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Invocation
O God of science and of lyght,Appollo, thurgh thy grete myght,
This lytel laste bok thou gye!
Nat that I wilne, for maistrye,
Here art poetical be shewed,
But for the rym ys lyght and lewed,
Yit make hyt sumwhat agreable,
Though som vers fayle in a sillable;
And that I do no diligence
To shewe craft, but o sentence.
And yif, devyne vertu, thow
Wilt helpe me to shewe now
That in myn hed ymarked ys—
Loo, that is for to menen this,
The Hous of Fame for to descryve—
Thou shalt se me go as blyve
Unto the nexte laure y see,
And kysse yt, for hyt is thy tree.
Now entre in my brest anoon!
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