Into the lake of lyonys to Danyel the prophete Be an her of his hed, lo, so myhty was he, Se the same myht God make may the Appostolis here mete; And therfore abasche you not, lady, in yowre holy mende. _Maria._ No more I do, glorious aungyl in kynde; Also I beseke my sone I se not the fende, What tyme outh of this word I schal passe hens; His horible lok wold fere me so hende, Ther is nothyng I dowte but his dredfull presens. _Angelus._ What nedith it to fere you, empres so hende? Syn be the fruth of youre body was convycte his vyolens, That horible serpent dare not nyhyn youre kende, And yowre blosme schal make hym recistens, That he schal not pretende. Desyre ye outh ellys now rythis? _Maria._ Nouth, but blessyd be my God in his myhtys! _Angelus._ To yow I recomaunde me than, most excellent in sithis, And wyth this agayn to God I assende. _Hic ascendit angelus._ _Maria._ Now, Lord, thy swete holy name wyth lovnesse I blysse, Of qwyche hefne and erthe eche tyme pshalmodyeth; That it lykyth youre mercy me to you to wysse, My sympil sowle in serteyn youre name magnefyeth. Now, holy maydenys, the servauntis of God as I gysse, I schal passe from this world as the aungyl sertefyeth; Therfore to my sympil habitacyon, I telle you now this, I purpose me to go, besekyng yow replyeth, And assedually wachith me be dayes and nythis. _Prima virgo._ We schal, gracyous Lady, wyth alle oure mythis, Schul ye from us passe, swete sonne of socoure, That are oure sengler solas radyant in youre lythis, Youre peynful absence schal make me doloure. _Virgo Secunda._ Moste excellent princes in alle vertu that is dith, Alle hefne and erthe, Lady, you doth honure; We schal wachyn and wake, as oure dewe and ryth, Into the tyme ye passe to that hye toure. _Maria._ God thanke you and so do I; Now I wyl dispose me to this jurné redy; So wolde God my brether were here me by, To bere my body that bare Jhesu oure savyoure. _Hic subito apparet sanctus Johannes evangelista ante portam Mariæ._ _Johannes._ A! myrable God, meche is thy myth, Many wonderis thou werkyst evyn as thi wylle is; In Pheso I was prechyng a fer contré ryth, And by a whyte clowde I was rapt to these hyllys. Here duellyth Cristis moder I se wel in syth, Sum merveylous message is comyn that mayde tylle; I wyl go saluse that berde that in vertu is moste brith, And of my sodeyn comyng wete what is the skele. _Hic pulsabit super portam, intrante domum Mariæ sibi dicente_,