| For deeth, that taketh of heigh and logh his rente, |
| Whan passed was a yeer, evene as I gesse, |
| Out of this world this kyng Alla he hente, |
| 1145 | For whom Custance hath ful greet hevynesse. |
| Now lat us praye God his soule blesse, |
| And dame Custance, finally to seye, |
| Toward the toun of Rome goth hir weye. |
|
| For death, that takes from high and low his rent, |
| When but a year had passed, as I should guess, |
| Out of the world King Alla quickly sent, |
| 1145 | For whom Constance felt heavy wretchedness. |
| Now let us pray that God his soul will bless! |
| And of Dame Constance, finally to say, |
| Towards the town of Rome she took her way. |
|
