Edi Beo Thu, Hevene Quene byð middelenglisc sang ġetwinn (cynd ǣrlīce anglisces manigswegan sanges) fram þrēotēoða ġēarhunderde on fǽmnena lofe.
Þe byð "strofisc" sang (on oðrum wordcwydum: tþæt ānfealdost sangtimberes hiw, in hwilcum ǣlċ færs seted is on ilcan swinsunge)
middelenglisc
eald englisc
Edi beo thu, hevene quene,
Folkes froure and engles blis,
Moder unwemmed and maiden clene,
Swich in world non other nis.
On thee hit is wel eth sene,
Of all wimmen thu havest thet pris;
Mi swete levedi, her mi bene
And reu of me yif thi wille is.
Ēadig bēo þū, heofonlic cwēne,
Folces frowe and engles blis,
Modor un-wemmed and mǣġden clēne,
Swilc on worulde oðerre nis.
On hīe hit is wel ēaþe seah,
Wiþ ǣlcre wīfmannum þū hafast onfeng;
Mīn swēte hlǣfdīġe, hīer mīn bene
And hrēowan tō me ġif þīn willa is.
Thu asteghe so the daiy rewe
The deleth from the deorke nicht;
Of thee sprong a leome newe
That al this world haveth ilight.
Nis non maide of thine heowe
Swo fair, so schene, so rudi, swo bricht;
Swete levedi, of me thu reowe
And have merci of thin knicht.
Þū ġestīgeþ swa dǣġes reoma
Þe dǣle from se deorce neaht;
Nēowe sprang of þī lēoma
þe ealle sēo weorld ġelīhted hæfþ.
Nis ne mǣġden of thinre hēowe
Swa fæġre, swa sciene, swa rudu, swa bryht;
Swēte hlǣfdīġe, mē hrēowe
Midþolie milde þīne cniht.
Spronge blostme of one rote,
The Holi Gost thee reste upon;
Thet wes for monkunnes bote
And heore soule to alesen for on.
Levedi milde, softe and swote,
Ic crie thee merci, ic am thi mon,
Bothe to honde and to fote,
On alle wise that ic kon.
Blōstma ānum ūt stocce sproten,
Se hālga Gāst þē reste upon;
Þæt wǣre mancynne bōte
And hira sāwlum tō lȳsannen on.
Hlǣfdīġan milde and sōfte and swóte,
Iċ bidde árna, iċ am thi mann,
Beġen mid handum and mid fōtum,
On ǽlce wísan þe iċ cann.