As onn a hylle one eve sittynge,
  At oure Ladie’s Chyrche mouche wonderynge,
  The counynge handieworke so fyne,
  Han well nighe dazeled mine eyne;
  Quod I; some counynge fairie hande 5
  Yreer’d this chapelle in this lande;
  Full well I wote so fine a syghte
  Was ne yreer’d of mortall wighte. 
  Quod Trouthe; thou lackest knowlachynge;
  Thou forsoth ne wotteth of the thynge. 10
  A Rev’rend Fadre, William Canynge hight,
  Yreered uppe this chapelle brighte;
  And eke another in the Towne,
  Where glassie bubblynge Trymme doth roun. 
  Quod I; ne doubte for all he’s given 15
  His sowle will certes goe to heaven. 
  Yea, quod Trouthe; than goe thou home,
  And see thou doe as hee hath donne. 
  Quod I; I doubte, that can ne bee;
  I have ne gotten markes three. 20
  Quod Trouthe; as thou hast got, give almes-dedes soe;
  Canynges and Gaunts culde doe ne moe.

T.R.

ON THE SAME.

    Stay, curyous traveller, and pass not bye,
    Until this fetive pile astounde thine eye. 
    Whole rocks on rocks with yron joynd surveie,
    And okes with okes entremed disponed lie. 
    This mightie pile, that keeps the wyndes at baie, 5
    Fyre-levyn and the mokie storme defie,
    That shootes aloofe into the reaulmes of daie,
  Shall be the record of the Buylders fame for aie.

    Thou seest this maystrie of a human hand,
    The pride of Brystowe and the Westerne lande, 10
    Yet is the Buylders vertues much moe greete,
    Greeter than can bie Rowlies pen be scande. 
    Thou seest the saynctes and kynges in stonen state,
    That seemd with breath and human soule dispande,
    As payrde to us enseem these men of slate, 15
  Such is greete Canynge’s mynde when payrd to God elate.

    Well maiest thou be astound, but view it well;
    Go not from hence before thou see thy fill,
    And learn the Builder’s vertues and his name;
    Of this tall spyre in every countye telle, 20
    And with thy tale the lazing rych men shame;
    Showe howe the glorious Canynge did excelle;
    How hee good man a friend for kynges became,
  And gloryous paved at once the way to heaven and fame.

EPITAPH ON ROBERT CANYNGE.

    Thys mornynge starre of Radcleves rysynge raie,
    A true manne good of mynde and Canynge hyghte,
    Benethe thys stone lies moltrynge ynto claie,
    Untylle the darke tombe sheene an eterne lyghte. 
    Thyrde fromme hys loynes the present Canynge came;
    Houton are wordes for to telle