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English Lyrics of the XIIIth Century


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[section]
 1. 
1. Sunset on Calvary.
 2. 
2. Penitence for Wasted Life.
 3. 
3. ‘On God Ureisun of Ure Lefdi.’
 4. 
[4. Stabat iuxta Christi Crucem.]
 5. 
5. A Prisoner's Prayer.
 6. 
6. ‘Sumer Is Icumen In.’
 7. 
7. Now Comes the Blast of Winter.
 8. 
8. I Walk with Sorrow.
 9. 
9. Love's Madness.
 10A. 
10. Death's Wither-Clench. [A.]
 10B. 
[10. Death's Wither-Clench. B.]
 11A. 
11. Three Sorrowful Tidings. [A.]
 11B. 
[11. Three Sorrowful Tidings. B.]
 12A. 
12. Three Sorrowful Things. [A.]
 12B. 
[12. Three Sorrowful Things. B.]
 13. 
13. Memorare Novissima Tua.
 14. 
14. A Warning to Sir Eode.
 15. 
15. A Prayer to the Redeemer.
 16. 
16. Mater Salutaris.
 17A. 
17. Of One That Is So Fair and Bright. [A.]
 17B. 
[17. Of One That Is So Fair and Bright. B.]
 18. 
18. A Prayer of the Five Joys.
 19. 
19. The Lily with Five Leaves.
 20. 
20. Shroud and Grave.
 21A. 
21. Tell Me, Wight in the Broom. [A.]
 21B. 
[21. Tell Me, Wight in the Broom. B.]
 22. 
22. Gaude Virgo Mater Christi.
 23. 
23. The Ten Commandments.
 24. 
24. A Light Is Come to the World.
 25. 
25. The Bargain of Judas.
 26. 
26. The Journey of the Three Kings.
 27. 
27. Look on Me with Thy Sweet Eyes.
 28a. 
28a. Doomsday.
 28b. 
28b. Doomsday.
 29. 
29. The Latemest Day. [A.]
 29. 
[29. The Latemest Day. B.]
 30. 
30. When the Turf is Thy Tower.
 31. 
31. I Sing of One That is Matchless.
 32A. 
32. A Prayer of Penitence to Our Lady. [A.]
 32B. 
[32. A Prayer of Penitence to Our Lady. [B.]
 32C. 
[32. A Prayer of Penitence to Our Lady. [C.]
 33. 
33. Aspice Mitissime Conditor.
 34. 
34. Man's Leman on the Rood.
 35A. 
35. My Leman on the Rood. I. [A.]
 35B. 
[35. My Leman on the Rood. I. B.]
 36. 
36. My Leman on the Rood. II.
 37. 
37. My Leman on the Rood. III.
 38. 
38. Over the Bier of the Worldling.
 39. 
39. Will and Wit.
 40. 
40. Weal Is a Cursed Thing.
 41. 
41. The Five Blisses.
 42. 
42. An Antiphon of St. Thomas of Canterbury.
 43. 
43. Friar Thomas de Hales' Love Ron.
 44. 
44. Gabriel's Greeting to Our Lady.
 45. 
45. Jesus Sorrows for His Mother.
 46A. 
46. This World's Bliss Will Not Last. [A.]
 46B. 
[46. This World's Bliss Will Not Last. B.]
 47. 
47. Our Lady Sorrows for Her Son.
 48. 
48. ‘Vbi Sount Qui Ante Nos Fuerount.’
 49A. 
49. Dialogue between Our Lady and Jesus on the Cross. [A.]
 49B. 
[49. Dialogue between Our Lady and Jesus. B.]
 50. 
50. ‘Swete Ihesu King of Blisse.’
 51. 
51. ‘Le Regret de Maximian.’
 52. 
52. The Thrush and the Nightingale.
 53. 
53. What Love Is Like.
 54. 
54. A Springtide Song of the Redemption.
 55. 
55. A Prayer to the Mother of Mildness.
 56A. 
56. The Mind of the Passion. [A.]
 56B. 
[56. The Mind of the Passion. B.]
 57. 
57. Be Free with What Christ Sends.
 58. 
58. World's Bliss Have Good Day.
 59. 
59. A Hymn to the Heavenly Father.
 60. 
60. A Song to the Queen of Heaven.
 61. 
61. Mother Mild, Flower of All.
 62. 
62. Now Springs the Spray.
 63. 
63. A Spring Song of Love to Jesus.
 64. 
64. A Song of Sorrow for the Passion.
 65. 
65. An Orison of Penitence to Our Lady.
 66. 
66. I Will Become a Friar.
 67. 
67. A Bidding Prayer.
 68. 
68. Our Lady Help Us at Our Ending.
 69. 
69. In Sign of Love to Man.
 70A. 
70. Decem Precepta. [A.]
 70B. 
70. Decem Precepta. B.]
 71. 
71. Proprietates Mortis.
 72. 
72. A Song of Lewes.
 73. 
73. From Earth to Earth.
 74. 
74. On the Follies of Fashion.
 88. 
[88. A Prayer of Penitence to God Almighty. B.]

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1

[_]

Square brackets denote editorial insertions or emendations.

1. Sunset on Calvary.

[_]

Bodl. MS. Arch. Selden, supra 74.

Nou goth sonne vnder wod,—
me reweth, marie, þi faire Rode.
Nou goþ sonne vnder tre,—
me reweþ, marie, þi sone and þe.

2. Penitence for Wasted Life.

[_]

B.M. MS. Addit. 27909.

Leuedi sainte marie, moder and meide,
þu þisie me nuþe for ich eom eirede.
vnnut lif to longe ich lede;
hþanne ich me biþenche þel sore ich me a-drede.
Ich eom i-bunde sore mid þel feole seonne,
mid smale and mid grete, mid þel feole cunne.
dai and nicht ich fundie to þendende heonne—
þielde Godd an heuene to hþuechere þunne!
Slep me hað mi lif forstole richt half oðer more;
aþai! to late ich þas iþar, nu hit me reoþeð sore.
in slepe ne þende ich endie nocht þech ich slepe euremore;
hþao-se lifeð þat þakerur beo, þencþ of mine lore.
Al to longe slepð þe mann þat neure nele aþakie;
hþo-se understant þel his ende-dai, þel ȝeorne he mot spakie
to donde sunne aþei fram him & fele almesse makie,
ȝif him ne schal hþanne he forð-þant his brei-gurdel quakie.
2

Slep me hað mi lif forstole er ich me bisehe
þat ich þel aȝitte nu bi suhðe of min ehe;
mi brune her is hþit bicume, ich not for hþucche leihe,
& mi tohte rude iturned al in-to oðre dehe.
Ifurn ich habbe isunehed mid þorke & mid þorde,
hþile in mine bedde & hþile atte borde,
ofte þin idrunke & selde of þe forde;
muchel ich habbe ispened, to lite ich habbe an horde.
Hord þat ich telle is almesse-dede,
ȝieue þe hungrie mete & te nakede iþede,
rede þe redliese þat is þið-ute rede,
luuie god almichti & of him habbe drede.
Ifurn ich habbe isuneȝet mid þurken & midd muðe
& mid alle mine lime siððe ich sunehi cuðe,
& þel feole sunne ido þe me ofþincheð nuðe,
& sþo me hadde ifurn ido ȝif hit me crist i-ȝuðe.
Moder ful of milce, i bidde mi mod þende,
laete me steoþi mi flesc & mine fo schiende.
edmodnesse luuie to mine lif-es ende;
luue to gode & te mann ic bidde þat tu me sende.
Leuedi sainte marie, understond nu seonne mine;
ber min erende þel to deore sune þine,
hþas flech & blod ihalȝed is of bred, of þater, of þine,
þat us ischulde he eure fram alle helle-pine.
Inne mete & inne drinke ic habbe ibeo ouerdede,
& inne þel sittende schon in pruttere iþede;
hþanne ich ihurde of gode speke ne hedd ich hþat me sede—
hþan ich hier-of rekeni schal, þel sore me mei drede.
3

3. ‘On God Ureisun of Ure Lefdi.’

[_]

Cotton MS. Nero A. xiv.

Cristes milde moder seynte marie,
Mines liues leome, mi leoue lefdi,
To þe ich buþe & mine kneon ich beie,
And al min heorte blod to ðe ich offrie.
Þu ert mire soule liht & mine heorte blisse,
Mi lif & mi to-hope, min heale mid iþisse.
Ich ouh þurðie ðe mid alle mine mihte,
And singge þe lofsong bi daie & bi nihte.
Vor þu me hauest iholpen a ueole kunne þise
And ibrouht of helle in-to paradise,
Ich hit þonkie ðe mi leoue lefdi,
And þonkie þulle þe hþule ðet ich liuie.
Alle cristene men oþen don ðe þurschipe,
And singen ðe lofsong mid sþuðe muchele gledschipe,
Vor ðu ham hauest alesed of deoflene honde
And isend mid blisse to englene londe.
Þel oþe þe þe luuien, mi sþete lefdi,
þel oþen þe uor þine luue ure heorte beien.
Þu ert briht & blisful ouer alle þummen,
and god ðu ert & gode leof ouer alle þepmen;
alle meidene þere þurðeð þe one,
Vor þu ert hore blostme bi-uoren godes trone.
nis no þummon iboren þet ðe beo iliche,
ne non þer nis þin efning þið-inne heoueriche,
Heih is þi kinestol on-uppe cherubine,
Bi-uoren ðine leoue sune þiðinnen seraphine.
Murie dreameð engles biuoren þin onsene,
Pleieð & sþeieð & singeð bitþeonen;
Sþuðe þel ham likieð biuoren þe to beonne,
Vor heo neuer ne beoð sead þi ueir to iseonne.
4

Þine blisse ne mei no þiht understonden,
Vor al is godes riche an-under þine honden.
Alle þine ureondes þu makest riche kinges,
þu ham ȝiuest kinescrud, beies & gold ringes;
þu ȝiuest eche reste ful of sþete blisse
þer ðe neure deað ne come, ne herm ne sorinesse.
Þer bloþeð inne blisse blostmen hþite & reade,
þer ham neuer ne mei snou ne uorst iureden,
þer ne mei non ualuþen, uor þer is eche sumer,
ne non liuiinde þing þoc þer nis ne ȝeomer.
Þer heo schulen resten þe her ðe doð þurschipe,
Ȝif heo ȝemeð hore lif cleane urom alle queadschipe;
þer ne schulen heo neuer karien ne sþinken,
ne þeopen, ne murnen, ne helle stenches stinken.
Þer me schal ham steoren mid guldene chelle
and schenchen ham eche lif mid englene þille;
ne mei non heorte þenchen ne noþiht arechen,
neo no muð imelen ne no tunge tegen
hu muchel god ðu ȝeirkest þið-inne paradise
ham þet sþinkeð dei & niht i ðine seruise.
al þin hird is i-schrud mid hþite ciclatune,
And alle heo beoð ikruned mid guldene krune;
Heo beoð so read so rose, so hþit so þe lilie,
and euer-more heo beoð gled & singeð þuruhut murie.
Mid brihte ȝimstones hore krune is al biset,
And al heo doð þet ham likeð, so þet no þing ham ne let.
Þi leoue sune is hore king & þu ert hore kþene.
Ne beoð heo neuer i-dreaued mid þinde ne mid reine;
Mid ham is euer more dei þið-ute nihte,
Song þið-ute seoruþe & sib þið-ute uihte;
Mid ham is muruhðe moniuold þið-ute teone & treie,
Gleo-beames & gome inouh, liues þil & eche pleie.
Þereuore, leoue lefdi, long hit þuncheð us þrecchen
Vort þu of þisse erme liue to ðe suluen us fecche;
5

Þe ne muþen neuer habben fulle gledschipe
er þe to þe suluen kumen to þine heie þurschipe.
Sþete Godes moder, softe meiden & þel icoren,
þin iliche neuer nes ne neuer more ne þurð iboren;
Moder þu ert & meiden cleane of alle laste,
þuruhtut hei & holi in englene reste.
Al englene þere & alle holie þing
Siggeð & singeð þet tu ert liues þel-sprung,
And heo siggeð alle þet ðe ne þonteð neuer ore,
ne no mon þet ðe þurðeð ne mei neuer beon uorloren.
Þu ert mire soule þið-ute leasunge,
Efter þine leoue sune, leouest alre þinge;
Al is þe heouene ful of þine blisse,
And so is al þes middel-eard of þine mild-heortnesse.
So muchel is þi milce & þin edmodnesse
þet no mon þet ðe ȝeorne bit of helpe ne mei missen.
Ilch mon þet to þe bisihð þu ȝiuest milce & ore,
þauh he ðe habbe sþuðe agult & idreaued sore;
þereuore ich ðe bidde, holi heouene-kþene,
þet tu, ȝif þi þille is, iher mine bene.
Ich ðe bidde, lefdi, uor þere gretunge
þet Gabriel ðe brouhte urom ure heouen-kinge;
And ek ich ðe biseche uor ihesu cristes blode,
þet for ure note þas i-sched o ðere rode,
Vor ðe muchele seoruþe ðet þas o ðine mode
þo þu er ðe deaðe him bi-uore stode,
þet tu me makie cleane þiðuten & eke þið-innen,
So þet me ne schende none kunnes sunne.
Þene loðe deouel & alle kunnes dþeoluhðe
aulem urom me ueor aþei mid hore fule fulðe;
Mi leoue lif urom þine luue ne schal me no þing todealen,
Vor o ðe is al ilong mi lif & eke min heale.
Vor þine luue i sþinke & sike þel ilome,
Vor þine luue ich ham ibrouht in-to þeoudome,
6

Vor þine luue ich uorsoc al þet me leof þas
And ȝef ðe al mi suluen, looue, lif, iþench þu þes.
Þet ich ðe þreðede sume siðe hit me reoþeð sore,
Vor cristes fif þunden ðu ȝif me milce & ore;
Ȝif þu milce nauest of me þet ich þot þel ȝeorne
þet ine helle pine sþelten ich schal & beornen.
Ful þel þu me iseie þauh þu stille þere,
Hþar ich þas & hþat i dude þauh þu me uorbere;
Ȝif þu heuedest þreche i-numen of mine luðernesse
Iþis ich heuede al uorloren paradises blisse.
Þu hauest ȝet forboren me uor þine godnesse,
And nu ich hopie habben fulle uor-ȝiuenesse,
ne þene ich neure uallen in-to helle pine
Hþon ich am to ðe ikumen & am ðin oþune hine.
Þin ich am & þule beon nu & euer more,
Vor o ðe is al mi lif ilong & o godes ore;
Mi leoue sþete lefdi, to þe me longeð sþuðe,
Bute ich habbe þine help ne beo ich neuer bliðe.
Ich þe bidde þet tu kume to mine uorð-siðe
And nomeliche þeonne þine luue kuðe;
Auouh mine soule hþon ich of þisse liue uare
And ischild me urom seoruþe & from eche deaðes kare.
Ȝif þu þult ðet ich iðeo, gode ȝeme nim to me,
Vor þel ne þurð me neuer bute hit beo þuruh ðe.
Mid sþuðe luðere lasten mi soule is þuruh bunden,
Ne mei no þing so þel so þu healen mine þunden;
To þe one is al mi trust, efter þine leoue sune,
Vor is holie nome of mine liue ȝif me lune.
Ne þole þu þene unþine þet he me arine,
Ne þet he me draþe in-to helle pine.
Nim nu ȝeme to me so me best a beo ðe beo,
Vor þin is þe þurchipe ȝif ich, þrecche, þel iþeo;
þu ne uorsakest nenne mon uor his luðernesse
Ȝif he is to bote ȝeruh & bit þe uor-ȝiuenesse.
7

