“This well 3838 of mercy, Christë’s mother sweet, I loved alway, after my conníng: 3839 And when that I my lifë should forlete, 3840 To me she came, and bade me for to sing This anthem verily in my dying, As ye have heard; and, when that I had sung, Me thought she laid a grain upon my tongue.

“Wherefore I sing, and sing I must certáin, In honour of that blissful maiden free, Till from my tongue off taken is the grain. And after that thus saidë she to me; ‘My little child, then will I fetchë thee, When that the grain is from thy tonguë take: Be not aghast, 3841 I will thee not forsake.’ ”