"First he fonded me If I lovede bettre Hym or Ysaak myn heir, The which he highte me kulle. He wiste my wille bi hym, 11280 He wol me it allowe; I am ful siker in soule therof, And my sone bothe. I circumscised my sone Sithen for his sake, Myself and my meynee, And alle that male weere, {345} Bledden blood for that Lordes love, And hope to blisse the tyme. Myn affiaunce and my feith 11290 Is ferme in his bileve; For himself bihighte to me, And to myn issue bothe, Lond and lordshipe, And lif withouten ende; To me and to myn issue Moore yet he grauntede, Mercy for oure mys-dedes, As many tyme as we asken. _Quam olim Abrahæ promisisti et 11300 semini ejus._ "And siththe he sente me to seye I sholde do sacrifise, And doon hym worship with breed And with wyn bothe; And called me the foot of his feith, His folk for to save, And defende hem fro the fend, Folk that on me leveden. "Thus have I ben his heraud 11310 Here and in helle, And conforted many a careful That after his comynge waiteden. And thus I seke hym," he seide, "For I herde seyn late Of a barn that baptysed hym, Johan Baptist was his name, That to patriarkes and to prophetes, And to oother peple in derknesse, Seide that he seigh here 11320 That sholde save us alle." {346} _Ecce agnus Dei! etc._ I hadde wonder of hise wordes, And of hise wide clothes; For in his bosom he bar a thyng That he blissed evere. And I loked in his lappe, A lazar lay therinne Amonges patriarkes and prophetes Pleyinge togideres. 11330 "What awaitestow?" quod he, "And what woldestow have?" "I wolde wite," quod I tho, "What is in youre lappe." "Loo!" quod he; and leet me see. "Lord, mercy!" I seide; "This is a present of muche pris, What prynce shal it have?" "It is a precious present," quod he; "Ac the pouke it hath attached, 11340 And me thermyde," quod that man, "May no wed us quyte, Ne no buyrn be oure borgh, Ne brynge us fram his daunger; Out of the poukes pondfold No maynprise may us feeche, Til he come that I carpe of, Crist is his name. That shal delivere us som day Out of the develes power, 11350 And bettre wed for us legge Than we ben alle worthi, That is lif for lif, Or ligge thus evere Lollynge in my lappe, {347} Til swich a lord us fecche."