His lippis like to þe lede, and his lire[197] falowede!
þan the corownde kyng cryes fulle lowde,—
"Dere kosyne o kynde, in kare am I levede!
Ffor nowe my wirchipe es wente, and my were endide!
Here es þe hope of my hele,[198] my happynge of armes!
My herte and my hardynes hale one hym lengede!
My concelle, my comforthe, þat kepide myne herte!
Of all knyghtes þe kynge þat undir Criste lifede!
þou was worthy to be kynge, those I þe corowne bare!
My wele and my wirchipe of alle þis werlde riche