No More Learning

All the mete ? at he myght gete,
Bot euery day a melys mete 126
To pore men gaffe A noone ryght,
he lefft hym sylffe none ouer nyght.
there dwellyd he xvij yere, 129
And lede his lyffe in thys manere;
Page 36
his Fader and hys modyr bothe,
Than he was to theyme Fvll lothe;
his fadyr made gret dole and sorowe,
Bothe on euen and on morowe. 134
'Alas! ' he sayde, and wrong his honde,
'Why is my sonne went owte of lond?
I wende haue hade of hym a knyght,
with me to stonde In all my ryght;
nowe ys he wente ? at was my blysse,
Page 37
I west hym neuer do man a mys.
Nowe haue I none of my lynage [folio 147a]
That maye welde myn herytage. '
Than sayde his moder, and wepte full sore, 143
'Noue shall I see my sonne no more;
I was full glade whan he was borne,
nowe ys all my Ioye forlorne.
Page 38
146
I haue hade robbys maney and fayre,
Nowe woll I next me were the ayre,
Tyll I maye some tydynges here
of my sone that was so dere. ' 150
than spake his wyffe, and wepte among.
'My leffe,' she sayde, 'was done wrong,
Page 39
he toke me in my fadyrs bowre,
And brought me hydder with grete honouer. 154
And he has me nowe for-sakyng,
To Iesu cryst I wyll me takyne;
Page 40
156
Sorowe and morenyng may I well make,
As the turtell dothe withowten his make.
Ioyefull schall I neuer bee,
Tyll I maye my leman see. ' 160
hys Fader send bothe fer and vyde
Messengers on euery syde,
To seke his sonne where he was went,
Bothe Fer and nere where he was went.
Sythen affter yt befell soo, 165
Of messengeres there com too,
Ryght to the Ryche Cete, [folio 148a]
There alex lywyd In pourte. 168
As they com In to a strete,
Alex com and shoulde hym mete;
Sone knewe he ? eyme fwll welle,
And ? ey knewe hym neuer a dele.
lowde he spake vnder hys hoode,
Page 41
'For goddes lowe do me som goode;'
Theye gaffe hym of theyre money,
For goddes lowe there in the waye.
whan Alex sawe ? eye knwe hym nought, 177
he thanked god in all hys thought.
'lorde,' he sayde, 'I thank the
the grace ? at thowe hast sent me;
Myne owne men that shoullde bee,
hate gewyn me of theyre cheryte. '
Alex dwellyd styll there
Fully xlij yere and more. 184
To chyrche he went euery daye,
his goode bedeyes there for to saye;
In to that chyrche, with owtyn fayle,
Was an Images of fayre entayele,
Of owre lady ? at is so Free, 189
With here sonne wppon here knee;
Page 42
That Images spake, ? at was so bryght,
to the sexteyene vppon a nyght. 192
[folio 148b] 'Take,' sche sayde, 'my seruante swythe,
he hathe me seruyd all hys lyeffe;
Full offte he wolle to me lowthe,
hit is no ryght ? at he is withowte. '
'lady,' he sayde, 'I knowe hym nought,
Page 43
Nor I wott neuer where he schull be sought.