þu miht lihtliche ȝif þu þult al mi sor aleggen,
And muchele bet biseon to me þen ich kunne siggen;
þu miht forȝelden lihtliche mine gretunge,
Al mi sþinc & mi sor & mine kneouþunge.
Ine me nis noþing feier on to biseonne,
Ne noþing þet beo þurðe biuoren þe to beonne;
þereuore ich þe bidde þet þu me þasshce & schrude,
þuruh þine muchele milce þet spert so sþuðe þide.
Nis hit ðe no þurðscipe þet þe deouel me to-draþe,
Ȝif þu þult hit iðauien iþis he þule ðurchut faþe;
Vor he nolde neuere þet þu hefedest þurðschipe,
Ne no mon þet þe þurðeð þet he hedde gledschipe.
Þu hit þost ful ȝeorne þet þe deouel hateð me,
And nomeliche þereuore þet ich þurðie þe;
þereuore ich þe bidde þet þu me þite & þerie,
þet þe deouel me ne drecche ne dþeolðe me ne derie.
so þu dest & so þu schalt uor ðire mild-heortnesse,
þu schalt me a-ueir dol of heoueriche blisse.
ȝif ich habbe muchel ibroken, muchel ich þulle beten
and do mine schrifte & þe ueire greten.
Þe hþule þet ich habbe mi lif & mine heale,
Vrom ðire seruise ne schal me no þing deale;
Biuoren þine uote ich þulle liggen & greden,
Vort ich habbe uorȝiuenesse of mine misdeden.
Mi lif is þin, mi luue is þin, mine heorte blod is þin,
and ȝif ich der seggen, mi leoue leafdi, þu ert min.
Alle þurðschipe haue þu on heouene & ec on eorðe,
and alle gledschipe haue þu al-so þu ert þurðe;
Nu ich þe biseche ine cristes cherite
þet þu þine blescinge & þine luue ȝiue me.
Ȝeme mine licame ine clenenesse
God almihti unne me vor his mild-heortnesse
þet ich mote þe iseo in ðire heie blisse.
8

And alle mine ureondmen þe bet beo nu to-dai
þet ich habbe i-sungen þe ðesne englissce lai.
And nu ich þe biseche vor ðire holinesse
þet þu bringe þene Munuch to þire glednesse
þet funde ðesne song bi ðe, mi looue leafdi,
Cristes milde moder seinte marie. amen.
9

[4. Stabat iuxta Christi Crucem.]

stod ho þere neh

Þat leueli leor wid spald ischent,
þat feire fel wid s[cur]ges rend—
Þe blod out stremed oueral.
Skoarn, upbraid, and schome speche,
al hit was to sorhes eche—
i þoa þu was biluken al.
I þat blisful bearnes buirde
wrong w[e]s wroht to wommone wirde,
ah kuinde craued nou þe riht.
Þenne þu loch ah nou þu wep,
þi wa wes waken þat tenne slep—
childing-pine haues te nou picht.
Nou þu moostes, lauedi, lere
wmmone wo, þat barnes bere,
þa bit[t]er and ta bale þrehes;
For in his dead þe wo þu ȝulde
in childing þat tu þole schulde
þurd modres kuindeliche lahes.
Ah, lauedi, þah þu wonges wete,
þah þe were wo at unimete,
þine loates weren lasteles;
Þi wep ne wemmede noht þin heau
þat made þi leor ful louk and leþ—
swa sari wmmon neuer neas.
Ah, þi kare was ouer-comen,
þe þridde dai þi ioie comen,
ded and deuel driuen doun
Þþen þi sone risen wes
to þine wele and ure peas—
blisse he brocte in icha toun.
10

Þi luue sone uprisinge
was selli liik to his birdinge—
bi-tþene tþa his litel schead—
For, so gleam glidis þurt þe glas,
of þi bodi born he was,
and þurt þe hoale þurch he gload.
Milde moder, maiden oa,
of al þi kare come þou þoa
þþen þi sone rise þes.
Leuedi, bring us out of wa,
of sinne, of sorhe, of sich al-sþoa,
to bliss[e] þat his endeles.
AM[EN]

5. A Prisoner's Prayer.

[_]

Liber de Antiquis Legibus, Guildhall.

Eyns ne soy ke pleynte fu
ore pleyn dangusse tressu
trop ai mal & contreyre
Sanz decerte en prisun sui
car maydez trespuis ihesu
duz deus & deboneyre
Ar ne kuthe ich sorghe non,
nu ich mot manen min mon;
karful wel sore ich syche,
Geltles ihc tholye muchele schame—
help, god, for thin swete name,
kyng of heuene-riche!
Ihesu crist veirs deu ueirs hom
prenge vus de mei pite
Ietez mei de la prisun
vie sui atort gete
11

Io e mi autre compaignun
deus enset la uerite
tut pur autri mesprisun
sumes a hunte liuere
Iesu crist, sod god sod man,
louerd, thu rew vpon me!
of prisun thar ich in am
bring me vt and makye fre.
Ich and mine feren sume—
god wot ich ne lyghe noct—
for othre habbet mis-nome,
ben in thys prisun ibroct.
Sire deus
ky as mortels
es de pardun ueine
sucurez
deliuerez
nus de ceste peine
Pardonez
& assoylez
icele gentil sire
Si te plest
par ki forfet
nus suffrun tel martire
Al-micti,
that wel lictli
of bale is hale and bote,
Heuene king,
of this woning
vt vs bringe mote.
Foryhef hem
the wykke men,
12

god, yhef it is thi wille,
for wos gelt
we bed ipelt
in thos prisun hille.
Fous est ke se afie
en ceste morteu uie
ke tant nus contralie
et v nad fors boydie
Ore eft hoem en leesse
& ore est en tristesce
ore le garist ore blesce
fortune ke le guie
Ne hope non to his liue,
her ne mai he biliue;
heghe thegh he stighe,
ded him felled to grunde.
Nu had man wele and blisce
rathe he shal thar-of misse;
worldes wele mid ywisse
ne lasted buten on stunde.
Virgne & mere au souerein
ke nus ieta de la mayn
al maufe ki par euayn
nus ont trestuz en sun heim
a grant dolur peine
Requerez icel seignur
ke il par sa grant dulcur
nus get de ceste dolur
v nus sumus nuyt et Ior
& doint ioye certeyne
Maiden that bare the heuen king,
bisech thin sone, that swete thing,
13

that he habbe of hus rewsing
and bring hus of this woning
for his Muchele milse.
He bring hus vt of this wo
and hus tache werchen swo
in thos liue, go wu s'it go,
that we moten ey and o
habben the eche blisce.

6. ‘Sumer Is Icumen In.’

[_]

Harley 978.

Svmer is icumen in,
Lhude sing cuccu!
Groweþ sed and bloweþ med
and springþ þe wde nu.
Sing cuccu!
Awe bleteþ after lomb,
Ihouþ after calue cu,
Bulluc sterteþ, bucke uerteþ.
Murie sing cuccu!
Cuccu, cuccu,
Wel singes þu cuccu.
ne swik þu nauer nu!
Sing cuccu nu, Sing cuccu!
Sing cuccu, Sing cuccu nu!
14

7. Now Comes the Blast of Winter.

[_]

Rawlinson MS. G. 22.

[M]irie it is while sumer ilast
þið fugheles song,
oc nu necheð þindes blast
and þ[e]der strong.
Ej! ej! þhat þis nicht [is] long,
and ich þid þel michel wrong
soregh and murne and [fast]. [OMITTED]

8. I Walk with Sorrow.

[_]

Douce MS. 139.

Foweles in þe frith,
Þe fisses in þe flod,
And i mon waxe wod.
Mulch sorw I walke with
for beste of bon and blod.

9. Love's Madness.

[_]

Douce MS. 139.

Loue is a selkud wodenesse
Þat þe idel mon ledeth by wildernesse,
Þat þurstes of wilfulscipe and drinket sorwenesse
And with lomful sorwes menget his blithnesse.
15

10. Death's Wither-Clench. [A.]

[_]

A. Maidstone MS. A. 13.

Man mei longe him liues wene,
ac ofte him liyet þe wreinch;
fair weder ofte him went to rene,
an ferliche maket is blench.
þar-vore, man, þu þe biþench,—
al sel valui þe grene.
wela-wey! nis king ne Quene
þat ne sel drinke of deth-is drench.
Man, er þu falle of þi bench,
þu sinne aquench.
Ne mai strong ne starch ne kene
a-ȝlye deth-is wiþer-clench;
ȝung and old and brith an-siene,
al he riueth an his streng.
vox and ferlich is þe wreinch,
ne mai no man þar to-ȝenes,
wei-la-wei! ne iweping ne bene,
mede, liste, ne leches dreinch.
Man, let sinne and lustes stench,
wel do, wel þench!
16

Do bi salomones rede,
Man, and so þu selth wel do.
Do al so he þe tothte and sede
what þin endinch þe brinch to,
Ne seltu neuere mis-do.
Sore þu mith þe a-drede,
weyla-wey! suich wenþ wel lede
long lif and blisse under-uo,
þar deth luteth in his swo
to him for-do.
Man fwi neltu þe bi-þenchen?
Man fwi neltu þe bisen?
of felthe þu ert isowe,
weirmes mete þu selt ben.
her nauest tu blisse days þre,
al þi lif þu drist in wowe;
wela-wey! deth þe sal dun þrowen
þar þu wenest heye ste.
In wo sal þi wele enden,
in wop þi gle.
Werld an wele þe bi-pecheth,
iwis hie buth þine iuo;
if þi werld mid wele þe sliket
þat is far to do þe wo.
þar-fore let lust ouer-gon,
man, and eft it sal þe liken.
Wela-wey! hu sore him wiket
þar in one stunde oþer two
wurh him pine euere-mo.
ne do man swo!
17

[10. Death's Wither-Clench. B.]

[_]

B. MS. Laud Miscell. 471.

Man may longe liwes wenen,
ac offte hym legeþt se wrench;
fair weder went offte into rene,
and ferlik turneþ he his blench.
þer-fore, man, þu þe bi-þench,—
al sal falewi þi grene.
weila-wei! nis king ne quene
þat ne sal drinken of deþes drench.
Man, er þu falle of þi bench,
þi senne a-quench.
Nis non se stronge ne starc ne kene
þat may agein deaþes wiþer-clench;
iwng ne old, brigst ne sene,
ac al he riueþ on o streng.
fox and ferlic is his wrench,
ne mai him noman to-yenes.
Welauei! weping ne bene,
ne listes ne leches drench.
Man, let lust and senne stench,
wel do, wel þench!
Do bi salemones rede,
man, þanne sal þu wel do.
do so he þe techeþ and sede
þat þin ending þe bringet to,
ne sal þu neuere mis-do.
[OMITTED]
Weilauei! swich weneth lede
long lif and blisce under-so.
deþ him ledes on his sóó
do him for-do
18

Man, wi niltu þe bi-cnowen?
man, wi niltu þe bi-see?
of felþe þu art comen,
wermes fode þu salt be.
þu ne hauest her blisce daies þre,
ac al þi ioie is turned on wouge.
weilawei! deþ þe sal dun þr[[OMITTED]
hwanne þu wenest agein [[OMITTED]] stie,
on sorghe sal þi ioie [OMITTED]
on wop þi gle.
Hwer so wele þe bi-suik[et],
man, i-wis he beþ þi fo.
ie [OMITTED] werld þe bi-sliket,
þat his [OMITTED] for to do þe wo.
þerfore let lust ouer go,
man, and eft hit þe liket.
weilauei! wroþe he him wiket,
þanne in o stunde oþer tuo
a winnet him a þusend pine oþer mo.
ne do þu so!

11. Three Sorrowful Tidings. [A.]

[_]

A. Maidstone MS.

Þru tidigge us cumet iche dei—
ful wel leue me his may:
On, We sulle honne;
þath oþer, we nite wanne;
þe þridde his of muchel kare,—
we nite fwider we sulle fare.
19

[11. Three Sorrowful Tidings. B.]

[_]

B. Jesus Coll. Oxf. MS. 29.

[V]yche day me cumeþ tydinges þreo,
For wel swiþe sore beoþ heo:
Þe on is þat ich schul heonne,
Þat oþer þat ich noth hwenne;
Þe þridde is my meste kare,
Þat ich not hwider ich scal fare.

12. Three Sorrowful Things. [A.]

[_]

A. New Coll. MS. 88.

Wanne ich þenche þinges þre
ne mai neure bliþe be:
þat on is ich sal awe,
þat oþer is ich ne wot wilk day.
þat þridde is mi meste kare,
i ne woth nevre wuder i sal fare.

[12. Three Sorrowful Things. B.]

[_]

B. Arundel MS. 292.

Þanne i ðenke ðinges ðre
ne mai hi neure bliðe ben:
ðe ton is dat i sal aþei,
ðe toþer is i ne þot þilk dei.
ðe ðridde is mi moste kare,
I ne þot þider i sal faren.

13. Memorare Novissima Tua.

[_]

Arundel MS. 292.

If man him biðocte.
inderlike & ofte
þu arde is te fore
fro bedde te flore,
þu reuful is te flitte
fro flore te pitte,
20

fro pitte te pine
ðat neure sal fine,
i þene non sinne
sulde his herte þinnen.

14. A Warning to Sir Eode.

[_]

Trinity Coll. Camb. MS. 323.

