Duquesne Studies Philological Series: 2: A critical edition of John Lydgate's Life of our Lady by Joseph A. Lauritis ... General editor: Ralph A. Klinefelter ... Vernon F. Gallagher |
Duquesne Studies | ||
Life of Our Lady
BOOK I
THE PROLOG
With slombre of slouthe, this long wynters nyght
Oute of the slepe, of mortall hevynesse
Awake a noon, and loke upon the lyght
Of thelke sterre that with hir bemys bryght
And withe the shynyng, of hir stremys merye
Is wonte to gladde, all our Emysperye
Of hevy hertes that soroen a[n]d syghen ofte
I mene the sterre, of the bright poole
That with hir bemys whan she is a lofte
May al the trowble aswagen and asofte
Of worldely wawes, which in this mortall see
Have vs byset, withe grete aduersitee
That whan the calme is moste blandyshyng
Then is the streme of dethe moste perylous
If that we wante, the light of hir shynyng
And but the syght, allas of hir lokyng
From dethes brinke, make us to escape
The haven of lif, of us may not be take
Bothe of shynyng and of stremes clere
Botetes Arthour and also Iades
And Esperus when it dothe appere
For this is Spica with hir bright spere
That tawarde even at mydenyght and at morowe
Downe frome the hevyn adaweth all our sorowe
That cloudes blake may the light nat fyne
For this of Iacob, Is the fayrest sterre
That vndir wawes nevere dothe declyne
Whose course is not vndir the clyptyke lyne
But everyliche of beaute may be sene
Amyddeȝ the arke of our merydyne
Of Aurora, aftir the mourwen gray
That she in wepyng dothe on floures flete
In listy Aprill and in fresshe may
And causith phebus the bright somers day
With his golde wayne, bournede bright and fayre
Tenchase the miste of our cloudy ayre
Which holdyth the septre of Iuda in his hande
Whose stremes been, oute of Iesse ronne
To shede hir lyght bothe, on see and lande
Whose gladde beamys without eclypsyng stonde
Estwarde to vs in the orient full shene
With light of grace, to voiden all our tene
Whose light to see, angelleȝ delyte
So late the golde dewe of thy grace fall
Into my breste, like skales, fayre and white
Me to enspyre of that I wolde endyte
With thylke bame, sent downe by myracle
Whan the hooly goost, the made his habitacle
Into my penne, tenlumyne this dite
Thorough thy supporte þat I may procede
Sumwaht to saye in laude ande p[r]eys of the
And first I thynke at the natiuitee
So that thyne helpe, fro me nat ne twynne
Benyng lady, a noon forto begynne
[[I]]
Full many ver with holsome leves swote
Only by grace vppon the stalke aroos
Out of Iesse, spryngyng fro the Rote
Off god ordeynyde to be a Resort and bote
Vnto mankynde our trouble to determyne
Full longe afforne by prescyens dyvyne
Vnto the vertue, who so luste take hede
That in a garden, a myddys of Nazareth
So fayre som tyme gan to spryng and sprede
That thorough the worlde bothe in lenthe and brede
The fresshe odour, and also the swetnesse
Hertes comforteth, of all her hevynesse
This Flour, yov makyth, of name more Ryall
Than either Rome, elate and full of pride
Or myghty Troye, with the sturdy wall
Whose Renon halteth, to be paragall
In Honour pryse, Fame and Reuerence
Vnto youre passyng, worthi excellence
Thow hast more laude, and commendacion
For thilke fruite, that sprong out of the
Than hath Aufryke of worthy Scypyon
Or Rome of Sesar, or of Fabion
Though hir nameȝ were some tyme grave in golde
Her Idyll fame, to thyne may not be tolde
O Nazareth of name, most flouryng
For oute of the, a floure mooste fayre of syght
Moste full of grace, som tyme dydde spryng
Of the whiche fully Remembryng
So longe a gon spake hooly Isaye
When þat he sayde in his prophecye
The holy gooste, for his chosyn place
As for the fairest, and also for þe beste
That euere was and, most full of grace
Whose passyng beaute, no storme may deface
But euere yliche contynueth fresshe of hewe
With oute fadyng, the colour is so trwe
The white lylye of the chosyn vale
The swete Roose, of the fayre felde
Which of colour wexyth neuer pale
The violet, our langour to a vale
Purpyll hewede, thorough mercy and pety
To socoure alle, that in myschief be
This holy floure hadde hir orygynall
To hem afforne, by synge Ishewede whanne
The Angell tolde hem playnely þat ther shall
Of hem be borne, a mayde in speciall
Chosyn of godde most chefe of hir alye
For hir mekenesse and hatte shall Marye
Had of this mayde hir birthe prophecied
And all the manere to bothe hem tolde
In bokes olde, as it is specifiede
Home to her houses a noon thay haue hem hyed
And she conceyved, this faythfull trwe wyf
By Ioachym, the holy frute of lyfe
Our olde sorowes, fully forto fyne
The bitter gall, playnely to enchace
Of the venym, callet serpentyne
For when that Anne, hade monethes nyne
Borne this frute so holy and entere
Thorough grace of god, a noon it dyd appere
With dedely errour oppressede of the nyght
With cloudes blake, and with skyeȝ blynde
Tyll thay were clered, with fayrenesse of the light
Of whiche the Angell, some tyme hade a syght
With Iacob wrestelyng, from hym as he breyde
So longe aforn to hym whanne he seide
Agayne me, and make noo recistence
The nyght is passet, lo the morowen gray
The fresshe Aurora, so fayre in apparence
Hir light daweth, to voyde all offence
Of wyntir nyghtes full long and tediouse
With newe apperyng, so gladde and graciouse
Of this mayde, at hir Natiuitee
The nyght gan voide, of oure olde mornyng
As þe Aungell, in figure did se
With such a touche, made Iacob be
Seer in his senwes, like as it is founde
In that membre, wher lust dothe moost habounde
Dovne by dessente, oute of his kynrede
A clene mayde, in will and werkeng
Pure of entent, bothe in thought and dede
Whiche as Aurora, with hir Rawes rede
The nyght avoideth with his copeȝ donne
Affore the vpryste of the bright sonne
The nyght of dethe devoidede hath awaye
And bright kalendes, most lusty for to se
Of phebus vprist, withoutyn more deley
For she is Aurora, sothely this is noo nay
Oute of which, as propheteȝ can devise
The sonne of lyfe, to vs gan first aryse
Albumaȝar, wrote in speciall
And sayde, a mayde sothely shall be borne
Vndir the signe above Celestiall
That callet is the sygne virgynall
The whiche mayde, as he eke tell can
Shall bere a shylde, withoutyn spote of man
Is holde a mayde, Right so this hevynly quene
Bare in hir wombe, the fadirs sapience
And mothir was and a mayden clene
Of god provydede playnely for to been
Socour to man, and helpe in all our nede
Whanne she was borne, this floure of womanhede
[[II]]
Hir modir pappis, she left as in soukyng
And thanne anon, in her tendre age
Vnto the Temple, deuoutely they hir bryng
And unto god, they made offryng
Of this mayde, for to abyde there
With othir maydens, that in the temple were
Hir grene youthe, but of yeres thre
Thorough goddes helpe, this braunche of holynesse
With outyn helpe went vp, gre by gre
Fyftene on lofte, that wondir was to see
Tofore the auter, of so grete an hight
Thenne whanne hir modir, ther of had a syght
And seide thus, that all myghten here
God frome above, hath herde myne orysoune
Of his godenesse, and graunted my prayer
And Recomfortede, myn oppressede chier
In sight of hem, that lowghen at my payne
And of malice, gan at me disdeigne
To my tristesse, consolacion
For he hath made the bareyn to bere frute
Thorough his myghty vesitacion
And made eke clere, my confucion
And all my woo, for to overgone
Only by grace, a myddys all my foon
Of hem that gan, to chace at me by pryde
Wherfore she hath, vnto god avowed
That hir doughter, shall in the Temple abyde
The holy gost, for to be her guyde
For euermore, by goddes purviaunce
Thurgh her mekenesse, hym to do plesaunce
Hym forto serue, with perfite humblesse
That all maydenes, may ensample take
Of hir alone, to leve in clennesse
And specially, of hir deuote mekenesse
Benyng, port, contenaunce, and chier
If that hem list of hir thay might ler
Hir hert was, that god to dwelle in chees
And day by day, Right as she wex in age
Right so in vertu, gan she to encrese
And nyght ne day wolde she neuer sees
To exclude slouthe, and vices to werrey
With handeȝ to werke, or with mought to pray
So vpon hym, entierly was hir thought
And frome above, by grace he hir visited
That euery thyng, but hym, she sett at nought
Of worldly luste, she hath so litille rought
That oute of mynde, she lete it ouere slyde
That nought but god, may with hir abyde
[[III]]
She was as sadde in conuersacion
And also demure, sothely forto seyne
Form all childehode and dissolucion
In gouernaunce and in descrecion
And in talkyng alse wise and alse sage
As any mayde of xxxti yere of Age
Fro day to day, this holy mayde enter
Fro prime at morowe, by continuance
To thre at bell to be in hir prayer
And till the sonne was at mydday spere
On golde and silke and on wolleȝ softe
With hir handys, she wolde wyrke ofte
Fro god above, ther was an Angell sent
Whiche that she tooke, as for hir lyfelode
Thankyng hym aye, with hir hole entente
And aftir mete, a noon this mayde is went
Agayne to praye, tyll phebus went to west
And Evyn at eve, with hym she tooke hir Rest
In whome was never yet, founde offence
And neuer man sawe, this mayde wrothe
But ever meke, and full of paciens
Of hert clenne, and pure in conscience
This lif she ledde, and as bokes teche
Of wordes fewe, and wondre softe of speche
Out of þe temple, for her sustenaunce
With hert gladde, and with a perfyte thought
To pore and nedy, that leven in penaunce
To giffe it frely, was all hir pleasaunce
And who that euere, of hir hadde a sight
Of all diseases, was made glad and light
A touche of hir, made hem hoole a noon
And thay that were in tought and in diseasse
Whan they hir sawe, hir maladye was gone
And thus she was, to eueryche oone
Of all mischeve, Refute and Remedye
With a be haldyng, of hir godely eye
Hir godely face, was so full of light
That no man myght, susteyn to by holde
For it was clever then the sonne bryght
That the crowne, in the wynters nyght
Of Adrian, ne of þe sterres sevene
To her fairnesse, be not for to nevene
While he be helde, on hir hooly face
The holy goste, so hoole was hir within
That all envyron, sprede gan his grace
Where þat she was present in any place
For all way god gaffe to hir presence
So fulsum light, of hevynly influence
As was this mayde, of Iuda and Syon
The doughtir chosyn of Ierusalem
Of David seed, for to be sett alone
Of all maydens, to Reken hem euerychone
She bare the price, as well in fayrnesse
As she excellede, in vertu and in goodenesse
Ne thow Troy, of yong Polexene
Ne Rome of Lucresse, with hir eyn tweyne
Ne thow Cartage, of thy fresshe quene
Dido that was so fayre some tyme to seen
Late be your boste, and take of hem noon hede
Whose beaute, fayleth as floure in frosty mede
And Iudith wyse, but she yet dyd excell
And Barsabe of grete semelynesse
And Rachell fayre, Iacob can yov tell
But she aloone, of womanhode the well
Of bountee, beaute, þat neuere fade may
Nat liche a floure, that flouressheth but in may
Bothe in fairenesse, and in perfeccion
Right as þe sonne, doth a litil sterre
And as þe rubie, hath wone þe renoun
Of stonys all, and dominacion
Right so this mayde, to speke of holynesse
Of women all Is lady and maystres
In sapience, wo so lust it to seke
That she was chosyn, for hym self alone
This white dove with hir eyn meke
Whose chekys were, hir beaute forto eke
With lylieȝ meynt and fresshe Rosys Rede
This is to sayen, who so can take hede
And with the lyle, next of chastytee
She was ennuede, to yef hyr suffisaunce
As well in goodnesse, as in beaute
And as he sayeth, she fayrer was to see
Than outhir phebus, platly or lucyne
With hornes full on heven, whan thay schyne
In his wrytyng, hir beaute to termyne
Of face fayre, but fayrer yet of fayeth
He sayth she was, this holy pure virgyne
Whose chast hert, to no thyng dyd enclyne
For all hir beaute, but to holynesse
Of whome also this Autor saythe expresse
Sterre of the see, and goddes awne ancyll
Quene of the worlde, al way of one entent
And goddes spous, his hestes to fulfille
And euere redy, forto wyrke his will
Crystes temple, and also Receptacle
Of the holy goost, and chosen tabernacle
Of women alle, who so looke aright
Of maidenhede, lady and princesse
One of the fyve, that bare hyr laumpe light
Redy to mete, with hir spous at nyght
Full prudently, awaytyng at the gate
That for noo sloothe, she came not to late
[[IIII]]
To eschewe thynges that god shulde displease
The next petee of werrey woman hede
To Rewe on all, that she sawe in disease
The thryde, Connyng, god and man to please
The forthe, Strengh thorough hir stedfastnesse
Only by vertu, all vices to oppresse
To kepe hir pure in virginite
For ay with counsell, alliede ys prudence
For god hym self, chese with hir to be
Of vndirstondyng, eke, the yefte had she
Ande of wysdom, so god liste hir avaunce
To knawe Iche thyng, that was to his pleasaunce
That stondythe, so Royall in godes awne syght
To fore wheche, sevene laumpes brenne
With hevenly fyre, so spirituell of light
That never wast but euere yliche bryght
Continue in oone, high above in hevyn
By whiche trone, and the laumpes vii
With vii vertues, that in hir were founde
That some tyme were, with gostly fyre so clere
Thorough light of vertu, Inwardely Iocounde
Only thorough grace, that dyd in hir habounde
And all thay were growendyd in mekenesse
Her lyght to god, more plesauntly to dresse
That it was voyde, of all doublenesse
Hir hope of truste, was also mayntenable
Roted in god, by perfith sikernesse
Whose charite, so large can hym dresse
That vp to god, hottest Ran the fyre
With hete of of clennes, to all by desyre
She had also, conveyede with clennesse
And souerenly, she had temperaunce
In all hir werkes, with greate avysenesse
And euere anexede vnto Right wysnesse
With in hir hert of womanly bounte
She had of custome mercy and pety
As saythe Ambrose, she was in thought and dede
And trwe merrowre, of virgynytee
Of port benyng, full of lawlyhede
Aye humble of chere, and feminyn of drede
Prudent of speche, of what hir lust to shewe
Large of sentens, and but of wordes fewe
Off hert wakir, by deuocion
To god all way with thought contemplatyf
Full fervent euere in hir intencion
And Idyll, neuer from occupacion
And specially vnto almes dede
Hir honde was euere redy at þe nede
To rewe on all, that feltyn woo or smert
Wel willede euere, with hole affection
To euery wyght, so louyng was hir hert
Sad withe all this, that hir neuere astert
Aloke amysse, of hir eyne fayre
So close of sight, was this debonayre
To loke and rede, she founde most delyte
And whan she sawe, and herde in Isaye
Of cristes birthe, howe he dyd wryte
To god she lifte, hir tendre handys white
By sechyng hym, she myght abyde and see
This blisfull day, of his Natyvyte
That titled is, of hir avisions
I fynde how this mayde of Naȝareth
Sayde euery day, seven orysions
Whiche clepyde ben, hir petycions
Withe humblehert, this yong blisfull mayde
Ful lowely knelynge, evene thus she sayde
[[V]]
Of every hert, In thyne eternall sight
Yeffe me grace, the firste commaundement
To fulfille as it is skyll and right
And grant also, with herte will and myght
And all my savle, and all my full knawyng
The for to love, aboven all othir thyng
The next byddyng, lyke to thy pleasaunce
And for to loue, withe hert and all my will
My neghbore in dede, and contenaunce
Right as my self, with every circumstance
And her withall, for Ioye woo or smerte
That thou lovest, to love with all myn hert
Fulfille also, boþe erly and late
In suche maner, as most is to thy pay
Benigne lorde, and make me for to hate
Manknydes foo, for he made furst debate
In kynde of man, and made hym to trespace
Agayns the and to lese his grace
Above al thyng, for to haue mekenesse
And make me sufferaunte, humble and benigne
With paciens and inwarde myldenesse
Of all vertues, gyf me eke largesse
To be accepte, the to queme and serue
To fynde only thy grace I may diserue
Mekely I pray vnto thy deite
Me forto graunte of thy godelyhede
The gracious hour, forto abyde and see
In whiche, the holy chosyn mayden free
Into this worlde here aftir shall be borne
Lyche as propheteȝ, have wrytyn here to forne
Be maide and modur, to þi sone dere
Now goode lorde, here myn orisoun
To kepe my eyne, and my sight entier
That I may see, hir holy halowed chier
Hir sacrede beawtee, and hevynly contenaunce
If thou of grace liste me, so moche avaunce
Here hir speche, and hir daliaunce
And with my tonge, speke that mayden to
Paciently thorough hir sufferaunce
Of wordly Ioye, this were my suffisaunce
And hir to love, lyke as I desyre
Benynge lorde, thou set myne herte afyre
Though I therto, have nowe noo worthynesse
That holy mayde, forto handyll and touche
Myn owne ladi, and myn maystresse
And that I maye, with humble buxumnesse
Uppon my feet, in all my best wyse
Go vnto hir, for to do servise
Graunte also lorde, þat I may haue space
Makely to bowe, and knele vppon my kne
Vndir supporte only, of hir grace
And to honour the godely yong face
Of hir sonne, as she dothe hym wrappe
In clothis softe lyggyng in hir lappe
With all myne herte, and myne hole servise
Withoutyn chaunge, while my lyve may laste
Right as thy self lorde canst best devyse
So that I may, in faythfull humble wyse
In all this worlde, no more grace atteyne
Then love hym beste, with all my might and peyne
Thou graunte it me to fulfyll in dede
Hooly thy statutes and mekely to obeye
Within the Temple, as I here hem Redde
For but thou helpe, I may no thyng spede
As of my self, therfore vnto the
All I committe, as thou luste it be
That to thy Temple, oo lorde be pertynent
So latte thy grace, by mercy on me fall
That I may done hem, with all my hole intente
And euery byddyng, and commaundement
That thy mynystreȝ, assignede vnto me
Make me fulfill, with all humillite
[[VI]]
In the Temple, makyth hir prayers
To plese god, wat she can or may
The chief Resorte, of all hir desyres
Tyll she atteiynede into xiiii yeres
With hert avowyd, bothe in thought and dede
For to continue, in hir maydyn hede
Were some of hem, that in the Temple abyde
Of whiche a Bisshoppe callet Abiathar
Cast hym fully, forto sette asyde
Hir purpoys playnly, and so furth to provyde
That hir avowe, made of chastite
Shall not holde but outrely that she
Vnto his sonne, of his affection
For that she was, in euery whyghtes syght
So passyng gode of condicion
And to fulfill his entencion
Abyathar behotyth, golde and Rente
To the Bisshoppys, to make hir to assente
And what thay may, thay gan hir excite
And afferme, to hir euerychone
With sugrede tonge, of many wordeȝ whyte
That god above, dothe hym more delyte
In birthe of chyldren then in virginite
Or any suche, avowede chastite
And more in hem, hathe he his pleasaunce
Than in suche, as be not but baren
Without frute, thorough misgouernaunce
And holy writte, makyth Remembraunce
That no man, was sothely forto tell
Withoutyn seede, blesset in Israell
[[VII]]
Benyngly, and in full humble wyse
This holy mayde, sayde as ye shall here
Certes quod she, yf ye yov wele aduise
Whiche in your self, so prudent ben and wyse
And woll aduerte in youre discrecion
That Abel sumtyme had a dowble crone
Offerde to god, of humble hert and free
And an othir, as I shall yov devyse
For he his body, kept in chastite
And hely eke, as ye may rede and see
For he in hert, was a mayde clene
He was Ravysshede above the sterreȝ sevene
For he hym kept from all corrupcion
Therefore in vayne is playnly your desyre
To speke to me, of this opynnyon
For god wele knawithe, myne entencion
Howe I have vowede, as it to hym is couthe
To ben a mayde, fro my tendir youthe
For lyve or deth, only for his sake
Fro which purpose, shall I not disceuere
Thorough his grace, whedir I slepe or wake
To kepe and holde I haue vndir take
My maydynhode, Sythyn goo full yore
Agaynst which, ne spekyth to me no more
But ay stedfaste, of oon affection
And euere Ilyche, as any centre stable
Thay haue made, a conuocacion
Of all the kynrede as in conclusion
The viii day forto come in fere
By one assent, to trete of this matier
Of Custome kept, for a memoriall
That euery mayde, xiiii yere of age
Riche and pore, and of the stok Royall
In the Temple, no longer dwell shall
But by statute, shall be take and maried
By the lawe, and no longer tariede
Iȝachar, in open audience
Gan to pronounce to forne hem euerycheone
Full prudently, the Somme of his sentence
And sayde syrrys with your pacienceȝ
So þat youre eres, offende not ne greve
Declare I shall, my menyng with youre leve
In Isaraell, Septer bare and crovne
In this Temple, so Royall in bildyng
Haue yong maydems, by deuocion
Of custome hadde here conuersacion
Bothe kynges doughtirs, and propheteȝ eke
As ye may funde, yf ye liste to seke
Abydyng here, and no lenger space
As ye wele knawe, withoutyn any wer
And þanne be removed from here place
And in hir stede, othir did pace
As custome was, and eke in hir lynage
Delyuerde was, vnto theyre mariage
Vnto this tyme, to high and lawe estate
But now Marie, hath founde an ordre newe
To kepe hir clene and inviolate
Agaynst which, ther helpith ne debate
But of free choys, and hertly volunte
She hath to god, avowede chastite
To this purpoos, by good discrecion
First how we myght fully haue knawyng
Of godys will, in this opynyon
For than it were, of more perfeccion
Hir clene entent as semyth vnto me
And eke the strenger of Auctorite
[[VIII]]
To whose kepyng she shall comitted be
And thay assentide, hereto vttirly
Withoute more of high and lawe degre
And of one accorde and of oon vnyte
The prestes alle, gonnen to procede
To caste lotte, down by Iche kynrede
As I suppose thorough goddes purviaunce
And Iȝacar, among hem euerychone
Purposed hath a newe ordynaunce
That euery wyght, of that aliaunce
That wyfeles were, withoutyn more delay
Sholde brynge a yerde, a gaynst the next day
Eueryche of hem, did his yerde bryng
Among whiche Iosephe hath brought oon
Though he were olde passit his lykyng
And he anon made his offryng
To god above, and a sacryfice
In the olde lawe suche as was the gyse
And with the yerde, badde than þat he shulde goon
And putten hem, euerychone in fere
In Sancta Sanctorum lyggyng oone by oone
And on the morowe, to come a gayne Ichone
Eueryche his yerde, for to Receyve a gayne
Vppon which, ther opynly was sayne
He that shall haue withoutyn more obstacle
Marie in kepyng so fayre vpon to see
As it is Right, for the high myracle
And than thay come vnto the tabernacle
As ye have herde, the Bisshopp deuotly
Eueryche his yerde, delyuerde by and by
At this tyme, was there noo thyng seyne
For goddys heste, was not yet fall
Of hir desyre, to putt hem in certeyne
Wherefore the Bisshopp, with newe fyre agayne
Entride is in to þe seintwarye
And whiles þat he, a while there gan tarie
Downe from hevyn, by myracle sent
And tolde playnly the heste of god was trwe
But how hym self, was some what negligent
For to delyuere, by commaundement
Euery man his yerde, as he aughte
And whan the Bisshopp, a Right hym bethought
That of disdayne, and wilfull necgligence
The yerde of Iosephe was lefte by hynde
Wherby he knewe, he had doon offence
And gan anoon, to bryng it in presense
And toke it Iosephe devoutly in his hande
Among hem all, there he dyd stonde
With humble chere, in the lawest place
And of his yerde, in maner Rekeles
Full styll of porte, with a dredefull face
And whan he dyd, with his hande enbrace
His yerde a gayne, full debonayre of loke
By Innocens of humble fere, he quoke
All opynly in euery, weyghteȝ sight
Vppon the yerde, of Ioseph full benyng
Was sene a dove, of fetheres lylly white
That towardes, hevyn, evenshe toke hir flyght
And with oo voys, the people thoo obreyde
And unto Ioseph, all atoones seyde
Thy fate is blesset, and thyne aventure
And blissed is thyne, humble attendaunce
And thow art blisset, so long to endure
For to possede, so fayre a creature
So goode so holy, nowe in thy passed age
So clene a mayde, to haue in mariage
Assigned was, vnto his gouernaunce
But sely Iosephe, gan hym to withdrawe
With humble chere, and shamefaste contenaunce
And sayde certis, there is noon accordaunce
By twyxe hir yought, flouryng in fayrenesse
And me whome age, with vn lust doth oppresse
And well Iwote, also mayden clene
And I am olde, with white lockes graye
Passed full ferre, my tendre yeres grene
Wherfore I pray yov, to considre and sene
Tacorde discordant, and speke to me noo more
By twene hir beaute, and my lockes hore
Of this Iosephe, and eke the Innocence
And how that he, to take hir nolde assent
To hym he sayde, in opyn audience
Ioseph quod he, take hede to my sentence
And be welware, þat thou the not excuse
Ageynst the will of god, forto Refuce
By opyn signe, whiche all the people seye
Thorough goddes grace and myghty volunte
Agaynst whiche, be warr to disobeye
And þenke how he sumtyme made to deye
Dathan Abyron only for offence
Doon vnto hym, of Inobedyence
Io goddes will or byddyng be contrar
But hir accept vnto my kepyng
For whom god hath shewed signe so fayre
Whiche is so goode, benyngne and debonayre
That I to hir seruaunt woll be and gyde
Tyll god for hir, lust better to provyde
So made was tho, the confirmacion
By hest of wedlok, by twene theym hande by hande
And he hir toke, to his possession
With hert clene and meke affeccion
But while he wente to Bedlem the Cite
Mary abode styll in Galile
[[IX]]
Howe Iosephe aftir he had weddyde our lady went to Bedleem and vsed the crafte of Carpentre Capitulo ixo
Like hir a vowe, of hert all way oon
And fyve maydens the most vertuose
Of the Temple, were chosyn oute a noon
Of the Bisshop with hir for to goon
To wayte on hir, by humble attendaunce
In what þey can, to serve and do plesaunce
And Sephera, the secund as I fynde
Susanna ȝabel, and Abygea
The othir thre, as bokes makyn mynde
Which neuer wolde, for slouthe be byhynde
But ay in oon, as it is specified
In werke and prayer, weren occupyed
That of levying, so faythfull weren and trwe
And diligent in occupacion
Delyuerede was silke, of sondry hewe
For to make, of dyuerse werkes newe
In the Temple of entencion
Onely to be, in mynstracion
Eueryche hir silke, toke by aventure
Lyke as hir hande, fell ther on by chaunce
But Marye, as god tho schope hir vre
The purpyll silke, she toke in cure
By graciouse happe, of sort withouten sight
The whiche colour, of custome and of Right
Of dewte to speke, in speciall
But to thestate, onely of a kyng
So þat noo wight, but of the stokke royall
By statute olde, this colour vse shall
For by olde tyme, ye shulde noo man seen
In purpyll cladde putt onely, kyng or qwene
Verrely by dewe disposicion
Vpon marye that to forne thayme alle
By lyne right, is descended downe
Of blode Royall, and by election
Of god above, was Ichosyn forto been
For hir meryte, of hevyn and erthe the qwene
Of thelke kyng þat all was cladde in Rede
Of purpill hewe, bothe face and chere
Downe to the foote, from his blissed hede
Whan he of purpill, dyd his baner sprede
On Calvery abrode, vpon the Rode
To save mankynde, whan he schede his bloode
I fynde playnely, how that Marye wrought
Thylke vayle that was in tweyn torne
The same houre whan he so dere vs bought
Loo howe þat godd in his eternall thought
Provydede hathe, by Iust purvyaunce
The purpull silke, vnto his moders chaunce
[[X]]
In Naȝareth a mong her frendys to dwelle
Ledyng a lyfe, more perfyte and entere
Than any tunge, suffise may to tell
For euere elyche, as a fulsome well
Shedith his stream in to þe ryvere
Right so Marye, in ensample clere
Onely in vertu, vpon euery syde
O wele were thay, to whom thou were maistresse
And blisset eke, that might on the abyde
To have by ensample, so vertuouse a gyde
And blisset, was that holy companye
That day by day, the seen with her eye
In whiche thou haddist, thy holy mansion
Fortuned well and wondre graciouse
So humble was thy conuersacion
And blisset was also all the towne
Where thou abode, and blissed the village
O holy mayde, where thou helde hostage
Where day by day, thou wentist vnto bourde
For in sothenesse the Ioye was nat lyche
Of Cresus kyng, for all his riche hurde
And blisset ben thay that herden worde by worde
Of thy speche, blisset the houre and tyme
Of all thy lyfe, frome even to the prime
Of thaym that myght vpon the byholde
For well they awght to be glad and light
That werne with the all way whan thay wolde
And blissed werne bothe yonge and olde
That werne reioysede, with thyne excellence
Whan that hem liste of theyne high presence
Of thyne hevenly meditacions
Assendyng vp above the sterres bright
In thyne Inwarde contemplacions
Or thy holy visitacions
Who can Reherse hem, bright as sonne or leven
So ofte sent downe to the, frome heven
With god alwaye, full in thy memorye
For love of whome, thou sigest full ofte
Whan thou were soole, in thyne orytorye
Or who can tell, the melody and glorye
That Angelleȝ have made, in thy holy place
For the Ioye thay had, to loke vpon thy face
For vnconyng, and for lake of space
The mater is so Inly spirituall
That I dar nat, so high a style pace
But lady myne, I put all in thy grace
This first booke compylede for thy sake
Of my symples, and thus an ende I make
That ther of shall haue Inspection
Yf aught be left, of necgligence or slowthe
Or sayde to moche, of presomppcion
And put it mekely to her correcion
And aske mercy for my trespace
Where as I erre, and put me in her grace
So as I can, forthe I woll procede
With all my hert, and hole entencion
Prayeng that mayde, that is of godelyhede
Croope and Rote, to helpe in this nede
Whom I now leve in Naȝareth Soiourne
And to my mater, I will agayne returne
BOOK II
[[XI]]
Howe mercy Pees Rightwisnesse and Trouthe disputede for the Redempcion of mankynde Ca xi primo 2 lib.
