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885 		'Lest les thou leve my tale farande,
In Appocalyppece is wryten in wro:
"I seghe,"' says John, '"the Loumbe hym stande
On the mount of Syon ful thryven and thro,
And wyth hym maydennes an hundrethe thowsande,
And fowre and forty thowsande mo.
On alle her forhedes wryten I fande
The Lombes nome, hys Faderes also.
A hue from heven I herde thoo,
Lyk flodes fele laden runnen on resse,
And as thunder throwes in torres blo-
That lote, I leve, was never the les.

"Nautheles, thagh hit schowted scharpe,
And ledden loude althagh hit were,
A note ful nwe I herde hem warpe,
To lysten that was ful lufly dere.
As harpores harpen in her harpe,
That nwe songe thay songen ful cler
In sounande notes a gentyl carpe;
Ful fayre the modes thay fonge in fere.
Ryght byfore Godes chayere,
And the fowre bestes that hym obes,
And the aldermen so sadde of chere,
Her songe thay songen never the les.

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885 		'Lest less in truth my word persuades
In the Apocalypse we find this said:
"I saw," says John,"in Zion's glades
The Lamb most noble at the head
Of full one hundred thousand maids
With four and forty thousand spread.
His and His Father's names ne'er fades
From each and every maid's forehead.
A shout from Heaven then outspread
Like floods which ever onward press
Or thunder which blue hills invades;
That sound, I believe, was never less.

And sharply did those voices ring
As voices loud the echoes chase,
A note quite new I heard them sing,
Most tunefully, it filled that place,
As harpists play upon the string
Full clearly, and with gentle pace
Resüunding, a most lovely thing;
The melody was full of grace.
Right there, before God's holy dais,
And the four beasts that Him confess
And elders all most grave ofü face,
The song they sang was never less.


Lest you believe my goodly words less (than you should), in the Apocalypse it is written in a corner: "I saw," says John, "the Lamb stand on the Mount of Zion full fair and noble, and with him a nundred thousand maidens and four and forty thousand more. On all their foreheads I found written the Lamb's name, his Father's too. A shout from Heaven I heard then, like many rivers running in full spate, or like thunder rolling in tbe dark blue hills - the sound, I believe, was in no way less.

'Nevertheless, though it rang sharply, and loud though the voice was, a song quite new I heard them sing, to listen to it was delightful and precious. As harpists play upon their harps, that new song they sang most clearly, a noble theme set to resounding notes; together they captured the melody most sweetly. Right before God's throne, and the four beasts that do obeisance to Him, and the aldermen so grave of face, their song they sang was never less.

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