THE PRIORESS' TALE
This holy monk, this abbot I mean, caught out the child's tongue, and took off the grain, and full softly he gave up the ghost. And when this abbot had beheld this wonder, his salt tears trickled down like rain and prone he fell all flat on the pavement, and lay still as he had been bound.
The abbey-monks eke lay on the pavement weeping, and praised Christ's dear mother, and after that they rise and be gone forth and take this martyr from his bier and in a tomb of fair marble-stones they enclose his little sweet body. Where he is now God grant us that we may come.
O young Hugh of Lincoln, slain eke by cursed Jews, as is well known, for it was but a little while ago, pray also for us, unstable, sinful folk, that of his mercy God who is so pitiful may multiply his great mercies upon us, for reverence of his mother Mary. Amen.
Here is ended the Prioress' Tale.
