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436 pages, Hardcover
First published May 1, 2009
My konnyng is so wayk, O blisful Queene,Ackroyd translated this verse into prose this way:
For to declare thy grete worthynesse
That I ne may the weighte nat susteene;
But as a child of twelf month oold, or lesse,
That kan unnethes any word expresse,
Right so fare I, and therfored I yow preye,
Gydeth my song that I shal of youw seye.
My learning and knowledge are so weak, holy Virgin, that I cannot express your mercy or your love. Your light is too bright for me to bear. I come to you as an infant, scarcely able to speak. Form my broken words uttered in praise of you. Guide my song.Cool, isn't it?