Thenketh longe aftir delyveraunce
And he that felyth payne and passion
Desyrith sore, aftir alleggeaunce
And who þat is in sorowe and penaunce
Lytyll wondir of hertly hevynesse
Though he covete, relees of his distresse
Fer in exile, and proscripcion
And is bysette with many a cruell foo
And can no gynne, to his saluacion
To escape deth, with oute grete rawnsoun
Full longe he thynketh of full lytyll space
While he in bondeȝ, abydeth aftir grace
In sothefastnesse, encresethe more his payne
Than all constrent, of his aduersite
And causeth hym more, to syghe and pleyne
For Ioye passet, can hertes more constrayne
Her welthe affore, to be wepe and wayle
Than all the turment, that hem dothe assayle
Of more ioye, or of gladdnesse telle
Then some tyme couthe, the worthe kynde of man
That shapen was, in paradise to dwell
Tyll he alas, was banschede into hell
Fer in exile, from his possession
And þerto abide, stoked in preson
His mirthe his ioye, and his olde welfare
His force his myght, and holy his socour
And was of vertu, nakede made and bare
And lay full seeke langwyssheng in care
So fer proscript, oute of his contre
That by the lawe, ther may noo recoverbe
Lay plonged downe withouten Remedy
That whan that mercy wolde haue bene ameen
Rightwisnes gan it, anoon denye
And whan that pees, for recover gan to crye
Can trowth forthe, with a sterne face
And sayde plattely, that he gette noo grace
Full longe agoone, to trete of this matier
And Rightwisnesse with hem was eke there
And troughe also, with a deynous chere
And whan thay were, all foure in fere
As ye haue herde, and gan to entrete
Than first of all, cruely to threte
Of cruell Ire, and of malencolye
And sayde schortely, that man for his outerage
Of verrey Right, moste nedeȝ dey
And thus be gan the controuersye
By twene the Sustren, and trouthe all way in oon
Sayde playnely, Rekever is ther noon
Tolde hym the perell affore his offence
But he me putte oute of his bandon
And gaffe to me no maner audience
And I quod Right with all my diligence
Wolde hym haue reuled but he toke no hede
Wherfore of me he getyth noo helpe at nede
He made his quarell even agayne right
And a gaynes trouthe falsely he gan to take
When he hir putte clene oute of his sight
A gayne pees be gan a cruell fight
Whan he from hym mercy sette aferre
Brekyng the trouthe and wolde algate haue werre
But latt hym haue as he hathe deserued
Ye done grete wronge if ye woll hym restore
That hath his heste to yoo nought conseruet
A yes quod mercy nature hath reseruet
To pees my Sustre playnly and to me
On wrecheȝ euere for to haue pyte
More then of malice, I wisse quod mercy thoo
Ye for all that, he most haue his penaunce
Quod Right a noon lyke as he hathe doo
A þenke quod pees, þat toward Iericho
He was dispoilet, amonge his cruell foon
For lakke of helpe, when we hym lefte aloon
To go the way, I taught hym of Reason
Quod mercy than, the mortall foo of pees
The olde serpent, Rote of all treson
Of fals envye, and Indignacion
Lay in a waite, to bryng hym to a trayne
Whan vnto hym, falsely he gan sayne
The fayre frute, in paradise present
He shuld lyke, un to goddes be
Of gode and yvell, to haue entendement
And for my Sustre Trouthe was absent
And ye your selfe, also Rightwisnesse
He was be trayede, sliȝly be falsnesse
Hym to Releve, yf I can or maye
And I quod pees, well helpe faythfully
The grete Ire, and Rancour to alay
Of Iugement, to put it in delay
And here vpon to fynde full refuge
I well procede affore the high Iuge
[[XII]]
Mercy and pees, this cause brought a noon
And in the high hevenly consistatory
Pees sayde thus, amonge hem euerycheone
A blessud lorde, þat art both thre and oon
So please it the benignely to here
What I woll saye, ans my sustre dere
How thow maidst, mercy souereygne
That whan that euere vnto the she call
Thow maist of Right, hir prayer not disdeyne
And specially whan that we bothe tweyne
To thy highnesse for any thyng Requyre
Thow must of grace, fulfill our prayer
Thyne awne doughtir, chefe of thyne alye
And hath hir place, above the sterres seven
With the orders, of eueryche Herarchye
Whom day by day, thow canste so magnifie
Among thy werkes, to make hir empresse
To helpe wreches, whan thay be in distresse
Lyke thy gretnesse, and thy magnificence
And who that dothe mercy and pyte
Dothe sacrifice high in thy presence
And is not mercy of more excellence
Lyke as the Sawter, well reherse can
Upon the herthe, beter than lyfe of man
Avisely who so, taketh hede therto
Sayest opynly with thyne awne mouthe
That to a thousand, thow canst thy mercy doo
And holy David, Recordith eke also
With his harpe above all othir thyng
That he thy mercyes, eternally shall syng
Vpon erthe, of any manere kynde
Withoutyn mercy, eny whyle endure
For all wer goon, and mercy wer byhynde
Wherfore lorde, on mercy haue thy mynde
The woofull caytyffe, to take vnto thy grace
That hath so longe, be seuerede fro thy face
For sothe lorde, of dewete and of Right
Yet euere in oon, my dwellyng is with the
For selde or neuere, I part oute of thy syght
Pees is my name, that power hath and myght
Thorowe my connyng, hem that bene mortall foon
Thorough helpe of the, to corden thayme in oon
That of thy pees, ther may noo ende be
And eke thy pees, euery whight dothe excell
And art thy self, of verray dewte
Called the prynce, of pees and vnyte
And yet behotest, wreches to Releve
Thy bonde of pees, that it shall neuer meove
Of all this worlde, spryngyth oute of pees
Now lorde sithe, I am made to be Refute
And to the wofull, comfort and encrese
Graunt of thy grace, now a full Relees
That I and mercy, may thy foon confonde
Of thylke caytyffe, that lyeth in preson bounde
To goo at large, and haue Remyssion
Of his þraldom, and captiuite
And be deliuered, ouȝt of his preson
So that ther be made Redempcion
For his seruage, and a fynall pay
Lorde of thy mercy, with outyn more delay
Merncy and pece, with full high sentence
Touchyng man, with synne so ennoysed
The Iuge gave, benygne audience
And whan he had longe kepet sylence
For all the skylleȝ, to hym that they layde
Yet at the laste, to hem thus he sayde
[[XIII]]
Though youre Request, come of tendre hert
Ye must consydre, with a prudent eye
Of Rightwysnesse, it may nat me astert
Lyke your askyng, by favour to aduerte
Vnto the cause, that is Represent
But Right and trouth, fully will assent
To execute any Iugement
Wherfore lette call hem in this gret nede
For I must worche by hir avysement
And whan thay, were comen and present
Then trouth a noon touchyng this matier
Saide openly, þat alle myȝten here
Ne be nat dede, for his Inyquyte
Than outrelyche, the fraunchece is defaced
Bothe of my sustyr, Rightwisnesse and me
And fynally, our bothe liberte
Gothe vnto nought, and our iurediction
But he be punysshed, for his transgressyon
Tolde hym afforne, withoutyn any drede
The grete parell of this mortall werre
Etyng the apull, that he muste be dede
But he of slouthe, toke therto no hede
Wherfore he muste, as right lust provyde
Withoutyn mercy, the dome of dethe abyde
Man to delyuere, with a ȝeole of Routhe
Rightwisnesse, wolde than be agrevyd
With me to consent, that am callet trouthe
As me semyth, it were to grete a slouthe
Dome, cause, or plee, or any othir sute
Withoutyn vs twayne, to ben execute
To socour man, and holde agayne vs twayne
That haue ben conuersaunte so longe
Amonge vs discorde, to Restreyne
Therfore quod Pees, now will I not feyne
To doo myne office, Right to modyfye
That she of Rigur, cause hym nat to dye
It most folowe, though he were my brothir
He moot dye, by dome of equyte
Or in his name, mot be dede some othir
So of my shyppe, gyed is the Rother
That I ne may erre, for wawe ne for wynde
More than the Anker, of trouthe woll me bynde
Vnto youre noble, and wise providence
His dethe to yov, may be full lytyll ease
For holy wryt, Rehersyth in sentence
Iff ye considre, in youre advertens
That dethe of synners, the high god to queme
Is werste of dethes, if ye of Right luste deme
To god above, that euery thyng may seen
Than muste ye, the dethe of one dyvyse
That is of synne, Innocent and clene
And as I trowe, vndir the sonne schene
Thorough oute the worlde, to serche all mankynde
It were full harde, suche one forto fynde
No foule, with fylthe, may nat be puryfied
And who is foulede, with dishoneste
To wasshe a nothir, it is nat apliede
Blake, in to wyte, may not be vndied
Ne bloode infecte, with corrupcion
To god for synne is noon oblacion
As the Byble, makyth mencion
Howe that a lambe, of spotte and fylthe fre
Some tyme was take, by eleccion
And offrede vpe, in satisfaccion
To god for synne, forto sygnyfye
That who that shulde, for manys Raunsome dye
Right as a lambe, fro euery spotte of blame
And trewly vndir the firmament
Ther was no soche, sythe Adam dyd atayne
The frute, to ete, for ether halte or lame
In soverayne vertu, is all the kynde of man
Wherfore quod mercy, the best rede þat I can
And all the stryve, that is vs be twene
And that we praye our Iuge, and mighty lorde
To þis matere benyngly to sene
That of his grace, he shape suche a meen
For Trouthe and Right, so prudently ordeyne
That Pees ne I haue no cause to playne
Ne vnto Trouthe, playnely, noon offence
If that our Iuge, of his grete myght
Ordeyne so, in his prudence
To shape a way, thorough his sapience
That trowþe and right be nothing displesid
Thorugh Pees, and me, though man be holpe and eased
[[XIIII]]
That groundede, was platly vpon skylle
The high Iuge, by mercy is enclynede
To condecende, of grace, to hir will
And in suche wyse, hir axyng to fulfyll
That Right be seruet, and Trouth nat dysmayed
That Pees and she shulden eke be well a payede
He sayde, for hole conclucion
An Innocent, clene, and pure of lyfe
Shall makely dye, and pay the Raunsome
For mans gylt and transgression
And he so frely, shall the dethe obeye
In all his payne, þat he no worde shall saye
Have hir desyre, and Trouth shall not fayle
To execut fully hir axyng
Fynally to stynte, this batell
And for that Pees, so moche may avayle
And mercy eke shall not be agrevyde
Her bothe axing, shall also been achevyde
This myghty quarell, of mercy and pite
To suffre dethe oonly for mans sake
Vncompellyd, frely of volunte
That as a lambe, withoute spotte shall be
And with his blode, shall wasshe vndefouled
The gilt of man, with rust of synne ymouled
[[XV]]
Or of what kynryd, or of what estate
My sothefast worde, eternally levyng
Myne awne sonne, withe me Increate
Shall downe be sent, to be Incarnate
And wrappe hym self, in the mortall kynde
Of man for love, so that he may fynde
In alle the erthe, noþer of lyme ne stone
But in a mayde, deboner, and ful mylde
The humble doughter, of Iuda and Syon
And vnto hir, shall trouthe and mercy goon
By one accorde, sent afore my face
Lyche my devyse, to chese me a place
Hir tabernacle, þat she make fayre
Agayne the commyng, of hir myghty kyng
Whiche is my sonne, and myne owne heyre
That in hir breste, shall haue his Repayre
Where trouthe and mercy shal togedur mete
By one assent, and her Rauncour lete
And al the sustren, accorden in that place
And Right shall leve, al hir sturdinesse
And Trouthes sworde, shall no more manace
And fynally, mercy shall purchace
A Chartour of pardon, lyche this mayden clene
Whiche shall for man, be so goode ameyn
Amyddes the foreste, fre frome euery trappe
Whileȝ the mayde, that causith al this pees
Hathe the vnycorne, slepyng in hir lappe
That thorough mekenesse shall his horne so wrappe
There it was wonte, to slee, by violence
Thoroughe deth, it shall agayne dethe be defence
Euery poyson a softe, and a swage
Whan þe lyon, maketh his habitacle
With Inne, a mayde but of tendre age
And Gabryell shall goo on message
To hir a noon, myne awne secretarye
With new tythynges, and noo lenger tarye
[[XVI]]
But holdyth his waye from the see of glorye
Vnto this mayde clene of will and thought
Where as she sat in hir oratorye
With hert intentiffe and with hole memorye
Erecte to god and all hir ful mynde
To whom the Angell whan he dyd hir fynde
Sayde vnto hir a noon as ye shall here
Haylefull of grace the lorde is with the
Ne drede the not be right glade of chere
That arte to god so acceptable and dere
That hooly hys grace ys vpon the falle
To be moste blisset amongeȝ wymen alle
Al hole the sonne of the deyte
That from hevene his blisset bemys bryght
Shad on the erthe of our humanite
Whan in þe brest of a maide fre
The holy gooste by fre eleccion
For his mekenesse hathe made his mansion
With thought vp lifte, by contemplacion
This bright sonne, in herte he gan to colde
Inly astonyde, in his asspeccion
And full devoute, in a meditacion
Therof Remembryng, as he gan take hede
Sayde evyn thus, quakyng in a drede
[[XVII]]
And sore adredde, to loke on this clerenesse
And yet wel more, with fere I am supprised
For to be holde, for myne vnworthynesse
Any worde to wryte, or expresse
Of this misterye, and grete pryvite
Benyng lorde, lest thou saye to me
My Rightwissnesse to tell, or to wryte
Or to presume, so hardely to avise
My testament, with thy mouthe tendite
That certis lorde, but if thu respite
My wrecchednesse, by supporte of thy grace
I gretly drede, of dethe, for my trespace
And his goodnesse, lyche to my desyre
That from the Auter, that brynnyth in his sight
No lytyll sparke, but a flame of fyre
Wolde downe discende, myne herte to enspire
For to consume with his fervent hete
The rusty fylthe, that in my mouthe dothe flete
To make clene, and to scowre awaye
That thorugh his grace, I durst be so bolde
Ethir to wryte, or some worde to saye
That was Rehersyde, vpon that blisset day
Whanne Gabriel and marie mette
In Naȝareth, and humbly hir grette
This holy Bernarde, so goode and gracious
So dredefull was, this matier in wrytyng
That was of lyfe, so Inly vertuouse
How dar I thanne, be so presumpcwouse
I wofull wrecche, in any manere wyse
To take on me, this perfyte high empryse
Myne hert vnclene, and full of cursydnesse
My thought also, with all viceȝ boyled
My breste Receyte, and cheste of wrecchednesse
That me to wryte, of any perfytenesse
Not only dreed, of presompcion
But for to encurre, the endyngnacion
That I am bolde, or hardy in his sight
To dar presume, the grete excellence
For to discreue of hir, that is so bryght
But vndir hope, that mercy passith Right
And that disdeyne, my style nat werrey
With humble hert, thus to hym I pray
[[XVIII]]
But euere lyche, stondyth holy in oon
That som tyme, sendist downe from Seraphyne
To Isaye an Angell, with a stone
Where with he gan to touche his mouth anoon
To purge his lyppeȝ, fro all pollucion
So late thy grace to me discende a downe
Som what to saye, in commendacion
Of hir that is well, of womanhede
And thorugh hir helpe, and mediacion
Be to my style full direction
And lete thy grace, all ways be present
This boke to ferther, aftir myne entent
To speke or wryte, in so devoute matier
Lytyll wondir, though I tremble and quake
And chaunge bothe countenans and chere
Sythen this mayde, of vertu tresorere
Perturbed was, in loke and in visage
Of Gabryell to hir the mesage
And in hert, castyng vp and downe
Full prudently, vpon euery syde
The manere of this salutacion
And how it myght, in conclusion
In any wyse, full performed be
She standyng hole, in hir virgynyte
And the hooli rednes also in her face
He sayed marie, for no thyng that thou drede
For to fore god, thou has fovnden grace
And shall conceyve, with in a lytyll space
Within thy wombe, a sonne of all vertu
And shall hym calle, whan he is borne Ihesu
Sonne of the hyghest, that euere was of myght
And god to hym, shall gyffe full Iustely
The see of David, his awne fadirs right
And he shall Regne, in euery wightys sight
In the house of Iacob, eternally by lyne
Whoos kyngdome, ay shall ast, and neuere fyne
Surmontyng eke, as in excellence
That outewarde gaffe, so mervelouse a soune
And wundurfulle to here audience
Yet she full mekely with grete Reuerence
And looke downe cast, of hir een clere
Benygnely the Angel gan enquere
Sithe I noo man knowe in noo degre
Quod Gabriell, within thy blissed syde
The holy goste, shall yshrouded be
And all the vertu, of the trynyte
Enclose shall, in thy brest so clene
The sonne of lyfe, with all his beames shene
Shall called be, goddys sonne entier
By holde and see, a lytyll here be forn
Elizabeth, thyne awne cousyn dere
Conseived hathe sithen gon half a ȝere
Thow she for age, wene to haue ben baren
And is with chylde, to put all in certeyne
But as hym list, may euery thyng fulfyll
Vnto whose word, be fully now credible
By holde quod she, of god the meke ancille
With all my hert, obeyng to his wille
In euery þing, riȝt, as hym liste it be
And liche thy worde, so fall it vnto me
Of all this worlde, lady and Empresse
Of heven and erthe, aloon to be queen
And goddys mothir, for his holynesse
Loo, for all this, how lawly with mekenesse
She all commytted, vnto goddys will
As he ordenyd redy to fulfylle
But goddys hande mayde, in full lawe manere
O where is al thy transitorye fame
Of pompe and pryde, and Surquydre in feer
Where is your booste, or how dar ye apeer
With your forblowe, blowyng vanyte
Sithe that a mayde, thorugh hir humylite
And opynly, yyeven hym a fall
Thorugh whose lawnesse the high kyng of glorye
With Inne hir wome, hathe made in speciall
His dwellyng place, and his hospitall
And with a worde, of þe mayden spoke
The holy goste, is in hir brest Iloke
[[XIX]]
And she aloon in hir tabernacle
Right as the sonne persheth thorugh the glas
Thorugh the Cristall, Byrell or spectacle
Withoutyn harme Right so by miracle
In to hir closet, the faders sapience
Entrede is, with outyn violence
On any syde, in party or in all
For godes sonne, takyng our manheed
In hir hathe bilte, his paleys prynci[p]all
And vndir pight, this mansion Rial
With vii pilers, as made is memorye
And ther in sette, his Reclynatorye
Only to vs, forto signyfye
That he all holy, maked hath his holde
With Inne this mayde, that callet is marye
And vii pillours, that shulde this mayden gye
Been vii spirites, so as I can decerne
Of god above, this mayde to gouerne
And all the wisdome, of hevyn and erthe therto
And all the Richesse, of spirituall science
In hir were sette, and closyde eke also
For she is the tour, withoutyn wordes moo
And hous of yvour, in wheche Salamon
Shette all the tresoure, in his possession
That neuer man myght yet vnclose
Whiche the kyng that made and causyth all
His dwellyng chefe, by grace gan dispose
And like as dewe, descendeth on the Rose
With siluer dropes, and of the leves fayre
The fresche bewete, ne may not apayre
Causyng the vertu to Renne oute of the Rote
The grete fayrenesse nought apayre may
On violeteȝ, and on erbes soote
Right so this grace, of al our grevous bote
The grace of god, a mydde the lyly white
The beaute causith, to be of more delyte
Of kynde engendreth, white perles Ronde
And hathe no cheryshyng, but the sonne shene
To his fostryng, as it is playnely founde
Right so this mayde, of grace most habounde
A perle hath closed, within hir brest white
That from the dethe, myght al our Raunsom quyte
Sette in the Northe, of high deuocion
Of wheche sumtyme, the prophete had a sight
Ezechiel in his a vision
Wheche stoode euere clos, in conclusion
That neuer man, entre shall ne pace
But god hym selfe, to make his dwellyng place
So as the flees, of Gedeon was wette
To forn he fawte with hem of madian
With hevynly dewe, environ all by sette
In signe onely, he shall spede the bette
Right so hathe godde, in hir his grace shewed
Withe the holy goste, when she was al bydewed
Vnto mankynde, manly forto feyght
Agayne the devill, that hath in his powste
Al Madyan, with his fel myght
But thorughe the helpe, of the mayden bryght
And thorughe the dwe of hir hevynly grace
We shall this serpent, from our bondes chase
Kepyng the manna, of our saluacion
That all our woo, may to Ioy tourne
With holsome foode, of full perfection
And eke she was in sygnyficacion
The yerde of Aron, with frute and leves lade
Of vertu moste, to comfort vs and glade
Stedefast and trwe, thorugh perfection
And as the Cedre conservyng ay in oon
Hir body clene, from all corruppcion
And for to make, a full oblacion
Of euery vertu, to god in chastite
She shone as golde, by perfyte charite
With fyre of love, brynnyng also bryght
To god and man in euery manere wyse
As done the sterres, in the frosty nyght
Hir franke ensence, gaffe so clere a leight
Thorugh good ensample þat the perfite levyn
Of hir levyng, Raught vnto hevyn
For worthynesse, sette his Riall see
With golde and yvory, that so bright shone
That al aboute, the beaute men may se
The golde was loue, the yvory chastyte
And xii leouns so grete huge and large
That of this werke, baren vp the charge
That longe aforne gan beholde and see
That Salamon, goddys sonne hymself
Shulde in þis maide be holde his rial see
So that in sothe hir clene virginyte
To be a mayde and a mothir, sholde no thyng lette
Amydde hir breste, þat he his Trone sette
Sawe in the hevyn, so Richely apere
Clad in a sonne, þe wheche brighter shon
Than phebȝ dothe, in his large spere
And xii sterres, that passyngly were clere
So as to hym, playnely dyd seme
Were sette above, in hir diademe
A large mone, bryght and nothyng pale
In fygure onely, þat she that is so goode
To swage the bitter of our olde bale
The sonne of lyve, made to avale
Downe to the herthe, to gouerne vs and gye
And eke the moone, to us doth signifie
Whiche in this mayde, had his orygynall
Whanne finally, with hise rightis olde
The Synagoog, of Iues had a fall
For in this mayde, the first faythefull wall
Of holy chirche, god gan first to bilde
Whan with his sonne, he made hir goo with chylde
Of blynde folkes, that koweth not perceyve
How that marye, myght kyndely
A mayde be, and a chylde conceyve
And if hym lust, Reason to Receyve
They may ensamples, Right I nowe fynde
Of this matier accordyng vnto kynde
[[XX]]
Why hast thou lost, thy Reason and thy sight
That thou of malise, list not for to see
How criste Ihesu, thorough his gret might
To his disciples, helde the waye Right
Thoroughe the gates, shette by gret defence
Withoutyn brekyng or any violence
Within a mayde, make his mansion
And she yet stonde, in the excellence
Of maydynhede, frome all corrupcion
Ye be to blynde, in your discrecion
That lust nat se, also howe he Rose
Frome dethe, to lyfe, and his sepulcre close
How he in sothe, of his myghty grace
Made Petre oute of prison sterte
And where hym lust, frely to pace
And yet the dores, were shette of the place
What wondre than, though god by myracle
Within a mayde made, his habitacle
With all the bondeȝ, of virginyte
For sothefastely, hir clennesse was not lette
Upon no side nor hir chastite
But encresith and fayrere for to see
That goddes son liste to light adowne
With this mayde, to make his mansion
In stede of frute, that beryth byrdeȝ smalle
Fro yere to yere by kynde, as men may see
Withoutyn meddelyng of femall or of male.
