Michel was svich a king to preyse,
Þat held so eng[e]lond in grith!
Krist of heuene was him with.
He was engelondes blome;
Was non so bold lond to rome,
Þat durste upon his [menie] bringhe
Hunger, ne here[*] wicke þinghe.
Hwan he felede hise foos,
The king made his foes hide themselves.
He made hem lurken, and crepen in wros: