|
The sorwe that this Alla, nyght and day, |
| Maketh for his wyf, and for his child also, |
| Ther is no tonge that it telle may- |
900 | But now wol I unto Custance go, |
| That fleteth in the see in peyne and wo, |
| Fyve yeer and moore, as liked Cristes sonde, |
| Er that hir ship approched unto londe. |
|
| The sorrow that this Alla, night and day, |
| Felt for his wife, and for his child also, |
| There is no human tongue on earth to say. |
900 | But now will I back to fair Constance go, |
| Who drifted on the seas, in pain and woe, |
| Five years and more, as was Lord Christ's command, |
| Before her ship approached to any land. |
|