I.

I wote well thou wilt be our succour, Thou art so full of bounty in certain; For, when a soule falleth in errour, Thy pity go’th, and haleth* him again; *draweth Then makest thou his peace with his Sov’reign, And bringest him out of the crooked street: Whoso thee loveth shall not love in vain, That shall he find *as he the life shall lete.* *when he leaves life* K.

*Kalendares illumined* be they *brilliant exemplars* That in this world be lighted with thy name; And whoso goeth with thee the right way, Him shall not dread in soule to be lame; Now, Queen of comfort! since thou art the same To whom I seeke for my medicine, Let not my foe no more my wound entame;* *injure, molest My heal into thy hand all I resign.