| Edi beo thu heven quene folkes froove & engles blis
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| Maid unwemmed modher cleene swich in world non other nis
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| On the hit is wel ethseene of alle wimmen thu hast the pris
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| Mi sweete leudi heer mi beene & rew ot me ghif thi will is
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| Thu astighe so dairewe deleth from the derke night
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| Of the sprong a leeme neue al this world hit hath ilight
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| Nis no maid of thine hewe so fair so scheene so rudi so bright
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| Mi leudi sweet of me thu rewe & have merci of thi knight
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| Sprunge blostm of one roote th’oli gost thee rest upon;
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| That was for mankines boote her soul aleese for on
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| Leudi milde, soft and swoot, ich crie merci, ich am thi mon
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| To honde bothen and to foot on allewise that ich kon
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| Erth tu of goode seede on thee lighte th’even dew;
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| Of thee sprong that edi bleede th’oli gost it on thee sew
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| Bring us ut of kar, of dreede that Eve bitterlich us brew;
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| Thu shalt us into hevne leede; |
| wel sweet is us thet ilke dew
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| Moder ful of thewes heende, maide dreigh and wel itaugh
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| Ich am in thi luvebeende and to thee is al mi draught
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| Thu me schild ye from the feend, as thu art free and wilt and maught
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| And help me to mi lives eend and make with thi sune saught |