| I am youre doghter Custance," quod she, |
| "That whilom ye han sent unto Surrye. |
| It am I, fader, that in the salte see |
1110 | Was put allone, and dampned for to dye. |
| Now goode fader, mercy I yow crye, |
| Sende me namoore unto noon hethenesse, |
| But thonketh my lord heere of his kyndenesse." |
|
| I am your daughter Constance," then said she, |
| "That once you sent to Syria. 'Tis I. |
| It is I, father, who, on the salt sea, |
1110 | Was sent, alone to drift and doomed to die. |
| But now, good father, mercy must I cry: |
| Send me no more to heathendom, godless, |
| But thank my lord, here, for his kindliness." |
|