In all that land no Christians durstë rout; All Christian folk had fled from that countrý Through Pagans, that conquered all about The plages of the North by land and sea. To Wales had fled the Christianity Of oldë Britons, dwelling in this isle; There was their refuge for the meanëwhile.
But yet n’ere Christian Britons so exiled, That there n’ere some which in their privity Honoured Christ, and heathen folk beguiled; And nigh the castle such there dwelled three: And one of them was blind, and might not see, But it were with thilk eyen of his mind, With which men mayë see when they be blind.
Bright was the sun, as in a summer’s day, For which the Constable, and his wife also, And Constance, have y-take the rightë way Toward the sea, a furlong way or two, To playen, and to roamë to and fro; And in their walk this blindë man they met, Crooked and old, with eyen fast y-shet.
“In the name of Christ,” criéd this blind Britón, “Dame Hermegild, give me my sight again!” This lady wax’d afrayed of that soun’, Lest that her husband, shortly for to sayn, Would her for Jesus Christë’s love have slain, Till Constance made her hold, and bade her wirch The will of Christ, as daughter of holy Church.
The Constable wax’d abashed of that sight, And saidë; “What amounteth all this fare?” Constance answered; “Sir, it is Christ’s might, That helpeth folk out of the fiendë’s snare:” And so farforth she gan our law declare, That she the Constable, ere that it were eve, Converted, and on Christ made him believe.
This Constable was not lord of the place Of which I speak, there as he Constance fand, But kept it strongly many a winter space, Under Allá, king of Northumberland, That was full wise, and worthy of his hand Against the Scotës, as men may well hear; But turn I will again to my mattére.