When Alla saw his wife, fair he her gret, 1720 And wept, that it was ruthë for to see, For at the firstë look he on her set He knew well verily that it was she: And she, for sorrow, as dumb stood as a tree: So was her heartë shut in her distress, When she remember’d his unkindëness.

Twicë she swooned in his owen sight, He wept and him excused piteously: “Now God,” quoth he, “and all his hallows 1721 bright So wisly 1722 on my soulë have mercý, That of your harm as guiltëless am I, As is Mauríce my son, so like your face, Else may the fiend me fetch out of this place.”