Otide te munio verbo scripto tibi monstro
transeis ab hoc seculo, largus pauperibus esto,
Debita solue tua, peccati pondere pensa:
Tunc absolueris & habebis gaudia lucis.
Vid word & wrid ic warne þe, sir eode,
Dele al þi goid, pouere þad habbit neode;
Quite dettes & scriþe of sinful deode.
þu salt ben idemet in þisse þridde nicste;
þi goid, þin evel, idemit sul ben riste.
Do nu so wel þat þu þenne come to liste.
Mane techel phares, vigili cum morte uorares.
Rapta resignabis & meliora dabis.
Te-maruuen þu deyis, ezechiel,
Biþenc þe nu suiþe wel.
Scrif þe wat itide,
yeil agein þat þu hauis mis-nomen;
god þe hat þat is us bouen,
þe bere maist þu y-glide.

15. A Prayer to the Redeemer.

[_]

Trinity Coll. Camb. 323.

Ihesu crist le fiz marie
cil ke tut le munde fist
de nus eit pite e merci
si li pleit
ke nos almes ne seint dampnes
pur nul maufet
21

Louerd crist, þou hauest us boust,
þou madest al þis world of noust;
we biddet þe wid word ant þoust
conseil ant red
þat oure soule ne be
fur-lore for no qued.
Sire deu uus eistes tel
pere de tere e de cel
plus douz ke mel
kaunt il est chaud
a uus nus deuum obliger
sire au haut
Louerd crist as þou art king,
fader ant sone of alle þing,
þou yef us alle god endeng
ant ti loue,
þat we moten to þi blisse
alle come.
A un piler fu lie
e pur nus peccheurs turmente
sire merci par charite
par amur
ke nus ne seum acumbre
nuyt ne iour
Ibounden e was to a piler
ant al to-torn was is her.
sire, merci par charite
fur godes loue!
milde bet þi swete chere,
marie sone.
22

Mort de-sour la crois suffri
marie e seint ion le ui
e se ke penderent en couste de li
le du laron
le un li cria merci
il out pardoun
li autre aual cheit
en pu par-fund
Deet he þolede up-on þe tre,
ant wnden boþen two ant þre,
to saue þo þat hise ben
ant hider ben comen.
ihesu, þi blisse us bi-see
for þi swete moder loue.
AmeN.

16. Mater Salutaris.

[_]

Trinity Coll. Camb. 323.

Seinte mari, moder milde,
mater salutaris
feirest flour of eni felde,
uere nuncuparis,
þorou ihesu crist þou were wid childe;
þou bring me of my þoustes wilde
potente
þat maket me
to deþe tee
repente.
Mi þonnc is wilde as is þe ro,
ludo gratulante;
ho werchet me ful muchel wo,
illaque fauente;
23

bote-yef he wole me wende fro,
ic wene myn herte breket atwo
feruore;
ic am icaist
bo day ant naist
dolore.
Ihesu, þorou þi muchele mist
omnia fecisti;
þe holi gost in marie list
sicut uoluisti
for-þi he is icleped ur drist.
ihesu, bring my þoust irist
constanter,
þat it be stable
ant nout chaungable
fraudulenter.
Ihesu crist, þou art on-loft
digno tu scandente,
heuene ant erþe þou hauest iwroust
uictore triumphante,
monkun wid þi bodi aboust
þou noldest lesen hym for noust
nec dare
ant yeue þi blod
þat was so god
tam gnare.
Swete leuedi, flour of alle,
uere consolatrix,
þou be myn help þat i ne falle,
cuntis reperatrix.
24

mildest quene ant best icorn
nist ant day þou be me forn
precantis;
yef me grace
to see þi fase
infantis
Þat i þorou þi swete bene,
tutrix orphanorum,
mot leuen al þis worldes tene,
solamen miserorum,
ant to þe, leuedi, mot i take
ant myne sunnes al fur-sake
uolente,
þat i ne misse
of þine blisse
poscente.

17. Of One That Is So Fair and Bright. [A.]

[_]

A. Trinity Coll. Camb. MS. 323.

For on þat is so feir ant brist
uelud maris stella,
bristore þen þe dai-is list,
parens & puella,
i crie þe grace of þe.
leuedi, prie þi sone for me
tam pia,
þat i mote come to þe,
maria.
Leuedi, best of alle þing,
rosa sine spina,
þou bere ihesu, heuene-king,
gratia diuina.
25

of alle þou berest þat pris,
heie quen in parais
electa,
moder milde ant maidan ec
efecta.
In car ant consail þou art best,
felix fecundata;
to alle weri þou art rest,
mater honorata.
bi-hold tou him wid milde mod
þat for us alle scedde is blod
in cruce;
bidde we moten come to him
in luce.
Al þe world it wes fur-lorn
þoru eua peccatrice
to-forn þat ihesu was iborn
ex te genitrice;
þorou aue, e wende awei,
þe þestri nist ant com þe dai
salutis,
þe welle springet out of þe
uirtutis
Vuel þou wost he is þi sone
uentre quem portasti;
he nul nout werne þe þi bone
paruum quem lactasti.
so god ant so mild e is,
he bringet us alle in-to is blis
superni;
he hauet i-dut þe foule put
inferni.
26

[17. Of One That Is So Fair and Bright. B.]

[_]

B. BM. MS. Egerton 613.

Of on þat is so fayr and briȝt
velud maris stella,
Briȝter þan þe day-is liȝt,
parens & puella,
Ic crie to þe, þou se to me,
Leuedy, preye þi sone for me
tam pia,
þat ic mote come to þe,
maria.
Of kare conseil þou ert best,
felix fecundata;
Of alle wery þou ert rest,
mater honorata.
Bi-sek him wit milde mod
þat for ous alle sad is blod
in cruce,
þat we moten komen til him
In luce.
Al þis world was for-lore
eua peccatrice
Tyl our lord was y-bore
de te genitrice;
With aue it went a-way,
þuster nyth and comet þe day
salutis,
þe welle springet hut of þe
uirtutis.
Leuedi, flour of alle þing,
rosa sine spina,
þu bere ihesu, heuene-king,
gratia diuina.
27

Of alle þu berst þe pris,
Leuedi, quene of parays
electa,
Mayde milde Moder es
effecta
Wel he wot he is þi sone
uentre quem portasti;
He wyl nout werne þe þi bone
paruum quem lactasti.
So hende and so god he his,
He hauet brout ous to blis
superni;
Þat hauet hi-dut þe foule put
inferni.
Explicit cantus iste.

18. A Prayer of the Five Joys.

[_]

Trinity Coll. Camb. MS. 323.

v gaudia
Seinte marie, leuedi brist,
moder þov art of muchel mist,
quene in heuene of feire ble.
gabriel to þe he liste
þe he brovste al wid riste
þen holi gost to listen in þe.
godes word ful wel þov cnewe;
ful mildeliche þer-to þov bewe
ant saidest so it mote be,—
þi þonc was studeuast ant trewe.
for þe ioye þat to was newe,
leuedi, þov haue merci of me.
28

seinte marie, moder milde,
þi fader bi-com to one childe—
suc ioye ne scal neuer eft be.
þe stronge fend þat was so wilde,
godes hondiwerc he spilde
for on appel of þe tre.
leuedi, mon þov brovtest bote,
þe stronge fend an-vnder fote,
þo þi sone was boren of þe.
for þe ioye þat þo was swote,
leuedi, yemme grace þat i mote
wid al mine miste louien þe.
seinte marie, quene in londe,
godes moder ant godes sonde,
þat te sculde ben so wo
iewes heden þi sone an honde—
iudas sold im hem to honde—
on þe rode heo gonnen him slo.
þe þridde dai he ros to liue;
leuedi, ofte were þov bliþe
ac neuer so þov were þo.
leuedi, for þen ilke siþe
þat tov were of þi sone bliþe,
al mi sunnes þov do me fro.
Seinte marie, maydan ant mere,
so lengore o so betere þov were;
þov here hem alle þat clepet to þe.
In muchele blisse þat tov were
þo þinne swete sone ibere
iseie him into heuene sten.
29

e sit arist as vre drist
ant weldet al as hit is rist.
we mowen iheren ant isen,
leuedi, for þi muchele miste
þe swete blisse of heuene briste,
seinte marie, hernde me.
Þe fifte ioie is feirest in wede
þo þov in-to heuene trede
to him þat was of þe iborn.
nov þov art in heuene quene
mit tine sone brist ant scene—
al folc þe heret þer-fore—
þer is ioie ant eke blisse
þat euer last wid-ovte misse,
ant þer þov art quene icorn.
leuedi, tuet þov me mi bene;
for þe ioie þat euer is newe
þov let me neuer be fur-lorn.

19. The Lily with Five Leaves.

[_]

Trinity Coll. Camb. MS. 323.

Ful feir flour is þe lilie,
wid fif leuis hire sal hulie;
fif to beren hire is ful imunde,
for þat is hire propre cunde.
Þat firste bitokenit charite,
to louen þin louer more þen þe,
vid word vid horte vid al þi mist,
for þat is treve loue arist.
after þis lef is þer oþir:
þu loue wel þine broþir
30

& þin ewe-cristene asse þi selve,
for so duden þe apostles tuelve;
Þus is vriten in þe gospelle,
min suete vrend, asse ic ou telle.

diliges dominum deum t., &c.

Þat þridde bit riswisnesse
þat þu sal heren matins & messe,
Mone, & sinne firsaken;
& to iesu þu salt taken
al þis wordis prude,
orf & lond & lude.

nisi quis renunciauerit omnia que possidet.

Þat ferþe deit ou vnderstonden
to seruen crist vid feid & honden,
to firsaken tricherie,
prude & onde & lecherie;
non mon ne sal oþer missigen,
sigge vad he ou sigge.

Quicumque dixerit fratri suo raca &c.

Þat fiste lef of þisse viwe
teket men in þisse liue
forte hem iscriuen,
þat þu neuer for þi sine
vonien wid Satanasses cunne,
to helle ne be idriue þat is dunne.
mon, have rouþe of þe one
for þi lif nis boten a lone.
Wen þu sinnekis þu mait dreden
wid þi fleise woremes to feden;
an, mon, þenc on heuene blisse
þat hever sal ilesten vid-outen misse.

Quod uobis, &c.

þer is blisse buten ende,
Ihesu crist us þider sende.
31

20. Shroud and Grave.

[_]

Trinity Coll. Camb. MS. 323.

Nou is mon hol & soint
& huvel him comit in mund;
Þenne me seint aftir þe prest
þat wel con reden him to crist.
Afteir þe prest boit icomin
þe feirliche deit him hauit ino[min];
Me prikit him in on vul clohit
& legget him by þe wout.
A-moruen boþin sout & norit
Me nimit þat bodi & berrit hit [forit],
Me grauit him put oþer ston,
þer-in me leit þe fukul bon.
þenne sait þe soule to þe licam,
Wey þat ic ever in þe com!
þu noldes friday festen to n[on],
Ne þe setterday almesse don,
Ne þen sonneday gon to chu[rche],
ne cristene verkis wrch[e].
Neir þu never so prud
of hude & of hewe i[kud],
þu salt in horþe wonien & wormes [þe] to-cheuen
& of alle ben lot þat her þe ve[re] lewe.
32

21. Tell Me, Wight in the Broom. [A.]

[_]

A. Trinity Coll. Camb. MS. 323.

‘Say me, viit in þe brom,
Teche me wou i sule don
þat min hosebonde
me louien wolde.’
‘Hold þine tunke stille
& hawe al þine wille.’

[21. Tell Me, Wight in the Broom. B.]

[_]

B. B.M. Addit. MS. 11579.

‘Sey, wist y þe brom,
þwat ys me for to don?
Ich haue þe werreste bonde
þat ys in oni londe.’
responsio sortilege anglice
‘þyf þy bonde ys ylle
Held þy tonge stille.’

22. Gaude Virgo Mater Christi.

[_]

Trinity Coll. Camb. MS. 323.

Glade us maiden, moder milde,
þurru þin herre þu were wid childe—
Gabriel he seide it þe—
Glade us, ful of gode þine,
þam þu bere buten pine
wid þe, lilie of chastete.
Glade us of iesu þi sone
þat þolede deit for monis loue;
þat dehit was, quiic up aros.
Glade us maiden, crist up stey
& in heuene þe i-sey;
He bar him seluen into is clos.
33

Glade us marie, to Ioye ibrout,—
Muche wrchipe crist hau þe i-worut—
in heuene brit in þi paleis;
Þer þat frut of þire wombe
Be i-yefin us forto fonden
in Ioye þat is endeles.

23. The Ten Commandments.

[_]

Trinity Coll. Camb. MS. 323.

Hawe on god in wrchipe,
Ne nem þu is nome in idilchipe,
Wite uel þine haliday,
Weder & moder worchipe ay.
Loke þat þu ne slehe non mon
ne suneke bi non wimmon;
False hoit þat þu ne suere,
false vitnesse þat þu ne bere.
Non monnis wif after lonke,
Ne of is þinc to hauen wid wronke.
Þis beit godis bodis ten
Þe sulen kepen alle men.
Hoe þat nullit hem y-kepen
H[e] sulen in-to helle depe;
Hoe þat kepit hem arist,
He sulen in-to heuene brit.
34

24. A Light Is Come to the World.

[_]

Trinity Coll. Camb. MS. 323.

