Set in fyne golde bordred with stones clere

The glasses pure / they were of crystall

Made longe ago to be memoryall

And vnder the fyrst glasse ryght fayre wryten was

Beholde thy selfe / and thy fautes or thou passe

 By a sylken threde / small as ony heere

Ouer I sawe hange / a swerde full ponderous

Without a scauberde / full sharpe for to fere

The poynt dounwarde / ryght harde and asperous

All this I sawe / with hert full dolorous

Yet at auenture / to se the mystery

In the myroure / I loked than full sodenly

 In this glasse I sawe / how I had ledde my lyfe

Sythens the tyme of my dyscrecyon

As vnto wyldnesse / alwaye affyrmatyfe

Folowynge the pleasure / of wylfull amonycyon

Not vnto vertue hauynge intencyon

Ihesu sayd I / thou hast me well preserued

From this swerdes fall / whiche I haue oft deserued

 O ye estates / aloft on fortunes whele

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