This messenger, on morrow when he woke, Unto the castle held the nextë way, And to the constable the letter took; And when he this dispiteous letter sey, Full oft he said, “Alas, and well-away! Lord Christ,” quoth he, “how may this world endure? So full of sin is many a creature.
“O mighty God, if that it be thy will, Since thou art rightful judge, how may it be That thou wilt suffer innocence to spill, And wicked folk reign in prosperity? Ah! good Constance, alas! so woe is me, That I must be thy tormentor, or dey A shameful death, there is no other way.”
Wept bothë young and old in all that place, When that the king this cursed letter sent; And Constance, with a deadly palë face, The fourthë day toward her ship she went: But natheless she took in good intent The will of Christ, and kneeling on the strond She saidë, “Lord, aye welcome be thy sond.
“He that me keptë from the falsë blame, While I was in the land amongës you, He can me keep from harm and eke from shame In the salt sea, although I