This is verrey sothe, playnely and not tale
Than wondir nat, though Crist were bore betwene
The chaste sydeȝ, of a maydyn clene
Withoutyn medelyng conceyved by nature
As bokes sayen, withoute any lees
And of her lyfe, an hundreth yere endure
Than the lorde, of euery creature
That causith all, no wondre þat I sayde
Though þat he were conceyved of a mayde
Wryteȝ of a Roche, grete and large also
That will Remeove with a fyngre small
But if a man do, all his might therto
It will not stirre, nethir to ne froo
Right so this mayde, that this of vertu moste
With a fyngre, of the holy goste
Conceyvede hath, sothefast god and man
That neuer myght Remeove, from hir place
Of thilke avowe, that she first be gan
To be a mayde, as ferforthe as she can
In hert and will, as any Roche stable
That frome his grownde, is not Remeovable
Saythe in Tawrygge, ther is an erthe fovnde
That of Nature, is so vertuouse
That will cure, euery maner wovnde
Right so marye, was the erthe Ifounde
That god oute, chees by eleccion
To bere the frute, of our Redempcion
To all our woundeȝ, when thay ake or smerte
And our greves, and our hurtys fyne
Fro the dethe, to make vs to asterte
With holsome bavme, perschyng to the hert
That shall to [helþe], sodenly Restore
Our festrede sores, that thay shall ake no more
Withe Inne his boke, who so loke a right
To Iubiter, sacrede is a welle
That whan he hath, quenched his brondeȝ bryght
That eft ayen, it yeveth hem newe light
Who so luste a saye, sothe as he shall fynde
What wondre than, though the god of kynde
Full of vertu, with fayre stremys clere
His loogyng toke, and his myghty holde
And thorough his grace, set it newe a fyre
With the holy goste, that with outyn werre
Thow she were colde, from alle flesshlihede
She brent in love, hatter than the glede
Is a well, that causithe eke of newe
Whan thay drynke oxen to be white
And sodenly forto chaunge her hewe
What merveile than, though the well trwe
The well of helthe, and of lyfe eterne
The lorde of all so, as I can discerne
To make hir whitest, as in holynesse
That bothe shulde, mayde and modir be
And euere in one, kepyng hir clennesse
With outyn chaunge, so that hir whitnesse
Ne fadith never in beaute ne in colour
Of maydenhede, to bere bothe lefe and flowre
I holde hym madde, or ellys oute of mynde
For if he haue, his eene hole and clere
He shall mow see, preef I nowe by kynde
For he that made bothe leef and lynde
And with oo worde, this waste worlde wilde
Might make a mayde, for to goo with chylde
The firmament and also euery spere
The golden axeltre, and the sterres seven
Cithera so lustly, for to apere
And Reed mars, with his sterne chere
Myght he nat eke onely, for our sake
Withe Inne a mayde, of man, the kynde take
In hir kynde, to waxe and multiplie
And fisshes eke, with fynnes syluer fayre
In depe wawes, to gouerne hem and gye
And dothe oon lyve, and another dye
And giffith bestes, her foode vpon the grovnde
And in her kynde, dothe hem to abounde
To haue beyng, if I shall not feyne
And is the prince, and the worthy kyng
That all enbraseth, in his myghty cheyne
Why myght he nat, by power souereygne
At his free chose, that all may save and lese
To his mothir, a clene mayden chese
By vertu onely, that spryngeth from the Rote
To growe and wexe, lyche as men may see
With levys grene, and newe blosomes sote
Is it not that lord that for our alþer bote
Wolde of a mayde, as I Reherse can
Mekely be borne, withoute touche of man
And fresshe floures, in the grene mede
That werne in wyntir dede, and eke droupyng
Of Bawme voyde, and of all lustyhede
Myght he nat make, his greyne to growe and sede
Withe Inne hir brest, that was bothe mayde and wyfe
Wher of is made the sothefaste brede of lyfe
Withe outyn poyntell, in the hard stone
And in the tables, with lettres clere and bryght
His ten precepteȝ and byddynges eueryche one
The same lorde, of his power aloon
Hath made this mayde, here oon erthe lowe
A chylde conceyve, and no man to knawe
All on flame, with ferfull sparkelleȝ shene
When Moyses be ganne, to a proche nere
And yet no harme, came to the bowes grene
The same lorde, hath concerved clene
His habitacle, and his erbor swete
In this mayde, from all flesshely hete
Of a serpent to take the lykenesse
In the hall a monge, all the prees
Where Pharao, his people did oppresse
And in deserte the Byble beryth witnesse
The Ryver made to Rynne oute of a stoon
The thurste to staunche, of his people a noon
His grete myght, Sampson the stronge man
As Iudicum dothe, playnely specyfye
Dranke the water, that from the kanell Ranne
And he that made, the flodeȝ of Iordan
To turne a gayne, for love of Iosue
That al his peple clerly myght see
And like an hyll stande, high a lofte
And he that made, the Asse for to speke
To Balaham, for he Rode vn soffte
Why myght he not, by power previd ofte
Sithe he the yrne, made on the water hove
Be of a mayde, borne for mans love
Abacuk, by his lytyll here
And sodenly brought hym to the lake
In Babylone, whiche was so fer
And to visite, lygyng in his feer
Danyell a monge the bestes Rage
Till he to hym brought the potage
For to asswage, of hungre al his payne
And in a moment to his mansion
Full sodenly Restored hym a gayne
Why myght he not, as wel in certeyne
The same lorde, of a mayde than
Take flesshe and blod, and be come man
To stonde and chyne, vpon the bryght shelde
Of Iosue, and taward Achalon
The mone also, as all the hoste be helde
The long day, while thay faught in the felde
Agayne the kynges, of myghty Ammorie
That his people, clerly myght see
In the orlage, of kyng Eȝechye
By ten degrees, only to performe
The heest made, to hym of Isaye
Why myght he not, þis lord that all doth gye
Of A mayde by the same skylle
Frely be borne, at his owne wille
Fyve thousand, in solitarie place
Fer in desert, sittyng in a valle
Thorough the foyson, and plente of his grace
The same lorde, why myght he not purchase
Withe Inne a mayde, duryng hir maydenhede
Whan that hym luste, to take his manhede
At the evyn, who taketh hede therto
Right so Marye, flouryng in maydenhede
Bare in hir wombe, god and man also
And yet in sothe, she was bothe too
I dar afferme, in oo person Ifer
A Mayde clene, and Cristis mothir dere
Shedyng his light, as men may well aspye
With outyn harme, or hyndryng to the sterre
And so as Manna, feldoun fro the skye
Right so this floure, that callet is marye
With wombe halowed, in to schastyte
Conceyved hath, in hir virgynyte
Of kynde bredith, and the vyne floure
Causyth the wyne, floures for to be
Thorough Bachus myght, and grapes gouernour
Right so in sothe mankyndeȝ savyour
As the Bernacle, or floure oute of the vyne
Spronge of marye, she beyng a virgyne
Of erthe comyth, withoutyne engendrure
And as the Fenyx, of which ther is but one
To asshes brent, Renuyth by nature
Right so this lorde, that all hathe in cure
Our kynde, agayne, fro synne to Renewe
Toke flesshe and blode, in this maydyn trewe
Thorough the force, of Sagitarrius bowe
And ȝepherus dothe the flores shale
On white blosomes, whan she dothe blowe
Right so in sothe, the grace a light lowe
Of the hooly goste, like a wynde cherschyng
A mydde this mayde, to make his dwellyng
But perfitely concervyde, hir beaute
From euery storme, of flesshely lustynesse
Aliche fresh of fayrenesse for to see
As by ensamples, moo than two or three
Hir to serve, as thay haue herde devyse
Whiche as me semyth, ought Inow suffice
Ageyns the fals, to stande at defence
And Right in sothe, as saint Gregory saythe
Faythe hathe noo meryte, where þat evydence
Or mans Reason, yeveth experience
But he that leveth and fyndeth no Reason
No kynde accorde, is worthy more gwerdon
That hath doute, or ambiguyte
Thourgh fals errour, that dothe his hert enbrace
Or ellis of malice, or Inyquyte
For to accuse the virgynyte
Of Marye playnely this is my bone
But if so be, þat he amende hym sone
Of her that is, of mercy grovnde and well
That he of vengyaunce, haue experyence
With Ixion doun depe in hell
And þat the claper, of his distouned bell
May cancre sone, I mene his fals tunge
Be dume for euere, and neuere to be Ronge
As ye haue herde, at evyn ne at morowe
For here my trouthe, he getyth no more of me
Save Cerberus, I take hym to borowe
What euere he be, and let hym go with sorowe
To tantalus, his hungre to a pees
At fewe wordes, passe ouer it is an ees
[[XXI]]
Is phebus chare, empeyryd of his light
Thowe eyen rawe, may not abyde
For to behalde, agayne his bemeȝ bryght
Right so playnely though the govndy sight
Of heretykeȝ, ne may not systeyne
For to behalde, the clennesse of this Queen
His clere light, ne hir perfyte bryghtnesse
Whose fayre stremes, shullen neuer cesse
Withoutyn eclipse, to shyne in clennesse
For of this mayde, as bokes sayen expresse
Whan Gabryell to hevyn drewe the cooste
She Replensshed, of the hooly goste
Tawarde the Mounteyns, fast gan her high
And ther saluede, mekely Eliȝabeth
With Inne the house, of trewe ȝakarye
And Right furthe with, whan she dyd espye
Of Marye, the meke salutacion
And thorough hir eres whan passed was the soun
For verrey Ioye, and spirituell gladnesse
The yong enfaunt, with his lymmes small
Reioysyde hym, the gospell sayet expresse
And she fulfillyd, in verrey sothefastnesse
With the holy goste, lovde gan to crye
And evyn thus, sayde vnto Marye
And of thi wombe, blessud the frute also
And howe to me of happe, nowe it is be fall
My lordes mothir for to comme me to
For verrye Ioye, I not what I may doo
For sothefastely, thy gretyng as I here
With Inne my wombe, my lityll child nowe here
That of all woo myne hert yt dothe Releve
And blisset art thou, that firste this Ioye began
The worde of god, so faythefully to leve
Nowe be Right gladde, and thyne hert not meove
For al thynges, shall performet be
That ben of god, byhestede vnto the
With loke benigne, and ful humble chere
The same houre, beyng ay present
Eliȝabethe, hir awne cousyn dere
With al hir hert, a noon as ye shall here
And all the accorde, and holy melodye
Of the holy goste, sayde in hir Armonye
[[XXII]]
Eternall lorde, both oon twoo and thre
That all hath made, and euery thyng nowe gyeth
Whiche of his myght, and bountevous pyte
Of his goodnesse, and his benygnyte
Oonly of mercy, liste to haue pleasaunce
For to considre and graciously for to se
To my mekenesse, and humble attendaunce
Reioysed hathe, by fulsome habundance
In god that is, my souereyne helthe entere
And all my Ioye, and all my suffisaunce
Myne hole desire, and my full sustynaunce
Within my thought, so depe he is grave
That but in hym, with oute variaunce
In Al this worlde, I can no gladnesse haue
Of his hande mayde, the humylite
Where of in sothe, al onely for he wolde
Al kynredes, shall blisset calle me
Of whiche the thanke, o lorde be vnto the
With prys and honour, of euery voys and tunge
Thorough Armony, and sothefast vnyte
For this Alone, be to thy name songe
Of high Renon, and passyng excellence
His grace made, so fully to me flete
For he is myghty of his magnificence
His name holy, and of most Reuerence
That while I leve, it shall me neuere astert
With al me feithful trewe diligence
To thanke hym, with all my hole hert
Fro kynne to kynne, and so dovne to kynryde
Shall thoroughe his grace, be so plentevouce
Perpetually, that it shall procede
And specially to hem, that loven in drede
Myne owne lorde, with hert wille and mynde
To suche his pyte, shall euere spryng and sprede
Of dewe Right, and neuere be behynde
His dredefull myght, that men may see and knawe
And provide men, they Regne not full long
He seuerede hath and made full lowe
With all his hert, dovne fro the wheell hem throwe
For to abate hyr, Sirquydry and pryde
Or thay where war her pompe was all ouer þrowe
Full sodenly, and layde her boste on syde
He hathe avalede, and yputte dovne
And humble and meke, for her humylite
He hathe enhaunsede, to full high Renovne
For he can make a transmutacion
Fro lowe to high, as it is sene full ofte
And whan hym luste, the dominacion
Of worldely pompe, to falle full vn softe
Withe the goodes of plentyuous largesse
Hem that werne hungry, and Indigent in drede
Hathe hem Relevede, of all her wrechydnesse
And he the Ryche hathe, raught from her Rychesse
Full wyde and wast, to walke vpon the playne
And sodenly hem plounget, in destresse
All solitarye, and let hem leve in veyne
Benygnely hathe, taken vnto his grace
And of his mercy, is Remembrede well
To voyde vengeaunce, only fro his face
And humble pees, shall occupye his place
And pyte, shall be feffed in his stall
And Ruthe shall, his Right so enbrace
To set mercy, above his werkes all
To our fadres, that haue bene here by fore
To Abraham, and his seede of Right
That his mercy, shall last euermore
For ner his mercy, all the worlde were lore
Vnto the whiche, to make man atteyne
He hathe made mercy, our kynde to Restore
And of all his werkes, to be souereigne
[[XXIII]]
Was sayde to god, deuoutly of Marye
I fynde aftre playnely, that she
Styll in the house, abode of ȝakarye
Thre monetheȝ the gospell may not ley
And aftir that, I rede eke in certeyne
To Naȝareth, þat she went a gayne
And on hir prayere, all waye day by day
With many an holy meditacion
To queme hir lorde, in what she can or may
Fro whome hir thought, went neuere a way
Hir fulmynde ner hir Remembraunce
For but in hym, she hadde no pleasaunce
For all hir Ioye was on hym to thynke
What euere she dyd, prayeng or worchyng
No thyng but he, myght in hir hert synke
For fynally whedir she wake or wynke
Amyddes hir hert, he was all way present
So fixe on hym, was sette her hole entent
This perfite mayde, thorough high devocion
So feruent loue, vnto god she had
Ther may be made no deuysion
For she sequestrede, hir opynnyon
Fro all the worlde, and let it playnely gon
So hole to god, she gaffe hir hert alone
Towardes god, in his high seruyce
Was all hir lust, with hert set so sore
All erthely thyng, she fully dothe dispise
And day by day, hir wombe gan to Ryse
Thoroughe the fulfillyng of the holy goste
Ther in by look, whom she loved moste
[[XXIIII]]
In Galile god wote ful Innocent
Of al this thyng, and why he nat Retournede
Was for that, þat he was so diligent
In Caphernam with his full entent
Sondry werkes, of mervylous enprise
By Carpentrye, to forgen and devyse
He had in sothe, and high discrecion
And was hadde, in moste Reuerence
Of all the werke men, of the Region
And for he had in conyng, suche renon
Lyke a maistir, ther is no more to saye
The werke men all, his byddyng dyd obeye
He is Repayred, to Naȝareth agayne
But lorde howe he was, in his hert a meovede
Whan that Marye, he hath with childe sayne
That for astonyde, he noot what he myght sayne
And at his hert, it satte so Inwardely
Tyll at the laste, he abrayde sodenly
In myne absence, or what thyng may this be
Sythen this mayde, so faythfull and trwe
Is with chylde, and god wot not with me
That some tyme had, avouede chastyte
And to my kepyng, eke delyuered was
What shall I say nowe of this soden case
Vnto the Bisshopp, if he me apose
For eythyir moste I, playnely hir acuse
Or ellys my self, with this gilte enoyse
This thyng is opyn, I may it nat enclose
O blissefull god, so do me nowe this grace
Oute of my breste, my woofull gooste to Race
I had leuere vtterly to dey
Than thorough my worde, this mayden forto spille
As I muste nedes, if I hir be wrye
And on my self, if I the charge ley
For to afferme, she conceyved hath by me
I must accuse, hir vowe, of chastyte
Sith I in sothe, did hir neuere knawe
O blissefull lorde, haue on this matier Routhe
For vtterly my wit is brought so lowe
To se corne growe, where noo sede is sowe
And Reason also, plattly can I noon
Howe a mayde, with childe shulde thus goon
I neuere saw, ne neuere yet dede Rede
And thus in doute, my Reason can not se
How þat marye, hath kepyd hir maydynhede
In myne absence, and thus in dovble drede
My witte is brought, and wote not wherto turne
For double cause, that I haue to morne
May neuere accorde, that she dyd offence
And Reason playnely, agaynewarde dothe denye
And vpon kynde, growndyde is sentence
To preve sothely, withoutyn Resistence
That neuere woman, in natures sight
Withoute man, a chylde conceyve myght
Lyche as he shulde, al in teres drowne
And for the constreynt, of his sighes depe
Stode on the poynte, to haue fallen downe
His soden woo, made hym all moste swone
So for distresee, this Iosephe fer in age
Of Inwarde thought, caught was in a rage
[[XXV]]
And eure in one, abydyng on Marye
Vndirstondyng what that Iosephe ment
All at onys, they be gan to crye
And sayde Iosephe, leve this fantasye
And thyne erroure, for it is folye
Withoutyn avyse, to deme sodenlye
Of knowlegyng, in verrey sykernesse
We will Recorden, euerycheone in fere
All opynly, touchyng hir clennesse
And ther vpon, beren opynly witnesse
Lyke as we knowe, vnto this same daye
Though all the worlde, at ones wolde saye naye
Haue been with hir, bothe day and nyght
And neuere partyde, oute of hir presence
But euer in oon, of hir had a sight
And late and erly, with all our full myght
On hir awayted, withoutyn wordes moo
That fro our sight, she dydde neuere goo
Of vs ther was, no dyvysion
And all the day, fro the self prime
She neuere stynte, of high deuocion
To be in prayer, and in oryson
And iche a day, be continuaunce
A certeyne houre, she hadde daliaunce
And at oo tyme, thorough goddes purvyaunce
Of his hande, she tooke hir holy foode
As nedefull was, vnto hir sustinaunce
And this in sothe, hath ben hir gouernaunce
As we ycheone, of hir can Recorde
Wherefore Iosephe, this lyfe dothe not accorde
That so mysdemys, of this mayde fre
Of fantasye, or false suspecion
For to acuse, hir virgynyte
Of whiche thyng, we dar assure the
That no wyght made, sothely to devyse
But the holy goste, hir wombe to aryse
Of all the tyme, thou were in Galile
She neuere alone, was with no man
And what she spake, we myght here and see
Wherefore Iosephe, late thees taleȝ be
And deme nought amys, in worde ne in thought
For all this thyng, by goddes hande is wrought
Is this thyng, fully brought a boute
Therfore Ioseph, latt thyne Ire asswage
And of Marye, be nothing in doute
Certys quod he, I may not voyde oute
My fantasye, to assent in any wyse
It shulde be, liche as ye devyse
Hir to conceyve, lyke as ye expresse
But if it so were, if it be credible
Som wyght by sleyght, takyng the lyknesse
Of an angell, thorow fraudelent falsnesse
Thorough Innocence, shortly to conclude
By engyne of fraude, hir yougth to delude
He gan to chaunge, bothe face and huwe
And from his eyne, the salt tereȝ Reyne
Lyke as he wolde, drowne hym self of newe
So sore he gan, in hert for to rewe
For this matier, that for his mortall woo
He can noo Rede, ne wote what he may doo
To have founden Refute, with all his full mynde
And thought all waye, he wolde hir not be traye
For he was Rightfull, playnely as I fynde
And thus he gan, in sondry thoughteȝ wynde
As in balaunce, purposede uppe and downe
Tyll at the last, in conclusion
To gone his waye, shortly if he myght
And thought he wolde, forsake hir prively
And neuere more to come in hir sight
Till an Angell, on the same nyght
Sent downe from god, to Ioseph dyd apere
Whyle þat he slepte, and sayde as ye shall here
[[XXVI]]
Thou son of Dauid, of lyne by discent
For to take marye, vnot thy wyve
Whiche is a Mayde, with all hir full entent
With whome is ay, the holy goste present
Of whome is all, I tel it the be forne
In verrey sothe, that shall of hir be borne
Of this matier, that for causeȝ thre
Vnto Ioseph, as he tellyth vs
The Angel cam, and first he sayde þat he
Sythen he was Rightfull, þat in no degre
Of purpose Rightfull, he shulde vnrightfully
This holy mayde, forsake pryvely
That his forsakyng, myght vnto hir name
Be dishonour, and cause in sothefastnesse
Of vntrwe tungeȝ, for to speke hir shame
All though in hir, there was no spotte of blame
Suspecion to voyde, on euery ayther syde
The Aungel bad þat Ioseph sholde abyde
Was for that he, with most diligence
Shulde hir kepe, when he the sothe knewe
That she was clene, with oute all offence
And wist playnely, þat by magnyfycence
Of the holy goste, his errour to enchase
Conceyved hath, this mayde full of grace
And in hir hert, by Reuelucion
Gan for to cast, and to take kepe
Ayenst the morowe, of his avysyon
And caught comfort, and consolacion
Of all that euere, he was to forne dispayrede
And to Marye, he agayne repayrede
That he is to hym, so graciously
In Recomfort of his Inwarde smerte
His grete myght hathe, declared opynly
And of marye, full benyngly
He axed mercy, of humble affection
That euere he had, to hir suspecion
This hore gray, with all hymylite
With wepynge eyen, gan to axe grace
And she a noon, of womanly pyte
His hevynesse, while she dyd see
Comforteth hym, in all that euere she myght
And he a none, in thayre althre sight
Gan evyn thus, for to crye lowde
Certes quod he, my derke suspecion
Cam of blyndnesse, for I no nothir cowde
But now in sothe, the mysty blake clowde
Of ignoraunce, is so claryfied
That all the trouthe, to me is verrefyed
Is now fro me, chased clene a waye
Haueth me excusede, of my derke dulnesse
With all myne hert, benyngly I praye
My nyght of errour, is turned in to daye
That I may nowe, with myne eyne olde
The bryght beames, of Tyten welbeholde
That for derkenesse, I nost whatte to done
Onely for lak, that his beames bryght
Were me be rafte, thorough the cloude mone
That this eclipse was caused al to sone
By hir soden interposicion
That was chefe grownde, of my enspecion
So was opressede, derked and borne dovne
With worldely skyes, þat I myght nought
Ne was not worthe, to inspection
Of this light, by Revelacion
Tyll the sonne of grace, dyd shyne
My witte enclipsed fully to enlumyne
Myne ignoraunce fully for to clere
Wherfore of yov, in all my best entent
O ye Maydens, that ben present here
I axe mercy, with all my hert entier
Of all that euere, hath be spoken of or sayde
And lawly pray yov, beth not evyll apayde
With hert and will, bothe in worde and dede
That he in Ioseph, hath in speciall
His grace of newe, made for to sprede
To voyde away all his hole drede
Of euery conceyte and ymagenyng
To make hym knowe, the trouthe of al this thyng
Amonge hem all, eche of one accorde
The ermonye, entuned, was so trwe
By twene hem, that ther was no discorde
Not so moche, as of alytyll worde
And thus in Ioye, a while I late hem dwell
And of this Bisshop, furthe I will yov telle
[[XXVII]]
Howe worde by worde, sothely in sentence
Of all this thyng, the Romour is Ronne
And Reportede that thorough necligence
Of this Ioseph, or by violence
How this Marye, gothe with chylde grete
Wherfore thay haue in a soden hete
And he cam furthe, with sobre contenaunce
Of whom a noon, the Bisshop gan enquyre
Abiathir, of his gouernaunce
Fro poynt to poynte, with euery circumstaunce
Touchyng this thyng, what it myght amounte
Or howe that Ioseph, wolde giffe a compte
Whiche som tyme, was of suche opynyon
In the temple, is nowe grete with childe
Agayne the lawe, of hir professyon
By some engyne, or by collusion
In preiudice, of hir virgynyte
Nought withstandyng vtterly that she
Al hir lyfe, to have kepet hir maydynhede
And was that tyme, of suche perfection
That sothefastly withoute any drede
Of suche a nothir, couthe I neuere Rede
Hir vertueȝ all, to Reken hem by and by
Fro day to day, all that tyme vtterly
But lyke a myrrour, of all holynesse
The wille of god, holyche dyd obeye
With all hir hert, and all hir bysynesse
And with all this, fulfilled of mekenesse
She was ensample, to euery manere wight
That there abode, or hir had a sight
Stound mele, fro the hevyn dovne
Goddys Angell, cam to and froo
Where as she laye, in contemplacion
And at laste, of grete affection
By signes shewede, of goddes volunte
She was of vs, assignede vnto the
That thou sholdest, conserue hir and gouerne