On leome is in þis world ilist,
þer-of is muchel pris;
a-risen is god & þat is rist
from deþe to lif.
Al for ure redempciun
He þolede pine & passiun,
Derne wnden & greue;
He broutte to saluaciun
þe world þat was ibrot adun
þuru adam & eue.
Of a meide he was iborin,
y-comin of heiye cunne;
y-brout he hauit þat wes for-loren
þuru adames sunne.
He hauit ibrout of pine,
þat he weren ibunden inne
wid serrue & herde bend,
To ioye þat brithe suinit
& neuer er ne finit,
World o butin hend.
Al þat of rouþe rouste
Wepen he misten heþe
þo þe gyuis him bousten
For to don to deþe—
Boþen yung & holde
Hardi he weren & bolde,
A-wedde he weren y-nou.
Ful feste he was iholden
þo iudas him solde
Wid traisun & wid wou.
35

A reuli reid he funden,
þe gyuis euer-uihon,
þo he ihesum beonden
To a pileir of ston;
To him ha weren ful [t]ore,
I-burst asse wedde bore,
So pilatis hem heit.
Ha bueten him so sore
His bodi barst a-more,
þat blod ron to his fehid.
His bodi þat wes feir & gent
& his neb suo scene
Wes bi-spit & al to-rend,
His rude wes worþen grene.
Bufetes him weren iyeuene;
Of serue þer wes euene
þo he bigon to bleden.
He bahit wid milde steuene
þen suete feder of heuene
fir-yewen hem heore mis-deden.
His suete bodi he stresten
þe rode effer-long;
longius a spere bitaisten
is herte he wor-stong.
Miracle he dude asse he deit drey;
Of is blod as he heng hey,
To longius ron þe streim,
In-to is eyen asse he stoit ney.
Is seisþe heuede & sone he sey
þurru ihesu of bedleim.
36

From him ha weren to-dreuid
Is apostelis heuer-huic on,
Ful on he was bileuit
Wid marie & Sein Iohon.
Tuei þeues þer verrin a-hon,
& þe oþer him beid on bon
Wid rem & reuly cry:
Wenne he come to is trone,
þenchen up-hon him sone
& habben of him mercy.
Hasse he biheuld þe rode,
þe modir þat was of miste
& þer I-sei al ablode
Hir sone þat her wes briste,
Hisse tuo suete honden
Wid nailes al to-ronden,
Is fehit iþurlid bo,
Is suete softe side
I-þurlit depe & wyde—
Wey, þat hire was wo!
Ha isei þe rode stonden,
Hire sone þer-to ibunden
Hoe wroinc hire honden,
Bi-heild his suete þunden.
Þe gyues to him leden
On him for-to greden
Asse þat hoe weren wod.
Hire þucte a miste aweden,
Hire herte bi-gon to bleden,
Teres hoe wep of blod.
37

Lauedi, flur of parradis,—
Nas neuir non so scene—
Ber hure herrinde if þi vil his,
Asse þu ard heuene quene,
To þine sone þat is so brit,
þat he us yeue strenþe & mist
To seruen him wid wunne,
& to scenden þene vichit
þat his humbe day & nicst
To gabben us wid sunne.
Biseich þine sone, asse he uel may,
þat he us alle yeme
Wenne he comit a domis day
Al folc forto demeN.
Wen huic mon for is owen dede
Sal þeir vnderfungen mede,
ful sore us may agrisen.
Wen vour engles bemen blouit,
Lef us him þenne to cnowen,
On his rist hond arisen.
Wenne he scauit is wndis
þat reuful beet to seine,
Help us, leuedi, þe stunde
Wen he scauit is tenne.
‘God, ye awariede in-to wo,
To pine þat sal lesten OO.
I-Greiþid hit was hou yore.’
To loft up buven þat he seit to:
‘Comit, iblesede, in-to ro
þat lesten sal eueir more.’
38

25. The Bargain of Judas.

[_]

Trinity Coll. Camb. MS. 323.

Hit wes up-on a scereþorsday þat vre louerd aros,
ful milde were þe wordes he spec to iudas:
‘Iudas þou most to iurselem oure mete for-to bugge;
þritti platen of seluer þou bere up-o þi rugge;
Þou comest fer i þe brode stret, fer i þe brode strete,
summe of þin cunesmen þer þou meist imete.’
Imette wid is soster þe swikele wimon.
‘iudas, þou were wrþe me stende þe wid ston.
Iudas, þou were wrþe me stende þe wid ston,
for þe false prophete þat tou bileuest upon.’
‘Be stille, leue soster, þin herte þe to-breke!
wiste min louerd crist, ful wel he wolde be wreke.’
‘Iudas, go þou on þe roc, heie up-on þe ston,
lei þin heued i my barm, slep þou þe anon.’
Sone so iudas of slepe was awake,
þritte platen of seluer from hym weren itake.
He drou hym selue bi þe top þat al it lauede a-blode,
þe iewes out of iurselem awenden he were wode.
fforet hym com þe riche ieu þat heiste pilatus—
‘wolte sulle þi louerd þat heite iesus?’
‘I nul sulle my louerd for nones cunnes eiste,
bote hit be for þe þritti platen þat he me bi-taiste.’
‘Wolte sulle þi lord crist for enes cunnes golde?’
‘Nay, bote hit be for þe platen þat he habben wolde.’
In him com ur lord gon as is postles setten at mete—
‘wou sitte ye, postles, ant wi nule ye ete?
‘Wou sitte ye, postles, ant wi nule ye ete?
ic am aboust ant isold to-day for oure mete.’
39

Vp stod him iudas, ‘lord am i þat [frec]?
i nas neuer o þe stude þer me þe euel spec.’
Vp him stod peter ant spec wid al is miste:
‘þau pilatus him come wid ten hundred cnistes,
Þau pilatus him come wid ten hundred cnistes,
yet ic wolde, louerd, for þi loue fiste.’
‘Stille þou be, peter, Wel i þe icnowe;
þou wolt fur-sake me þrien ar þe coc him crowe.’

26. The Journey of the Three Kings.

[_]

Trinity Coll. Camb. MS. 323.

Wolle ye iheren of twelte day,
Wou þe present was ibroust
In-to betlem þer iesus lay?
þer þre kinges him habbet isoust,
a sterre wiset hem þe wey.
suc nas neuer non iwroust,
ne werede he nouþer fou ne grey,
þe louerd þat us alle hauet iwroust.
Þre kinges seten in here þede,
boþen yonge men & hore,
ho iseien one sterre scinen,
ne seien ho neuer none more.
wel ho wisten wou hit hede,
wise men & witti of lore,
þat iesus was icomen for nede
so hit was iquidded yore.
Þre kinges for ho it herden quidden
þat iesus wolde ibore ben;
þe time com ase ho herdden siggen,
a briste sterre ho gunen isen.
40

ha gunnen bone for to bidden,
loc bi-gunnen to greiþen heo,
mirre & stor, gold þet þridde—
huc on of hem brouste þe þre.
Foret þe kinges gunnen iwenden,
þe sterre bi-gon for to springen,
þe on sait, ‘gold we sculen him beden
so me scal to riche kinge.’
‘þe stor is god to prestes nede.’
þe þridde, ‘mirre we sculen him bringe.’
heo comen into heroudes þede
& þer heo herden sotele tidinge.
Þo heroudes herde þe kinges speken,
of alle his blisse he was skere;
ful ney is herte wolde to-breken
& þan he madam glade chere:
‘hendi kinges, fer at-reken,
sechet þat child & comet eft here.’
on him he þoute to ben awreken,
if he wiste on londe wer he wer[e].
Þe kinges weren of fer icomen
þet seli child for-to sechen,
a present ho heden vnder-nomen—
wel was hem þat ho it geten.
þer comet an angele atte frome
& waket hem ase ho gunnen to slep[en],
& bid hem þene grimme gome
Heroudes & is lond fur-leten.
Of þe boru heo gunnen riden
al þoru heroudes rede;
þe sterre was boþen sotel & sene,
into bedlehem heo hem con lede
41

to him þat weldet sonne & mone,
blosmen boþen wite & rede—
lowe he liste ut of is trone
to sauen us alle quike & dede.
Þes cnistes weren a-cneu iseten
& heret þet child of hende hewe;
þau he lutel were þe yet,
for king heo him ful wel icnewe.
þre kinges þe hauet igret,
ibrout heo habbet a present newe.
he bit þat heroudes lond fur-saket—
an angel us saide he nas nout trewe.
Þes kinges were boþe some & saiste,
& under-fongen was here sonde;
a sclepit al þat ilke naiste
ase trewe wid-uten niþe & onde.
þer com an angel & hem awaste
& dede hem wel to under-stonde,
& þene riste wei hem taiste
hammard in-to here owene londe.
Þer he godes wille wrouten,
þe riste-wise king wid-uten rous,
heuene king, ful hei icorn,
iborn was in an asse boss;
her e werede an croune of þorne,
in worlde he ede wit-uten scoes.
þenc þou, mon, þat tou ne bee lorn
for alle dedis þat tou doest.
42

27. Look on Me with Thy Sweet Eyes.

[_]

Trinity Coll. Camb. MS. 323.

Leuedie, ic þonke þe
wid herte suiþe milde
þat gohid þat þu hauest idon me
wid þine suete childe.
þu ard god & suete & brit,
of alle oþeir i-corinne;
Of þe was þat suete wist
þat was iesus i-boren.
Maide milde, biddi þe
wid þine suete childe
Þat þu herdie me
to habben godis milce.
Moder, loke one me
wid þine suete eyen,
reste & blisse gef þu me,
mi lehedi, þen ic deyen.

28a. Doomsday.

[_]

A. Trinity Coll. Camb. MS. 323.

Wenne hi þenche on domes-dai ful sore i me adrede,
Þer scal efter his werec huc mon fongon mede.
Hic habbe criste agult wid þonc & wid dede;
Louered helende, godis sone, wat scal me to rede?
43

Þat fuir sal comen in þis world on one sonen-nist,
Firbernen al þis middeherd so crist hit wole disten,
Boþen watir & þed-lond, þe flurs þat beit briste—
Hiheriet bo ure louerd, muchel is his miththe.
Foure engles in þe dairet blouit here bemen,
Þenne comit ihesus crist his domes forto demeN.
Ne helpit hit noþinc þenne to wepen ne to remen,
To him þat lutel hauet idon þat criste was iqueme.
From þat adam was i-wrout þat comet domesday
Monie of þe riche men þat werden fou & gray,
Riden uppe steden & uppe palefray,
Ha sculen atte dome singen weilaway.
Ne sculen heo þer nout fisten wid sceldes ne wid sperre,
Wid helme ne wid brunie ne wid none gerren;
Ne sal no mon oþeir wid wise worde werreN,
Bote here almesdeden þat hore herinde sal bereN.
Ho sculen isen þene kyng þat al þe world wroutte,
& oppe þe suete rode wid stronge pine bocðthe
Adam & is ofspring, in helle he hem southe—
To bidden þenne milse to late heo beoit biþoutthe.
He sulen isen þat maiden þat ihesus crist inne kennede,
Bi-tuenen hire ermes sueteliche hine wende.
Þe wile þat we misten, to lutel we hire sende;
Þat makede þe worse, so woule he us ablende.
Þer sulen þe riswise ben on godis rist honde,
& þe sunfulle sulen ateliche stonden
Wid here sunnes iwriten, þat is muchel sconde.
Alle heo sullen hem isen þat liueden in londe.
44

To þe riswise he spekit wordes suiþe suete:
‘Comit heir, mine frents yeure sunnes forte lete.
Hi mine fadeir huse hou is i-makit sete,
Þer-inne sculen engles sueteliche greten.’
To þe sunfule he spekit so ye mouin iheren:
‘Gooid, ye awariede, wid funden iwere,
Into berninde fur; of blisse ye beoit scere
for-þi þat ge oure sunnen ut of þis þorild beren.’
Bidde we ure leuedye, suetis alre þinge,
Þat heo beore ure herinde to þen heuene kinge,
Þat for is holie nome & for hire herindi[n]ge,
Þat he ure soule into heoueneriche bringe.

28b. Doomsday.

[_]

B. Cotton MS. Caligula A ix.

Hþenne ich þenche of domes-dai Ful sore i me adrede,
Þer schal after his [werk] euch mon fongen mede.
Ich habbe crist agult þid þoȝtes & þið dede;
Lauerd crist, godes sone, þat is me to rede?
Þat fur schal kumen in þis þorld On one suneniȝte,
For-bernen al þis middelerd so crist hit þolde diȝte,
Boþe in þe þater & in þat lond þe flures þat beoþ brihte—
Iherd beo þu lauerd, so muchel beþ þine mihte.
45

Þe engles in þe dai-red bleþeð heore beme,
Þenne comeþ ure lauerd crist his domes for to deme.
Ne helpeð hit noht þenne to þepen ne to remen,
Þat haueð lutel idon þat godd þere icþeme.
From þat adam þas ischapen to comen domes-dai
Moni of þisse riche þat þereden foh & grei,
An rideþ uppe stede & uppen palefrai,
Heo schulen atte dome suggen þeilaþei.
Ne schulen heo noþðer fiȝte mid schelde ne mid spere,
Mid helme ne mid brunie ne mid non oþer gere;
Ne schal þer nomon oþer mid þise þordes þere,
Bute heore almesdede heore ernde schal bere.
Heo schulen iseon þe lauedi þat ihesu crist of-kende,
Bi-tþeonen hire armes sþeteliche he þende.
Þe wile þat þe mihte, to litte þe hire sende;
Þat makede þe cþed, so fule he us blende.
Heo schul iseon þene king þat al þis þorld þrohte,
An uppon þe rode Mid stronge pine abohte
Adam & his ofspring, in helle he heom sohte—
To bidden his milce to late þe beod bi-þohte.
Þer stondeþ þe riȝtþise on his riȝt honde,
An þe sunfule so ateliche heo stondeþ
Mid heore sunnen iþriten, þat is so muchel schonde.
Þer hit schulen alle iseon al þat her þeren a londe.
Þið þe riȝtþise he spekeþ wordes swete:
‘Comeþ her, mine freond, oure sunnes forto lete.
In mine fader boure oþ is imaked sete,
Þer oþ schulen engles ful sþeteliche grete.’
46

Þið þe sunfule also ȝe mahen ihere:
‘Goð, aþariede gostes, feondes ifere,
In-to berninde fur; of blisse ȝe beoþ skere
For ȝe oþre sunnen of þisse þorlde bere.’
Bidde þe ure lauedi, sþetest alre þinge,
Þat heo ure erende beore to þen heuonkinge,
For his holi nome & for hire herendinge,
Þat heo ure saþle to heouerige bringe.

