 | [Poems from the Vernon MS] |  |
Of Meditacion of þi-self knowyng.
Takeþ good hede, of alle þinge
Þis tweyne to loue, good þei wil þe bringe:
Þe ffurste Is Meditacion,
Þe toþer is Contemplacion;
Þenk of þi-self þat is to say,
And on God, eueriche day.
Þou maiȝt not loue God riȝt wel
But ȝif þou knowe him furst sumdel,
Ne þi-self neuer þe more.
Þat God is best wite wel þerfore;
And wene not þi-self be best,
Al þi while þen hast þou lost.
Þis tweyne to loue, good þei wil þe bringe:
Þe ffurste Is Meditacion,
Þe toþer is Contemplacion;
Þenk of þi-self þat is to say,
And on God, eueriche day.
Þou maiȝt not loue God riȝt wel
But ȝif þou knowe him furst sumdel,
Ne þi-self neuer þe more.
Þat God is best wite wel þerfore;
And wene not þi-self be best,
Al þi while þen hast þou lost.
Þi-self loke þat þou knowe,
ffor þat schal make þe Meke & lowe
And able to knowe þe grete bounte
Of God þat sitteþ in Maieste.
Bi-þenk þe þenne, whil þou hast quart,
In Bodi and Soule what þou art.
Þi bodi was gendred of foul matere,
Þat is wlatsum for to here.
Bi al þin Issuwes hit is wel sene
Þat þou art not wiþ-Inne ful clene.
Nyne Issuwes þou hast, I wene,
Ȝif þou loke hem al bi-deene:
Tweyne Eren þou hast, ben ful of wore,
Þyn Eȝen ben goundi whon þei ben sore,
Þi Neose-þurles ben ful of snit,
And þi Mouþ of glet and spit,
Þyn Issuwes þat aren in priuete
ffor schome þou letest no mon hem se.
Þerfore, seint Bernard as he vs telles:
Þou proude mon, þou art nouȝt elles
But of Muk bretful a sekke;
Mon, schuldest þou not so muche rekke
Of þi-self þen of anoþer,
ffor Rot is þi ffader, worm þi broþer,
ffor gendred he is riht of þe same
As þou. Proud mon, þou art to blame,
Þat þow berest þe so stoutli
And hast þow non enchesun whi!
ffor þat schal make þe Meke & lowe
And able to knowe þe grete bounte
Of God þat sitteþ in Maieste.
270
In Bodi and Soule what þou art.
Þi bodi was gendred of foul matere,
Þat is wlatsum for to here.
Bi al þin Issuwes hit is wel sene
Þat þou art not wiþ-Inne ful clene.
Nyne Issuwes þou hast, I wene,
Ȝif þou loke hem al bi-deene:
Tweyne Eren þou hast, ben ful of wore,
Þyn Eȝen ben goundi whon þei ben sore,
Þi Neose-þurles ben ful of snit,
And þi Mouþ of glet and spit,
Þyn Issuwes þat aren in priuete
ffor schome þou letest no mon hem se.
Þerfore, seint Bernard as he vs telles:
Þou proude mon, þou art nouȝt elles
But of Muk bretful a sekke;
Mon, schuldest þou not so muche rekke
Of þi-self þen of anoþer,
ffor Rot is þi ffader, worm þi broþer,
ffor gendred he is riht of þe same
As þou. Proud mon, þou art to blame,
Þat þow berest þe so stoutli
And hast þow non enchesun whi!
Heddest þow be maad of stones riche,
Sonne or Mone or bodi heuenliche,
How nobliche þow heddest be wrouȝt!
As Lucifer þow miȝtest haue þouȝt.
Of his beute proud he was:
Þerfore him tidde a wel foul cas,
In heuene he durede but a while.
Riht so pruide wol þe be-gyle
And caste þe doun riht to grounde,
Þi soule in peyne hit schal be bounde.
Þi bodi, þat now is hol and sounde,
So foul rot hit schal be founde,
Hit schal not turne to gras nor flour,
But in to wlatsum and foul odour.
Þus maiȝt þou knowe þi bodily staate,
Þi fleschli lust forto abate.
Sonne or Mone or bodi heuenliche,
How nobliche þow heddest be wrouȝt!
As Lucifer þow miȝtest haue þouȝt.
Of his beute proud he was:
Þerfore him tidde a wel foul cas,
In heuene he durede but a while.
Riht so pruide wol þe be-gyle
And caste þe doun riht to grounde,
Þi soule in peyne hit schal be bounde.
Þi bodi, þat now is hol and sounde,
So foul rot hit schal be founde,
Hit schal not turne to gras nor flour,
But in to wlatsum and foul odour.
Þus maiȝt þou knowe þi bodily staate,
Þi fleschli lust forto abate.
| [Poems from the Vernon MS] | |