Dorai fael lun iel tarach, eilun naeth anali.
(Eardh telleth lare in the wyndes breth.)

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The felle-boghes waxen in tyde of fayth,
but Sythe fleeth in glome y-darke.
Wutherande gale hath y-wroght wrake on ley,
an' chaf be y-winnowed to a glameringe haze."

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Yet treen-folc abiden amonges the lost,
seekin' bairnkin lest they y-wane.
From bark to acorn, they reck the yeers,
oaths y-carven 'twixt elden an' sprig.

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Witles ben they that ne roote setten,
ne y-heren what bodeth upon the wind.
For what roote doth roten, it shal to wrake,
ana halwes y-wrought of sand quaken and fallen,
but He that draweth wellspring of ston,
ana bud of hewen wonde

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" Alle thynges fleten, yet fayth abideth;
y-holden under Makerea honde. "

Penned by my hand on the 25th of Lupar, in the year 968 AF.