I can nocht tell quhat mard him,
Thair,
At Chrystis kirk of the grene.
With that a freynd of his cryd “Fy!”
And vp ane arrow drew;
He forgit[932] so fowriously
The bow in flenders[933] flew;
Sa wes the will of God, trow I,
For had the tre bene trew
Men said that kend[934] his archery