My swete sone that stondyth me by,
Amonges alle chylderyn that walkyn on wolde,
A lovelyer chylde is non trewly.
I thanke God with hert welle mylde,
Of his gret mercy and of his hey grace,
And pryncepaly ffor my suete chylde,
That xal to me do gret solace.
Now, suete sone, ffayre fare thi fface,
fful hertyly do I love the,
ffor trewe herty love now in this place,