And he haueden longe graten,
Masses are sung for him.
Belles deden he sone ringen,
Monkes and prestes messe singen;
And sauteres deden he manie reden,
Þat god self shulde his soule leden
Into heuene, biforn his sone,
And þer wit-uten hende wone.
He is buried and the earl takes possession,
Þan he was to þe erþe brouth,