29. The Latemest Day. [A.]

[_]

A. Trinity Coll. Camb. MS. 323.

Þene latemeste dai, wenne we sulen farren
vt of þisse worlde wid pine & wid care,
Al so we hideir comen naket & bare,
& of ure fule sunnen yewen onsuare.
For nabbe no mon so mukil, al hit wole a-gon—
Is lont & is lude, is hus & is hom—
Þe sorie soule atte dom makit hire mon;
I-vis ne mai at-blenchen crist ure neuer on.
Þenne seit þe sole wid sorie chere:
‘Awei! wrechede bodi, nou þou sal to bere,
& i sal for þine sunnen habben fendes to were.
Ac wey þat þu euere to monne yscapit were!’
Wenne þen latemeste day deit hauit ibrout,
Binimit ure siste, speche, & hure þoutt,
þenne is ure blisse al iturnit to nout,
Bote wose godis wille hauit heir iwrout.
Sone so þe soule beoit ifarein vt,
Me nimit þe licam & prenit in on clut,
þat was heir modi, stronc & suyþe prut,
þat was iwonit to weriin so mony veir srout.
47

Þenne liit þe cleyclot cold alse an ston,
& þe frent striuit to gripen is won;
Þen þe sorie soule makit hire mon,
Alle is frent-men beit iturnit to won.
Nu sal þin halle wid spade ben wrout,
& þu sal, wreche, þer-inne ben ibrout;
Me wole suopen þin hus & bernen þi bout—
Alle þine mudirkins sulen bein isout.
Þin hus is sone ibuld þer þu salt wonien inne,
Boþe þe wirst & þe rouf sal liggen uppon þin chinne;
Þenne sulen woremes woniin þe wid-innen,
Ne salt þu þe nout weriin wid neppe ne wid pinne.
Nu sal firrotien þine teit & þine tunke
& al þat is wid-innen þe—þi liuerre & þi longe
& þi þrote-bolle wid þat þu soncke—
& þu salt ben in putte ful faste bi-þronge.
Nou nis offered of þe, þi mei ne þi mouwe,
Heo weriet þe weden þat heir were þin owene;
& þou, wrecche beli, lists nu ful louwe,
ac nulle her neuer on nou, here þonkis, þe icnowen.
Wer beit nou þine frend, faire þat þe biheten,
Ofte þe igretten bi weis & bi streteN?
Nu heo wollet, wrecche, þe alle forleten,
for nulle hore neuer on nou, hore stonkis, þe imeten.
Wer boit þine ponewes loue þat þe wereN?
Of þine riche weden nou þu ard al scere;
Bo þu inne þin putte wormis ifere—
Hit boit sone of þe so þu neuer nerre.
48

Wer boit þine disces wid þine suete sonten?
Wer is þi breit & ale, tunnen & þine stonden?
Nu þu salt to putte to wonien wid þe wonde.
A-wei! wy nostu er-ware þis vndeir-stonden?
Nou þu hauest, wrecche, hileuid al to longe
To louien þe riste & hatien þe wronge,
& don sum almes-deden wid þine rist honde,
& bringen us in-to heuene ut of þisse ille londe.
Selde wole me for þe messes lete singen,
Oþeir in holie chireche makin hei offringe;
Me wole for þin haiste make striuinge,
& puten þe wid-uten of alle þine þincge.
Þe wile þu hedest misten to don at þine þille,
Euer þu were abouten us bo forto spillen;
& nou þou salt, wrecche, liggen ful stille,
ac ig sal þine gultis abugen ful ille.
Wi noldes þu wid criste maken us isaiste,
Messen lete singen of þat he þe bitaiste?
Euer þu were abuten to echen þin haiste;
For-þi we boet an hende boþe bipaiste.
Lie, awariede bali, þat neuer þu ne arrise!
Wenne ic þenche þe opon euer me may agrisen;
I sal biueren in vours & chiuerren in ise,
& ben ipinet for þe on ateliche wyse.
A domes-dai to a bittre bacþe we sule bo nakit,
Of brimston & of piche wellinde imakit,
Þer-inne sathanas þe feind us rent wid is rake,
& soþin us wole firsuoleuen þe fundene drake.
49

Þau al þat fur of þis world to-gedere were ibrout,
A-gain þisse hete nere hit rist nout.
Ac we is him aliue þat þer-inne is ibrout!
Alle þes ilke pines þou us hauist woucht.
Wose seiye þene feind, hu lotliche he boe,
Hornes on is heuet & hornes on is cnoe,
Nis non þinc on liue of so ateliche bloe;
Wose come hondur his hont ded he moste boe.
He gonet wid is mouþe & staret wid is eyen,
Of is neose-þurlis comet starke leyen,
Þat fur bernit & springit ut at uche breye;
Wose loke him on, for drede he moste deyen.
As beit is heye-puttes asse a bruþen-leit,
Þat fur sprinkit þer-of wnderliche reid—
Ne mai no mon tellen hu lodliche is þe qued;
Wose lokede him on of drede heo were deed.
Wite we us from prude & wreþe & from honde,
from yissing & sloucþe þat regnet in londe,
Glotonie & horedom—þes sunnes þu ne fonde
If þu uult a domes-dai wid iesu criste þonken.
Ac nomeliche holde we us ut of horedome,
Messes lete we singen & alme don ilome,
& wid holie chireche make we us isome;
Þonne mou we quemen crist at þe stronke dome.
Þe king þat on þe holie treo adammes sunnes bette
For we sculden to heuene sten—o boc so he id sette—
Fur-yeue us ure sunnes þat nou us ne letten,
& make us freo for to bein þer of þe fendes nette.
Bidde we ure louerd for is suete miste
Þat heo beo heuer ure sceeld from þe voule viste,
& lete us hatiin þat wowe & louien þat riste,
& bring us at hure endesid in-to houene liste.
AmeN.
50

[29. The Latemest Day. B.]

[_]

B. Cotton MS. Caligula A ix.

I hereð of one þinge þat ȝe ohen of þenche,
Ȝe þat þerieð riche schrud & sitteð on oure benche;
Þah me kneoli ou bi-uore & mid þin schenche,
From þe dreorie deað ne mai no mon at-blenche.
Ȝe þat sittet i-schrud wið skarlet & wið palle,
Þel soþe tiþinge Ich ou þile telle:
Þe feond þencheð iþis þe saþle forto cþelle,
Ase þe hit findeþ iþriten in þe goddspelle.
Ah of one þinge þe schule nime gome,
Þat þe þeren poure þa þe hider come—
þe hit hereð iþis sþiþe ofte & i-lome—
Þe saþle & þe licome selde heo beoþ isome.
Hþenne þat child bið iboren & on eorþe i-falle,
Nolde ich ȝeuen enne peni for his þeden alle;
Ah seoððen moni mon biȝet bores & halle,
For-hþi þe þrecche saþle schal in-to pine ualle.
Þenche þe on þe laste dai, þat þe schule heonne fare
Vt of þisse þorlde þið pine & þið kare,
Al so þe hider comen naked & bare,
And of ure sunnen ȝeuen ondsþeare.
Nabbe no mon so muchel, al hit þolle agon—
His lond & his hus & his hom—
Þe sorie soule makeþ hire mon;
Iþis ne mai at-blenche ure neauer non.
Þenne þe latemest dai deþ haueð ibrouhit,
Bi-nimeð ure speche, ure siht, & ure þoht,
And in euche lime deþ us hafð þurh-soht,
Þenne beoð ure blisse al iturnd to noht.
51

Ne miȝte no tunge tellen þat euer þes iboren
Þe stronge pine of helle, þah he hedde isþoren,
Er þe saþle & þe bodi a-tþo beon to-drehen,
Bute crist þat lesede his folc þat þer þes for-loren.
Anon so þe saþle bið ifaren ut,
Me nimeð þe licome & preoneð in a clut,
Þat þes so modi & so strong & so sþiþe prud,
And þes iþoned to þerien moni a feir schrud.
Nu lið þe clei-clot al so þe ston,
And his freondes striueð to gripen his i-þon;
Þe sorie soþle makeð hire mon,
Of alle hire erure freond nu nafð heo non.
Þenne saið þe saþle þið sorie chere:
‘Aþai! þu þrecche fole bali, nu þu list on bere,
Ich schal habben for þe fendes to ifere.
Aþai! þat þu euere to monne ischape þere.
Ne schaltu neauer sitten on bolstre ne on benche,
Ne neuer in none halle þer me uin schencheð;
For þine fule sunnen & for þin uni-þrenche,
Hi schal, þrecche saþle, to ateliche stenche.’
Hþer beoð alle þine frond þat faire þe bihete,
& feire þe igretten bi þeies & bi strete?
Nu heo þolleð, þrecche, alle þe for-lete,
Nolden he, hore stonkes, non nu þe imete.
Hþer beoð þine dihsches midd þine sþete sonde?
Hþer beoþ þine nappes þat þe glideþ to honde?
Hþer is þi bred & þin ale, þi tunne & þine stonde?
Nu þu schalt in þe putte þunie þid þe þonde.
52

Of me þu heuedest miȝte to don al þine þille,
Euer þu þere a-buten us bo for to spille;
Nu þu schalt, þrecche, liggen ful stille,
And ich schal þine gultes abuggen ful ille.
Hþi noldest þu mid crist maken us isahte,
Masse leten singe of þat he þe bi-tahte?
Euer þu þere abuten to echen þin ahte;
For-þi þe beoð an ende boþe bi-pahte.
Selde þole me for þe masse lete singe,
Oþer in holi chirche don ei offringe;
Me þule for þin ahte make striuinge,
And pute þe þið-uten of alle þine þinge.
Li, aþariede bali, þer neauer þu ne arise!
Hþenne ich þenche þe uppon ful sore me mai agrise;
For ich schal bernen in fur & chiuerin in ise,
& euer beon in pinen a feole kunne þise.
Nu schal þin halle Mid spade beon iþroȝt,
And þu schald þerinne, þrecche, beon ibroȝt;
Nu schulen þine þeden Alle beon isoȝt,
Me þule sþopen þin hus & ut mid þe swoft.
Þi bur is sone ibuld þer þu schald þunien inne,
Þe rof, þe firste, schal ligge o þine chinne;
Nu þe sculen þormes þunien þið-inne,
Ne mai me heom vt driuen þið nones kunnes ginne.
Nu is afered of þe, þi mei & þi moþe,
Alle heo þereð þe þeden þat er þeren þin oþe,
And þu schald nu in eorþe liggen ful lohe.
Þai hþi noldestu er of þisse beon icnoþe?
53

Nu schal for-rotien þine teð & þi tunge,
Þi mahe & þi milte, þi liure & þi lunge,
And þi þrote-bolle þat þu mide sunge—
And þu schal in þe putte faste beon iþrunge.
Hþer beoð þine þeines þat þe leoue þere?
Of alle þine riche þeden nu þu ard al skere;
Beo þu in þe putte þormes ifere—
Hit bið sone of þe al so þu neauer nere.
Al þat ich hatede hit þuȝte þe ful god,
Þat makede þe qued þer, þat þe bistod;
Heuedest þu þi þille þu þere al þod
And ich am, þrecche saþle, ful sori mod.
Nu þu schald bileuen & ich mot fare nede,
For alle þine gultes fongon i schal mede;
Þer is hunger & chele & fur-berninge glede,
And so me þule sathanas ful ateliche brede.
Ich am sori inoh bi dai & bi niht,
I schal to þeostre stude þer neauer ne kumeð liht;
Þat i schal i-mete moni a ful þiht,
Ne schal ich neauer i-seo crist þat is so briht.
In ful a bitter bað baþien ich schal naked,
Of pisch & of brimeston þallinde is imaked;
Þer is sathanas þe cþed redi þið his rake,
And sþo he me þule for-sþolehen þe fur-berninde drake.
Þah al þat fur in þis world to-gedere þere ibroht,
Aȝeines þare hete nere hit al noht.
Þo is him aliue þat þer-inne is ibroht!
A þai! þas ilke pine þu hauest me bi-soht.
54

Hþo isehe þene cþed hu lodlich he beo,
Hornes on his heaued, hornes on his cneo,
Nis no þing aliue þat so ateliche beo;
Wo is heom ine helle þet hine schule i-seo.
He ȝeoneþ mid his muþe & stareþ mid his eȝe,
Of his neose-þurles cumeð þe rede leie,
Þat fur springeþ him vt of eueruche Breþe;
He moste deie for care, hþase hine iseȝe.
Also beoð his eȝe-puttes ase a bruþen-led,
Þat fur springeþ him of þunderliche red—
Ne mai no tunge telle hu lodlich is þe cþed;
Hþase lokede him on for care he miȝte beo dead.
Holde þe us clene ut of hordom,
Masse leten singen & almes-dede don,
& þið hali chirche maken us i-som;
Þenne mohe ve cþemen crist at þe dom.
Þe king þat al þis þorld scheop þurh his holi miȝte
Bi-þite vre saþle from þan fule þiȝte,
& lete us hatie þat þoh & luuie þat riȝte,
& bringe ure saþle to heoueriche liȝte.
Amen.

30. When the Turf is Thy Tower.

[_]

Trinity Coll. Camb. MS. 323.

Wen þe turuf is þi tuur,
& þi put is þi bour,
Þi wel & þi wite þrote
ssulen wormes to note.
Wat helpit þe þenne
al þe worilde wnne?
55

31. I Sing of One That is Matchless.

[_]

Trinity Coll. Camb. MS. 323.

Exemplum de beata virgine & gaudiis eius.
Nu þis fules singet hand maket hure blisse
and þat gres up þringet and leued þe ris;
of on ic wille singen þat is makeles,
þe king of halle kinges to moder he hire ches.
Heo his wit-uten sunne and wit-uten hore,
I-cumen of kinges cunne of gesses more;
þe louerd of monkinne of hire was yboren
to bringen us hut of Sunne, elles wue weren for-lore.
Gabriel hire grette and saide hire, ‘aue!
Marie ful of grace, vre louer be uit þe,
þe frut of þire wombe ibleset mot id be.
þu sal go wit chide, for sout ic suget þe.’
and þare gretinke þat angle hauede ibrout,
he gon to bi-þenchen and meinde hire þout;
he saide to þen angle, ‘hu may tiden þis?
of monnes y-mone nout y nout iuis.’
Mayden heo was uid childe & Maiden her biforen,
& maiden ar sot-hent hire chid was iboren;
Maiden and moder nas neuer non wimon boten he—
wel mitte he berigge of godes sune be.
I-blessed beo þat suete chid & þe moder ec,
& þe suete broste þat hire sone sec;
I-hered ibe þe time þat such chid uas iboren,
þat lesed al of pine þat arre was for-lore.
56

32. A Prayer of Penitence to Our Lady. [A.]

[_]

A. Trinity Coll. Camb. MS. 323.

On hire is al mi lif ylong
Of vam ic wille singen,
And herien him þer-among,
þad gon us bote bringen
Of helle-pine þat is strong,
ant brut us blisse þat is so long
Al þurut hire childinke.
We biddit hire in ure song,
he yef us god hendinke
þau ve don wrong.
Al þis world hid sal agon
Wid serue and wid sore,
and al þis blisse ic mot for-gon
Nof-þingit me so sore.
þis world nis bute ure so,
þar-for ic wille henne gon
and lernin godis lore;
þis worldis blis nis wrd a slo—
I bidde, god, þin hore,
nu and heuer-more.
To longe ic abbe sot iben,
ful sorre y me a-drede;
ylouid ic abbe gomin and gle
and heuir fayre wedin.
Al þad nis nout, ful wel ic seo,
þer-fore we sulin ur sunnis flen
and ure sothede.
We biddit hire us to seo,
þad con wissin and redin,
þat is so fre.
57

Heo is hele and lif ond licte
and helpit al moncunene;
Ho us hauet ful vel idiit,
Ho yaf us wele and wunne.
þu brutis us day and eue nith,
heo brout wou, þu brout rid,
þu almesse and heo sunne.
þu do us merci, lauedi brit,
wene we sulin henne—
ful wel þu mit.
Agult ic haue, waylaway!
Sunful ic am a wreche,
þu do me merci, lauedi brit,
ar det me henne wecche.
yif me þi loue, ic am redi,
let me liue and amendi,
þad fendes me ne letten;
of mine sunnin ic am sori,
of my lif ic ne recche,
lauedi merci.

[32. A Prayer of Penitence to Our Lady. [B.]

