XX.

[Sidenote: As the moon began to rise he was aware of a procession of virgins crowned with pearls, in white robes, with a pearl in their breast.] Ryȝt as þe maynful mone con rys, Er þe{n}ne þe day-glem dryue al dou{n}, So sodanly on a wonder wyse, I watȝ war of a prosessyou{n}, 1096 Þis noble cite of ryche enpresse Watȝ sodanly ful w{i}t{h}-outen so{m}mou{n} Of such v{er}gyneȝ i{n} þe same gyse Þat watȝ my blysful an-vnder crou{n}, 1100 & coronde wern alle of þe same fasou{n} Depaynt i{n} perleȝ & wedeȝ qwyte, I{n} vchoneȝ breste watȝ bou{n}den bou{n}, Þe blysful perle w{i}t{h} gret[47] delyt. 1104

[Sidenote 47: MS. _with outen_.]

[Sidenote: As they went along they shone as glass. The Lamb went before them. There was no pressing.] W{i}t{h} gret delyt þay glod i{n} fere, On golden gateȝ þat glent as glasse; Hu{n}dreth þowsandeȝ I wot þer were, & alle in sute her liureȝ wasse, 1108 Tor to knaw þe gladdest chere. Þe lombe byfore con proudly passe, Wyth horneȝ seuen of red golde[48] cler, As praysed perleȝ his wedeȝ wasse; 1112 Towarde þe throne þay trone a tras. Þaȝ þay wern fele no pres i{n} plyt, Bot mylde as maydeneȝ seme at mas, So droȝ þay forth w{i}t{h} gret delyt. 1116

[Sidenote: [Fol. 54b.]] [Sidenote: The “alder men” fell groveling at the feet of the Lamb. All sang in praise of the Lamb.] Delyt þ{a}t hys come encroched, To much hit were of for to melle; Þise alder men quen he aproched, Grouely{n}g to his fete þay felle; 1120 Legyou{n}es of au{n}geleȝ togeder uoched, Þer kesten ensens of swete smelle, Þen glory & gle watȝ nwe abroched. Al songe to loue þat gay Iuelle, 1124 Þe steuen moȝt stryke þurȝ þe vrþe to helle, Þat þe v{er}tues of heuen of Ioye endyte, To loue þe lombe his meyny in melle, I-wysse I laȝt a gret delyt; 1128

[Sidenote 48: MS. _glode_.]

[Sidenote: The Lamb wore white weeds. A wide wound was seen near his breast.] Delit þe lo{m}be forto deuise, W{i}t{h} much meruayle in mynde went. Best watȝ he, blyþest & moste to pryse, Þat eu{er} I herde of speche spent, 1132 So worþly whyt wern wedeȝ hys; His lokeȝ symple, hy{m} self so gent, Bot a wou{n}de ful wyde & weete con wyse An-ende hys hert þurȝ hyde to-rente; 1136 Of his quyte syde his blod out-sprent, A-las! þoȝt I, who did þat spyt? Ani breste for bale aȝt haf for-brent, Er he þer-to hade had delyt, 1140

[Sidenote: Joy was in his looks. The father perceives his little queen.] The lombe delyt non lyste to wene, Þaȝ he were hurt & wou{n}de hade, I{n} his sembelau{n}t watȝ neu{er} sene, So wern his glenteȝ gloryo{us} glade. 1144 I loked amo{n}g his meyny schene, How þay wyth lyf wern laste & lade, Þe{n} saȝ I þer my lyttel quene, Þat I wende had standen by me i{n} sclade; 1148 Lorde! much of mirþe watȝ þat ho made, Amo{n}g her fereȝ þat watȝ so quyt! Þat syȝt me gart to þenk to wade, For luf longy{n}g i{n} gret delyt. 1152

[Headnote: HE WISHES TO CROSS THE STREAM.]