Les valurs ne dirr[ai]ent mie
Del prodhome la disme part.
Ore est mort le rei Edward,
Pur qui mon quor est en trafoun;
L’alme Dieu la salve garde,
Pur sa seintime passioun! Amen.
Translation.—Lords, listen, for the sake of God the great,—a little song of grievous sorrow,—for the death of a precious king;—a man he was of great goodness,—and who by his loyalty—has sustained many a great encounter;—this thing is proved well;—of his land he lost none.—Let us pray God with devotion—that he pardon him his sins.
Of England he was lord,—and a king who knew much of war;—in no book can we read—of a king who sustained better his land.—All the things which he would do,—wisely he brought them to an end.—Now his body lies in the earth;—and the world is going to ruin.
The King of France did great sin,—to hinder the voyage—which King Edward undertook for God’s sake,—to pass the water against the Saracens.—His treasure was beyond the sea,—and he ordains his purveyance—to sustain holy church:—now is the land in despair.
Jerusalem, thou hast lost—the flower of thy chivalry,—King Edward the old and hoary,—who loved so much thy lordship.—Now he is dead; I know not at all—who will maintain thy banner:—his gentle heart for great love—he will send you over the sea.