This child Maurice was since then emperór Made by the Pope, and lived Christianly, To Christë’s Churchë did he great honór: But I let all his story passë by, Of Constance is my tale especially, In the oldë Roman gestës men may find Mauríce’s life, I bear it not in mind.
This King Alla, when he his timë sey, With his Constance, his holy wife so sweet, To England are they come the rightë way, Where they did live in joy and in quiét. But little while it lasted, I you hete, Joy of this world for time will not abide, From day to night it changeth as the tide.
Who liv’d ever in such delight one day, That him not moved either conscience, Or ire, or talent, or some kind affray, Envy, or pride, or passion, or offence? I say but for this endë this senténce, That little while in joy or in pleasance Lasted the bliss of Alla with Constance.
For death, that takes of high and low his rent, When passed was a year, even as I guess, Out of this world this King Alla he hent, For whom Constance had full great heaviness. Now let us pray that God his soulë bless: And Dame Constancë, finally to say, Toward the town of Romë went her way.
To Rome is come this holy creature, And findeth there her friendës whole and sound: Now is she scaped all her áventure: And when that she her father hath y-found, Down on her kneës falleth she to ground, Weeping for tenderness in heartë blithe She herieth God an hundred thousand sithe.
In virtue and in holy almës-deed They liven all, and ne’er asunder wend; Till death departeth them, this life they lead: And fare now well, my tale is at an end.— Now Jesus Christ, that of his might may send Joy after woe, govérn us in his grace And keep us allë that be in this place.