 52
To oure lorde of heuene ich telle þis,
þat my sweuene tourne to mychel blis.
Me þouȝth he rood vpon an Asse—
And þat ich take god to witnesse!—
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ywonden he was in a Mantel gray;
Toward Rome he nom his way;
Vpon his heuede sat an gray hure;
It semed hym wel a mesure;
Line 60
he rood wiþouten hose & sho,—
his wone was nouȝth so forto do;—
his shankes semeden al blood rede;
Myne herte wop for grete drede;
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Als a pilgryme he rood to Rome,
And þider he com wel swiþe sone.
ÞE þrid sweuene me mette a niȝth,
Riȝth of þat derworþe kniȝth;
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þe wedenysday a niȝth it was,
Next þe day of seint lucie ['Lucy. Virgin and Martyr, Dec. 13.'—Nicolas.] bifore cristenmesse.
Ich shewe þis, god of heuene:
To mychel ioye he tourne my sweuene!
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Me þouȝth þat ich was at Rome,
And þider ich com swiþe sone:
þe Pope ['pope' crosst through.] , & sir Edward oure kyng,
Boþe hij hadden a newe dubbyng;
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Hure gray was her cloþing;
Of oþere cloþes seiȝ ich noþing.
þe pope ['pope' crosst through.] ȝede bifore, mytred wel faire I-wys;
þe kyng Edward com corouned myd gret blis;
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þat bitokneþ he shal be
Emperour in cristianete:
Iesus crist ful of grace,
Graunte oure kyng, in euery place,
Line 84
Maistrie of his wiþerwynes [A.S. wiðerwynna, adversary, enemy.] ,