Nowe be wel war, that thou hast nought mysdrawe
Hir tendre youthe, fro god that is eterne
The trouthe of thynges, that clerly can concerne
Wherfore be war, that thou be not to wyte
In this matier, lest he woll the white
[[XXVIII]]
She is a mayde, but if it be for the
Quod Ioseph than, with heed enclyned lowe
The sothefaste lorde, that euery thyng may see
My trust is fully, he will excuse me
Of Rightwysnes and shelde me from shame
Of all that euere, ye put me in blame
Of maydenhed, that she was me by take
Of whiche as yet, she stant in noo disioynt
I dar afferme, and swere it for hir sake
And for my part, what preve ye lust I make
I will be Redy, and let it not be spared
Tyll verrely, the sothe be declared
[[XXIX]]
For to voyde, all ambiguyte
That god may make demonstracion
Of yov tweyne, how the trouthe be
Ye shall ataste, bothe thou and she
Of thylke water to speke in wordes fewe
By God ordenyde, trouthe forto shewe
Of tungeȝ large, and euery fantasye
As it was some tyme, shewed by the hewe
Of hem that dranke, the drynke of Ialousye
As Numery dothe, clerely specifie
Wherfore a noon, ther is no more to sayne
Make yov Redy, for ye bothe tweyne
Ther is no gayne saye, nor excusacion
Tyll the trouth, be Ryped in the Rote
We shul procede in this conclusion
That god liste, to make demonstracion
Of all this thyng, for favour or for routhe
There is no mene, but the playne trouthe
Lyke your desert, be opynly excused
Than is your meryte, of more excellence
That ye to forne, falsely were accused
And sithen this preve, may not be refused
But that ye must obey to the lawe
Com of a noon, and yov nat withdrawe
[[XXX]]
That hath in vertu, so excellent a name
In whom was neuere yet fovnde offence
But to this tyme, euere floured in hir fame
And stant at large, from euere manere blame
Nowe let hir come, and like as god yov vre
For youv disposith taketh your aventure
Knowyng Right nought, what all this wolde mene
Devoyde of drede, bothe in hert and thought
For drede in sothe, may do hir no tene
To concyence, that is of synne clenne
Ne vegeaunce, ther no place occupyeth
There Innocence, a soule vngilty gyeth
Aftur the brondes, ben taken awaye
Ne the Ryver, holde his cours and Renne
The hede spryng drye, sothely this is no nay
Ne vengeaunce playnely, may make noon assay
To execute agaynst Innocence
Devoyde of synne, his myghty violence
For selde or neuere, be the chekeȝ Rede
Of hym in sothe, that is devoyde of blame
For who is clene, takyth lytyll hede
To wynke or blenke, for any maner drede
And for thassaut, of eny mysty cloude
Lyght of vertu, may no while shroude
As is a monge, the fayre bryght sonne
And with the wyndes, of malice and envye
The shynyng sterres, often wexen donne
But whan that trouthe, settyth a broche his tonne
To make the sothe, opynly be knowe
The wynde of falsnesse, may no lenger blowe
[[XXXI]]
Howe our ladys frendes weyled and morned whan the Bisshopes maden so strong a preve on hir virginite Cao xxxio
Hornes shrynke, ne hyde hym in his neste
But lyke a sonne, his light a brode declare
Than she that was, the verrey chosyn chest
Of al clennesse, and ther with all the best
Of all good, howe myght it be tyde
Hir light of vertu, to be sette a syde
Whan hir beameȝ, ben opynly discured
As gold in fire is fynyde be assay
And at the teste, Siluere is depuryde
And she that was, in vertu most assured
Where the holy gost, his dwellyng dyd sette
How myght then, any mystys lette
Or eny preef, or probacion
In any party, for to make it lesse
For light wol oute, it may not be borne dovne
And so wil trouthe, have dominacion
For any falsnesse, that men can conspyre
Than she that was, so full sette afyre
To drynke water, whethir it be thyke or clere
To make a pref, of hir maydynhede
For hir to harme, it shall haue no powere
For to deface, hir colour or hir chere
But Rathir more amende, and claryfye
The derke demyng, of euere clody skye
And all hir frendes, aboute environ
Wher men may see, vpon many a face
Of frendely Routhe, and compassion
The salt teres, fall, and Renne dovne
For drede and love, thay had for to sene
So hard assay made, on hir age grene
In thought ne chere, abaschede neuer a dele
Ne in hir hert, dredyth not at all
But vpon god, trustyth all waye wele
That he of trouthe, shall trye oute the stele
Al be that she, speke but wordes fewe
Withoutyn speche, shall the dede shewe
Lyke the statute, of the Rites olde
The Bisshopp hathe the cuppe, furst directe
Vnto Ioseph, and the parell tolde
And manfully, he gan it holde
And dranke it vp, and chaunged not his chere
And vii tymes, aboute the Autere
Of face and colour, alway elyche newe
And to Marye, also the Bisshopp brought
A cuppe of water, and she with hert trewe
Acceptyth it, this goodly fresshe of hewe
And or she dranke, this perfyte holy mayde
All opynly to god, thus she sayde
[[XXXII]]
Of euery thyng, thorowe thy grete myght
And art so trewe, and so Iuste a kyng
To lowe and high, that thou wilt do right
And no thyng may, be shadwede fro thy sight
Thorough noon engyne, ne fro thy face astert
But sothefastly, thou knowest euery hert
To for the eye, of thy sapyence
Nowe late thy grace, downe fro hevyn Rayne
Clerly in dede, and nought be aparence
To shewe in me, if ther be offence
Or eny gilt, myn avowe to a peche
To the I pray, so thy light to Reche
To wit in sothe, whether I in chastyte
Haue led my lyfe, of hert faythefully
Lyche as thou knoweste, for the love of the
And if I haue, myne virgynyte
Conservede hoole, this is my oryson
Make opynly a demonstracion
And went hir cours, aboute the Autere
And all the people, be gan to gasen faste
If any signe, did in hir apere
Outhir in colour, in countenaunce or chere
But all for nought, playnely as I tolde
The more on hir, they loken and byholde
And lyche as phebus, in Ioly grene maye
Whan he hathe chasede, the derke mysty eyre
Shyneth more bright, the clere somers daye
Whan þikke vapours, ben dreven clene awaye
Right so Ioseph, and also Marye
So fresshe werne, in euery wighteȝ eye
The longe day, in hir opynnyon
For in her face, al waye was the blode
Withoutyn palyng, or any drawyng dovne
Al way more fayre, of inspeccion
Of whiche thyng, the people gan mervayle
And for astonede, thought hir wittes fayle
[[XXXIII]]
Leste that of theym, take were vengeaunce
For thay so ferre, haue goddes myght assayede
Of errour blynde and verrey ignoraunce
And Right furthe with, of hertly Repentaunce
They bonche ther bresteȝ, with fisteȝ wondir sore
And al at onys, fell dovne afore
And wold hir fete, haue kyssed ther anone
Axyng mercy, of thayre grete offence
And she forgaf it, to hem euerycheone
And all the Bisshoppeȝ, and the people goon
Benyngly, to brynge hir awaye
And to hir paleys, fully hir conveye
With hert and speche, as thay magnyfye
The lorde above, and euery wightys tunge
For Ioye and myrthe, gan hym gloryfie
And all the day, thus in meloyde
Thay led furthe, tyl it drewe to eve
And gudely thanne, of hir thay toke her leve
In the story as made is memorye
But marye in all the haste she maye
Entrede is in to hir oratorye
As she that hathe, wonen the victorye
Of all thoo, that to fore gan muse
Hir maydynhede, of malice to acuse
And lippys closed, of men that wer in were
And day by day, kepyng hir closette
Contynually lay, in hir prayer
Expectant aye liche as ye shall here
With humble hert, and deuoute obeysaunce
Vpon the tyme, of hir deliueraunce
Hir Chaumbre she kept, hir day awaytyng
And as ye shall here, if ye liste tabyde
And god to forne, yet or the bryddys syng
And or than Flora, dothe the floures spryng
To for the kalendes, of apryll or of may
My purpose is, playnely if I may
So as I can, and make mencion
Of the feste and solempnyte
That callede is, the Incarnacion
Only thorugh helpe, and supportacion
Of hir that is, so plentyvouse benyng
Or that phebus enters in the signe
Of this feste sumwhat, shall I wryte
But oo alas, the Retorykes swete
Of petrak Fraunces that couthe so endite
And Tullyus, with all his wordys white
Full longe agone, and full olde of date
Is dede alas and passed into faate
[[XXXIIII]]
The noble Rethor, poete of Brytayne
That worthy was the laurer to haue
Of poetrye, and the palme atteyne
That made firste, to distille and rayne
The golde dewe, dropes, of speche and eloquence
Into our tunge, thurgh his excellence
Our Rude speche, only to enlumyne
That in our tunge, was neuere noon hym like
For as the sonne, dothe in hevyn shyne
In mydday spere, dovne to vs by lyne
In whose presence, no ster may a pere
Right so his dyteȝ withoutyn eny pere
In sothefastnesse, who so takethe hede
Wherefore no wondre, thof my hert pleyne
Vpon his dethe, and for sorowe blede
For want of hym, nowe in my grete nede
That shulde alas, conveye and directe
And with his supporte, amende eke and corecte
There as I erre, and goo not lyne Right
But for that he, ne may not me kenne
I can no more, but with all my myght
With all myne hert, and myne Inwarde sight
Pray for hym, that liethe nowe in his cheste
To god above, to yeve his saule goode reste
Sythen of his helpe, ther may no socour be
And though my penne, be quakyng ay for drede
Neythir to Cleo, ne to Caliope
Me luste not calle, forto helpe me
Ne to no muse, my poyntell forto gye
But leve all this, and saye vnto Marye
Of the holy goste, mothir and virgyne
Be thou my helpe, counsel and socour
And late thy stremes, of thy mercy shyne
Into my breste, this thryde boke to fyne
That thorugh thy supporte, and benyng grace
It to performe, I maye haue tyme and space.
Book III
[[XXXV]]
And in his course the longe sterry nyght
Was passed half and fresche of aperaunce,
Lucyne shone on hevyn fayre and bryght;
Thy worde, oo lorde, that is moste of myght,
Whiche ay abydythe and partyth not from the,
Sent and discendid from thy Royall see,
Shed his light for our saluacion,
As I shal synge or maies dai the ferthe;
If ye lust here of humble affection,—
How in the yere by computacion
Fourty and two of Octouian;
Ferthermore, aftir the worlde beganne,
And an hundreth sothely this is no lese—
And there-with-all nynty yere and nene,
Whanne al the worlde in reste was ande pes,
Withoutyn werre; and of Olympyades,
In the hundred nynty yere and thre,—
And by cronycle, eke as ye may see,
Seuerally, withouten exepcion,
Bade by his lettreȝ that the president
Of eche province, cite, borugh, and toun,
Thorugh-oute the worlde, make a discripcion
Of euery hedde; so that iche man,
At a certeyne day, in all the hast he can
Where he was borne; withoutyn more delay,
Bothe high and lowe of what estate he be,
Aftir his statute, his tribute for to paye.
And that no man be hardy to saye naye,
To quyte hym self, with euery circumstaunce.
To make in opyn a reconesaunce,
Of the provynce tofore the president,
That he is suget vnto Rome towne
With all his hert, and his hole entente.
And here-vpon that he paye his Rente,
As the statute and the custome bonde;
That is to saye, that he brynge in his honde
And the ymage, of the emperour.
And þer-upon, he shulde anoon atame
An othe of newe, and for the more honoure,
Withe honde touchede, swere for swete or sowre,
While he levyth, and neuere for to Rue,
With hert and body pleynely to be trwe.
Withoutyn grochyng, or Rebellion,
With all his myght for to leve and deye;
Ande thanne a-noon the discripcioun,
Of euery hede, in his owne towne
Was made in haste, where that he was bore.
And aftir that, I fynde ferthermore,
Perpetually forto be in mynde.
And this discryvyng, if ye luste to here,
Was made firste in Cyrye, as I fynde,
By one Cirynus, the peple for to bynde,
To be to Rome ay in subiecion.
For this Cyrinus, in that Region,
In bokys olde, as made is mencion.
And while that he was ther gouernour,
Was begon firste this discripcion;
The yere, in sothe, Aftir the fundacion
Of myghty Rome, VII and fiftene.
At whiche tyme with his beemus shene.
Of Capricorne his lawest stacion;
The same yere callet the yere of grace,
The yere of comfort, and of Remyssion;
Beynge the thriddeteneth the indiccioun,
The golden nombre of the same yere
xviii accomptede in oure calendere.
[[XXXVI]]
Whan made was the discripcion,
As ye haue herde, that Ioseph must gone
To Bedeleem for conclusion,
To pay his tribute in his owne towne,
As the statute afore dothe specyfye;
Because that he and also eke Marye
Called Iuda, and of the kynrede
Of worthy Dauid, as I haue sayde to-forne.
And on her Iournay, as thay gan thayme spede,
And holy Ioseph dyd hir brydill lede,
Sodenly marye full sone she abrayede,
And vnto Ioseph evyn thus she sayde:
Two folkys gretly discordyng,
Vpon the waye aperen vnto me.
The tone Reioysysng, that othir compleynyng.”
To whome Ioseph benyngly lokyng,
Ansewerde agayne and bad hir Ryde in pees;
And prayed hir also nat to be reccles,
But holde hir way and hir Iournay Right.
And vnwarly, aforne hem in the playne,
Apered an Angell with face sterne and bryght
Of whome the beaute ȝaf a plesant lyght,
The place envyron and a sote odoure.
And his clothyng like the lely floure
Whiche gan a-noon chere and loke to meve,
And ther-with-all, with a chaunged hewe,
By-gan also Ioseph to repreve.
And shortly bad his wordes that he leve,
And sayde, in sothe, that he was to blame
For to be bolde any wordes to atame
To saye that she spak any worde in vayne.
For that she sawe was non apperance,
But verrey sothe as she hath it seyne.
“For truste me well and be right certeyne,
Of this folke of whiche she spake to the,
In sothefastenesse, lyche as thou shalt see,
That ben disceuerde in full large space:
The ton of Iues, that wepe shull and pleyne,
With many atere distyllyng on his face;
That wilfully shall refuse his grace,
Of frowarde hert for to be benyng,
To devoyde and playnely to Resygne
Whiche in shorte tyme shall drawe to declyne,
And hir phares quenche and waxen colde
With sacrede light, that were wonte to shyne.
For tyme is come þat they must fyne,
Ande the weylinge of her derked chere
Vncloos shall and shewe al bryght and clere,
Whan euery Rakke and euery cloudy skye
Is voyde clene, so hir face vncouthe
Shall shewe in opyn and fully ben vnwry.
And the peple whiche that marye
Reioysyng say for yoye and gladnesse,
Ben paynymes þat mekely shall hem dresse,
With hert and will, and full humble chere.
For goddes worde that no man maye withsaye
Hath hastyd it gon ful many a ȝere,
To Abraham and Isaak in-fere,
And to Iacob, that in hir holy seede,
Full hastely, who so luste take hede,
Thorugh-oute the worlde in euery londe and realme.”
And with that worde, as Ioseph myght see,
The Angell sty above the sonne beame.
And he gothe furthe tawarde Bedlem,
With marie, til that thei bothe tweyne,
In full lytyll space gonnen to atteyne
Wery and mate sumdel of her viage;
Where thay founde of peple seche plente
In the Cyte, of euery manere age,
That thay myght haue nomaner herbygage
In all the towne, nethir boure ne hall,
Save a stable and a lytyll stall,
Oute of all prees, the story saythe expresse,
Made for besteȝ, sothely into abyde,
Ful straite and narewe, schadewid with derknesse.
Into whiche Ioseph gan hym dresse
With Marye, to reste ther all nyght.
And as she entrede, a newe soden light
That shone as bright as eny someres day,
So that this lityll humble mancion
Was fresche of light as phebus is in may;
Whiche gan to waxen and encrece aye
While she was there, all-be þat it was nyght.
And right anoon, the sothefaste sonne of myght,
And shed his light to glad all man kynde.
For tawarde mydnyght, shortly to devyse,
Whan all was huste, holy wryt makyth mynde,
As softely as he dyd hym wynde
In the sydes, of this holy mayde,
So easely this newe sonne abrayde,
Vpon the erthe to shede his bryghtnesse,
Withoutyn helpe of any mydwyfe,
Or of his mothir, travell or sekenesse.
For she that firste conceyved in clennesse,
It sat right wele that she shulde also
With outyn trayvell or eny manere woo,
And specially haue aprerogatife,
In hir childyng to fele no penaunce,
Sithe she was bothe mayde, modir, and wife,
Chosyn of god for to stynte our stryve,
Of all wymen, by hir self aloon.
Wherfore it sat not hir for to crye and grone
In the tyme of hir trvelyng.
Wherfore sithe she was to noon othir lyke,
No payne felte the houre of hir chldyng.
And, as I fynde, at hir delyueryng
Ther was no wight but hir self aloon;
For þylke tyme Ioseph was out goone,
[[XXXVII]]
Some Mydwyfe to helpe in this nede.
And in this while, with hir eyne meke,
She childed hath, this floure of maydynhede.
And home agayne, as Ioseph gan hym spede,
And to the place the mydwyfeȝ brought,
Evyn at the dore abasshede in theyr thought,
And þe briȝtnesse þat schone in þe place,
Aȝen kynde, þat tyme of the nyȝght,
That thay ne myght susteyne in her face
And no wondre, for the sonne of grace,
Within whiche cast his light so ferre,
Of whome the mone and eche othir sterre
Al be þat he lay here in erthe lowe,
In a stable with his sacrede chere,
Sool with his mothir that no man dyd knowe;
On whome hir loke she mekely gan to throwe,
Gudly biholdynge his fayre ȝonge face,
And knelyng downe began to enbrace
And wrappede hym in clothes tendrely,
Ande toke him up and sooftly gan him leyne
In hir lappe; and full humbly
She be-helde his feturs by and by,
So fayre shapen in party and in all.
And with hir mylke, verrey celestiall,
His tendre lymmes she sprede in euery coste,—
The white bavme to make it avale,
Fette fro the condyth of the holy goste,
Vpon the thyng that se loved moste;
And gaffe hym souke of the pyment sote,
That sprange and grwe oute of the holy Rote
Of all clennesse, was itryede oute.
Wher-with she made hir yong chylde to dyne,
Whom hevyn and erthe muste obeye and loute,
Albe that he, with besteȝ hym aboute,
Lay humbly, as ye haue herde devyse,
And aftir this his mothir dyd aryse
Where-as the asse and the oxe stode.
And on hir knees she gan a-noon to falle,
And worshipped hym, this beste of all gode,
That gyvethe to Angel and to man his foode.
And than this mayde, with debonayre chere,
Withe face erecte and handys eke in-fere,
[[XXXVIII]]
“O lorde,” quod she, “with all my full myght
To whom iche thynge iustely must obeye,
To the be thanke, as it is skyll and right,
That thou so goodly luste to haue a sight
To my mekenesse, though I vnworthe be.
And not dysdeygne of thy benyngnyte,
Me to encrece vnto suche excellence,
To be a mayde and mohtir in clennesse,
To bere thy sonne and eke thy sapyence,
That neuere twynnyth oute of thy presence,
But in heven abydythe aye with the,
And in erthe mekely nowe withe me,
To-fore my face, my Ioye and my comforte;
Whiche with þe lokynge of his iȝen faire
Is hool my gladnesse, and fully my disporth,
Sothefaste pleasaunce and my chefe resorte;
My dere sonne, and my childe also,
To who with hert and all that I can do,
That thou luste chese to haue affection
Of me so mekely in erthe to be borne,
And fro thy fadre to descende dovne,
Only for helpe and our savacion
Of all mankynde frely of thy wille.
My blisset chylde, that so goodly stylle
A-myddeste these besteȝ, so fayre vpon to see,
And hast no wight to thyne attendaunce,
Lyke thyne estate a-waytyng vpon the,
Saue that thou haste so goo[d]ly chosyn me,
Of thy grace, vpon the to abyde;
I to serue and thou to be my guyde,
To take his parte, what fortune so betyde,
Like as thou luste of grace to ordeyne.”
And than a-noon, Right in the selfe-tyde,
Ioseph cam In and stode hir be-syde.
And sodenly, whan he the childe dothe se,
Full humbly knelyng on his knee,
[[XXXIX]]
Howe the mydwyfeȝ durst not entre in with Ioseph into the house for the grete soden light that apperyde within Cao xxxixo 5m
With all his will, and all his full thought,
Ande tolde marie, for fer of the lyȝght,
The mydwyfes that he had brought,
Astonyd werne, þat thay durste nought
Entre In, but kept hem a-ferre;
For cause only that a new sterre
That spred his light and his beames shene
Fro est to weste thrugh that Regyon,
That all thay that euere it had seen,
Gan faste musen what it myght mene;
And in her hertes gretly for to charge
That a sterre so bright, so fayre, and so large,
That neuere was secheon sene beforne,
Of the whiche, prophyteȝ in Iherusalem
That tyme were astonyed wondre sore,
And sayde playnly, withoute eny more,
That thilke sterre dyd signyfye
Thilke sterre whiche in his prophecye
[[XL]]
Comendythe so in all his beste wyse,
Whan he sayde, sothely, of the kynde
Of worthy Iacob a sterre shulde aryse;
And eke also, as he dothe devyse,
Full opynly the Byble can yov telle,
How a yarde oute of Israell
The fel dukes of moab with her myght;
And he shall waste in verrey sothefastnesse,
The children of Sethe, and of kynde right,
Withe the shynyng of his beames bright;
Conquere also, to his subieccioun,
Withoutyn obstacle, and haue possession
With many a-nothir Riche regioun,
And of Syr the Riche baronage,
Shal to him lought for his renoun,
So þat þis sterre, in concluscioun,
Whiche in Bedlem brightest of sterres alle,
The whiche above the lytyll oxe stalle,
Of the childe, as ye haue herde me tell,
Be-tokeneth playnly, as ye shall aftir se,
That the lorde of hevyn, erthe, and hell,
Whiche may of Moab the tyranne felle,
Was ther by loke and helde his hostage
In a stable narwe as eny cage,
Ande alle this worlde myȝght at his wille gouerne.
Which in his hande hangeth as a ball,
In verrey sothe, his myght is so eterne.
And all this thyng Marye gan concerne
With in hir self seker and full close.
And aftir that, she mekely vp Rose,
[[XLI]]
She went apas, and when she dyd se
The mydwyfes, full benygnely
She brought hem in with all humylite,—
Scephora and also Solomee,—
And hem welcomyth in full lawe manere.
And when that thay these signes sawe in-fere,
Tawarde the childe to do hym Reuerence,
And gan also by othir tokens fele
Of maydynhede ther was none offence,
But that she stode hole in the excellence
Of perfyte clennesse and hool virgynyte,
Mothir to be and floure in chastite,
For all the preves that thay make coude;
And whan thay sawe hir pappes so abounde
With henvenly mylke sent from above the cloude,
Scephora began to cry lowde
That a mayde hath a chylde borne,—
The whiche thyng was not seen afforne
For it, in sothe, the right of all nature
Passeth playnely, and also dothe excede
The witte of man, I do yov well assure.
But I se well, thoroughe the myghty cure
Of goddys honde this thyng is brought aboute;
Wher-of plattely I am no-thyng in doute,
Ther-of havyng noon ambiguyte.
And than a-noon, for the grete offence
And for wantruste, hir felowe Solomee
Opynly, that all myght it see,
Waxe in that Arme dede and colde as stone,
Withe the whiche she was hardy for to gone
[[XLII]]
Howe the hande and the Arme of Solome wexe drye for she withoute drede and Reuerence touchede Criste Cao xlii 8
And his mothir, with-outen Reuerence,
Devoyded of drede or devocion,
Or eny faythefull, humble aduertence,
Done as hir aughte to his magnyfycence.
Where-fore a-noon, for hir high trespace,
All opynly in the same place,
And gan to sorowe, wepe, and complayne,
And sayd: “O lorde, haue pyte vpon me,
And of mercy Rewe vpon my payne,
And of myne offence þat thou not disdeyne,
Ne to thy highnesse be no displeasaunce,
That I a wreche, blynde of ignoraunce,
Of moche vnconnyng and of discrecion.”
Ande sodenly in her alther syght,
Evyn a myddes of that mansion,
An Angel bright, sent from hevyn dovne,
Dydde appere; byddyng hir a-noon,
With deuoute herte þat she sholde goon
Vnto the chylde for to haue socure,
And touche the hem of his vestement
Reuerently and with gret honoure.
For he, in sothe, is the Savyoure
Of all the worlde and of all mankynde,
And power hathe playnly to vnbynde
When thay to hym mekely wolle call.
And Salomee deuoutly gan hir dresse
Towarde the childe, and on hir knees felle,
And sayd: “O lorde, that power haste of all,
So latte thy mercy goo[d]ly on me sprede,
Me for to socoure nowe in this grete nede;
And loste for euere, saue only thy grace.
For in sothe, lorde, excepte thy mercy,
I haue loste myne Arme, alas, for my trespasse.”
And with that worde, as she dyd enbrace
To touche the clothe that he lay in bounde,
With-oute more this Solome hath founde
Sodenly or she coude it asspye.
And vp she Roos and may no longer fayne,
But in the strete opynly gan crye,
Howe the lorde that all the worlde may gye,
Discendyd is and become man.
And whileȝ that she thus in the strete ran,
And of hir Arme, and of hir soden cure,
The peple gan to drawen faste hir to,
To herken more of this aventure;
And in her speche som gan hem assure,
And thought hir wordes myght be credible,
And specially, for alway so visible,
I-lyche fixe withouten mocion,—
So bryght, so large, so glad, and so Ioyus,
Þat alle þat hadden þer of inspeccioun,
In hert perfyte, and trwe of entencion,
Thoughten thay were Reioysyd and made light,
And al this thyng, fel vpon the nyght
As ye may fynde, yf ye luste to Rede
The viij kalendes, for sothe, of Ianuarie;
Whan marye, example of maydynhede,
Was of age, who so wil take hede,
Sixtene yere, this floure of Naȝareth,
As the vision of Eliȝabeth
And in this nyght of moste worthynesse,
Of cristis birthe and Natyvite,
As the gospell saythe and beryth witnesse,—
Whan the shepeherdes, with grete besynesse,
Kepten her wacche the longe wynters nyght,
Vpon her shepe, an Angel with greate light
[[XLIII]]
And gafe hem comforte in her grete drede,
And bad hem be light and gladde of chere.
“For I,” quod he, “shew to yov in dede,
A Ioye that dothe euery Ioye excede,
That fynally shall of all disease
To all folke comforte be and ease;
In all myscheues and aduersite.
For nowe this day, mankyndes savyoure,
In Bedlam of Dauid the Cyte,
Is borne in sothe, liche as ye may se;
Gothe and beholdyth howe that it is falle.
And ye shall fynde in an oxe stalle,
þis ȝunge faunte, with cheere ful benygne.
The whiche thing, whan that ye haue founde
That all is sothe, latte be to yov asigne.”
And sodenly, with laude and prees condigne,
With the angelle the hol cheualrie
Of alle heuene by on armonye,
“Glory and honour in the hevynly see
Be vnto god eternally duryng,
And in erthe pees and reste be
To all the men, that of one vnyte
This high feste honour and magnyfye.
And we ichone, with oo melodye,
And worship eke with humble Reuerence,
And gloryfye thy high mageste,
And thankyng yef to thyn magnyficence
For thy glory and thyn excellence.
O thou lorde god, O kyng celestiall,
O god the fadir, moste myghty founde at all,
Criste Ihesu borne of thys hevynly qwene,
Of god also the chose lambe so derne,
Sonne of the fadir, with-oute spotte all clene,
That doste away this worldes synne and tene,
Haue mercy on vs of thy high godenesse,
Sythe thou thy-self, in perfyte holynesse,
Ande lorde aloone, ouer al other thynge,
And worthyest and higheste eke also;
O Ihesu criste, of hevyn and erthe kyng,
With the hooly goost in glorie reynynge,
Ay with the fadre by eternyte,
Thre knytte in oon thorughe perfyte vnyte.”
[[XLIV]]
The birthe of criste had magnyfied,
With perfyte gladnesse that was hem amonge,
To hevyn anoon agayne thay haue hem hyed,
And the herdes, by one accorde alyed,
Ben hastely vnto Bedlem gon,
Wher thay founden, whan they come a-noon,
Layed in a stalle, accordyng euery dele
As the Angell had sayde hem to.
And of the sight thay lyke wondre wele,
And in hem-self gun knowe and fele
That all was sothe that thay herde afore
Of the Angel, howe a childe was bore
After the recorde of olde prophecye,
Where of they gan so grete Ioye haue,
That all at onys they gune magnyfie
God above, and hym to gloryfye,
Retornyng hem devoyde of euery smerte.
And Marye cloos within hir herte
Worde and dede, and euery manere thyng
That be-felle in that Natyvyte,—
Full secretly ther-on ymagenyng,
And prudently hir-self gouernyng,
Kept hir sonne with all byse cure;
Whiche on this day, as saythe Bonaventure,
His chosyn chyldren thrugh his benygnyte,
In his chirche to Ioye hem of Syon
By perfyte pees and sothefaste vnyte.
And he this day hathe shewede the beaute
Of his face of excellent fayrenesse;
In whose honoure this day of high gladnesse
Our althir myrthe and yoye to encrece;
Gloria in excelsis deo.
And in erthe this day a perfyte pees
To man was shewed, withoutyn eny lees.
And as saythe poule, goddys benygnyte
This day aperyd in his humanyte.
[[XLV]]
God was this day in simylytude,
In erthe honourede in likenesse of man.
And he this day his godhede did Include
In oure manhode; and shortely to conclude,
This day also, yf I shall not feyne,
Byfel also othir thynges tweyne,—
That euere yet were sene to-forne,
Wher-of no witte, by kynde is capciouse.
Firste howe that god, to save that was for-lore,
Lowly in erthe luste to be bore;
And howe a mayde in hir virgynyte,
Might also childe and mothir be.
Reason of man by kyndes likenesse.
But faythe alone muste all comprehende,
And it enbrace by perfyte stablenesse,
And make his grovnde vpon the witnesse
Of prophetes, whiche in hir prophecye,
So long aforne gan to clepe and crye
Our olde woo and trouble to enchace;
To whome Dauid sayde in his wrytyng:
“O blisfull lorde, shewe to vs thy face,
And we in sothe, only thrugh thy grace,
Shall saved be from all myscheve and drede;
And lorde also, now in our grete nede,
Vs to enlumyne liggyng in derkenesse.”
Eke ysaye, with all his Inwarde sight,
Vp vnto hevyn gan his loke to dresse,
And seyde, “lorde, of þi gret goodnesse,
Oute of deserte, from the harde stone,
Vnto the dougthir dwellyng in Syon,
That lordship hathe and domynacion
Of all the herthe, our dool to Redresse.
And wolde god for our saluacion,
This myghty lorde for to come adovne,
The high hevens wolde breke entweyne,
Vs to Releve of that we so compleyne.”
In the sauter our sorowes for to fyne,
And sayde, “lorde in Relees of our woo,
The high hevens thy mercy make enclyne
And downe discende, and late thy grace shyne
Vppon vs wrecches in the vale of sorowe.”
And, “lorde, do dawe thyne holy glad morowe,”
Of thy mercy and Rewe on our distresse,
And with thy vertues, that ben so moche of myght,
That no man may counte hem ne expresse;
Fulfille Syon, and with high gladnesse
Thy people hertes make for to renewe,
That thy prophetes, may be founde trwe;”
Aftir this day so longe dyden crye:
“O come thou lorde, and ne tarye nought.”
And of this day, in hir prophecye
Wrote some tyme holy ȝakarye,
Byddyng the dougthir of Syon to be light;
Where he also assured and be-hight
Shall come in haste his peple to visite;
And he shall bryng pees in his comyng,
Of whome the power shall not be alyte,
For it shall laste, as hym luste to wryte,
From see to see, and all the erthe sprede,
Thorugh the worlde bothe in lengthe and brede.
To by-holde, in all his beste entente,
Tawarde the brightnesse of the sonne beme,
And wysely loke into the oryente,
To see the gladnesse that this day is sent
Dovne to the erthe, nowe that Criste is bore.
Of whose commyng, so many a day affore,
“The high hevynes dothe your grace adewe.”
And sayde also, the Skyes sholde Reyne
Vpon erthe, her moystur for to shewe;
And bad the grovnde, eke in wordes fewe,
For to open and thorowe throwe his heuenely showre,
For to buryovne our alther savyour.
And sayde that god shulde make seed
A greyn of Dauid, fayrer then floure in may,
Whiche in freshenesse shall euere spryng and sprede,
And conseruen Iuda oute of drede,
And eke Israel kepe in sekyrnesse.
And he shall make, all Rightwysnesse
And Rightewisnesse men shall his name call,
When he is comyne to sytte in the see
Of kyng Dauid in his riall stalle.
And he also, to-fore the prestes all,
Bothe of Iuda and levy, shal devyse
With newe encence to do sacryfyce
Of the peple, and for her ignoraunce;
With his offerying make Recompence,
Or that the swerde be whette of vengeaunce.
Even like as made is Remembraunce
In Malachie in the same wyse,—
This sonne of life shall spryng and Ryse
And ben expectant with al humylite
On his comyng, to suche he shall oute shede
His light of grace at his natyvyte.
Wher-fore be gladde, lyke as byddyth Miche,
Thou Bedlem called Effreta,
Though thou be lityll namede in Iuda;
The myghty kyng and lorde of Israel.
And nowe this day is corven oute of a stone,
Withouten handes of that holy hylle,
Of whiche whilome, the prophete Danyell,
In his bokes wrote so long aforne,
To signyfye that there sholde be boren
Of a mayde, aftir his be-heste;
That like a stone was ycorven oute than,
Whan he was bore in this high feste,
Only to breke the crovne and eke the creste
In Babylyne of the grete ymage
That made men firste, to done outerage.
Of prophetes so longe aforn be-hight,
For Criste Ihesu, playnely this is no naye,
Is thilke stone, who so loke a-right,
Whiche by his wisdome and his faders myght,
And the vertu of the holy goste,
Was corven oute so clene in euery coste,
That groweth full of holsome floures fayre.
For oute of hir that was in hert and wille
A perfyte mayde, humble and deboneyre,
Lyche as the dwe of heven dothe repayre
Vpon Ermon, al-waye newe and newe,
Amendyng aye the herbes of her hewe,
Of the holy goste, this day of marye
Was corven oute, the sothefaste angle stone,
Whome that prophetes pryse and magnyfie.
For she this day was the gladde skye,
Whiche the childe of helye dyd see
So plesauntly ascende from the see
Of holsome frute and of herbes soote,
That hathe shede the comfortable Reyne,
The Reyne of grace, for our alther boote,
That percede hath, even to the Rote
Of our welfare, to do the levys spring.
For she alone is the felde flouryng,
To Isaak, whan he was fall in age;
Of whiche he caught so inwardely gladnesse,
That hym thought holy his corage
Renewede was, and with a glad visage,
Unto Iacob of hertely Ioýe sayde,—
On his clothis, as he his handes layde,—
[[XLVI]]
Howe Ioseph prophicied the birthe of criste betouchyng of the clotheȝ of his sonne Iacob Cao xlvio 12m
The grete Swetnesse and the fresshe odour
Of thy clothyng to me is so entere,
That it frome me devoydyth all langoure;”
Sayeng tofore that there shulde a floure
Oute of the felde springe of his kynrede,
The whiche shulde suche an odour shede,
In the swetnesse aȝens iche maledie,
And soueraine helthe in euery myscheve fele;
So that this felde was no wight but marye,
That by discent come of his alye.
Oute of whiche to gladen all our chere,
This day in erthe ther dyd a floure apere,—
Passing the Rose and the floure delys.
And of this holy, fayre, fresshe felde,
Sumtyme þe spouse spak in canticis,
Whan he it sawe so fresshe at his devys,
And habundaunt of a tempre eyre,
And þat it was so passing Inly fayre.
[[XLVII]]
Of thy Swetnesse, with souereygne suffisaunce,
Lyke Paradys shedith his vapoure
Erly on morew, avoydyng all grevaunce,
Lyche the frute that is of suche pleasaunce,—
The garnet apull, of colour golden hewed,
Thurgh whose odour the corage is renewed
For evyn like as the golden Rynde
Is playne and shynyng, as ye may conceyve,
His colour kepyng euere in one by kynde,
And dothe his pypens in the skalis [bynde],
To do comfort to seke in her accesse,—
Right so maye, our sekenesse to redresse,
The frute of lyffe, that with his soote brethe
Is remedye, and also cheve Refute
To mankynde, a-gayne the fever of dethe.
For as the grayne of the Garnet slethe
Þe stronge accesse and doith þe hete avale,
Right so this day, oute of the golden scale,
Criste Ihesu, gan firste to apere;
And of marye, mothir, mayden, and wyffe
The golden garnet with his scales clere,
Beyng al hole and iliche entere,
Was borne, in sothe, for to refresche blyfe
Our olde accesse. and right as the Olyfe
Apeyreth nat of fayrenesse ne coloure,
Right so marye, flouryng in chastite,
This day hath borne our alther saviour,
The oyle of pees to stynte our langour,
To softe our sores, and the Swellyng slake
Of all owre wondes, whanne thay smerte or ake.
This blisfull tyme of the Natyuyte,
Of yonge Ioseph, The coote polymete,
Wrought by power of all the trynyte,
Within the closet of chosin chastite,
Performede was, and by noo hande of man,
As Alysaundre wel reherse can,
On cantica, as ye may Rede and see.
The which clothe of purpur moste Ryall,
Hewede with clennesse of virgynyte,
This day hathe shewede in our humanyte
The godhede hole, for by this clothe is mente
Of our kynde the frele garnemente.
[[XLVIII]]
Amydde the felde that dothe the vertu floure,
Was gadrede vp by clennesse euery dele;
Whom all the other gan worship and honour.
For in the chaste, clene, chosin boure
Of maydenhede, this gavel grwe by kynde;
That whan the bretherne of Ioseph dyd bynde
How it stode vp a monge hem euerychone;
And all that othir gan at onys ryse,
And worshippede it mekely one by one.
For this Ioseph sawe this day a-lone,
Sonne and mone and sterres eke xie,
To hym obeye vppon the high hevyn.
As saythe Guydo, was a mayde swete,
In whome was shet, sothely for to sayne,
The sacrede store and eke the halowede whete
Of the viie yere that dyd in plente flete.
For on this parfyte Rote that is so vertuouse,
The viie yeres of grayne so plentevouse
To saue Egypt in his grete nede;
And for to be to hym savacion
In scarcyte whan that he hathe nede.
For this is the grayne that shall fostre and fede,
With full repaste to woman, child and man,
And all his brethern dwellyng in Canaan.
Shall by his witte helpe and Releve,
And Iacob make in plente to habounde
With fulsom fode, at morew and eke at eve,
That the hungre on no syde greve
Of the viie yere vnto his lynage.
And like as Iosephe, in his tendre age,
Sonne and mone in his avysion,
And ther with all sterres eke elleven,
Honour hym by grete devocyon,
So this Ioseph, excellyng of Renoun,
This newe Iosephe, criste Ihesu hym-self,
Of the sterres and the signes twelfe,
Though he lay lowe in an oxe stall.
For bothe troni and dominacion,
And holy the curte above celestiall,
This high feste for a memoriall,
The laudes songen in the hevynly quere;
Lyke as Dauid bad in the sauter:
And with o voys his birthe gloryfieth,
That hathe with loue brent and set afyre.
Seraphin wherfore hym magnyfieth,
Atwene two bestes though he in erthe lyeth,
Full humble thurgh his humylite,
And nowe this feste of the Natyvite,
Presith hym as thay ben wonte to done.
And lete the swetnesse of your notes fall
Dovne to the erthe, wher goddes awne sonne
This day hathe ioye with vs to wonne,
And lithe now wrappede in his mothir barme;
Whome wel softely with hir holy Arme,
Hir yonge childe mekely dothe embrace,
And so moche in hert dothe delite
His tendre lymmes to welden and compace,
Ande to biholde the goodlyeste face,
That euere was forged by nature.
For it was he, I dar yov well assure,
That from eterne was in his faders [thought]
And oon with hym, who can take kepe,
His owene worde that al made of nouȝt,
Whome a mayde hathe to mankynde brought,
Thorugh hir mekenesse of hevyn and erthe quene,
The lyneall stok of Iuda to sustene.
Whan attropos gan his threde vntwyne,
Whiche cloto had put long in delaye,
And lachasis, or thay wolde it fyne,
Gan to blisse and thus of hym defyne,
Whan all his bretherne stoden envyron,
This olde gray, with a full softe soun:
Shall prese and worship the high renoun
Of thyne estate, which shall of all thy fone
The pryde opresse, and make hem loute dovne;
That shal be cleped the whelpe of the lioun,
The Royall beste whiche, maugre who saythe nay,
Shall myghty be to cache and take his pray
My sonne Iuda, in thy dredfull tene,
For thorugh thy myght thou shalt victory haue,
Maugre echone that the reuers mene.
For who shall mowe withstonden or susteyne
Thy kyngly power, to make resistence
A-gayne thy manhode and thy magnyficence,
Withoutyn clipsyng or any manere clowde;
The septre of whome, in sothe, shall neuere fyne,
To be famous by Reporte lowe and lowede,
Nor neuere sese in couerte ne in shrowde
Till a duke aryse of thy kynrede,
Whom all the world shall obey and drede.
Ouȝt of thi sed by dwe successioun,
Liche a kyng to holde his parleamente,
With his legees a-mydde his region,
And he shall be to euery nacion
Sothefaste abydyng and socour in her nede.
And he shall bynde his myghty sterne stede,
And tye his asse vindir the grapes Rede.
Ande he his stole þat lyke to golde doth shine,
And his palle, by myght of his manhede,
He shall wasshe in grapes that shull blede
The Rede blode, depper than skarlet hewe.
And thus arayede in his vesture newe,
Than the stremes of the light sterre;
And of eyne fayrer many folde,
Thanne wyn fined shynynge thorowe a verre
And like yuoury that comes fro so fer,
His tethe shall be evyn smothe and white.”
And liche, in sothe, as Ioseph lust endyte,
Wherto his children he maketh mencion,
To-fore his dethe, with full deuoute entent,
In his presence as they knelyn adovne,
To hem Rehersyng the grete avysion
Whiche he had in egipt gone full yore,
In a foreste, among the holteȝ hore,—
Full lustely goon in her pasture.
And aftir that, as Lincolne liste to wryte,
He sawe of Iuda borne a creature,
Of thought and dede, a verrey mayden pure.
And in his dreme, hym thought he dyd sene
Of hir brought furthe, withoutyn spote all clene,
That euere he sawe vnto his pleasaunce;
On whose lefte hande stode a fyers lyon,
And bestes many by one alyaunce,
That were in erthe thorugh cruell resemblaunce,
Aforsyng hem by sheltroun in batayle,
By felle malice, the fayre lambe to assayle.
The lambes power made hem for to dye;
And hem venquyschede thorugh his humble myght,
That man and Angell, when thay this conqueste seye,
Thay fell downe streght and the lambe obeye,
That was sent of god, this meke werryour,
The whiche was borne to ben our savyour,
To sle the lyon, that he may not endure.
And acordyng with this avysion,
This lambe of god, clad in our armoure,
This day was borne of a mayden pure,
And lorde of all, here in a lytyll cage,
By Right lyne discended oute of the lynage
As a burgeon oute of a stoke growyng,
Right so this childe, fro levy and also
Frome myghty Iuda, growe oute succedyng,
Borne of the blode to be preste and kyng,
So entermellyde by succession
Of bothe was the generacioun,
By lyneall cours descendyng as a stayre,
Til the kynredes were growe bothe in-to oone,
In-to o braunche to haue his repayre,—
Þat was preued pleynly to be ayre,
The right of levy in presthode to succede;
And by Iuste tytle, who so lust take hede,
Aftir his fadre, and to be successoure
To worthy Iuda, all Israel to queme,
To ben hir prince and myghty gouernoure.
And from Iacob this burion and this floure
Firste gan spring to Iesse, till it raught
And so furthe dovne, till the buddes caught
[[XLIX]]
To bere the frute that shall mankynde save.
And nowe this day, the prophecye to fyne,
In Bedlem within a lityll caue,
Kynde and a mayde suche werre haue,
For this matier: howe in a creature
Two names myght Iustely, by nature
For mayde and mother, shortly for to saye,
In o person to-gyder may nat trace,
For by kynde the tone moot voyde awaye.
But in this case, nature dyd obeye
To a mayde, and gafe vp hol her right,
Wysely aduertyng she was to feble of myght
With hir that was of face moste benygne.
Wherfore she voydyth all Rancour and envye,
And humbly hir quarell dothe Resigne.
For it were veyne, nature to malingne,
Though she of kynde be the Empresse,
Ayeyne hir lorde that made hir so maystresse,
In euerythyng to his will obeye,
And be ministre vnto his volunte,
Sithen of hir myght he berythe hym-self the keye.
For vnto hir, by no manere waye,
It is no wrong ne no preiudice,
Though of a mayde withoutyn synne or vyce,
He wolde of grace descenden doun full lowe
To take the clothyng frele and mortall
Of our kynde, to make a burioun growe,
That neuere was of man sette ne sowe.
But with a worde, and the consentyng
Of a mayden, a graffe so burgenyng
Whan criste was borne of a mayden free.
And the fader sent his sonne so dere
Dovn to the erthe to make an vnyte,
By parfyte love and fervent charyte,
Eternally by bonde that may not fayle,
Fully assuryng by weddyng and sponsayle,
And holy chirche perpetually to laste.
And in a chaunbre, by excellence fayre,
Of maydenhede that hym-self caste,
The holy knotte and the bounde so faste,
So bonden was that it may neuere vntwyne;
And of that araye fully to determyne,
In all the erthe, halowede and yholde,
In a closet more clere þan verre or glas,
Or any byrell bryght to be-holde.
For by recorde of patriarkes olde,
The chaste chaumbre was within adornede
With golde of feith fayre and bright borned,
To Recomforte all that ben in presence,
And with siluere depurede oute so bright,
Thorough the high wisdome of gostely sapience,
And all the Gemmes that hauen excellence
In morall vertu for to shewe and shyne,
Þe closet chose so clerli enlumine
So fulsome light is ther of parfytenesse.
For ther the violet, men may be holde and se,
Of clene entent and of holynesse,
Withe Roses strawede, in god to haue swetnesse;
Ande with lylies of chastite y-meint,
And ther-of colour that neuere wolbe fayent;
Like to purpill in signe of victorie.
And in this chaumbre full of honeste drede,
The chosen closet, the chase oratorye,
This day, in sothe, the high kyng of glorye,
To shewe his myght, how he for man gan [wyrche],
And howe he hathe spousede our mothir holy chirche,
Oute of his chaumbre, for to rectifie
All that was wronge or in our kynde amys;
Wherfore his feste we aught to gloryfye.
Full long a-gone, to syng his psalmodye,
The kyng Dauid entune dyd his harpe,
And withe the tenoures and the trebles sharpe,
This day of dayes, moste worthy and famous.
And all prophetes in hir sawes preyse
This noble feste, this feste so graciouse;
And from hevyn, with voys melodiouse,
Angelles full lowe Swiftely dovne a-light,
For to honour this holy sacrede nyght,—
Excelling all as in worthynesse.
For in this worlde was creature noon,—
In hevyn ne herth, nor in sothefastnesse,
In lande nor see, that with grete bysynes
Her deyuere dyd this nyght, to honour
Hym that was borne mankynde to socour.
[[L]]
Howe the chefe temple of Rome fel doun the nyght of cristes birthe and of othir wondrefull tokens Cao 1o 16
Was sothely shewed his Natyvyte
In Bedleme: how that of a mayden pure
A childe was borne, moste souerayne of degre.
And firste of all, in Rome the Cyte,
His birthe was shewede by myracle.
For wall and Roof, tours and pynacle
To god of pees that was consecrate,
The same nyght to grovnde fel adovne,
Pleyne with the erthe, wast and desolate;
In whiche temple, moste Riall of estate,
The statute stode of myghty Romulous,
And at the byldyng, the story tellyth thus,
To appollo with humble sacryfice,
To haue ansewer in hir beste entent,
How longe this fane Riall of asyse,
So strong bilt, and in so thrifty wyse,
That it shulde lasten, and so to endure
Ayeyne a-sault of any aventure,
And he yaf ansewer vnto one and all,
Howe this temple with his walleȝ wyde,
With his creseȝ and batelyng Riall,
Shall euere stonde sure withoutyn fall,
Vnto the tyme that a mayde childe.
And thay a-none that firste made it bilde,
That this temple euere shulde stande.
For hem thought it was inpossible,
A mayde euere, othir on see or lande,
To haue a childe, and so thay vndirstonde.
And thay a-noon yaf the temple a name,
By one assente, for the grete fame,
The Temple of pees with his wallys white;
And ther-with-all namede it eterne,
And at the entre so thay dyd wryte.
But on the nyght, the trouthe to endite,
Whan criste was borne of a mayden clene,
This temple fel doun endelong the grene,
Of appollo that tolde hem all this thyng.
Ande in that place in wurship of marie
And of hir sone of heuene and erth kynge,
Stant a cherche ful of byldynge.
And even like the self same tyme,
The grete statute, long or it were prime,
Fell to erthe and braste on peces small;
And thogh Romaynes made hym stellifiede,
His greate hede for all that dyd avale;
Of whome also, the werkeman made a tale
That forget it many day affore,
And sayde, in sothe, till a childe be bore
Þis grete ymage, and neuere his hede encline;
But he aloute vpon the same nyght,
Whan crist was borne of a pure virgyne,
Like as the werkemen dyd afore devyne,
Ayene the conseyte and the entencion
Of that he ment in his opynyon.
Whiche of custome corteyne so the nyght,
The same tyme with a sodeyne sonne
Enchasede were, that it wex as light
As at mydday, whan phebus is moste bright,
To shewe sothely that the sonne of lyfe
Was borne that nyght, to stynte all our stryfe.
[[LI]]
In verrey sothe, withoutyn any werre,
The selfe tyme in Rome was a well,
Of his stremes passyngely entiere
To loke vpon as any cristal clere,
From his vaynes as it dyd boyle;
Of whiche the water chaunged into oyle
So large plentee that all myght it see.