[_]

B. Cotton MS. Caligula A. ix.

On hire is al mi lif ilong
Of hþam ich wule singe
And herien hire þer-among.
Heo gon us bote bringe
Of helle-pine þat is strong,
Heo brohte us blisse þat is long
Al þurht hire chilðinge.
Ich bidde hire one mi song,
Heo ȝeoue us god endinge
þah þe don wrong.
58

Þu art hele and lif and liht
And helpest al mon-kunne;
Þu us hauest ful þel idiȝt,
Þu ȝeue us weole and þunne.
Þu brohtest dai and eve niȝt,
Heo broȝte woht, þu broȝtest riȝt,
Þu almesse and heo sunne.
Bi-sih to me, lauedi briȝt,
Hþenne ich schal wende heonne,
So þel þu miht.
Al þis þorld schal ago
Wið seorhe and wið sore,
And al þis lif þe schule for-go
Ne of-þunche hit us so sore.
Þis þorld nis butent ure ifo,
Þar-fore ich þenche hirne at-go
And do bi godes lore;
Þis liues blisse nis þurð a slo—
Ich bidde, god, þin ore,
Nu and euere-mo.
To longe ich habbe sot i-beo,
Wel sore ich me adrede;
Iluued ich habbe gomen and gleo
And prude and feire wede.
Al þat is dþeole, wel i seo,
Þar-fore ich þenche sunne fleo
And alle mine sot dede.
Ich bidde hire to me bi-seo,
And helpe me and rede,
Þat is so freo.
Agult ich habbe, weila þei!
Sunful ich am an wrecche,
Aþrec þe nu on me, leuedi,
Er deþ me honne fecche.
59

Do nim þe wreche, ich am redi,
Oþer let me liuen and amendi,
Þat no feond me ne drecche;
For mine sunnes ich am sori,
Of þis þorld ich ne recche,
Leuedi merci!
Amen.

[32. A Prayer of Penitence to Our Lady. [C.]

[_]

C. Royal MS. 2. F. viii.

In hyre ys al my lyf ylong[e]
of wam ic wolle synge
and heryen hyre þar-amovnge,
þat gan hus bote bringe
of elle-pine þat ys stronge,
Ant brout hvs blysse þet ys longe
þvr hire chyldynge.
ic bidde hyre on my songe,
þat gyvvs god endynge
þey we do wronge.
Al þys world shaal agoo
wyth sorevve ant wyt sore,
and þis blisse we svvlle vor-goo
nof-þinget hit hvs so sore.
þes worldes blysse nys wrt a slo,
þar-vore ic þenge henne goo
ant do by godes lore;
þes world nys bote hure yfoh—
leuedy, þyn horee
nv ant hevre-more!
60

þov ert hele lyf and liȝt
þov helpe[st] al man-cvnne;
þov hvs hauest wel ydyyt,
þov brovte wele and wnne.
þov brovtest day and eue nyhyt,
he brovte wowe, þv brovtest ryhyt,
þov helmes and he svnne.
by-sy to m[e], leuedy brytd,
wan hy shal wenden henne,
so w[el] þov mytd.
To longe ic abbe sot ybee,
wel sore y me of-drede;
yloued ic abbe gamen an gle
heyte and fayre ywede.
al hyt hys dvole, wel ic hit nv see,
þar-vor yg wlle hem flee
and lete my sothede.
hy bydde hyre þet ys so fre,
helpen hus and rede—
wel hit may be.
A-gult ig habbe, a weylawey!
svnvvl ig am and wreg[e],
by-sy to me, suete leuedy,
þe no fend me ne dregche—
to nyme bote ig am redy—
and let me libbe and amendy,
here deed me hvnne veȝge.
for mine svnne ig am sory,
þat lyues y ne regche,
leuedy mercy!
Amen.
61

33. Aspice Mitissime Conditor.

[_]

Trinity Coll. Camb. MS. 323.

Þu þad madist alle þinc,
mi suete fadir, hewene kinc,
Bi-sue to me þad am þi sone,
þad for monkine habe fles ynomin.
Mi wite breste, suene & brit,
blodi is min side rist
& min licam on rode i-stist.
Mine lonke armes, stiue & sterke,
Min heyin arrin dim & derke,
Min þeyis honket so marbre-ston in werke;
Þo flod of min rede blod
Al owir-weint min þurlit fod.
Fadir, þau monkine ab idon folie,
Mid mine wondis for hem mercy ic þe crie.

34. Man's Leman on the Rood.

[_]

Trinity Coll. Camb. MS. 323.

Wose seye on rode
ihesus is lef-mon,
(Sori stod him bi wepinde
sent marie & sent Ion),
Is hewid him al abutun
wid þornis i-prikit,
Is faire hondin & is waire wed
wid naylis y-stickit,
62

Ys rug wid yerdis suonken
ys syde wid sper y-vundit,
Al for sunne of mon,—
Sore he may wepin
& bittre teris letin,
mon þad of luue con.

35. My Leman on the Rood. I. [A.]

[_]

A. St. John's Coll. Camb. MS. 15.

Wenne hic soe on rode idon
ihesus mi leman,
and bi him stonde
maria and iohan,
his herte duepe i-stunge,
his bodi þis scurge i-ssuenge,
for þe sunne of man,
Hiþe hi mai wepen
and selte teres leten,
ief hic of luue chan.

[35. My Leman on the Rood. I. B.]

[_]

B. Royal MS. 12 E. 1

Quanne hic se on rode
ihesu mi lemman,
An be-siden him stonden
marie an Iohan,
And his rig i-suongen,
and his side i-stungen,
for þe luue of man,
63

Wel ou hic to wepen
and sinnes for-leten,
yif hic of luue kan,
yif hic of luue kan,
yif hic of luue kan.

36. My Leman on the Rood. II.

[_]

MS. Bodley 57.

Vyen i o þe rode se,
Faste nailed to þe tre,
Iesu mi lefman,
Ibunden bloc an blodi,
An hys moder stant him bi
Wepande an Iohan,
Hys bac wid scuurge iswungen,
Hys side depe istungen,
For sinne an lowe of man,
Weil auti sinne lete,
An neb wit teres wette,
Ȝif I of lowe kan.

37. My Leman on the Rood. III.

[_]

MS. Ashmole 360.

Qvanne I zenke onne þe rode
quorupe-one þu stode,
squete ihesu mi leman,
Hu bi þe was stondende
þi moder wepende
an þi disciple sei iohan,
64

Hu þi rige was I-squngen,
a ti side zurhc stungen,
for þe gilte of man,
Hu þi fet I-bledden
an ti honden he-spredden
þat he miten telle þi boan,
Hu þe stoannes to-breken,
þe dede arisen an speken,
þe sunne vex al wan,
No selli þeth I wepe
an mi sinnes bette
if I luuien wel can.

38. Over the Bier of the Worldling.

[_]

Trinity Coll. Camb. MS. 323.

Nu þu vnseli bodi up-on bere list
Were bet þine robin of fau & of gris?
Suic day hauit i-comin þu changedest hem þris,
Þad makiit þe Heuin herþe þad þu on list,
Þad rotihin sal so dot þe lef þad honkit on þe ris.
Þu ete þine mete y-makit in cousis,
Þu lettis þe pore stondin þrute in forist & in is,
Þu noldist not þe bi-þenchen forte ben wis,
For-þi hauistu for-lorin þe Ioye of parais.
65

39. Will and Wit.

[_]

Cotton MS. Caligula A. ix.

Hþenne-so wil þit ofer-stieð
Þenne is wil and wit for-lore,
Hþenne-so þil his hete hieð
Þer nis noþiht wit icore.
Ofte wil to seorȝe sieð,
Bute ȝif wit him þite to-fore,
Ac hþenne-so wil to wene þrieð,
Þe ofo of wisdom is to-tore.

40. Weal Is a Cursed Thing.

[_]

Jesus Coll. Oxf. MS. 29.

Weole, þu art a waried þing,
vn-euene constu dele;
Þu yeuest a wrecche weole y-nouh,
noht þurh his hele.
Wyþ freomen þu art ferly feid
wiþ sauhte & make heom sele;
Þe poure i londe naueþ no lot
wiþ riche for to mele.

41. The Five Blisses.

[_]

Jesus Coll. Oxf. MS. 29.

Her bigynneþ þe vif Blyssen of vre leuedi seynte Marie.
Leuedy, for þare blisse
þat þu heddest at þe frume,
Þo þu wistest myd-iwisse
þat ihesus wolde beo þi sune,—
66

Þe hwile we beoþ on lyue þisse
sunnen to don is vre wune—
Help vs nv þat we ne mysse
of þat lif þat is to cume.
Moder, bliþe were þu þo
hwanne þu iseye heouen-king
Of þe ibore wiþ-vte wo
þat scop þe and alle þing.
Beo vre scheld from vre ivó
& yef vs þine blessyng;
And bi-wyte vs euer-mo
from alle-kunnes suneging.
Leuedi, al myd rihte
þu were gled and bliþe
Þo crist þureh his myhte
arós from deþe to lyue,
Þat alle þing con dihte
and wes i-boren of wyue.
He make vs clene and bryhte
for his wundes fyue.
From þe Munt of olyuete
þo þi sone to heouene steyh,
Þu hit by-heolde myd eye swete,
for he wes þin heorte neyh.
Þer he haueþ imaked þi sete
in o stude þat is ful heyh,
Þer þe schulen engles grete,
for þu ert boþe hende and sleyh.
Þe king þat wes of þe ibore,
to heouene he þe vette
To þare blisse þat wes for-lore,
& bi hym-seolue sette,
67

Vor he hedde þe icore.
wel veyre he þe grette;
Blyþe were þu þer-vore,
þo engles þe imette.
Moder of Milce & mayde hende,
ich þe bidde as i con;
Ne let þu noht þe world vs blende
þat is ful of vre i-von,
Ac help vs at vre lyues ende,
þu þat bere god and mon,
And vs alle to heouene sende
hwenne we schulle þis lif for-gon.
Ihesus, for þire moder bene
þat is so veyr and so bryht
Al so wis, so heo is quene
of heouene and eorþe—& þet is ryht,—
Of vre sunnes make vs clene
& yef vs þat eche lyht,
And to heouene vs alle i-mene,
louerd, þu bryng, for wel þu Miht.

42. An Antiphon of St. Thomas of Canterbury.

[_]

Jesus Coll. Oxf. MS. 29.

Incipit Antiphona de sancto Thoma Martyre in Anglico
Haly thomas of heoueriche
alle apostles eueliche,
þe Martyrs þe vnderstonde
godfullyche in heore honde.
Selcuþ dude vre dryhtin,
þat he water wende to win;
þu ert help in engelaunde
vre stephne vnderstonde.
þu ert froure a-mong mon-kunne,
help vs nv of vre sunne.
Evovae.
68

43. Friar Thomas de Hales' Love Ron.

[_]

Jesus Coll. Oxf. MS. 29.

Incipit quidam cantus quem composuit frater Thomas de hales de ordine fratrum Minorum, ad instanciam cuiusdam puelle deo dicate.
A mayde cristes me bit yorne
þat ich hire wurche a luue-ron,
For hwan heo myhte best ileorne
to taken on-oþer soþ lefmon,
Þat treowest were of alle berne
& best wyte cuþe a freo wymmon.
Ich hire nule nowiht werne,
ich hire wule teche as ic con.
Mayde, her þu myht biholde
þis worldes luue nys bute o res
And is by-set so fele volde,
vikel & frakel & wok and les.
Þeos þeines þat her weren bolde
beoþ aglyden so wyndes bles,
Vnder molde hi liggeþ colde
& faleweþ so doþ medewe gres.
Nis no mon iboren o-lyue
þat her may beon studeuest,
For her he haueþ seorewen ryue,
ne tyt him neuer Ro ne Rest.
Toward his ende he hyeþ blyue
& lutle hwile he her ilest;
Pyne & deþ him wile of-dryue
hwenne he weneþ to libben best.
69

Nis non so riche ne non so freo
þat he ne schal heonne sone áway,
Ne may hit neuer his waraunt beo,
gold ne seoluer, vouh ne gray.
Ne beo he no þe swift, ne may he fleo,
ne weren his lif enne day.
Þus is þes world, as þu mayht seo,
Al so þe schadewe þat glyt away.
Þis world fareþ hwilynde—
hwenne on cumeþ an-oþer goþ;
Þat wes bi-fore nv is bihynde,
þat ere was leof nv hit is loþ.
Forþi he doþ as þe blynde
þat in þis world his luue doþ;
Ye mowen iseo þe world aswynde—
þat wouh goþ forþ, abak þat soþ.
Þeo luue þat ne may her abyde,
þu treowest hire myd muchel wouh;
Al so hwenne hit schal to-glide,
hit is fals & mereuh & frouh
And fromward in vychon tide.
hwile hit lesteþ is seorewe i-nouh;
An ende, ne werie mon so syde,
he schal to-dreosen so lef on bouh.
Monnes luue nys buten o stunde:
nv he luueþ, nv he is sad,
Nu he cumeþ, nv wile he funde,
nv he is wroþ, nv he is gled.
His luue is her & ek a-lunde,
nv he luueþ sum þat he er bed;
Nis ne neuer treowe i-funde—
þat him tristeþ he is amed.
70

Yf mon is riche of worldes weole
hit makeþ his heorte smerte & ake,
If he dret þat me him stele
þenne doþ him pyne nyhtes wake;
Him waxeþ þouhtes monye & fele,
hw he hit may witen wiþ-vten sake.
An ende hwat helpeþ hit to hele?
al deþ hit wile from him take.
Hwer is paris & heleyne
þat weren so bryht & feyre on bleo,
Amadas & dideyne,
tristram, yseude and alle þeo,
Ector, wiþ his scharpe meyne,
& cesar, riche of wordes feo.
Heo beoþ i-glyden vt of þe reyne
so þe schef is of þe cleo.
Hit is of heom also hit nére
of heom me haueþ wunder itold.
Nere hit reuþe for to heren
hw hi were wiþ pyne aquold,
& hwat hi þoleden a-lyue hére?
al is heore hot iturnd to cold
Þus is þes world of false fere—
fól he is þe on hire is bold.
Þeyh he were so riche mon
as henry vre kyng,
And al so veyr as absalon
þat neuede on eorþe non euenyng,
Al were sone his prute a-gon,
hit nere on ende wrþ on heryng.
Mayde, if þu wilnest after leofmon
ich teche þe enne treowe king.
71

