Þai counted no course of the cold stormys, 115
Ne the perellis to passe of the pale windes.
Hit happit hom full hard in a hondqwile,
And mony of þo mighty to misse of hor purpos.
Thus tho lordes in hor longyng laghton þe watur,
Shotton into ship mong shene knightes, 120
With the tresowre of þe toune þai token before,
Relikes full rife, and miche ranke godes.
Clere was the course of the cold flodis,
And the firmament faire, as fell for the wintur.