 | Yorkshire writers |  |
368
IX.
[Ihesu, thi swetnes wha moghte it se]
Ihesu, thi swetnes wha moghte it se
And þare-of hafe a clere knaweynge,
All erthely lufe sulde bitter bee
Bot thyne allane, with-owttene lesynge.
I pray þe, lorde, þat lare lere mee
Aftir þi lufe to hafe langynge,
And sadly sett my herte one þe,
In þi lufe to hafe lykynge.
And þare-of hafe a clere knaweynge,
All erthely lufe sulde bitter bee
Bot thyne allane, with-owttene lesynge.
I pray þe, lorde, þat lare lere mee
Aftir þi lufe to hafe langynge,
And sadly sett my herte one þe,
In þi lufe to hafe lykynge.
So lykand lufe in erthe nane es
In saule, wha sa couthe hertly se;
To lufe hym wele ware mekill blysse:
For kyng of lufe callede es he.
With trewe lufe I walde, I-wysse,
So harde to hym bowndene be
Þat my herte ware hally hys,
And oþer lufe lykede noghte me.
In saule, wha sa couthe hertly se;
To lufe hym wele ware mekill blysse:
For kyng of lufe callede es he.
With trewe lufe I walde, I-wysse,
So harde to hym bowndene be
Þat my herte ware hally hys,
And oþer lufe lykede noghte me.
If I for kyndnes suld luf my kyne,
Ay me thynke þus in my thoghte
By kyndly skyll I sulde be-gyne
At hym, þat me gune make of noghte.
Hys semblant he sette my saule with-In,
And this werlde for me he wroghte,
As fadir of fude, my lufe to wyne,
For herytage in heuene he me boghte.
Ay me thynke þus in my thoghte
By kyndly skyll I sulde be-gyne
At hym, þat me gune make of noghte.
Hys semblant he sette my saule with-In,
And this werlde for me he wroghte,
As fadir of fude, my lufe to wyne,
For herytage in heuene he me boghte.
369
As modir, of hyme I may make mynde,
Þat are my byrthe to me tuke hede,
And seyne with baptyme weschede þat strynde
With synne was fylede with Adames dede;
With nobill mete he nureschede my kynde,
For with his flesche he walde me fede—
A better fude may na mane fynde,
For to lastande lyfe it will vs lede.
Þat are my byrthe to me tuke hede,
And seyne with baptyme weschede þat strynde
With synne was fylede with Adames dede;
With nobill mete he nureschede my kynde,
For with his flesche he walde me fede—
A better fude may na mane fynde,
For to lastande lyfe it will vs lede.
My broþer and syster he es by skyll,
For he saide & lerede þat lare
Þat wha sa dide his fadyr will,
Systers and breþer till hym þay ware;
My kynde also he tuke þare-till.
Full trewly I tryste þare-fore
Þat he will neuer lat me spyll,
Bot with his mercy sal[u]e my sore.
For he saide & lerede þat lare
Þat wha sa dide his fadyr will,
Systers and breþer till hym þay ware;
My kynde also he tuke þare-till.
Full trewly I tryste þare-fore
Þat he will neuer lat me spyll,
Bot with his mercy sal[u]e my sore.
Eftyr his lufe me bude lange
For he has myne full dere boghte:
When I was went fra hym with wrange,
Fra heuene to erthe he me soghte,
My wrechede kynde for me he fange
And all his noblay sette at noghte,
Pouerte he suffirde & penance strange,
To blysse agayne are he me broghte.
For he has myne full dere boghte:
When I was went fra hym with wrange,
Fra heuene to erthe he me soghte,
My wrechede kynde for me he fange
And all his noblay sette at noghte,
Pouerte he suffirde & penance strange,
To blysse agayne are he me broghte.
Whene I was thralle, to make me fre
Mi lufe fra heuene till erthe hym ledde.
My lufe allane hafe walde he,
(And þat my saule sulde sauede bee:)
Þare-fore he laide his lyfe in wedde;
With my faa he faughte for mee,
Woundide he was & bitterly bledde,
His precyous blude full of plentee
Full petevosely for me was schede.
Mi lufe fra heuene till erthe hym ledde.
My lufe allane hafe walde he,
(And þat my saule sulde sauede bee:)
Þare-fore he laide his lyfe in wedde;
With my faa he faughte for mee,
Woundide he was & bitterly bledde,
His precyous blude full of plentee
Full petevosely for me was schede.
