His brethren him graunt alle his bone.
He let him shrive swithe sone,
To make his soule fair and cleue,
To for our leuedi heven queen,
That sche schuld for him be,
To for her son in trinité.
Dansimond zede and gadred frut,
For sothe were plommes white,
The steles[[B]] he puld out everichon,
Puisoun he dede therin anon,