And of thy light my soul in prison light, That troubled is by the contagión Of my bodý, and also by the weight Of earthly lust and false affectión; O hav’n of refuge, O salvatión Of them that be in sorrow and distress, Now help, for to my work I will me dress.

Yet pray I you, that readë what I write, 4463 Forgive me that I do no diligence This ilkë 4464 story subtilly t’ indite. For both have I the wordës and senténce Of him that at the saintë’s reverence The story wrote, and follow her legénd; And pray you that you will my work amend.