Ubi Sount Qui Ante Nos Fuerount?

Where beth they biforen us weren,
Houndés ladden and hauekés beren,
And hadden feld and wode,
The riché levedies in hoere bour,
That wereden gold in hoere tressour,
With hoere brightté rode?

Eten and drounken and maden hem glad;
Hoere lif was al with gamen ilad;
Men keneleden hem biforen;
They beren hem wel swithé heye
And in a twincling of an eye
Hoere soulés weren forloren.

Were is that lawing and that song,
That trayling and that proudé yong,
Tho hauekés and tho houndes?
Al that joye is went away,
That wele is comen to welaway
To manie hardé stoundes.

Hoere paradis they nomen here,
And nou they lien in hellé fere;
The fuir hit brennés hevere.
Long is ay and long is ho,
Long is wy and long is wo;
Thennés ne cometh they nevere.

Dreghy here man, thenne, if thou wilt,
A luitel piné, that me the bit;
Withdrau thine eysés ofte.
They thi pine be ounrede,
And thou thenké on thi mede,
Hit sal the thinken softe.

If that fend, that foulé thing,
Thorou wikké roun, thorou fals egging,
There ne there the haveth icast,
Oup, and be god champioun!
Stond, ne fal namore adoun
For a luytel blast!

Thou tak the rodé to thi staf,
And thenk on him that thereoune yaf
His lif that wes so lef!
He hit yaf for the; thou yelde hit him!
Ayein his fo that staf thou nim,
And wrek him of that thef!

Of rightte bileve thou nim that sheld,
The wiles that thou best in that feld,
Thin hond to strenkthen fonde!
And kep thy fo with stavés ord,
And do that traytre seien that word,
Biget that murie londe!

Thereinne is day withouten night,
Withouten endé, strenkthe and might,
And wreche of everich fo,
Mid god himselwen eché lif,
And pas and rest withouteé strif,
Welé withouten wo.

Mayden moder, hevené quene,
Thou might and const and owest to bene
Oure sheld ayein the fende.
Help ous sunné for to flen,
That we moten thi sone iseen,
In joye withouten hende!
Amen!