"Alle tho blissed beth That bodyliche hongreth; That ben the pore penyles, That han over-passed The poynt of her pris liif, In penaunce of werkes, And mown nought swynken ne sweten, But ben swith feble, 1240 Other mayned at meschef, Or meseles lyke, And her god is a-gon, And greveth hem to beggen. Ther is no frere, in feith, That fareth in this wyse, That he may beggen his bred, His bed is y-greithed {488} Under a pot he shall be put In a pryvye chaumbre, 1250 That he shal lyven ne last But lytel whyle after. Almyghti God and man, The merciable blessed, That han mercy on men That mis-don hem here. But who so for-gabbed a frere Y-founden at the stues, And brought blod of his bodi, On back or on syde, 1260 Hym were as good greven A grete lord of rentes; He shoulde sonnere ben shryven, Shortly to tellen, Though he kilde a comly knyght, And compasd his mother, Then a buffet to beden A beggere frere. "The clene hertes Christ He curteyliche blissed 1270 That coveten no catel But Christes fulle blysse, That leveth fulliche on God, And lelliche thenketh On his lore and his lawe, And lyveth opon trewthe. Freres han forgetten this, And folweth another, That they may henten they holden, By-hirneth it sone; 1280 Here hertes ben clen y-hid In her heighe cloystre, {489} As curres from careyne That is cast in diches. "And parfiit Christ The pesible blissede, That ben suffrant and sobre, And susteyne anger. Asay of her sobernesse, And thou might y-knowen 1290 Ther ne is no waspe in this world That wil folloke styngen, For stappyng on a too Of a styncand frere. For neyther soveren ne seget Thei ne suffereth never. Al thei blessyng of God Beouten thei walken, For of her suffraunce, for sothe, Men say but lytel. 1300