Classic Poem

( PRINTED WITHOUT ALTERATION .)

I.

With daitive steppe Religyon dyghte in greie,
Her face of doleful hue,
Swyfte as a takel thro'we bryght heav'n tooke her waie,
And ofte and ere anon dyd saie,
" Aie! mee! what shall I doe;
See Brystoe citie, whyche I nowe doe kenne,
Arysynge to mie view,
Thycke throng'd wythe soldyers and wythe traffyck-menne:
Butte saynctes I seen few. "

II.

Fytz-Hardynge rose! — he rose lyke bryghte sonne in the morne,
" Faire dame, adryne thein eyne,
Let alle thie greefe bee myne,
For I wylle rere thee uppe a Mynster hie,
The toppe whereof shall reech ynto the skie;
And wyll a Monke be shorne; "
Thenne dyd the dame replie,
" I shall ne be forelourne;
Here wyll I take a cherysaunied reste,
And spend mie daies upon Fytz-Hardynges breste. "