Edi Beo thu Hevene Quene

Edi beo thu, hevene quene

Folkes froure and engles blis

Moder unwemmed and maiden clene

Swich in world non other nis

On thee hit is wel eth sene

Of all wimmen thu havest thet pris;

Mi swete levedi, her mi bene

And reu of me yif thi wille is

Thu asteghe so the daiy rewe

The deleth from the deorke nicht;

Of thee sprong a leome newe

That al this world haveth ilight

Nis non maide of thine heowe

Swo fair, so schene, so rudi, swo bricht;

Swete levedi, of me thu reowe

And have merci of thin knicht

Spronge blostme of one rote

The Holi Gost thee reste upon;

Thet wes for monkunnes bote

And heore soule to alesen for on

Levedi milde, softe and swote

Ic crie thee merci, ic am thi mon

Bothe to honde and to fote

On alle wise that ic kon