|
At Lucifer, though he an aungel were, |
| And nat a man, at hym wol I biginne, |
| For though Fortune may noon aungel dere, |
| From heigh degree yet fel he for his synne |
| 115 | Doun into helle, where he yet is inne. |
| O Lucifer, brightest of angels alle, |
| Now artow Sathanas, that mayst nat twynne |
| Out of miserie, in which that thou art falle. |
|
| With Lucifer, though he was angel fair |
| And not a man, with him will I begin; |
| For though Fortune may not an angel dare, |
| From high degree yet fell he for his sin |
| 115 | Down into hell, and he lies yet therein. |
| O Lucifer, brightest of angels all, |
| Now art thou Satan, and thou may'st not win |
| From misery wherein thou far did'st fall! |
|
