[Sidenote: [Fol. 53b.]] [Sidenote: God was the light of those in the city. The high throne might be seen, upon which the “high God” sat. A river ran out of the throne;] Of su{n}ne ne mone had þay no nede Þe self god watȝ her lompe[42] lyȝt, Þe lombe her lantyrne w{i}t{h}-outen drede, Þurȝ hy{m} blysned þe borȝ al bryȝt. 1048 Þurȝ woȝe & won my loky{n}g ȝede, For sotyle cler moȝt[43] lette no lyȝt; Þe hyȝe trone þer moȝt ȝe hede W{i}t{h} alle þe apparaylmente vmbe-pyȝte, 1052 As Ioh{a}n þe appostel in termeȝ tyȝte; Þe hyȝe godeȝ self hit set vpone. A reu{er} of þe trone þer ran out-ryȝte Watȝ bryȝter þen boþe þe su{n}ne & mone. 1056 [Sidenote 42: MS. _lombe_.] [Sidenote 43: MS. _noȝt_.] [Headnote: NO CHURCH IN HEAVEN.] [Sidenote: it flowed through each street. No church was seen. God was the church; Christ the sacrifice. The gates were ever open.] Su{n}ne ne mone schon neu{er} so swete; A! þat foysou{n} flode out of þat flet, Swyþe hit swange þurȝ vch a strete, W{i}t{h}-outen fylþe oþ{er} galle oþ{er} glet. 1060 Kyrk þer-i{n}ne watȝ non ȝete, Chapel ne temple þat eu{er} watȝ set, Þe al-myȝty watȝ her mynyster mete, Þe lombe þe saker-fyse þer to reget; 1064 Þe ȝates stoken watȝ neu{er} ȝet, Bot eu{er} more vpen at vche a lone; Þer entreȝ non to take reset, Þat bereȝ any spot an-vnder[44] mone. 1068 [Sidenote: There is no night in the city. The planets, and the sun itself, are dim compared to the divine light. Trees there renew their fruit every month.] The mone may þer-of acroche no myȝte To spotty, ho is of body to grym, & al-so þ{er} ne is neu{er} nyȝt. What schulde þe mone þer compas clym 1072 & to euen wyth þat worþly lyȝt[45], Þat schyneȝ vpon þe brokeȝ brym? Þe planeteȝ arn i{n} to pou{er} a plyȝt, & þe self su{n}ne ful fer to dym. 1076 Aboute þat wat{er} arn tres ful schym, Þat twelue fryteȝ of lyf con bere ful sone; Twelue syþeȝ on ȝer þay beren ful frym & re-nowleȝ nwe i{n} vche a mone. 1080 [Sidenote: [Fol. 54a.]] [Sidenote: The beholder of this fair city stood still as a “dased quail.”] An-vnder mone so gret m{er}wayle No fleschly hert ne myȝt endeure, As quen I blusched vpon þat baly, So ferly þ{er}-of watȝ þe falure. 1084 I stod as stylle as dased quayle, For ferly of þat french[46] fygure, Þat felde I nawþ{er} reste ne t{ra}uayle, So watȝ I rauyste wyth gly{m}me pure; 1088 For I dar say, w{i}t{h} conciens sure, Hade bodyly burne abiden þat bone, Þaȝ alle clerkeȝ hy{m} hade i{n} cure, His lyf wer loste an-vnder mone. 1092