Of whiche well longe before or than,
Al opynly, in Rome the Cytee,
Sybelle the wyse, that had souereygnete
Of prophecye, playnely wrote and tolde,
That the water of this well shulde
Into oyle, and so a day endure,
Whan of this worlde was borne the savyour,
In Bedlem of a mayde pure.
And as I fynde also in scripture,
The same day, high in the firmament
Towarde the partye of the oryent,
Eueryche of hem large Rounde and bright;
That caste abrode her fayre beameȝ clere,
Thourgh all the world in euery manes sight.
The whiche sonnes drowe lyne Right,
Her cours holdyng in hast and that a-noon,
Till all thre were Ioynede into oon;
That he was bore, in whom were founded thre,
To encrece our Ioye and also our welfare,
Flesshe and soule, and eke the deyte,
Knytte all in one by sothefaste vnyte;
Which as a sonne, voydyng schoure and shade,
Was borne this day all the worlde to glade.
[[LII]]
In his cronycle makyng mencion,
How the Senates, all by one assent
In concistorye, of affection
Whiche thay hadde in her opynyon,
Vnto her noble and miȝti Emperour
Octouyan, of worthynesse the flour,
And callede hym by name Immortall.
The whiche thyng when he had espyede,
As he that was ful prudent founde at all,
To his presence made a-noon to calle
Sybelle, that was myrrour of sapyence,
Here vpon to here, her sentence;
Withoutyn doute of ambyguyte,
As fer in sothe as phebus dothe now shyne,—
If ther wer any of power more than he,
Or peregall vnto his degre,
Fro Est to west, here in erthe lowe,
In all this worlde that she couthe of knowe.
Whan criste was borne in Bedlem by myracle.
And she full wysely putte hym in delaye,
To yef ansewer makyng a small obstacle;
Til at the laste, the fin of hir oracle,
Amydde the chaumbre of the Emperour,
Stondyng envyron many a Senatour,
“O Emperour, lifte vp a-noon thyne eyne,
And loke vp yonder, and se the cercle of golde
A-boute the sonne, whiche easi is to asspyen,
And ther by-holde, thou maiste it not denyen,
A mayde sitte, of beaute moost souereyne,
Holdyng a childe in her Armes tweyne.”
Sawe the childe by clere inspection,
Withoute abode, a voys he herde than
From a-lofte into the chaumbre doune:
“By-holde and se with humble affection,
This is the auctor of the high heven,
Sette in the sonne, clere as any leven.”
To hym a-none, and list not to abyde:
“Thy crovne avale, and the childe obeye,
Whos face bright the sonne may not hyde.
And lat nowe be thy pompe and all thy pryde.”
And at oo worde she plattely gan hym telle,
The childes myght his power dyd excelle.
Of faythefull will and hole herte entere,
He knelyde dovne and list no longer stande;
And with encens cast in the sencere,
He dyd worship vnto the Autere,
And to the childe moste excellent of fame,
And liste no more vsurpe on hym the name,
Wrongfully a god, sithen ther is but one.
And Right a-noon, this noble worthy knyght,
Thorowe ouȝt the worlde his precept made to gone,
To provynces and contreyes euerychone,
Vpon payne of dethe, that noon of hem all
Be hardy more a god hym for to calle.
And evydenceȝ, eke in speciall
Ther was oon borne, of power more worthy
Then was hym-self, and thereto Immortall
To whome no kyng on erthe is peragall
In all this worlde, of high ne lowe estate
And for this skylle, aftir dedicate
To marye playnely, this is noo naye
And called eke, for this avysion
Ara celi, yet into this daye
The name abyt, and slydeth not awaye
Ne lesith not, the light of his brightnesse
Thourgh noon eclippsyng, of foryetylnesse
[[LIII]]
That tyme in the yere of her kynde bare,
Gan floresshe and floure and in-stede of wynes,
Withe Riche Bavme her braunches to repayre.
And the vertu that wyntre made bare,
Thourgh constreynyng of colde in the Rote,
Nature made with fresshe blossomes soote,
Vnto the croppe, with frute and levys newe;
Makyng the bowes as lusty to the sight,—
As fresshe as fayre of colour and of hewe,
And as plentevous her colour to Renewe,—
As in Septembre whan Bachus hathe power
To shewe his myght that tyme of the yere.
That hathe lordship ouere grape and vine,
Vnto whose myght euery manere thyng.—
Hevyn and erthe,—lowly muste enclyne,
Gan braunches bere with fresche floures fyne
Araye newe, though thay be seer and olde,
In frosty wynter and in wedir colde,
Whan flora Reignyth in may and in aprill,
And make blossomes to ben as smothe and softe
Amyde Decembre, whan men for colde so chille.
Wherefore this feste, frely at his wille,—
The nyght I mene, of his Natiuyte,—
To shewe his myght in herbe, floure, and tre,
In Engady her bavme for to shede,
Whan thay were moste nakede and barayne
And oute of season, who so can take hede.
Of whiche nyght long afore, I rede
That in Egipt the prophete Ieremyee,
Full opynly in his prophecye,
That the Idoles of her temples alle,
With-outyn arest, by myracle sholde
Breke her neckeȝ and to grounde falle,
Whan a mayde in an oxe stalle
Hathe borne a childe, this thyng shall be-tyde.
Wherefore the prestes in her fanes wyde,
Secrely vpon a lytyll stage,
Vpon his worde with humble reuerence,
Of a mayde let make an Image,
And in her Arme, a childe of tendre age;
Doyng ther-to in her paynyme wyse,
Aftir her Riteȝ, a manere sacryfise.
Thay were a-waytyng whan it wolde be;
Til on a day of happe the kyng cam nere,—
The noble, worthy, and wyse Tholome,—
Þe whiche þing whanne þat he dide see,
A-noon of hem the cause he gan enquere,
Why or wherfore the Image was sette there.
Yaffe answer and lust not for to lye.
For it was ordenyde of olde tradicion,
Shewede to-forne by holy prophecye,
In whiche thay dyd faythefully aspye,
Vndispeirid the hest shal not varie
Of the prophete, awhile though it tarye.
Vpon the tyme of the Natyuyte,
The false Idoleȝ in Egipt fel adovne,
And al to-braste in peceȝ moo then thre;
To shewe truly that Iborne was hee,
Of heven and erthe that hath the Regalye,
And shall distroye al false mawmetre.
[[LIIII]]
Howe Romayns whan thay had dominacion ouere all the worlde made hem an Image and callet it the Goddes Cao liiii 20
In his boke, Policraticon,
That whanne Romanes had excellence
Of high lordship, so many day a-gone,
And that peples and Regnes euerycheone
Stoden vnto hym vndir lowe seruage,
Fro yere to yere makyng a payage
To the Empyre of verrey dewte;
For whiche the Romanes and Senate honourable,
Whan thay flourede in moste felicite,
Devysed haue for a grete Ryalte,
A-myd her towne in moste worthy place,
A large statue, femynyne of face,
Large and long, and wonderfull to se,
And of entayle devydede the compace.
This grete ymage called sholde be
Goddes of Rome, and like a maieste,
In hir Right hande sholde also holde
A large worlde, full sterne to by-holde;
To signifie that sche moost glorious,
The cyte hathe holy in hir cure,
And howe by hir thay were victoriouse.
And here vp-on, moste excellent famous,
Thay dyd a werke-man seken vp and dovne,
It to performe, thorugh oute all the tovne,
That passede all to werke in entyle,
And was sotyll bothe of witte and mynde,
To werke in metall, and sayde he wolde nat fayle
Of this emprise, that may so moche avayle
To the cyte, and shortly in this caas,
Thorugh his engyne, it performede was
Couthe a-mende it in that ilke tyde.
And to by-holde it, many a thousande ran,—
So gladde of it the were on euery syde;
Till at the laste, one of verrey pryde,
Presumptuously gan to cry and call,
Ande sayde shortly, the legges were to small
For lak only of gode proporcion.
Wher-of a-noon, with soden Ire and tene,
The werke man brent in his opynyon,
Rebukyng hym of his presompcion.
And sodenly perturbede in his mynde,
Answerde ayene, shortly as I fynde,
And sayde: “frende, if thou canst vndirstande,
Til þat a childe be of a mayde borne,
I vndirtake þat this werke shall stonde.
Thyne hede is dulle on watir and on londe
To lak thyng thou canste not a mende.”
And the werkeman, sother then he wende,
For on the nyght whan that criste was bore,
In verrey sothe, it may not be denyede,
Of bras the goddes is broken and to-tore,
And all the coste of the werke for-lore.
In signe only that the lorde and syre,
And myghty kyng of the high Empyre,
Of bedlem, of a pure virgyne;
To whose power and dominacion,
Grete Rome mekely shall enclyne.
For erthely lordship nedys muste fyne,
With all his pompe and lowte to hym lowe,
Whan the power of this kyng is knowe.
[[LV]]
Wyse Sibylle, called Tiburtyne,
Spake to the Senate full opynly and clere,
His dreme expoundyng of the sones nyne;
Which thay say all at ones shyne
Vpon a nyght, eueryliche full dyuerse,—
To hem declaryng playnely in her vers
Whiche on heven were so bright and fayre,
Betokenyth sothely the generacions
That shall succede, dyuers and contrarye.
Of whiche sonne shull vanysshe and appeyre,
And of beames waxen wonder donne,
Vnto the tyme that the viii sonne
That specifieth the generacion,
That shall by kynde be furiouse and woode,
And to vertu full of rebellion;
Tyll ther be bore a myghty champion,
Oute of the stoke of Iuda, that shall haunte
His myghty hande, her tyranye to daunte;
Of the Ebrwes, and issewe of the lyne,
And oute of hem even Ilyke procede
As dothe a floure oute of the rough spyne.
And she shall be mothir and virgyne.
And tolde hem eke in hir prophycye,
Whan she is borne, haten shall Marye.
Mothir to hym that is of power moste;
Of whome the birthe and the concepcion,
Shall fully be of the holy goste.
And he shall streche vnto euery coste
His grete kyngdome that shall neuere fyne.
And of his birthe she gan also devyne,
Whan he wer borne that he sholde be
Bothe god and man to-gyder verrely.
And of the nyght of his natyuyte,
[To hem of Rome many thynges tolde she];
And specially, what he shulde hight,
As opynly ye may haue a sight
In grete Austyne, where ye may the name
In the begynnyng of Ihesus criste see;
And of his Renoune and of his grete fame,
And by and by, howe she dyd atame
To the Iewes his comyng euery dele.
Of whiche thyng lykynge no-thyng wele,
Gan to grocche as thay gafe audience,
And bad to hir her tunge to withdrawe,
And wolde haue putte hir for angre in sylence;
And liste of malise yeve noo credence
Vnto noo worde that she spake or sayde,
Tille þat she of sodeyne Ire abrayde,
Of ignoraunce and malice indurate,
Ye shulle to hym of verrey fals envye
Be wykked rebel and obstynate,
And aye with hym ye holden shul debate.
And maugre yov and al your enemyte,
Yet shall he Regne and kyng crovnede be,
Of his fadre, who-so that saythe nay,
And proceden oute of your lynage.”
And of his comyng shall be no delaye
And tolde hem eke playnely of the daye
Of his birthe, bet then I can ryme.
And like her worde, comen is the tyme,
The tyme of Ioye and no-thyng to morne,
Sythe he is borne with so fayre a face,
The golden worlde makyng to retourne,
The worlde of pece, the kyngdome of Satourne,
Of whiche some-tyme Proba that was wyfe
Of Adelphus, wrote in her lyfe.
[[LVI]]
Of propheteȝ in her prophecye,
Wher his comyng is opynly devysede.
Recorde I take firste of hym Abdye,
That sayde thus, the bible may not lye,
How in the hille playnely of Syon
Shall Ioye and helthe bothe come in one
Where he set his kyngdome and his see;
Wherby is take the myghty Region
Of worthy Iuda, and he shall also be
Socour and helpe vnto Idumee
Of Esav, that callede is the hille,
To yoyne bothe to obeye his wille.
And bad hym halowe his festeȝ principall.
For he that shall newe enspire his sight,
Ascendyd is vpon his hill Riall,
That shall be to the bothe toure and walle,
Chefe defence and protection
In euery woo and tribulacion.
Of his comyng, whan he wrote in the tre
Of grene boxe his avysion,
Where he spake playnely of his Natyuyte,
And sayde his shynyng clere and light shall be.
And of the hornes he playnely gan to sayne
That he shall holde in his handeȝ twayne;
That on his foon kyngely he shall shewe.
And of the hilles he telleth ther a-right,
How he shall bowe hem and the croppeȝ hewe.
And tellethe eke, in wordes not a fewe,
Of Ethiope and also madian
The tabernacles, how thay shall quake thanne.
Full opynly wrote of his comyng,
And bad loke vpe clerly with thyn eye.
And sayde of Dauid a burioun and the spryng
Shall be susteynede and Regne like a kyng.
And he shall do, thourgh his worthynesse,
Dome in erthe and also Rightwysnesse.
Vpon this day with devocyon,
For he shall gadre oute of euery Ile,
Of eche kyngdome and euery regyon,
His peple in one of high affection.
And also ther, as he maketh mynde,
Fro the flodes of Ethiope and Inde,
And done to hym fulle hole sacryfice.
And fals goddes, eke thorugh his worchyng,
With Riall myght he shall also dispice,
And fro her see make hem to aryse,
And fro the boundes of her dwellyng place,
Of verrey force, dryfe hem and enchace.
In avysion wondirfull of sight,
Spake the prophete called Danyell,
And sayde hym thought he sawe vpon a nyght,—
Like to be-holde as he demed a-right,—
A sonne of man comyng with a skye;
To whome power, honour, and Regalye
And his kyngdome by eternyte
Shall stonde hoole in oon and not devyde,
Wiche shall not passe, neyther corupte be.
Whose comyng eke whan he dyd see,
The holy prophete, olde Eȝechiell,
Sayde thus, the bible can yove tell:
An herdman, my shepe to kepe sure,
That vpon hem shall nyght and day be gyde,
To lede hem wysely into her pasture.”
And ferthermore, he dothe vs eke assure,—
The holy prophete furthe in his wrytyng,—
Sothely affermyng that there shall be a kyng
And no lenger devydede in-to tweyne;
Whiche ydels made of stoke and stone,
Ne shall no more be pollute to ordeyne
Fals offerynges to goddes that thay feyne.
And the prophete that called is Agge,
Full opynly, who so luste to see,
Even lyke, as he was enspirede,—
That he shall meve heven, see, and grounde;
And he that is of all moste desirede,
Shall cum in haste, like a kyng atyrede.
For Ioye of whiche, holy Zakarye
To cristes spouse thus dothe prophecye:
And syng, thou doughter of Iherusalem.
By-holde, thy kyng shall come Right a-noon,
That shall be borne sothely in Bedlem;
And his power shall frome Reme to Reme
The boundes strecche of his Rialte,
As fer, in sothe, as floode or eny see
Oute of her mother, the grete occian.”
Of whose comyng Malachye makethe mynde
Within his boke, the bible telle can,
Howe the name of hym, bothe god and man,
Shall strecche his stremes withouten wene,
Fro thilke place wher the sonne [shene]
At his vpriste in the mornyng,
Vnto the west where he gothe vndir wawe,
Till Efte ayeyne his charet he bryng
Into the Est, that dothe the larke syng
For Ioye only that his bemes ryse.
And of his comyng dothe Amos eke devyse,
Restore aȝeine and eke redifiee
Vpon that day the myghty tabernacle
Of kynge dauid, with al the regalie.
And of this childe, wryt also Ysaye,
Whan he is borne, that in his presence
Kyngeȝ for drede shull kepe hem in silence.
[[LVII]]
Of thynges thre what was worthiest:
Kyng, wyne, or woman, in comparison,
Eche Ipreysede and yhelde for best.
And all this stryfe, as daryng gan lest,
Zorababell, withoutyn any slouthe,
Aboven ychone had preferrede trouthe.
Eueryche holdyng his opynyon,
Zorobabell of Right and equyte,
To woman yafe his commendacion;
Makyng furthe-with of trouthe mencion,
Only in sygne, as he can devyse,
Fro woman firste trouthe moste aryse;
Of all vertu, it may not be denyede,
And ther-with also, excellent Riall,
With god hym-selfe that it is next alyede.
And for it is so moche magnyfyede,
Thorugh the worlde, of prise and worthy fame,
God chees hym-self of that to bere the name,
As the gospell maketh mencion.
And by Recorde of olde prophetes alle,
Condescendyng into o conclusion,
This day in erthe, for our saluacion,
Of a woman in maydynhode flouryng,
To mankynde trouthe dyd spryng.
How trouthe and mercy in a mayden mette.
And thus is trouthe sprong oute of the felde,
Wher the holy goste the grayne of grace sette,
To make the graffe that he fro Iudas fette,
Fructyfie in a pure virgine;
That shall be title of the same lyne,
And vndirfonge it as a champion,
Which was by-rafte, so many a day agone,
Fro Sedechye away in Babylone,
Whan ther was made a transmygracion,
By the tyrant Nabugodonosore,
Whose cruelte last shall no more.
[[LVIII]]
That shall make bet then Neemye
His peple of Iuda forto haue repayre;
Iherusalem a-gayne to edyfye,
Though herodes that falsely occupye,
As a foreyn thorugh his cruell myght,
By tyranye and no tytle of Right;
The Regne vsurpyng by extorcion.
For the lorde of euery creature,
This day hath take his Iuste possession
In Bedlem, within a small donion,—
He and his mother, as who say the but alone,
To wayte on hym othir fewe or noone.
Thy-selffe alone all ryches to possede!
For in this worlde noon is to the liche,
Of plente Riall; for the londe of mede,
Wher the hylles of golde ben, as I rede,
May no tresoure in his maynes Reyse,
Ayen thy tresoure for to countrepayse.
That in heven Angels desyre:
The Iewell Riche, the tresour celestiall,
Of heven kyng, of earthe lorde and sire,
And hym þat hath al þe hole empire.
Of land and see, and the monarchie,
Thou hast holy, o lady myne, to gye.
In a sermon of the Natyuyte,
We may to the sayne, right as he bitte,
With deuoute hert, knelyng on our knee:
“O blessed lady, flour of virgnyte,
We prayen ichone, o welle of our welfare,
Like a mothir nat thy mylke to spare.
Of fulsomnesse Angels to fede;
And yef hym souke the pyment graciouse
Of thy pappes: lat the condyte shede
The sote mylke all aboute in brede,
And motherly makyng it to avale
On his fayre tendur lymes smale.”
Withe his rounde softe lippeȝ lyte,
To have pleasaunce thy bresteȝ for to touche,
Only to souke thy blissede pappes white;
And that hym luste so godely to delyte,
For his playe to haue so moche blisse,
Euere among thy holy mouthe to kysse.
Than a-none thy white nek enbrace
With his softe tendre Armes rounde.
And than at onys fallen on thy face,
And of his eyne, fulfillede of all grace,
A godely loke to thewarde enclyne;
And so furthe his chekes ley by thyne,
His smal pawmes on thy chekes layne
His yong face betwene thy pappes couche,
And holde hym stille, with all his besy payne,
And grype hem faste with his handeȝ twayne;
For ther-in was his hevenly repaste,—
Þi ȝunge sone whan he list breke his faste,
Sothefaste seler of his sustynaunce;
The tune of lyfe that euere dyd endure,
Ilyche fresshe vnto his pleasaunce,
Withe sacrede lycoure of holy habundaunce,
That noon but he may touche nor aproche,
For it for hym was only set abroche.
Holy refute, and pleynly medycyne
Ayayne the venyme brought in by envye,
Thorugh fals engyne and malyce serpentyne,
Whan the snake made Adam to dyne
Of the Appull that was intoxicate,
Falsely with god to make hym at debate.
Benygne lady, is to vs tryacle,—
Whiche in thy brest sprenketh fro a vayne,—
Ayenst dethe to be to vs obstacle.
O how it is a passyng high myracle,
Thorugh goddys myght and by nought elles,
Oute of a breste to see two small wellys
To yefe hym drynke that is kyng of alle.
O goode lady, o hevenly boteler,
When we in myscheve to the clepe and calle,
Some drope of grace lat vpon vs falle;
And to that seler make a Redy waye,
Wher thou alone of mercy beryste the keye.
Gode lady that arte of grace well,
For nowe this day in erthe is bore of the
The sothefaste god of hevyn, erthe, and helle;
Whiche is comyn dovne with vs for to dwelle,
And hathe of the our mortall kynde Itake,
Of all our woo an ende for to make.
To refresshe the hungre in her nede,
And þat be-fell in desert Right thanne,
When moyseȝ, the peple of our lorde dyd lede.
But nowe this day, in erthe man to fede,
An humble mayde, to all that ben trwe,
In this desert hath brought furthe manna newe;
To man, repast of Ioye and of gladnesse,
Chefe recomforte, and eke restoratyfe
To all feble oppressed with sekenesse.
O gode ladi, o myrour of mekenesse,
Benygne floure, of womanhode the welle,
In this desert wher as we nowe dwelle,
To owre comforte and consolacion;
And lat vs grace in thy mercy fele,
For our Refute and refection.
And in this vale of confucion,
Late thy grace fro the skyes rayne
The manne of lyfe, that we may attayne.
To al tho that noo refute konne;
This day also, of mercy the Ryuer,
Fro whiche all grace is to mankynde ronne,
The sterre also, that hathe brought furthe the sonne,
The sonne of lyfe, in erthe forto wonne,
O mayde, o mother, doughter of thy sonne,
Was bothe two, but thy-selfe alone.
For who is he that remembre can,—
First or laste, late or elles sone,—
So bright a sonne spryngyng of so fayre a mone,
Saff this day, the sonne of lyf moste shene
Fro the arose, and thou a mayden clene,
For thou a mother and mayden bothe two,
In vertu aye yliche shene and bryght,
O fayre rose, o Rose of Iericho,
That hast this day god and man also
In Bedlem borne aȝen the gray morowe,
The nyght to voyde of al our olde sorowe,
Spryngyng light oute of Naȝareth,
Chose chaumbre of wyse Salamon,
Flour of the felde, swettest on holte and hethe,
Of whome the vertu saveth man fro dethe;
Of Syloe the water eke depurede,
Wherby, the lepre of Naaman was purede;
Thou namede art, of Israel gladnesse;
Holsome Cysterne, this day of Bedlem,
The thruste of Dauid to staunche in destresse;
Of paradyse the well in sothefastenesse,
Physon that [floweth] into sondry Remes,
The soyl to adewe with his sote stremeȝ;
That mylke and hony bothe in-fere shedyth,
The soyle and grovnde of our saluacion,
With his herbes that fosterthe vs and fedeth;
Nowe blisset mayde, whose mercy euere medyth,
All tho that levyn in thy seruyce,
This high fste so for vs devyse.
We may of hert Rede, syng, and pray.
And late the stremeȝ of thyne eyne clere,
Thy seruaunteȝ, o lady myne, conveye,
To contynue fully tyll we deye,
The to serue with hertly loue and drede,
As moste is plesyng to thy womanhede
Called the fest of the natiuite,—
Make loue and pees to Regne ouere all,
And herteȝ Ioyne with perfyte vnyte;
Voyde all discorde, and late no Rancour be
In bresteȝ closede by malice or envye,
But of thy grace, so gouerne vs and gye,
Now this mydwynter, with full affection,
While phebus shynyth in the Capricorne,
We may the serue with all deuocion.
And lady myne, in full conclusion,
Nowe this monyth that called is decembre,
Vpon thy men faythefully Remembre.
BOOK IV
[[LX]]
With frosty berde entreth in the yere,
And phebus chare neyeth to aquarye,
His watry beameȝ to-fore feverer,
Whan that his light was pale and no-thyng clere,
And from hym late was partyd lucyne,
The same nyght as I sawe her shyne
On the heven, and caste his stremes adovne,
I gan Remembre of the high ferye
That callede is the Circumcisyon;
Howe it be fell than by Reuolucion,
By Iuste acomptyng in the Calendere,
The firste day of the newe yere,
Of this feste somwhate forto wryte.
And to the gospell firste I gan take hede,
Of this day howe luke luste to endyte;
Though he therof spake but a lyte,
And was full breff and compendious;
Ȝet of this day, so high and gloryouse,
Aftir the day of the Natyuyte,
When viii dayes passed were and gone,
The childe was brought with all humylyte
To the Temple, louly for to be,
As the lawe of Iewes had deuised,
The viii day to be circumcisede.
And withe a knyfe made full sharpe of stone,
His mothir lokyng with a pytous eye,
The childe was corve ther-with all, a-non,
That all a-boute the rede blode gan gon
Withoute a boode, as saythe Bonaventure,
That for the payne that he dyd endure,
The childe gan wepe þat pyte was to here.
Wherfore his mothir, of verrey tendre herte,
Oute brast on teres and myght her-self not stere,
That all bydewede were her eyne clere,
Whan she sawe hym that she louede soo,
So yonge, so fayre, wepyng so for woo.
For all that he was so yong of age,
In manere he had pyte and compassion,
To se his modyr so wepe in hir rage;
And put his hande vnto hir visage,
On mouthe and eyne, passyngly benyngne,
And as he couthe goodly made a signe
That came to her of motherly pyte.
And she full well conceyved his menyng,
For poynt to poynt, and than a-noon gan she
To loke on hym that was so fayre to see,
And his fetures considret by and by,
And in her Armes, wonder womanly,
As of modris is pleinly the manere,
And he in all obeythe to her wille,
Though he wer yong, and gan to chaunge his chere.
And with hir kerchefe she made his eyne clere,
On his chekes, in all that euere she may,
Ful modurly the ters sche wypte away.
[[LXI]]
That criste Ihesus, who-so luste to see,
In four manere was truly circumsisede;
Firste of his fader at his Natyvyte,
Withe the knyfe of wilfull poverte;
And nowe this day, whiche is not fenyde,
Eke with a knyf bi þe lawe ordeyned;
[[LXII]]
Criste in his chosen by gode inspection,
Her in this worlde, with-oute any drede,
Of newe he suffreth circumcision.
