My anguish, my anguish! I am pained at my very heart; my heart is disquieted in me; I cannot hold my peace; because thou hast heard, O my soul, the sound of the trumpet, the alarm of war.
Mi wombe akith, my wombe akith; þe wittis of myn herte ben disturblid in me. Y schal not be stille, for my soule herde þe vois of a trumpe, þe cry of batel.