His sydes full bla and bludy ware,
That sum-tyme ware full brighte of blee;
His herte was perchede with a spere;
His bludy woundes was reuthe to see.
My raunsone, I-wys, he payede þare
And gaffe his lyfe for gylte of me.
His dulefull dede burde do me dere
And perche myne herte for pure petee.
That sum-tyme ware full brighte of blee;
His herte was perchede with a spere;
His bludy woundes was reuthe to see.
My raunsone, I-wys, he payede þare
And gaffe his lyfe for gylte of me.
His dulefull dede burde do me dere
And perche myne herte for pure petee.
For pete myne herte burde breke in-two,
To his kyndenes if I tuke hede:
Enchesone I was of all his wo,
He sufferde full harde for my mysdede;
To lastand lyfe for I sulde goo,
The dede he tholede in his manhede.
When his will was, to lyfe also
He rasse agayne thurghe his godhede.
To his kyndenes if I tuke hede:
Enchesone I was of all his wo,
He sufferde full harde for my mysdede;
To lastand lyfe for I sulde goo,
The dede he tholede in his manhede.
When his will was, to lyfe also
He rasse agayne thurghe his godhede.
Till heuene he wente with mekill blysse,
Whene he hade venqwyste his bataile.
His banere full brade displayede es,
When so my faa will me assaile.
Wele aghte myne herte þane to be his,
For he es þat frende þat neuer will faile;
And na thynge he will [hafe], I-wys,
Bot trewe lufe for his trauaile.
Whene he hade venqwyste his bataile.
His banere full brade displayede es,
When so my faa will me assaile.
Wele aghte myne herte þane to be his,
For he es þat frende þat neuer will faile;
And na thynge he will [hafe], I-wys,
Bot trewe lufe for his trauaile.
Thus walde my spouse for me fyghte,
And woundide for me he was full sare,
For my lufe his dede was dyghte:
What kyndnes myghte he do me mare?
To ȝelde hym his lufe hafe I na myghte,
Bot lufe hym lelly I sulde þare-fore,
And wyrke his will with werkes ryghte,
That he me leryde with lufely lore.
And woundide for me he was full sare,
For my lufe his dede was dyghte:
What kyndnes myghte he do me mare?
To ȝelde hym his lufe hafe I na myghte,
Bot lufe hym lelly I sulde þare-fore,
And wyrke his will with werkes ryghte,
That he me leryde with lufely lore.
His lufly lare with werkes fulfill
Wele aghte me wreche, if I ware kynde;
Nyghte and daye to wirke his will,
And euermare hafe hym in mynde.
Bot gastely Enemyse greues me ill,
And my frele flesche makes me blynde;
Thare-fore his mercy I take me till,
For bettire bute I kane nane fynde.
Wele aghte me wreche, if I ware kynde;
Nyghte and daye to wirke his will,
And euermare hafe hym in mynde.
Bot gastely Enemyse greues me ill,
And my frele flesche makes me blynde;
Thare-fore his mercy I take me till,
For bettire bute I kane nane fynde.
Bettire bute es nane to me
Bot till his mercy trewly me take,
That with his blude made me fre
And me, a wreche, his sune walde make.
I praye þat lorde for his pete,
For my synne noghte me forsake,
Bot gyffe me grace syne for to flee,
And in his lufe lat me neuer slake.
Bot till his mercy trewly me take,
That with his blude made me fre
And me, a wreche, his sune walde make.
I praye þat lorde for his pete,
For my synne noghte me forsake,
Bot gyffe me grace syne for to flee,
And in his lufe lat me neuer slake.
370
A Ihesu, for þe swetnes þat in the es,
Hafe mynde of me when I sall wende;
With stedfaste trouthe my wittes wysse,
And defende me fra þe fende;
For þi mercy forgyffe me my mysse,
That wikkede werkes my saule ne schende;
Bot brynge me, lorde, vn-to þi blysse,
With þe to wonne with-owttene Ende.
Hafe mynde of me when I sall wende;
With stedfaste trouthe my wittes wysse,
And defende me fra þe fende;
For þi mercy forgyffe me my mysse,
That wikkede werkes my saule ne schende;
Bot brynge me, lorde, vn-to þi blysse,
With þe to wonne with-owttene Ende.
Amen.
Explicit.
| Yorkshire writers | |