Þe swifte barge was Duk Henri, 65
Þat noble kniht and wel assayed,
And in his leggaunce worþili
He abod mony a bitter brayd.
Ȝif þat his enemys ouȝt outrayed,
To chastis hem wolde he not lete. 70
Nou is þat lord ful lowe ileyd:
Þat selde is seȝe is sone forȝete.
Þis gode Comunes, bi þe rode!
I likne hem to the schipes mast,