Þe hidden hem alle, and helden hem stille,
And diden al his herte wille.
Ricth he louede of alle þinge,
To wronge micht him no man bringe,
Ne for siluer, ne for gold:—
So was he his soule[†] hold.
He befriended the fatherless.
To þe faderles was he rath,
Wo so dede hem wrong or lath,
Were it clerc, or were it knicth,