TARYE no lenger; toward thyn heritage
Hast on thy weye, and be of ryght good chere.
Go eche day onward on thy pylgrymage;
Thynke howe short tyme thou hast abyden here.
Thy place is bygged above the sterres clere,
Noon erthly palys wrought in so statly wyse.
Come on, my frend, my brother most entere!
For the I offered my blood in sacryfice.
More verses by John Lydgate
- The Floure Of Curtesye
- That Now Is Hay Some-Tyme Was Grase
- The Testament Of John Lydgate
- The London Lackpenny