Death Of King Arthur
Of Lancelot du Lake tell I no moreBut this by leave these ermytes seven.But still Kynge Arthur lieth there,And Quene Guenever, as I you newyn.
And Monkes that are right of loreWho synge with moulded stewyn,Ihesu, who hath woundes sore,Grant us the blyss of Heaven.
And Monkes that are right of loreWho synge with moulded stewyn,Ihesu, who hath woundes sore,Grant us the blyss of Heaven.