A swete, if þu iknowe
þe gode þewes of þisse childe,
he is feyr & bryht on heowe,
of glede chere, of mode mylde,
of lufsum lost, of truste treowe,
freo of heorte, of wisdom wilde,
Ne þurhte þe neuer rewe,
myhtestu do þe in his ylde.
He is ricchest mon of londe,
so wide so mon spekeþ wiþ muþ,
Alle heo beoþ to his honde,
est & west, norþ and suþ.
Henri, king of engelonde,
of hym he halt and to hym buhþ.
Mayde, to þe he send his sonde
& wilneþ for to beo þe cuþ.
Ne byt he wiþ þe lond ne leode,
vouh ne gray ne rencyan;
Naueþ he þer-to none neode,
he is riche and wel[i man].
If þu him woldest luue beode
and by-cumen his leouemon,
He brouhte þe to suche wede
þat naueþ king ne kayser non.
Hwat spekestu of eny bolde
þat wrouhte þe wise salomon
of iaspe, of saphir, of merede golde,
& of mony on-oþer ston?
Hit is feyrure of feole volde
more þan ich eu telle con;
Þis bold, mayde, þe is bihote
if þat þu bist his leouemon.
72

Hit stont vppon a treowe mote
þar hit neuer truke ne schal;
Ne may no Mynur hire vnderwrote,
ne neuer false þene grundwal.
Þan-inne is vich balewes bóte,
blisse & Ioye & gleo and Gál.
Þis bold, mayde, is þe bihote
& vych o blisse þar wyþ-al.
Þer ne may no freond fleon oþer,
ne non fur-leosen his iryhte;
Þer nys hate ne wreþþe nouþer,
of prude ne of onde, of none wihte.
Alle heo schule wyþ engles pleye,
some & sauhte in heouene lyhte.
Ne beoþ heo, mayde, in gode weye
þat wel luueþ vre dryhte?
Ne may no mon hine iseo,
al so he is in his Mihte,
Þat may wiþ-vten blisse beo
hwanne he isihþ vre drihte.
His Sihte is al ioye and gleo,
he is day wyþ-vte nyhte.
Nere he, mayde, ful seoly
þat myhte wunye myd such a knyhte?
He haueþ bi-tauht þe o tresur
þat is betere þan gold oþer pel,
And bit þe luke þine bur,
& wilneþ þat þu hit wyte wel
Wyþ þeoues, wiþ reueres, wiþ lechurs.
þu most beo waker and snel;
Þu art swetture þane eny flur
hwile þu witest þene kastel.
73

Hit is ymston of feor iboren,
nys non betere vnder heouene grunde,
He is to-fore alle oþre i-coren,
he heleþ alle luue wunde.
Wel were a-lyue iboren
þat myhte wyten þis ilke stunde;
For habbe þu hine enes for-loren,
ne byþ he neuer eft ifunde.
Þis ilke ston þat ich þe nemne
Mayden-hod i-cleoped is;
Hit is o derewurþe gemme,
of alle oþre he berþ þat pris,
And bryngeþ þe wiþ-vte wemme
in-to þe blysse of paradis.
Þe hwile þu hyne witest vnder þine hemme,
þu ert swetture þan eny spis.
Hwat spekstu of eny stóne
þat beoþ in vertu oþer in [grace]—
Of amatiste, of calcydóne,
of lectorie and tupace,
Of iaspe, of saphir, of sardone,
smaragde, Beril and crisopace?
A-mong alle oþre ymstone,
þes beoþ deorre in vyche place.
Mayde, al so ich þe tolde,
þe ymston of þi bur
He is betere an hundred folde
þan alle þeos in heore culur;
He is i-don in heouene golde
and is ful of fyn amur.
Alle þat myhte hine wite scholde,
he schyneþ so bryht in heouene bur.
74

Hwen þu me dost in þine rede
for þe to cheose a leofmon,
Ich wile don as þu me bede,
þe beste þat ich fynde con.
Ne doþ hé, mayde, on vuele dede,
þat may cheose of two þat on,
& he wile wiþ-vte neode
take þet wurse, þe betere let gon?
Þis rym, mayde, ich þe sende
open and wiþ-vte sel;
Bidde ic þat þu hit vntrende
& leorny bute bok vych del;
Her-of þat þu beo swiþe hende
& tech hit oþer maydenes wel.
Hwo-so cuþe hit to þan ende,
hit wolde him stonde muchel stel.
Hwenne þu sittest in longynge,
drauh þe forþ þis ilke wryt;
Mid swete stephne þu hit singe,
& do al so hit þe byt.
To þe he haueþ send one gretynge;
god al-myhti þe beo myd
& leue cumen to his brudþinge
heye in heouene þer he sit.
And yeue him god endynge,
Þat haueth i-wryten þis ilke wryt.
Amen.
75

44. Gabriel's Greeting to Our Lady.

[_]

Arundel MS. 248.

Gabriel, fram evene-king
sent to þe maide swete,
broute þire blisful tiding
And faire he gan hire greten:
‘heil be þu ful of grace a-rith!
for godes sone, þis euene lith,
for mannes louen
wile man bicomen,
and taken
fles of þe maiden brith,
man[n]ken fre for to maken
of senne and deules mith.’
Mildeliche im gan andsweren
þe milde maiden þanne:
‘Wichewise sold ichs beren
child with-huten manne?’
þangle seide, ‘ne dred te nout;’
þurw þoligast sal ben iwrout
þis ilche þing,
war-of tiding
ichs bringe,
al manken wrth ibout
þur þi swete chiltinge,
and hut of pine ibrout.’
Wan þe maiden understud
and þangles wordes herde,
mildeliche with milde mud
to þangle hie andswerde:
76

‘hur lordes þeumaiden iwis
ics am, þat her a-bouen is.
anenttis me,
fulfurthed be
þi sawe;
þat ics, sithen his wil is,
maiden, withhuten lawe
of moder, haue þe blis.
Þangle wente a-wei mid þan,
al hut of hire sithte;
hire wombe arise gan
þurw þoligastes mithe.
in hire was crist biloken anon,
Suth god, soth man ine fleas and bon,
and of hir fleas
iboren was
at time.
War-þurw us kam god won,
he bout us hut of pine
and let im for us slon.
Maiden, moder makeles,
of milche ful ibunden,
bid for hus im þat þe ches
at wam þu grace funde,
þat he forgiue hus senne and wrake,
and clene of euri gelt us make,
and eune blis,
wan hure time is
to steruen,
hus giue, for þine sake
him so her for to seruen
þat he us to him take.
77

45. Jesus Sorrows for His Mother.

[_]

Arundel MS. 248.

Þe milde Lomb isprad o rode,
heng bihornen al oblode,
for hure gelte, for hure gode—
for he ne gelte neure nout.
Feawe of hise im warn biliued,
Dred hem hadde im al bireued
Wan he seyen here heued
to so scanful deth ibrout.
Þis moder, þar im stud bisiden,
ne leth no ter other vnbiden,
wan hoe sei hire child bitiden
swics pine and deien gelteles.
Saint Iohan, þat was im dere,
on other alue im stud ek fere,
and biheld with murne chere
is maister þat im Louede and ches.
Sore and arde he was iswungen,
feth and andes þurew istungen,
Ac mes of alle is othre wunden
im dede is modres sorwe wo.
In al his pine, in al his wrake,
þat he drei for mannes sake
he sei is moder serwen maken—
wol reufuliche he spac hire to.
He seide, ‘wiman lou! me here,
þi child þat þu to manne bere.
With-uten sor and wep þu were
þo ics was of þe iborn.
78

Ac nu þu must þi pine dreien,
wan þu sicst me with þin eyen
pine þole o rode, and deien
to helen man þat was forlorn.’
Seint Iohan þe wangeliste
hir understud þurw hese of criste;
fair he kept hire and bi-wiste,
and serwed hire fram and to fot.
Reuful is þe meneginge
of þis deth and tis departinge,
þar-in is blis meind with wepinge,
for þar-þurw us kam alle bot.
He þat starf in hure kende,
Leue us so ben þar-of mende
þat he giue us atten ende
þat he hauet us to ibout.
Milsful moder, maiden clene,
mak þi milce up-on hus sene,
and brinc hus þurw þi suete bene
to þe blis þat faillet nout.

46. This World's Bliss Will Not Last. [A.]

[_]

A. B.M. MS. Arundel 248.

[W]orldes blis ne last no throwe,
it went and wit a-wey anon;
þe langer þat ics it knowe
þe lasse ics finde pris þar-on,
for al it is imeind mid care,
with serwen and mid iuel fare,
and atte laste poure and bare
it lat man, wan it ginth agon.
al þe blis þis her and þare
bilocth at ende wep and mon.
79

Al þe blis of þese liue
þu salt, man, enden ine wep—
of hus and hom, of child and wiue.
sali man, nim þar-of kep!
þu salt al bileuen here
þeite war-of lord þu were;
wan þu list hup-on þe bere
and slapst þat suithe dreri slep,
ne salt tu haue with þe no fere
but þine werkes on a hep.
Al sal gon þat man hier houet,
and al it scal bicome to naut;
he þat hier no gud ne sowet,
wan othre repen he wrth bikaut.
þinc, man, forþi wilstu auest mithe,
þat þu þi gulte hier arithe,
and werche gud bi dai and nithe,
har þan þu be of liue laut.
þu nost wan crist hure drithe
þe hosket þat þe hauet bitaut.
Man, wi sestu þout and herte
o werldes blis þat nout ne last?
Wi þolstu þat þe softe ismerte
for þing þat is unstedefast?
þu lickest huni of þorn iwis,
þat seist þi loue o werldos blis
[OMITTED]
ful sore þu mith ben of-gast,
þat hier despendest heite a-mis,
to ben þar-þurew in-to elle cast.
80

þinc, man, war-to crist þe wroute
and do way prede and felthe and mud.
þinc wu dere he þe boute
o rode mid is swete blud;
im-self he gaf for þe ine pris,
to bein þe blis ȝif þu be wis.
bi-þinc þe þan, and up aris
of senne, and agin werchen gud
þar wils time to werchen is,
for siker helles þu art wud.
Scal no gud ben unforiolden,
ne no qued ne wrth unbout;
wan þu list, man, under molden
þu scalt auen as tu auest wrout.
biþinc wel forþi us ics rede,
and clanse of ecs misdede,
þat crist þe helpe at tine nede,
þat so dere hauet þe bout,
an to euene blisse lede
þat euere last and faillet nout.

[46. This World's Bliss Will Not Last. B.]

[_]

B. Bodl. MS. Rawlinson G. 18.

Worldes blis ne last no þrowe,
hit wit ant wend a-wey a-non;
Þe lengur þat hich hit i-knowe
Þe lasse hic finde pris þer-on,
for al hit is imeynd wyd kare,
mid sorewe ant wid uuel fare,
ant at þe laste pouere ant bare
hit let mon, wen hit ginnet gon.
al þe blisse þis here ant þere
bi-louketh at hende wop ant Mon.
81

Al shal gon þat her mon howet,
al hit shal wenden to nout;
þe mon þat her no god ne sowet,
wen oþer repen he worth bikakt.
þenc, mon, forþi wil þu hauest mykte,
þat þu þine gultus here arikte,
ant wrche god bi day an nikte,
ar þen þu be of lisse ilakt.
þu nost wanne crist ure drikte
þe asket þat he hauet bitakt.
Al þe blisse of þisse liue
þu shalt, mon, henden in wep—
of huse ant home ant child ant wyue.
seli mon tak þer-of kep!
for þu shalt al bileuen here
þe eykte were-of louerd þu were;
wen þu list, mon, up-on bere
ant slepest a swyþe druye slep
ne shaltu haben wit þe no fere
butte þine werkus on an hep.
Mon, wi seestu loue ant herte
on worldes blisse þat nout ne last?
wy þolestu þat te so ofte smerte
for loue þat is so unstedefast?
þu likest huni of þorn iwis,
þat seest þi loue on worldes blis
for ful of bitternis hit is.
sore þu mikt ben ofgast,
þat despendes here heikte amis,
wer-þurh ben in-to helle itakt.
Þenc, mon, war-of crist þe wroukte
ant do wey prude ant fulthe mod.
þenc wou dere he þe bokte
on rode mit his swete blod;
82

him-self he gaf for þe in pris,
to buge þe blis yf þu be wis.
bi-þenc þe, mon, ant up aris
of slovþe, an-gin to worche god
wil time to worchen is,
for elles þu art witles ant wod.
Al day þu mikt understonde
ant ti mirour bifor þe sen,
wat is to don an to wonden,
ant wat to holden ant to flen;
for al day þu sigst wid þin egven
wou þis world went ant wou men deiget.
þat wite wel, þat þu shalt dreigen
det, al so an-oþer det.
ne helput nout þer non to ligen,
ne may no mon bu det ageyn.
Ne wort ne god þer unforgulde,
ne non uuel ne worth unboukt;
wanne þu list, mon, undur molde
þu shalt hauen as tu hauest wrokt.
biþenc þe wel forþi, hic rede,
ant clanse þe of þine misdede,
þat he þe helpe at þine nede,
þat so dure hus haued iboukt,
ant to heuene blisse lede
þat euere lest ant failet nout.
Amen.
83

47. Our Lady Sorrows for Her Son.

[_]

Arundel MS. 248.

Iesu cristes milde moder
stud, biheld hire sone o rode
þat he was ipined on;
þe sone heng, þe moder stud
and biheld hire childes blud,
wu it of hise wundes ran.
Þo he starf þat king is of lif,
dreriere nas neuerre no wif
þan þu were, leuedi, þo;
þe brithe day went in-to nith,
þo ihesu crist þin herte lith
was iqueint with pine and wo.
Þi lif drei ful harde stundes
þo þu seye hise bludi wundes,
and his bodi o rode don.
Hise wundes sore and smerte
stungen þureu and þurw þi herte,
as te bihichte simeon.
Nu his heued with blud bi-sprunken,
nu his side with spere istungen,
þu bihelde, leuedi fre.
Nu his hondes sprad o rode,
nu hise fet washen wit blode
an i-naillet to þe tre.
Nu his bodi with scurges beten,
and his blud so wide hut-leten
maden þe þin herte sor.
War-so þu castest thin eyen,
pine strong þu soie im dreien—
ne mithte noman þolie mor.
84

Nu is time þat þu ȝielde
kende þat þu im withelde
þo þi child was of þe born;
Nu he hoschet wit goulinge
þat þu im in þi chiltinge
al withelde þar biforn.
Nu þu fondest, moder milde,
wat wyman drith with hir childe,
þei þu clene maiden be;
Nu þe's ȝiolden arde and dere
þe pine werof þu were
ine ti chiltuing quite and fre.
Sone after the nith of sorwen
sprong þe lith of edi morwen;
ine þin herte, suete may,
þi sorwen wen[de] al to blisse,
þo þi sone al mid-iwisse
aros hup-on þe tridde day.
Welle wat þu were blithe,
þo aros fram deth to liue,
þur þe hole ston he glod;
Al so he was of þe boren,
bothen after and biforen,
hol bilof þi maidenhod.
Neue blisse he us broute,
þat mankin so dere boute
and for us ȝaf is dere lif.
Glade and blithe þu us make
for þi suete sones sake,
edi maiden, blisful wif.
85

Quen of euene, for þi blisse
lithe al hure sorinesse,
and went hur yuel al in-to gud.
Bring hus, moder, to þi sone,
mak hus eure with im wone,
þat hus boute wit his blud.
AmeN.

