A maner Latyn córupt was hir speche,
But nontheles they did her understonde.
The constabil, whan he wold no longer seek,
This woful womman broughte he to the londe.
She kneleth doun, and thanketh Goddes hand,
But what she was, she wolde no man seye
For foul or faire, thou she sholde deye.

She was, she seyde, so masèd in the see,
That she forgat hir mynde, by hire trothe.
The constable had of hir so gret pitée,
And eek his wyf, they wepéden for ruth;
She was so diligent withouten slothe
To serve and plesen ever in that place,
That alle hir love that loken on hir face.

The constable and dame Hermegyld his wyf,
To telle you playne, pagenes bothe were;
But Hermegyld loved Constance as hir lyf;
And Constance hath so longe harbouréd there
In orisouns, with many a bitter teere,
Til Jesu hath converted thurgh his grace
Dame Hermegyld, constáblesse of the place.

In al the lond no cristen men were found;
Al cristen men be fled from that contré
Thurgh pagens, that had conquered al around
The places of the north by land and see.
To Wales fled the cristianitee
Of olde Britouns, dwellyng in this yle;
Ther was their refuge for the mene while.

But yit were cristens never so exiled,
That ther were none who in there pryvitee
Honoúrede Crist, and hethen folk bygiled;
And ny the castel such ther dwellide three.
That one of them was blynd, and might nat see,
Save it were with the eyen of his mynde,
With which men seen after that they be blynde.

Bright was the sonne, as in that someres day,
For which the constable and his wif also
And Constaunce hadde take the righte way
Toward the see, a forlong wey or two,
To pleyen, and to romen to and fro;
And in that walk this blynde man they mette,
Croked and olde, with eyen close y-sette.

“In name of Crist,” cryède this old Britoun,
“Dame Hermegyld, gif me my sight ageyn!”
This lady wax affrayèd of the sound,
Lest that hir houseband, shortly for to sayn,
Wold hir for Jesu Cristes love have slayn,
Til Constaunce made hir bold, and bad her werk
The wil of Crist, as doughter of holy chirche.

The constable wax abasshèd of that sight,
And sayde, “What amounteth al this fare?”
Constaunce answérd, “Sir, it is Cristes might,
That helpeth folk out of the feendes snare.”
And so ferforth she gan our faith declare,
That she the constable, ere that it was eve
Converted, and on Crist made him bileve.

This constable was not lord of this same place
Of which I speke, where he Constance found,
But kept it strongly many a wynter space
Under Alla, kyng of Northumberlond,
That was ful wys, and worthy of his hond,
Agein the Scottes, as men may wel heere.
But tourne agein I wil to my matére.

Satan, that ever us wayteth to begile,
Sawe of Constaunce al hir perfeccioún,
And cast anon how he mighte her revile;
And made a yong knight, that dwelt in the toun,
Love hir so hot of foul affeccioún,
That verrayly he thought he shulde dye,
Save he might once doon her vilonye.

He vowith hir, but it avayleth nought,
She wolde do no synne by no weye;
And for despyt, he compassed in his thought
To maken hir a shamful deth to deye.
He wayteth whan the constable was aweye,
And pryvyly upon a nyght he crepte
In Hermyngyldes chambre whil she slepte.

Wery, al tirèd by her orisoun,
Slepeth Constaunce, and Hermyngyld also.
This knight, thurgh Satanas temptacioún,
Al softely is to the bed y-go,
And kutte the throte of Hermegild a-two,
And leyde the bloody knyf by dame Constaunce,
And went his way, ther God gave him meschaunce.

Sone after comth this constable hom agayn,
And eek Alla, that was kyng of that lond,
And say his wyf dispiteously i-slayn,
For which ful oft he wept and wrong his hond;
And in the bed the blody knyf he fond
By Dame Constaunce: allas! what might she say?
For verray wo hir witt was al away.
To king Alla was told al this meschaunce,
And eek the tyme, and wher, and eek the wyse
That in a ship was founden this Constaunce,
As here bifore ye have herd me devyse.
The kinges hert in pité gan advyse,
Whan he saw so benigne a créatúre
Falle in suspicioun and mysáventúre.
For as the lomb toward his deth is brought,
So stant this innocent bifore the kyng.
This false knight, that hath this tresoun wrought,
Swereth aloude that she hath don this thing;
But