Stanza 72


No Analogue


No Analogue


And thus she seyde in hir benigne voys,
"Fareweel, my child, I shal thee nevere see,
But sith I thee have marked with the croys
Of thilke Fader blessed moote thou be,
That for us deyde upon a croys of tree.
Thy soule, litel child, I hym bitake,
For this nyght shaltow dyen for my sake."

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