The firste is made by fals detraction
That kytteth away bothe frende and fame,
And the shynyng, of her gode name.
Of suche that haue noo concyence at all,
But take the awaye by cursyd Robberye,
Vnrightfully, her godes temporall.
And the thryde is, sothely most mortall:
Of herytykes that falsely disobey
To holy chirche and to our faythe verrey.
[[LXIII]]
Shed his blodely effusion.
And alther firste, when he dyd blede
Vpon the day of circumcision;
And next, in sothe, to-fore his passyon,
Vpon the hyll for anguysche when he swette
The rede blode, whiche all his body wette;
Gan rynne oute by many a cruell wounde,
Whan that he was, this kyng moste graciouse,
Of the Iewes to a pyler bounde;
The fourt tyme eke, as it is founde,
He spent his blode for our alther goode,
When he was nayled high vpon the rode;
Thorugh his hert, playnely as I fynde,
On Caluery hym perced with a spere,
That blode and water, as bokes maken mynde,
Gan streme dovne to his eyne blynde;
By whose vertu a-noon this paynym knyght,
Only of grace, recouerede hathe his sight.
How the pece of his Incision
Was by an Angell, in an vrne of golde
To Charles brought in a vysyon.
And he a-noon, of grete affection
Of this myracle, for the excellence
Made it be kept for grete reuerence
Full many yere by revolucion,
In a chirche, sothely, of marye.
But Clerkes han an oypnyon
That in þe day of resurreccion,—
Whan criste Ihesu roos fro dethe to lyfe,—
The same pece retournede as blyfe
Sythen that it was, sothely as I fynde,
Of his manhede pertenyng therto,
And a partye longyng to his kynde;
Though it so be that bokeȝ maken mynde
That it in Rome is as yet reservede,
And yere by yere, whan this fest is seruede,
Sancta sanctorum, of olde fundacion,
The same day ther, the presteȝ all
Solempynly make a stacion,
Whanne alle the peple gon on processioun,
Fully in hope the better for to spede,
Fro yere to yere, ther thay syng and rede.
The same day, right furthe-with a-noon,
In the Temple, as they hym circumcise,
He namede was Ihesus of Ichon;
The whiche name, long or that agon,
Was of the Angell tolde and sayde afore
To his modur or that he were bore.
[[LXIV]]
Howe the peple of god that duke Iosue had in gouernaunce were saved by the stedefaste by leve of the name of Ihesus Cao lxivo 5m
Of this name, whiche may nat be discrivede
My wittes been so dull, with rudnesse
And in the cheynes of ignoraunce gyvede
That I alas, of conyng, am depryvede
Thorugh lak of witte, on eny manere wyse
To vndirfong, so passyng high empryse
Most excellent, and moste of dignyte
The name of names, sacred from eterne
As saythe Bernarde, who so lust to see
Fygured firste, vnto Iosue
Thorugh his knyghthode, whan that he shulde lede
The peple of god, to saue hem in her nede
[[LXV]]
Ther is ther-in so passyngly Swetnesse.
For it may best hem with grace enspyre,
And with plentee of all gostly richesse.
It is comforte and socour in sekenesse,
Refute also, reste and remedye
To all thoo that felen maladye;
In all this worlde that owher may be founde.
For this name is so hevenly and dyvyne,
That herteȝ seke it dothe with hele habounde.
It curythe sores, it helyth euery wounde,
And savethe men fro many a swerde and spere,
Wher thay ryde in perel ny or fere.
For worthyest and most of reuerence;
And it is eke best preseruatyfe
Ayene the assaut and the violence
Of wykkede eayre, to voyde pestelence.
And from the dethe, hem that plenyn sore,
Of his vertu to helthe it dothe restore.
To all that ben in pouert and in nede;
It is defence, it is protection
In yche perell and in euery drede.
It is also the guerdoun and the mede
To hem that ben in exile, of outerage,
Repayre fynall of hir pilgrimage.
[[LXVI]]
Wher-of Bernard wrytyth in sentence,
That thorughe the worlde refressheth al Remys,
It is so holsome and of suche excellence.
The firste he calleth the streme of sapyence,
Of whiche the floode most inly is habounde;
And Rightwysnesse he namethe the secounde;
For it excellyth in perfection;
The fourthe also, as I can well expresse,
Is the floode of our Redempcion.
And of the firste, in conclusion,
Of whiche the stremeȝ bene so fresshe and fyne,
Who so loke aright, is holy our doctryne.
The holsome welle ay dothe flowe and flete,
With mercy medled and remyssion,
Tofore his dome his Ire forto lete.
And of the thryde, the water is so swete,
By gode ensample, who so can disserne,
In vertu aye how we shull vs gouerne.
Is all our helthe and our saluacion;
For ther-in is our remedye fynall
Aȝenste dethe and full protection;
Whos floode sprong oute of cristes passion.
And who that liste, by water to atame,
He shall it fynde enclosede in this name.
Whiche may nat wast but iliche abyde.
The fyre it quencheth also of envye,
And repressith the bolyng eke of pryde,
And thorugh mekenesse setteth Ire asyde.
And who that hathe this name in Remembraunce,
The spryt of slouthe hym may do no greuaunce.
Ayenst wanhope and desperacion;
Cristall schelde of pallas for dispayre,
Ther-of to voyde the foule abusion.
And who that makyth his inuocacion
To this name with hert and stablenesse,
It yevethe hym strength, it yeuyth hym sikernesse
Of lechery and all temptacion.
It is refute to fre and eke to bonde,
That haue ther-in her hole affection;
Whose vertu was to kyng Salamon,
Full long afforn in dyvyne oracle,
As I fynde, shewede by myracle.
[[LXVII]]
In her writynge ande in her boockes oolde;
Of aposteles most hyly magnyfied,
By whose vertu thay the trouthe tolde.
This made also matris to be bolde,
And myghtyly like sterne champyons,
With stable herte to suffre her passions.
In her torment pacience to haue.
This is the name that ignacious
Had in his hert of golde full depe grave;
Wher of the Tyraunte gretly gan abave,
Whan that he sawe his hert kytte atweyne,
And letters newe depicte in euery veyne.
Was full repast in her abstynence;
This is the name that in sharpe shoures
Of flesshely luste was holy her defence.
It ȝaf hem myght to make resistence
Ayene synne, and knyghtly to werreye,
And to contynue in vertu tyll thay deye.
[[LXVIII]]
Of maydenhode and of virgynyte;
The oyle of grace, holsom to all gode,
Whiche in the lampes of perfyte chastyte,
Brynnyng so clere with loue and charyte,
That wordly wyndes, boystous in blowyng,
Ne may nat quenche the light of his shynyng.
Vnto the eere, and the swettest son.
It is the name of hevynly Armonye,
To avoyde synne and all temptacion,
With full accorde ayenst dyuysyon.
It causeth hertes no langer to debate,
That partyde werne thorwe the wrest of hate.
Eternall mede of hem that levyn in blisse,
Salue vnto hem that langour in sekenesse,
Vesture in colde to hem that clothes mysse,
Souerayne repaste, hungry for to wysse,
For to escape the cruell violence
Of nedys swerde, whetted with Indygence.
That first was yeue of holy vnction.
And he was callede cryst for this entent.
For he for man shuld make oblacion.
And for he came for our saluacion,
To scour a-waye the rust of all our blame,
He hathe of Ihesus worthyly the name.
In her writinge as clerkis list expresse,
How ther wer foure persones, of degre,
Some tyme a-noynt for her worthynesse:
Some for manhode, som for holynesse,
With obseruaunceȝ and solempnyte,
As was covenable vnto her degre.
As worthy kynges, of euery region,
Anoyntede werne, and myghty champions
Withe-in palestre thrugh her high renon,
Or in Champclos, hardy as lyon,
Entre wolde some quarell to darreyne,
Singulerly, by emprise of hem tweyne.
Firste a prophete by holy informacion,
And by his doctryne, most worthy of byleve.
And he was eke the myghty champyon,
That syngulerly for our saluacion
Faught with the fende and had of hym victory,
Mawgre his myght, and wan the palme of glory.
That bansshede was oute of his herytage;
Whom a serpent falsely dyd exile,
Of fals malice in a soden rage.
And he was borne, only by lynage,
To ben a kyng, and by power eterne,
When he is crownede, his peple to gouerne.
[[LXIX]]
And for mankynde most worthy werryour,
Prophete also, ande trewest in leueynge,
Be thou our helpe, be thou our socour,
And like a kyng, be thou our gouernour
And Champyon, to helpe vs in our nede,
And like a prophete, to wyssen vs and rede.
Fro day to day to helpe vs and releve,
And of thy grace, vs wrecches for to gye,
That or that thou thy rightwysnesse preve,
Lat pite firste þe to mercy meue.
And or they swerde of vengeaunce vs manace,
Lat reuthe afore thy rightful dome enbrace.
Ayene dispayre holy our sustynaunce;
Our strength, our myght, our refute fer and nere,
In yche perell, to save vs, fro myschaunce.
Thou art our store, and our suffysaunce
And in myscheve, whan drede wolde vs assayle,
Thou art our schelde, thou art our supportayle.
And thou art Rightfull, and thou art mercyable,
Lambe and lyon, callede bothe twoo,
And sothefaste kyng, whose Regne is ymmutable;
To repentant, by rygour nat vengeable,
And ay afforne, in punysshyng of thy lawe,
Pees to preferre, or right his swerde may drawe;
Oute of deserte vnto his pasture,
That was erant, ydyll, and in veyne,
O criste Ihesu, of thy benyngne cure,
More Redy ay to saven and to cure
All that been sore, and scabbede eke with synne,
Rather with pyte than with reddour wynne.
[[LXX]]
All this is crokede, godely to redresse,
All maiste of mercy all our myscheves fyne,
O criste Ihesu, well of all swettnesse,
Lorde of pyte, lord of Rightwysnesse,
Haue vpon vs this day compassion,
That callede is thy Circumcision.
This high feste, so noble and so digne,
Worship and halowe, devoyde of all offence.
And be to vs goodly and benygne,
That wer this day merkyde with a signe
And the carecte by the laws ordeynede,
And of mekenesse, haste it nat dysdeynede.
Through thy mekenesse and lawly subiection,
Suffre woldeste, this day of thy grace,
For our offence, Circumcision,
So kypt from vs all temptacion
Of worldly lust, and make the flesshe to serue
To the spyryte tyl the body sterue.
O criste Ihesu, while that we been here,
Þorue preiere of þat heuenly quene
That is a mayde and mothir eke in-fere.
With helpe of hir, graunt vs this newe yere,
So prudently with vertu vs provyde,
Our vices all þat we may circumcide.
Lat thy name, wher we ryde or gone,
In eche perell and aduersite,
Be our defence ayenst our mortall foon,
To make hem stonde still as any stone;
And all that cast vs falsely to werry,
Make her malice mekely to obeye
Or thay haue power to haunte her cruell myght.
And wikkyd sprytes, so horyble and blake,
That besy been to wayte vs day and nyght,
Lat thy name dryve hem oute of sight;
And in our forhede when we Ihesus enpresse,
Make vs of grace her malice to opresse.
Our lyfe, our dethe, body, hert, and all,
Our soule also, when we hense wende,
O crist Ihesu, o lorde ay Immortall,
Prayeng to the when thou vs deme shall,
To save all tho fro eternall shame,
That haue ful faythe and hole trust in thy name.
Book V
[[LXXI]]
With-howten whome phebus ne no sterre
Thorowe the roundenesse of the speres nyne,
Vpon heven power hath to shyne,
Let nowe thy light my derkeness enlumyne;
That thorough thy helpe I may my style gye
Some what to sayne of thy Epiphanye.
Doun with some drope fro thy maieste
That were this day by a sterre shewede
Oute of the Est to worthy kyngeȝ thre,
Whiche on the nyght of thy Natyuyte,
Gan firste asspye the bright bemes clere
Of this sterre on the heven apere—
Of fortune ne soden aventure
For many a day or this thyng befelle,
And many a yere by recorde of scripture,
With a-waytyng and wondre bysy cure,
In verrey sothe as I Remembre can.
A certeyne kynryde towarde the Occian,
Who so lust loke, in bokes fro a ferre—
And of the blode of olde Balaam,
That som tyme had with his asse werre,
The whiche sayde ther shulde ryse a sterre
Oute of Iacob and from Israell—
Albe ther of no tyme he couthe tell—
Ther shulde aryse suche a sterre bright.
Worne xij. chose the trouthe for to preve,
With-inne mydwynter euer from nyȝt to nyght,
Whan in aquarye phebus shed his light;
For to awayte in all her best wyse
Whanne þis sterre on heuene wolde arise.
Of balam, as ȝe haue herde me telle,
That yere by yere shulde take hede
Vpon an hill by-syde a lytell well.
And ther in fere a certen space dwelle,
A-noynted and bathed and in clothes whight.
And of custome thay slepen but a lyte,
Thay muste wake and wayte in speciall—
And none of hem plattely excusede—
Vpon this hill namede Victoriall.
And if one dyed, than his sonne shall
By statute olde his place ocupye,
Or elles one that were next of alye.
By custom vsede of antiquyte—
As phebus went by meovyng circuler—
So thay kept her tymeȝ by decre,
And iche yere wer certeyne dayes thre
By calkyng cast and computacion,
Sowght and chosen ouȝt by good eleccioun
Of this sterre with his bemes glade,
Whiche Balaam sayde sholde avoyde her sorowe.
At his vp-riste whose bemeȝ may not fade,
To shede his lyght in euery shrowde and shade
With-oute wrystyng or drawyng to declyne.
Til at the last for the same fine—
On the heven whan it wolde apere—
þe worthi kyngis as made is mencioun,
Vpon this hill to-gydre gon in fere.
For cause thay, who so lust to here,
Werne of the stoke of Balaam doun descendyde;
Wher-fore of sort the hylle they ben ascendyde,
At a certeyne yere by reuolucion.
And on this hill estewarde thay toke hede,
By gode avyse in her inspeccion,
The same nyght of the Incarnacion,
Whan criste was borne in Bedlem of marye.
The same hour the sterre thay aspye
Full lustyly of whome the bemeȝ light
Gan enlumyne all the firmament.
Fro Est to West it yafe so clere a light,
That of the stremys euery manere wight
Astonyde was thay were so bright and shene,
And to the eye so persaunt for to sene.
Towarde the hill—liche as bokeȝ tell—
Where the kynges the long wynters nyght
It to awayte solitarye dwelle.
And they anone vpon her knees felle
And thanked god with all her hertes luste
Which hathe not hem defraudyd of her truste.
[[LXXII]]
Vp on this sterre that shoon so fayre and clere;
And sodenly vpwarde as they gan loke
They sawe a childe above the sterre apere:
So yong, so fayre, in a golden spere,
Full ryally stonde, and above his hede
A large crosse that was of blode all rede.
Above the hill withe voyse and chere benyng,
And bad hem faste that thay shulde gone
Into Iuda right as any lyne,
And folowe all-waye the sterre for a signe
That shal hem bringe into that regioun;
Where as the kynge moost worthi of renooun,
Of Iwes lande of verrey dwe right,
Whom the sterre dyd specifie,
Whan he was borne with his clere light.
And thay a-noon whan passed was the nyght,
The next morne no lenger lust a-byde
But towards hym cast hem for to Ryde.
As was sittyng to her worthynesse,
They shope hem furthe and for thay nolde fayle
To do honour to his nobilnesse,
With hem they toke golde and great Richesse,
To spende and yeve and also for thay ment
Withe yefftes grete the childe to present.
Thorow mani a londe and many a diuerse yle,
Eueryche of hem on a dromondarye,
Whiche weren so swifte that full many a myle
Thay passed han with in a lytyll while;
That in the space of dayes but xiijne,
By condit only of the sterre shene,
[[LXXIII]]
That of Iuda was the cheffe Cyte;
Conveyed euere with the bright beame
Of the sterre that was so fayre to see.
And whan that thay a-mydde the Cyte be,
Not astonyed, axede in audience:
Wher is the kyng grettest of Reuerence,
Whose sterre we seen in the Orient
That from hevyn cast his stremeȝ downe,
Which all the worlde vndir the firmament
Is gladde to see and we of one entent,
Han yfteyȝ brought oute of our contre,
Hyme to honour in his ryall see?
He troubled was and also all the towne,
And gan a-noon to chaunge chere and hewe;
And made in hast, a convocacion
Of all the presteȝ dwellyng environ;
To knowe clerly and be certyfyde,
Of the place that was specifiede
And thay a-noon the trouthe to hym tolde:
In Bedlem, as thay full long afforne
Founden oute in her bokeȝ olde,
And all the manere to hym thay vnfolde,
Fro poynt to poynt, as Mathewe makyth mynde;
Redyth his gospell and ther ye shall it fynde
[[LXXIIII]]
nd then herde gan the kynges calle,
And of þis mater entretid priueli;
Ande curiously how that it was falle,
Be-gan enquere and axede bysely.
And of the sterre also by and by,
He axede hem and in wordes fewe
How and in what wyse it gan firste shewe.
Thay departede oute of his presence.
But firste he bad hem to enquere well
Of the childe with all her diligence.
And whan thay hade done hym Reuerence,
He chargede hem vndir wordes fayre,
Hamwarde by hym algates to repayre,
Of her exployt and of the childe also;
Surely affermyng by fals collusion,
That he hym-self wold aftir goo
Unto the childe and his deuer doo,
To worshipp hym—and all vndir colours,
The worme abit as serpent vndre floures
Of kynd malice tyll thay a tyme see
To shede her venym, and than sodenly,
All at ones, when thay vnwarrest be,
They styng and hurte and shewe her cruelte,
And her venym vnder floures fayre
Full ofte is hydde tyll thay may appayre.
[[LXXV]]
As serpent couereth hym vndir floures to styng and shede his venom whom he may hurt. So fals heroude shewed fals fenyng wordes to haue dissayved thees kynges. Cao xvj
Fals tygre full of doublenesse,
Vndir colour of humylite
Thy venym darithe and also thy falsenesse!
O thou Tyrant! O Rote of cursidnesse!
Thou herodis of malice most mortall,
What wenst thou hym that knowyth all
What can sugur vndur galle faine?
What wenyst thou the kyngeȝ to be gyle
And of malice bryng hem in a trayne?
Of whose comyng though þat thou disdeyne,
It may not helpe pleynely ne a-vayle,
For of thy purpose sothely thou shall fayle.
Maugre thy myght, all thy danger passe;
For though that thou with wordes hony swete
Maliously vpon her dethe compasse,
Thay shall scape dispyte of all thy face,
For all the coniecte of thy prynses wyse,
As the story shall a-noon dyvyse.
He yaffe hem leve passe thorough his Reame
In her Repayre hym castyng to be wroke,
If thay retourne by Ierusalem.
And so þe sterre hem brouȝte bedlem,
And lyne right the childes hede aboue,
Wher as he lay, stille gan to houe.
[[LXXVI]]
Or with his mouthe, who can the myrthe expresse,
Or who can playnly with his penne wryte,
The grete blisse or elles the gladnesse
Which thay made in verrey sothefastnesse
Aftir her iourney and her long waye,
Above the house whan thay the sterre sey,
Withoute more the childeȝ dwellyng place?
And thay a-noon faste gan hem hye
With lusty hert and gladde of chere and face,
To worthe doun in a lytyll space.
Thay made hem redy and with reverence;
Thay entrede in and cam to his presence,
Was with marie in an oxes stalle.
And full humbly the kyngeȝ all thre,
To-fore the childe on her knes gan falle,
And brought her tresour and her yeftys alle
As Reuerently as thay can devyse.
And hym present in all her best wyse,
Makyng her present with all humylyte,
Lyches her age as brothir aftir brothir.
Golde, franke and Myrr thay yaffe hym all thre,
Aftir the custome of perce and Calde,
For of that lond whanne kyngis present make,
The custome is suche yefteȝ for to take.
In verrey sothe and grete haboundaunce;
For in her present was noo scarcete,
For of Richeȝ they had all suffisauance.
Wher-fore thay cast with deuoute obeysaunce
Of dewe right with the childe to parte
Of her tresour or that thay departe.
[[LXXVII]]
As it is founde of Antiquyte,
Ther-fore these kynges for a manere sewte—
That thay hem aught of verrey deute—
Thay brought hym golde oute of her contre,
And yaffe it hym withoutyn Repentaunce,
Holy of hert for a reconysaunce.
Ordenyde is in conclusion,
To God only to make sacryfyce.
With contryte hert and deuocion,
Therfore to hym for oblacion
Thay broughten frank to signyfye thanne,
That he was bothe sothefast god and man.
To his highnesse with all bysy cure,
In token he shulde for mankynde deye,
Thay brought hym myrre to his sepulture;
For like a man dethe he must endure,
And with his blode shed in his passion,
Of oure trespas to make redempcioun.
Is vndirstonde the highe maieste
Of his power whiche that is eterne;
And eke also his high deite.
And golde betokenyth his high dygnyte,
And myrre declareth vnto us at all
Of his manhode that he was mortell.
That he to man had of affection.
And frank betokenethe the souereygne excellence,
In holynesse his conuersacion.
And myrre betokenethe the tribulacion
That he suffrede and all the grete penaunce,
For vs in erthe by contynuaunce.
In frank a prest, who so can take hede,
Of myrre also this day the offryng
Was longyng only to his manhede.
And thus he was withoutyn any drede,
Bothe kyng and prest as I discerne can,
And for our sake in erthe a mortall man.
Fygured was his high deite;
In franke also—that is so preciouse—
The soule of criste most perfyte of degre;
And Myrre betokeneth thurugh his dignyte,
His flesshe the whiche by disposicion,
May neuere suffre noo corrupcion.
Full of mysterrye and hevenly privete,
Whan thay had made her presente
Vnto the childe ay sittyng on her knee,
With grete avyse thay gan be-holde and se—
To fore that thay Remevyde fro that place—
His godely chere and his fayre face.
With grete insight and humble entencion,
And ay the more thay loke bysyly,
The more thay ioyen in her inspection;
And thought all, as in her reason,
Though kynde and god had sette in . o . fygure,
The beaute holy of euery creature.
To his fayrnesse nor peregall,
For he that is above nature ryche
Hath made this childe fayrest in speciall.
For in his face they byholden all
The hole beaute and fayrnesse eke also,
Of hevyn and erthe to-gydre bothe twoo.
Most passyngly vpon hym to see,
For thay in hert reyoisen hem not a lyte
On hym to loke that thay haue liberte,
For ay the more playnely that thay be
In his presence, the parfyte hote fyre
Of hertly Ioye hem brent by desyre.
How that the chylde demurely cast his sight
Tawardes hem and godely gan to loke
On her faceȝ with his eyne bryght;
And how that he put his Armeȝ right
Godely to hem makyng a manere signe
To hem of thankyng, with chere full benigne.
Touchyng his birthe with humble affeccion;
And she ansewerde, moste femynyne of chere,
Full prudently to euery question
With chere demure and loke ycaste adoune,
With all the porte of womanly clennesse,
Hir-self demenyng and chefly with mekenesse.
[[LXXVIII]]
And of hell, lady and eke pryncesse,
O what was he, alas, that may susteyne
To be proude considryng her mekenesse!
O pryde, alas, o Rote of our distresse!
Though thy boste above the skyes blowe
Thy bildyng high shall be brought full lowe!
Howe she that hathe hevyn in hir demayne,
And souerayne lady is bothe of londe and see,
And of the axtre by-twene the poleȝ tweyne
And all the enbrasyng of the golden cheyne,
Yet vnto god, I say in sothefastnesse,
Above all this agrede her mekenesse.
Remembre and see and loke how that she—
On whom kyngeȝ haue yoye to by-holde—
In her presence to knelen on her knee,
Though she of wemen be highest in degre,
Take hede and see how lowly in a stable
Howe that she satte this lady worshipable.
Of silke damaske or ryche tarteryne?
Or was ther arras a-bouȝte hir head vp boonde,
Or was ther any veluet Crymesyne,
Or was ther any samyte or satyne
Or wer ther any tappyteȝ large or wyde.
The nakyd grounde to keuer or to hide?
Or the pillours sette vp of Marble graye,
Or the growne pavede on to gon,
Or fresshe parlours glaȝed bright as day,
Or were ther any chaumbreȝ of a ray,
Or for estateȝ was ther any hall
Saue a dongon and an oxe stall?
Of golde or sylke curteynede large a-boute,
Or were ther sheteȝ of longe or wyde entayle
Kyt oute of Reynes nay with-outynn doute?
Or were there any ladeȝ for to loute
To hir highnesse with bysy obseruance,
Or of maydens any attendaunce?
Ye wemen all shulden take hede—
With your perleȝ and your stoneȝ bright—
How that your quene, floure of womanhede,
Of no devyse enbroyded hath her wede,
Ne furrede withe Ermyne ne with tresty graye,
Ne martren ne sable, I trowe in gode faye,
And yet she was the fayrest for to see
That euere was vndir the firmament.
Wherfore, me semyth, ye shulde haue pyte
To se a lady of so high degre,
So semely atyrede, o ye wemen all.
Be-holde howe narowe closede in an oxe stalle.
Of riche aray, and nothyng yov delite
In worldely pompe and suche abusion
Of sundri clothis, reede, bleke and white.
And be well ware, or the spere byte
Of cruell dethe and the fell smerte.
My councell is to lyfth vp yowre hert
Þat ȝou may beest helpe in ȝour nede,
And yov releve in euery woo and tene,
And delyuere from all myscheve and drede.
And þinkeþ pleynly and takyth riȝt good hede,
Þat al schal passe, aray and eke richesse,
When ye lest wene and all your semblynesse.
Isoude, Elyn, and eke polixene,
Hester also and dydo with her chere,
And Riche Candace, of ethyope quene,—
Ligge þei not graue vndre clowris grene?
And yet all this may not your pryde atame,
Nought withestondyng þat ye shall do the same.
