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765 		'O makeles perle in perles pure,
That beres.' quod I, 'the perle of prys,
Quo formed the thy fayre fygure ?
That wroght thy wede, he was ful wise.
Thy beaute com never of nature;
Pymalyon paynted never thy vys,
Ne Arystotel nawther by hys lettrure
Of carped the kynde these propertes.
Thy colour passes the flour-de-lys,
Thyn angel-havyng so clene cortes.
Breve me, bryght, quat kyn offys
Beres the perle so maskelles ?'

'My makeles Lambe that al may bete,'
Quod scho, 'my dere destyne,
Me ches to hys make, althagh unmete
Sumtyme semed that assemble.
When I wente fro yor worlde wete,
He calde me to hys bonertü;
"Com hyder to me, my lemman swete,
For mote ne spot is non in the."
He gef me myght and als bewte;
In hys blod he wesch my wede on dese,
And coronde clene in vergynte,
And pyght me in perles maskelles.'

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765 		'O matchless pearl, which pearls embrace'
Who wears, I said, the earl I see,
Who formed for you that lovely face
And made that robe? Most wise was He.
Never by nature came such grace,
Pygmalion could not have painted thee,
Nor Aristotle's learning trace
Right words for such a property.
Your colour surpasses the fleur-de-lys;
Your angel-form such grace has got;
Tell me, what office could it be
Merits a pearl so free of spot?'

My peerless Lamb, amending all,'
Said she, 'designed what I should be.
Chose me as bride, although withal
Unfitting such a destiny.
And when I left a world in thrall
He called me to felicity;
"Come here to Me, my loved one small,
No spot or stain I find in thee."
He gave me power and beauty free,
Cleansed with his blood each earthly spot,
And crowned me with virginity,
Adorned me with pearls without a spot.


`O matchless pearl, in pearls pure, that wears,' I said, 'the pearl of (great) price, (He) who formed for you your lovely face and made your clothing, was most wise. Your beauty never came from nature; Pygmalion never painted your face, nor did Aristotle, for all his learning, speak of the nature of these attributes. Your colour surpasses the fleur-de-Iys, your angelic appearance (is) so entirely gracious. Tell me, fair one, what kind of rank bears the pearl so matchless ?'

'My peerless Lamb, who amends all,' said she, destined me for this, chose me as His bride though earlier that would have been unfitting. When I left the dank world, he created for me my joy: "Come hither to me, my beloved sweet, for neither spot nor stain in in thee." He gave me power and also beauty; in his blood he washed my clothing, and crowned me pure in virginity, and adorned me in matchless pearls.'

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