And Octavyan, in hys dominacyon,
Throughe the worlde and the peopled preace
Letters had sent, his honoure to encreace;
Of all the numbre for to be certayne
For to abey hym as theyr soverayne:
In whose tyme God toke his nativitie,
For to redeme us with his precious bloud,
From the devils bonde of great iniquitie:
His hart was perst hangyng on the rode;
Was not this tyme unto man ryght good?