For ay with dethe comyth for-yetylnesse;
And fare well than arey and all veyneglorye,
Saue only vertu that stant in sikernesse.
I take recorde of the high mekenesse
Of hir that is of holynesse welle,
Of whome I thynke sothely for to telle,
Holdyng hir childe full lowly on the grounde;
And kyngeȝ knelyng, as ye haue herde expresse,
Be-holdyng hir in vertu most habounde,
Til at þe laste þey haue a leyser founde
To take her leve, and the same day
Thay gon to Ryde homwarde on her waye.
[[LXXIX]]
While thay slepte at her logyng place,
Came an Angell, a-peryng with grete light,
And warnede hem that thay ne trace
By herodeȝ, but bade þat thay shulde pace
Withe-oute a-bood, in all the haste thay may
To her kyngedom by another way.
Thay ben repayrede, the gospell tellyth vs.
And of her nameȝ, to make mencion,
The first in Ebrwe was callede Appellius;
The next Amerus, the thryde Damathus;
And in greke, the first Galgatha,
And Serachym, the thryde Malgalatha.
The first of hem named was Iasper;
And the secounde, playnely as I fynde,
Lyche myne Auctour reherseȝ as I dar,
Called was and namede Balthasar;
And the thryde—ye gete of me no more—
As I Rede was callede Melchiore.
That first of all thay wente to the see,
And retournede to her kyngdome agayne.
Thay shippede hem at Tharce the Cyte,
For whiche heroude, of cursede cruelte.
In Tharce made all the shippeȝ brenne,
Wher-of wrytheth Dauid, the sauter if ye kenne.
Towchynge this fest and this solempnite,
Wherof is sayde this worde Epyphanye,
Whiche is a worde of grete Auctoryte;
And sayde and componede, who so can se,
Of Epi firste, and phanos, sothe to sayne.
And of o worde combynede of these twayne,
And this word Epi, by descripcion
Is sayde of heght, as I can signyfie;
And of a shewyng by demonstracion
Is phanos sayde; and so by gode reason,
Epi and phanos, bothe knyt in fere,
Is a shewyng that dothe a-lofte pere.
Which cristeȝ birthe and Incarnacion
With his stremeȝ gan shewe fro so ferre,
Fro Est to West in many a Region.
Wherfore this fest, in conclusion,
As ye to-forne haue herde me specifye,
This fest is callede of Epiphanye.
Of myracleȝ notable in speciall,
For thynges foure wrought in cristes lyfe
Wern on this day by his power Riall.
The first of all most memoryall
Is of the kyngeȝ, as ye haue herde me sayne
Whiche were in ydelle to Reherse agayne.
That criste Ihesu, this day of saint Iohn,
The yere whan he was xxxti wynter olde,
Baptisede was in the flume Iourdan.
At whiche tyme, thre kyngeȝ vnder one,
Discendeth this day worthy of memorye.
The firste was that from the high glorye,
Came dovne to erthe that men myght here;
And like a dove with fayre feders white,
The holy gost also dyd a-pere;
And criste Ihesu, the faders son entere
This day aperyng in our mortall kynde,
Was of saint Iohn Baptiȝede, as I fynde.
This day were sene by sothefaste apparence—
Thay beyng one in perfyte vnyte—
Therfore, this day of moste Reuerence,
Named is truly in sentence,
Theophanos, for god in trible wyse
Ther in aperyd, as yo haue herde devyse.
As god in englisshe, yf ye lust to se;
Phanos a shewyng withouten any wene,
As ye haue herde aforne rehersed of me;
And for in erthe, o god in Trynyte,
This day aperede withouten any lye,
Ye truly may calle it theophane.
This day he turnede water in to wyne
That passyngly was to the eye clere
And of tarage inly gode and fyne,
The whiche he sent to Archideclyne.
And for this myracle Inly vertuouse,
In Galele was shewed in a house.
As holy chirche maketh mencion—
Therfore it is namede Bethphanye.
For Bethe in Inglisshe by discripcion
Is callede an house or a mancion.
Of whiche myracle, renomed of fame,
Bethphanye this day hathe the name.
Fer in desert this day also, I rede,
With loves fyve, thorough his grete foyson,
Fyve thousande I fynd that he dyde fede.
Of whiche myracle, yf ye take hede,
This day is last namede phagyphanye,
Lyke as it firste was clepid Epiphanye.
Is sayde of fedyng or refeccion;
For whiche myracle passyng excellent,
That is so famous and of so high renoun—
Like as the gospell maketh mencion—
Þerfore þis dai amonge þe oþyr alle,
Ye Iustely maye phagyphanye it call.
[[LXXX]]
We the beseche with hert, will and thought,
Only of mercy to here our Requeste:
For the myracles that thou therin hast wrought,
For loue of hem that the so ferre hau sought,
The worthy kyngeȝ that came oute of Calde
The for to honour in Bedlem the Cetye.
That for thy loue token her viage,
Ihesu defende vs fro all aduersite;
And make vs stronge and sure in our passage
In this exile and parlous pylgrymage,
Whiche our fomen of malice and of pryde
Hath in this lyfe by-sett vs on euerysyde.
Wolde vs by-Ryve by persecucion,
That we shulde offre of fervence vnto the
Of hertly loue and high deuocion.
And eke our franke of contemplacion,
Wher-with we shulde make our sacryfyce
Of high disdeyne and malice they dispyce.
By feyned loue and Symylacioun,
And fayth with fraude is corrupte and affrayed
With double tunges and detraccioun;
Our franke also of high perfection
That shulde brenne clere above the skye,
Is with the Coode medelede of envye.
In the sensure of trwe affeccion;
For day of trouthe is turnede vnto nyght
Thorough wrong reporte and false suspecion.
And þus good feith is rollid up soo doun,
And trwe menyng darkyd with a skye
That we in Englisshe calle flaterye.
Of gold and franke for ought I can aspye
And our myrre hathe be byhynde longe.
Vs to preserue from all suche trecherye,
For nowe is turnede to ypocrysye
Our holynesse, and that is grete routhe,
And cause whie, for fraude hathe banysshede trouthe.
And that is mysse in eche estate redresse,
This hie fest suche grace to vs sende,
That we the golde of faythe and stablonesse
And eke the franke of perfyte holynesse,
May on this day present vnto the
Withe all trwe hert as dyd the kynges thre.
To haue suche myrre in her aduertence,
That euery wight his owne fauteȝ knowe,
And that no man be hasty of sentence
To deme lightly byfore or in absence;
For sodem dom meynt with ignoraunce,
Hathe a long tayle sewyng of repentaunce.
Wolde make amyrrour of his awne mynde,
To deme hym-selffe of thyng that he well can,
And open his yen that hau be longe blynde
To se his fauteȝ that he shulde well fynde,
I trow in soithe, for any haste or rape,
Harmeleȝ fro dome his felowe shulde ascape.
[[LXXXI]]
And no thyng may be hyd fro thy presence,
Ne fro thyn eye declyne ne asterte—
Graunt vs this day of thy magnyfycence
The golde of loue, the franke of Innocence,
And the chast myrre of clene entencion,
So to presente in our oblacion
While þat we lyue eure from ȝeere to ȝeere,
As was the offryng in Bedlem in a stable,
Made vnto the and to thy mothir dere
Of the kynges, that with the stremes clere
Of a sterre conveyde were by grace,
Wher thou lay to come to the place.
Þou blissful quene of kingis emperesse,
That yaf thy sonne, soukyng in a stalle,
That chast mylke of virgynall clennesse—
That thou this fest, o sterre of holynesse,
Conueye oure offringe to þat sterri see
Wher next thy son thou hast the souereynte.
Of trouble and wo and of hevynesse—
Sithe thou of Iacob art the right scale,
The weye of lyffe the ledder of holynesse—
Towarde that courte the evyn way vs dresse,
And make thy men thedir to assende
Wher euere is blisse, and Ioye hath non ende.
Of sothefast yoye, all the suffysaunce
Save amonge we knele afore the Rakke:
Where with thy sonne was some tyme thy pleasaunce,
And vs reyoysyng, as by Remembraunce,
Only by lykenesse to loke on thyne ymage
And on thy sonne with his fayre visage.
Of portrature that dothe vs grete offence,
For we may not haue full the blissednesse
Of thy vysage ne of thy presence;
And so to vs grete harme dothe aparence,
Whan that we sene of our desyre we fayle,
We may well pleyne but it may not avayle.
We gon of newe thy likenesse for to see,
Wher-of o thyng we haue compassion:
To see þe beestis þat so humble be
To stonde my atwene thy sonne and the,
The rude Asse and the oxe also.
And then we sayne, compleynying in our woo,
To se that lorde in a Rakke lye
That hath the hevyn vndir his powste,
And all this worlde power hath to gye!
O how it is that the Regalye
Of heven and erthe is brought dovne so lowe
That noman luste vnethes his power knowe!
Sore a-stonyed and is for woo niȝ mate,
So grete a quene whan that we be-holde
Alone syttyng all disconsolate
So fayre, so gode, and of so hygh estate,
Most womanly and benygne of chere,
Thy sonne and thou, to-gydre bothe in fere,
Wher-of all erthe tremble sholde and quake,
And euery wight by lamentacion
Wepe and pleyne, sighe and sorowe make;
O blisfull quene, only for thy sake,
To see on the none other awaytyng,
But besteȝ rude with hay hem-selffe fedyng.
O goode lady sothely while we see,
Thre worthy kyngeȝ a-fore thy face knele,
Bryngyng her yefteȝ with all humylyte
And hem gouerne like to thy degre,
With meke attendaunce and full besy cure;—
But all this thyng we se but in picture.
And in partye aswagethe our grevaunce,
For no thyng may our sorowe so appese
As euer of the to haue a remembraunce.
For in the is our hole suffisaunce,
And though we leve in langour for absence,
Yet gode lady for thy magnyficence,
And to thy sonne, be for vs a mene.
This high feste, which longyth vnto the—
In whiche thou were honourede like a quene
With myrre and frank and golde that shone so shene—
Nowe for the honoure this day was to the,
And for the loue of the kyngeȝ thre,
And make an ende of this captivyte
Of herodeȝ thourght his mortall stryffe,
The fende betrappe vs thurgh his cruelte;
That tyme lady of thy benygnyte,
A-yentse the snares of this dredfull werre,
To lyfe eterne be thou our lode sterre.
Book VI
[[LXXXII]]
O blisfull quene, be yeve vnto the
That were of god the cheve chaste toure,
Surely foundede vpon humylyte,
Schitte with þe keie of clene virginite;
Fro all synne fully to be assurede,
Of the holy goste rounde aboute ymurede.
Asayle myght thyn holy tabernacle,
Withe dewe of grace thy closet was so swete,
Fulfilled with vertu oonly by myracle.
God chese thy wombe for this habitacle
And halowede it so clene in euery coste,
To make it sacrary for his awne goste.
Above all othir by election,
Of mekenesse oonly, oo thu heuenely quene,
Thou list to haue non indignacioun.
The dayes passede of thy purgacion
To fulfille the precept of the lawe
In euery thyng and not o poynt with drawe.
Leuitici, who so can vndirstonde,
To the temple to be puryfyede
Thou mekely came thyn offryng in thyne hande,
Al-be þe lawe sette on þee no bonde.
For it is there makede mencion,
Touchyng the lawe of purgacion,
And haue a childe by medelyng hem betwene,
Þat be a male, þe lawe techith þan
Fourty dayes that she shulde be vnclene,
And kepe her close that no man shulde hir seen;
And aftir that she sholde hir offryng,
In lawe expressed, to the temple brynge.
How this lawe like, as ye shall fynde,
Ne was not put but by condicion
Only to hem that corrupt wer by kynde,
Thorugh touche of man, of suche it made mynde.
The days noumbrede of her purgacion,
To come and make her oblacion
Shulde all be brent in the holy place;
And a pygeon, as lawe dothe devyse,
She shuld eke offre as for her trespase.
And all fylthe fro hir to enchace,
She of the prest, halowede and sanctifiede,
Returned hom al fulli purified.
Redely no lambe only for pouerte,
Then shulde she take for her oblacion
Two turtle doves and ther-with-all go fre;
Or two pegyons, like as ye may se,
Levitici, wher by distynccion,
Of þis offringe is made discripcion.
Excludet was for condicion
That bare her childe withoute manys seede,—
Beyng euere clene from all corrupcion—
Wher thorugh, she was fro suche oblacion
By lawe exempt, and was vnder no charge
For hir clennes stondyng at hir large.
Was euere liche, bothe firste and laste,
Closed and shette as castell principall;
For the holy goste devysede it and cast
And at bothe tymes shet iliche faste,—
In hir childyng no more thorugh grace broke
At hir conceyvyng than it was vnloke.
Of Repuugnaunce or any recistence,
Yaffe this mayde a speciall prerogatyffe:
As mother parede to haue experience
Only of childyng and fele non offence,
Neyther of sekenesse ner of suche manere woo
In traveylyng as othir wymen doo.
For hir clennes and so was noon but she,
And yet her tyme of puryficacion
Sche dide a-byde of hir humilite.
And like as lawe ordeynyth by decre,
Aftir all this, of custome as she aught,
To the temple she hir offryng brought,
To þe lawe sche mekely wolde obeye
Fro poynt to poynt—the gospell saythe expresse—
And on noo syde wold it not with-seye.
And þouȝ þat sche bar of golde no keye,
To by a lambe for pouert constreynyng,
Yet she full mekely to make hir offryng
That was the offryng of pore folke ichone,
Whiche to the temple whan that she hath borne,
As custome was, she offrede hem a-noon.
And aftir that olde Symeon,
With humble herte and full bysy payne,
The childe enbrasyng in his Armeȝ twayne,
[[LXXXIII]]
Of lovyng hert and grete deuocion,
And suche a ioye of hym gan to make
Withe-in hym-self of high affection,
That he ne couthe, neythir by worde ne soun,
Oute warde declare, neythir with chere ne face,
The passyng Ioye that gan his hert enbrace.
This olde man, this blissede Symeon,
Dredeful also and passyngly famous
Amonge the preesteȝ to Recken hem euerychone
That was expectant of full long a-goon,
On the comfort and consolacion
Of Iserael in his entencion
In his prayer that he shulde see,
The byrthe of cryste that is of power moste
And eke fro deeth þat he schal goo free
To the tyme of his Natyvyte;—
And to the day that with his eyne olde,
The birthe of hym that he may be-holde—
And for þat he bi reuelacioun
The tyme knewe, he hath the waye nome
To the temple with hygh deuocion,
To se of criste the presentacion;
Howe that Marye and Ioseph eke also,
The childe presente and her offerynge do.
Afftir the lawe in his tendre age—
Not of levi as ye haue herde to forn,
But of Iuda comyng by lynage—
Therfore his mothir, most holy of visage,
Hir offringe made list not for to striue,
For hym ayeyne to pay shillynges fyfe—
She mekely made his redempcion.
And Symeon, beholdyng all this case
Full stilly in his inspeccion,
For love brennyng be affeccion,
Of verrey hert sodenly abrayede,
Holdyng the childe evyn thus he sayde:
[[LXXXIIII]]
If that thou lust now thou maiste me lete
Oute of this life in pees and rest pace;
And suffre me to dey in quyete.
For nowe to me dethe is wondir swete;
Nowe haue I seen thy helthe and thy socour,—
And of mankynde lorde and savyour—
Of yche peple to make hem glad and light—
To lete thy grace so to erthe falle,
Thorugh all the worlde to shewe his bemeȝ bryght,
That may be callede for comforte of his light,—
Of foreyne folke the reuelacion,
The glorye also and the savacion
To voyde hem oute of all derkenesse.
And Marye full mekely listenyth all,
And gan merveyle with grete avysenesse
Of the wordes that he gan expresse;
And Iosephe eke gan to wondir also.
And Symeon hem blessynge bothe two,
By-holde and se in thyn inspection,
How he is put in ruyne and offence
Of many one here in his region;
And to some in resurexion
That shall releve, thorugh his myghty grace.
And thorugh thy sawle shall a sharpe swerde pace,
That passyngly shall bitter be and fell—
To opyn herteȝ by confession
Her synfull thoughteȝ opynly to tell.
And Anna than, the doughter of phanuell,—
Born of the trybe and of the kynrede
Called Aser, sothely as I rede,
[[LXXXV]]
Whiche in the temple by contynuaunce,
Sole by her self oute of maryage,
Lay niȝt and day in fastynge and penaunce,
In wyddowe abyte sad of contenaunce.
And in prayer was hir bysy cure,
Which in that hour of grace or aventure,—
In the tyme of his oblacioun—
This Anna cam, demure and sad of chere,
And vnto hym with grete deuocion,
Whan she hym sawe, fel on knees doun,
Recomfortede of all her olde smerte,
Hym honouryng with all hir hole herte.
Bethe myrry and light in your entencion,
And euery man be glad and of goode chere,
For nowe is borne for our savacion,
He that shall make our Redempcion.
This yonge childe, blissed mot he be,
That me hathe grauntede his face for to se.
Aftir the lawe withouten excepcion,
And that Anna and holy Symeon
Had of this childe made declaracion—
As ye haue herde in conclusion—
The childe and Ioseph and this mayde free,
Retournede home into galelee.
[[LXXXVI]]
That named is the puryficacioun,
Euery man aught to be myrry;
And withe gode hert and hole entencion,
Deuoutely bryng his oblacion.
And offre a turtil, firste of Innocence,
And a dove next for his offence;
The tone commendyde for his chastite,
And that othir, if I shall not feyne,
Is symple and meke withoute cruelte;
The turtle prysede of trouthe and honeste,
And the dove hathe kyndely excellence
Of mekenesse and hertely pacience.
He may not fayle noon of bothe twoo:
Fyrste shyne in clennes with his chaste light
As the Turtle, and ther with also,
Liche the dove, bothe in wele and woo,
His hert daunt so by a-temperaunce
To voyde rancour and plant in sufferaunce.
For synne soroweth with waymentyng,—
Only for loue of thilke eternall lyfe
That lastythe aye and may haue no endyng—
And as the birde sheweth the commyng
Of grene ver with fresshe buddeȝ newe,
Ryght so of vertu with floures fayre of hewe.
And be well ware that he not varye
But life sool whan he hathe lost his make;
And in prayer be also solytarye,
And loke all waye that he not ne tarye
On noo caren of no flesshely hede.
And withe all this to take also hede,
But like a dove, bysely espye
Where he of vertu gedre may the greyne;
And þat he fle not oute of companye—
Wantynge also the galle of enuye—
And that he haue ay indignacion
Of synfull luste full of corrupcion,
And euermore with all his besy payne,
Eschewyng, synne, loue god and drede;
And with the dove sighen and compleyne
For his offence, and with wynges tweyne,
Take his flight as fer-furthe as he can,
Thorugh perfyte loue bothe to god and man.
Only with kyssyng whan thay to-gydre gone,
So muste he, wheþer he slepe or wake,
Thorughe charyte set his hert in one;
And like a dove, make his nest of stone.
This is to say, among all his pleasaunce
He muste his flesshe daunte with penaunce.
Of kynde espyeth a-myddes the Ryuere
The haukes shadowe when he dothe her seke,
And flieth away or he come eny nere—
Right so must he, with perfyte eyne clere,
A-myd the waters full of woo and stryfe,
In the wawes of this mortall lyfe
That waytyth hym with snares large and huge
And to þe deeth euere doith him purswe
To trappe hym here in this deluge—
And like a dove fle to his refuge,
By grace only if he may escape,
Or dethe be-tray hym with his soden Rape.
As I to forne haue made mencion—
And like the dove, affore his parell seeth,
Of dethe to eschewe the persecucion,
And can he meke in tribulacion,
I dar Recorde and wryte it for a sothe,
Truly to god he is offryng dothe.
And hathe envye enclosede in his thought,
He mai wel offre, what so þat he be,
To god a turtle but the dove nought.
Wherfore, they muste be to-gdyre brought,
That clennesse by sothefaste vnyte
Withoutyn partyng be knytte with charyte.
Whan his offryng and oblacion
Is iustely made to god of bothe tweyne,
It is acceptede of more deuocion.
And for to make a shorte discripcion
Of the Turtle and the doveȝ kynde,
Reed here these verses and ye shall it fynde:
Nunciat et caste viuit solusque moratur
Pullos nocte fouet morticinium quoque fugit
Grana legat volitat sociata cadaucra vitat
Felle caret plangit socium que per oscula tangit
Petra dat huic nidum fugit hostem in flumine visum
Rostro non ledit geminos pullos bene nutrit.
Thorugh oute the worlde in euery Region—
Called is the fest of candilmasse.
For sondrye skylles in conclusion—
As olde bokeȝ maken mencion—
And howe that firste this feste toke his name,
So as I can to yov I will atame.
[[LXXVII]]
Was most flouryng in power and in myght,
Euery fifte ȝeere bi reuolucyoun,
In februarie vpon the first nyght,
Eche man and childe with a tapre light,
Went in the Cyte tweyne and tweyne a paas
Vn to a temple whiche þat sacrid was
Þat modir was to mars omnipotent—
In whose honoure this procession
Ordenede was by greate avysement.
At eche lustre wenyng in her entent,
That hir power and greate worthynesse
Preferryde was, thorough helpe of this godesse,
Supposyng fully in her opynyon,
That she fortune made debonayre
For to susteyne the honour of her towne,
And thorough her helpe and mediacion,
That myghty mars to encrece her glorye,
In all conquest yeff to hem victorye.
As ye haue harde of high and lowe estate,
Was first ordeynede this solempnyte
In the Temple that was consecrate
To februa, the goddesse fortunate,
Thorough helpe of whome they wer victoryous.
And so this custume supersticious,
Observede was long and many a day.
Yet aftir that they turnede to the faythe,
But euere in one this Ryte thay kept alway—
For olde custome is harde to putte away,
And vsage grevythe folkeȝ full sore
To do a-way that thei haue kepte of yore.
Of the peple seyng this erroure,
And that the custome was full perilous,
Dyd his devour and also his laboure,
This ryte to chaunge into the honoure
Of our lady, so that this high feste,
Fro the highest doun to the leste,
To the Temple shulde a tapre bryng,
Þoruȝ out þe worlde in euery manere londe;
And ther with all make her offryng,
Aftir the gospell the presteȝ hand kyssyng,—
With light solempne that all myghten sene,—
In honour oonly of þe heuenly quene
To hir son that is with-oute fayle,
Bothe lorde and kyng, and she Emperatrice
Of londe, of see, of pees and of batayle,
Withouten whome no conquest may avayle,
For she hath power more in sothefastnesse,
Then februa of Rome the goddesse.
By Sergius, as ye haue herde devyse,—
That was afforne of hem of Rome vsede
Full many a day in her paynym wyse
Whom to sue al oristen must dispise—
And of candeles whan this ryte gan passe,
Came the name first of Candelmasse.
The name toke of the procession—
Made of Anna and holy Symeon,
When thay hym mette with grete deuocion,
Brought to the Temple to his oblacion
As was the lawe custom and vsaunnce
Of holy chirche for a remembraunce—
Of februarye on the first day,
Withe sacrede light vpon tapers clere—
Shynyng as bright as phebus dothe in may—
Whan the peple in what thay can or may,
Full Redy ben of on entencion
To make in fygure a presentacion
Syngnyfyede, who so can take hede,
Withe the tapre that we offre light:
For firste the wax betokenyth his manhede,
The weyke his soule, the fyre his godhede;
And as the wax is made and wrought of newe,—
Thorough small bees of floures fresshe of hewe,
Of blossomes gedrede and to the hyve brought—
So cristes manhode grewe oute of a floure,
Whose fresshe beaute of cloure fadyth nought;
For of a mayde clene in will and thought—
Like as wax of floures soote and glade
Is tried out and doith hem not to fade—
His manhode toke a mayden free,
She standyng hole flouryng in fayrenesse
Withe all the fresshenesse of virgynyte.
And as a tapre is one to gyder and three,
So thilke lorde, that is bothe thre and one,
Toke flesshe and blode to save vs euerycheone,
Mekely went to be puryfyede
To the temple in Iherusalem,—
As here-to-forne it is specifiede,—
In whose honoure this feste is magnyfyede
Of all cristen with fresshe tapers shene,
To signyfye, who that will be clene,
Faythe and werke and trwe entencion;
For sothefastely but thay coniunede be
With-oute partyng or dyvysion,
Neythir his offryng ne oblacion—
How fayre outewarde playnely that it seme—
To god above it may neuere cueme.
And environ make his light to shede,
If werke fro faythe proloynede be away
And trwe entent folowe not the dede,
Fare well his gwerdon, his meryte and his mede,
For whan these thre be not knytte in one
He is not able to offryng for to gone.
Feith, werke and hool entencioun—
His offryng farythe but as a tapre queynt
That yefethe no light ne bryghtnesse envyron,
Full derke and dede fro all deuocion.
His offryng is but if these ilke thre
Ben knytte in one thorough perfyte vnyte.
The hert of man graciously enlumyne;
Vpon vs wrecches, fro thy see so bryght,
So lat the sonne of thy mercy shyne
For loue of hir that is a pure virgyne—
Whiche on this day to the temple went
Of mekenesse onely the for to present—
Graunt vs grace in thy high holde
Whan we deye to holde our tapreȝ light
To-for thy see—where as it is tolde,
Seuene chaundeleris alle of pure golde,
Fresshely with light stand affore thy face—
Thyder to come of mercy graunt vs grace.
Graunt vs lorde while that we ben here
In februarye—as phebus dothe retourne
The circuyt of his golden spere—
Vpon this day, ay fro yere to yere,
With tapres fresshe and bryght torches shene
To kepe and halowe in honour of that quene,
Dedicate, bothe of more and lesse—
Whiche bare hir childe in a lityll stall
Bitwene an ox and a sely asse.
And blissede quene, this fest of Candelmasse,
To thy seruanteȝ shelde and socoure be,
To kepe and save from all aduersyte.
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