Of godardes alþer-beste men.
Godard’s men flee,
Hwan þe oþre sawen þat, he fledden,
And godard swiþe loude gredde:
“Mine knithes, hwat do ye?
Sule ye þus-gate fro me fle?
Ich haue you fed, and yet shal fede,
Helpe me nu in þis nede,
but Godard rallies them.
And late ye nouth mi bodi spille,