Wher mighte this womman mete and drinke have? (400)
Three yeer and more how lasteth hir vitaille?
Who fedde the Egipcien Marie in the cave, 500
Or in desert? no wight but Crist, sans faille.
Fyve thousand folk it was as gret mervaille
With loves fyve and fisshes two to fede.
God sente his foison at hir grete nede.
[145: T. 4925-4959.]
She dryveth forth in-to our occean 505
Thurgh-out our wilde see, til, atte laste,
Under an hold that nempnen I ne can,
Fer in Northumberlond the wawe hir caste, (410)
And in the sond hir ship stiked so faste,
That thennes wolde it noght of al a tyde, 510
The wille of Crist was that she shulde abyde.
The constable of the castel doun is fare
To seen this wrak, and al the ship he soghte,
And fond this wery womman ful of care;
He fond also the tresor that she broghte. 515
In hir langage mercy she bisoghte
The lyf out of hir body for to twinne,
Hir to delivere of wo that she was inne. (420)
A maner Latin corrupt was hir speche,
But algates ther-by was she understonde; 520
The constable, whan him list no lenger seche,
This woful womman broghte he to the londe;
She kneleth doun, and thanketh goddes sonde.
But what she was, she wolde no man seye,
For foul ne fair, thogh that she shulde deye. 525
She seyde, she was so mased in the see
That she forgat hir minde, by hir trouthe;
The constable hath of hir so greet pitee, (430)
And eek his wyf, that they wepen for routhe,
She was so diligent, with-outen slouthe, 530
To serve and plesen everich in that place,
That alle hir loven that loken on hir face.