48. ‘Vbi Sount Qui Ante Nos Fuerount.’

[_]

MS. Digby 86.

Uuere beþ þey biforen vs weren,
Houndes ladden and hauekes beren
And hadden feld and wode?
Þe riche leuedies in hoere bour,
Þat wereden gold in hoere tressour
Wiþ hoere briȝtte rode;
Eten and drounken and maden hem glad;
Hoere lif was al wiþ gamen I-lad,
Men keneleden hem biforen,
Þey beren hem wel swiþe heye—
And in a twincling of on eye
Hoere soules weren forloren.
Were is þat lawing and þat song,
Þat trayling and þat proude ȝong,
Þo hauekes and þo houndes?
Al þat ioye is went away,
Þat wele is comen te weylaway,
To manie harde stoundes.
86

Hoere paradis hy nomen here,
And nou þey lien in helle I-fere,
Þe fuir hit brennes heuere.
Long is ay and long is ho,
Long is wy and long is wo—
Þennes ne comeþ þey neuere.
Dreȝy here, man, þenne if þou wilt
A luitel pine þat me þe bit,
Wiþdrau þine eyses ofte,
Þey þi pine be oun-rede;
And þou þenke on þi mede
Hit sal þe þinken softe.
If þat fend, þat foule þing,
Þorou wikke roun, þorou fals egging,
Neþere þe haueþ I-cast,
Oup and be god chaunpioun!
Stond, ne fal namore adoun
For a luytel blast.
Þou tak þe rode to þi staf,
And þenk on him þat þereonne ȝaf
His lif þat wes so lef.
He hit ȝaf for þe, þou ȝelde hit him
Aȝein his fo; þat staf þou nim
And wrek him of þat þef.
Of riȝtte bileue, þou nim þat sheld,
Þe wiles þat þou best in þat feld
Þin hond to strenkþen fonde,
And kep þy fo wiþ staues ord,
And do þat traytre seien þat word.
Biget þat mvrie londe,
87

Þere-inne is day wiþ-houten niȝt,
Wiþ-outen ende strenkþe and miȝt,
And wreche of euerich fo,
Mid god him-selwen eche lif,
And pes and rest wiþoute strif,
Wele wiþ-outen wo.
Mayden moder, heuene quene,
Þou miȝt and const and owest to bene
Oure sheld aȝein þe fende;
Help ous sunne for to flen,
Þat we moten þi sone I-seen
In ioye wiþ-outen hende.
Amen.

49. Dialogue between Our Lady and Jesus on the Cross. [A.]

Chauncoun de noustre dame.

[_]

A. MS. Digby 86.

‘Stond wel, moder, ounder rode,
Bihold þi child wiþ glade mode,
Moder bliþe miȝt þou be.’
‘Sone, hou may ich bliþe stonde?
Ich se þine fet and þine honde
I-nayled to þe harde tre.’
‘Moder, do wey þi we-pinge;
Ich þolie deþ for monnes kuinde—
Wor mine gultes ne þolie I non.’
‘Sone, ich fele þe deþes stounde;
Þat swerd is at min herte grounde,
Þat me by-heyte simeon.’
88

‘Moder, do wei þine teres,
Þou wip awey þe blodi teres,
Hy doþ me worse þene mi deþ.’
‘Sone, hou miȝtte ich teres werne?
I se þine blodi woundes herne
From þin herte to þi fot.’
‘Moder, nou I may þe seye,
Betere is þat ich one deye,
Þen alle monkun to helle go.’
‘Sone, I se þi bodi I-swonge,
Þine honde, þine fet, þi bodi I-stounge;
Hit nis no wonder þey me be wo.’
‘Moder, if ich þe dourste telle,
If ich ne deye þou gost to helle;
I þolie deþ for monnes sake.’
‘Sone, þou me bi-hest so milde;
I-comen hit is of monnes kuinde
Þat ich sike and serewe make.’
‘Moder, merci, let me deye
And adam out of helle beye,
And monkun þat is forlore.’
‘Sone, wat sal me þe stounde?
Þine pinen me bringeþ to þe grounde,
Let me dey þe bifore.’
‘Swete moder, nou þou fondest
Of mi pine, þer þou stondest;
Wiþ-houte mi pine nere no mon.’
‘Sone, I wot I may þe telle,
Bote hit be þe pine of helle,
Of more pine ne wot I non.’
89

‘Moder, of moder þus I fare.
Nou þou wost wimmanes kare,
Þou art clene mayden on.’
‘Sone, þou helpest alle nede,
Alle þo þat to þe wille grede,
May and wif and fowel wimmon.’
‘Moder, I ne may no lengore dwelle,
Þe time is comen I go to helle;
I þolie þis for þine sake.’
‘Sone, I-wis I wille founde,
I deye almest, I falle to grounde,
So serwful deþ nes never non.’

[49. Dialogue between Our Lady and Jesus. B.]

[_]

B. B.M. MS. Royal 12 E. 1.

‘Stond wel, moder, vnder rode,
bihold þi child wyth glade mode,
blyþe moder mittu ben.’
‘Svne, quu may bliþe stonden?
hi se þin feet, hi se þin honden,
nayled to þe harde tre.’
‘Moder, do wey þi wepinge;
hi þole þis ded for mannes thinge—
for owen gilte þoli non.’
‘Svne, hi fele þe dede stunde,
þe swerd is at min herte grunde,
þat me byhytte symeon.’
‘Moder, reu vpon þi bern!
þu wasse awey þo blodi teren,
it don me werse þan mi ded.’
‘Sune, hu mitti teres wernen?
hy se þo blodi flodes hernen
huth of þin herte to min fet.’
90

‘Moder, nu y may þe seyn,
bettere is þat ic one deye
þan al man-kyn to helle go.’
‘Sune, y se þi bodi swngen,
þi brest, þin hond, þi fot þur-stungen—
no selli þou me be wo.’
‘Moder, if y dar þe tellen,
yif y ne deye þu gost to helle;
hi þole þis ded for þine sake.’
‘Sune, þu best me so minde,
with me nout; it is mi kinde
þat y for þe sorye make.’
‘Moder, merci! let me deyen,
for adam ut of helle beyn,
and al mankin þat is for-loren.’
‘Sune, wat sal me to rede?
þi pine pined me to dede,
let me deyn þe bi-foren.’
‘Moder, mitarst þu mith leren
wat pine þolen þat childre beren
wat sorwe hauen þat child for-gon.’
‘Sune, y wot y kan þe tellen,
bute it be þe pine of helle
more sorwe ne woth y non.’
‘Moder, reu of moder kare!
nu þu wost of moder fare,
þou þu be clene mayden m[an].’
‘Sune, help alle at nede,
alle þo þat to me greden—
m[ay]den, wyf and fol wyman.’
91

‘Moder, y may no [lenger] duellen,
þe time is cumen y fare to helle,
þe [þridde day] y rise upon.’
‘Sune, y wyle wi'the funden,
y [deye ywis] of þine wnden,
so reuful ded was neue[re non].’
[When] he ros þan fel þi sorwe,
þe blisse spr[ong þe þridde morewe],
wen bliþe moder wer þu þo.
Mod[er, for þat ilke blisse],
bisech vre god, vre sinnes lesse,
þu be hure chel ayen hure fo.
Blisced be þu, quen of heuene,
bring us ut of helle leuene
þurth þi dere sunes mith.
Moder, for þat hithe blode
þat he sadde vpon þe rode,
led us in-to heuene lith.
AmeN.

50. ‘Swete Ihesu King of Blisse.’

[_]

MS. Digby 86.

Swete ihesu, king of blisse,
Min herte loue, min herte lisse,
Þou art swete mid I-wisse—
Wo is him þat þe shal misse.
Swete ihesu, min herte liȝt,
Þou art dai wiþ-houten niȝt,
Þou ȝeue me strengþe and eke miȝt
For-to louien þe al riȝt.
92

Swete ihesu, mi soule bote,
In min herte þou sette a rote
Of þi loue þat is so swote,
And wite hit þat hit springe mote.

51. ‘Le Regret de Maximian.’

[_]

MS. Digby 86.

Herkneþ to mi ron,
As hic ou tellen con
Of helde al hou hit ges:
Of a modi mon,
Þat muchel of murþe won
In prude and al in pes.
His nome wes maximian;
Swech nes neuere nan
Iwis wiþ-houten les.
Clerc he wes foul goed,
As moni mon hounder-stod;
Ihereþ al hou hit wes.
Is wille he heuede I-nou,
And pal wor prude he drou
And oþere murþes mo;
He wes feirest mon
Wiþ-houten apselon,
Þat seþþen wes and þo.
Þo laste his lif so longe,
Þat he bigon to ounstronge,
As fele men tideþ swo.
Þo gon him rewen sore
Al his wilde lore,
Þo helde him wroute wo.
93

Þo his helde him com,
His bok an honde he nom
And gon of reuþe rede;
Hof his herte hord
He makede moni a word,
Hof hal his liues dede.
Menen he gon his mone,
Hou feble weren his bone;
His heu bigon to shede,
So clene he wees agon,
Þat strengþe neuede he non;
His herte bigon to blede.
Ofte ich grunte and grone,
Wen iche wondri hone,
And þenke on childes dede.
For þissen ille wone
Nis her boten a lone;
Her beþ blissen gnede.
To wepen and to wone,
To makien muchele mone,
Al me hit deþ for nede.
An ende ounder þe stone
Wiþ flesse and eken wiþ bone
Wormes shulen we fede.
Uuen blostmen brekeþ on brere,
Ich makede murie bere
Ich wes hof bliþe mod.
Helde, þe worste I-fere,
Of blisse þu makest me skere,
Þu meniest al mi blod.
94

To longe hic habbe I-ben here:
Bi mo þen þritti ȝere
Ich wes to ouer-mod.
Nou ich wolde ich were
As þau I neuere nere;
Þis lif nis noþing goed.
Kare and kunde of helde
Makeþ me for to helde,
Þat I ne may stonden opriȝt.
For-þi min herte keldeþ,
And mi bodi ounbeldeþ,
Þat wilen wes so liȝt.
Makeþ min heer so þenne,
Of-comen is worldes wenne,
Þis day me þinkeþ niȝt.
Deþ is þat I munne,
Me saiþ þat hit is sunne,
So me is nou I-diȝt.
Ar ich were þus hold,
Ich wes of speche bold,
And mon of glade chere;
Proud in euchan pres,
And wlonk in euchan res,
And lef to ben I-fere.
Ich wes hot and am kold,
Wat helpeþ al itold?
Of liue ich wolde ich were.
Me were leuere deed,
Þen eni gold so reed,
And seþþen leid on bere.
95

Ȝong ich wes, I-cnowe,
Mine lokes were I-þrowe,
And nou her nabbi non;
Me wes hem lef to showen,
Þe wind hem wolde to-wowen,
Mi ler wes wiit so swon.
As I stod in a snowe,
Heye houpon a lowe,
I tolde hit riche won.
Hounten herd i blowen,
Hertes bigounnen to þrowen,
Ne stunte me non ston.
Mi main þat wes so strong,
Mi middel smal and long,
I-brout hit is to grounde.
Nis þer non so wlonk
Of speche ne of þonk,
Þat bodi had boten a mounde.
Þer I be men among,
Ne gladieþ me no song,
Ne gomen of haueke ne of hounde.
Ich am I-wend to helde,
Þat makeþ me for to ounbelde,
And al nis boten a stounde.
Þo ich wes ȝoung and wis,
And werede grei and gris,
Ich heuede frendes þo.
Foul soþ I-seid hit Iis,
Þe mon þat is of pris,
He haueþ frendes þe mo.
96

Mi murþe nowit nis,
Agon hit is I-wiis,
Mine frendes beþ also.
Crist, al so he king iis
So soþliche and so wiis,
Me bringe of þisse wo.
Iche nuste non I-wis
Þat werede grei and gris,
So murie so me wes þo,
Ne more heuede of his;
And nou nowiit hit nis,
And al hit is ago;
So gentil ne so wiis,
Ne mon of more pris;
Me may wel ben wo.
Þis world wrechede iis,
Þat ich wot wel I-wiis,
And moni men tideþ swo.
Fair ich wes and fre,
And swete forto se;
Þat laste luitel stounde.
Gladdore gome wiþ gle
Ne miȝte neuere be
In middelert I-founde.
Helde ounhende is he,
He chaungeþ al mi ble,
Mi miȝte is al aswounde.
Ac henne woldi flee,
For ich am on of þee,
Þat ofte sikeþ ounsounde.
97

Ich mourne and sike sore,
For I ne may be namore
Mon as ich wes þo;
So crafti clerc of lore,
So godlich ounder gore,
And al hit is ago.
Ich walke as water in wore.
Louerd Crist, þin ore!
Wi is me so wo?
Riche I wes and riȝt
Borlich I-wis and liȝt,
As ich am ounderstonde.
Of herte ich wes wel liȝt,
Soþliche wiis and briȝt,
And franc mon of honde.
Þer nis clerk ne kniȝt,
Ne mon of more miȝt,
Þat leuere wes in londe.
I-tint is al mi fiȝt,
Þis day me þencheþ niȝt,
And þus ich am I-bounde.
Fair I wes of hewe,
And of treuþe trewe;
Þat laste luitel stounde.
Þee þat her me knewe,
Ich hem sore rewe;
And þat ich habbe I-founde.
Wen rose blostme blewe,
Me wes murþe newe,
And nou ich am aswounde.
Wo is me þe siþe,
Ne worþe I neuer eft bliþe,
I-brout ich am to grounde.
98

Þe wimmen þat I se,
Þat gladieþ hem wiþ me,
Hy brekeþ min herte a-two;
For ich wes on of þee,
Þat gladdoust wes woned to bee,
In londe þat were þo.
Nou am ich liih þan tre,
Þat loren haueþ his ble,
Ne greneþ hit nammo.
Henne wold i fle,
Ich ne wot weder ich te;
Helde me doþ so wo.
I-tint is al mi plawe,
Þat i wes woned to haue,
Þe wile i wes so liȝt.
Hold ich am and ounmon,
Ich lerne for to gon,
And þenche on children briȝt.
Helde wiþ-houten hawe
Makeþ þat I ne may wawe
Mi bodi wiþ-houten miȝt.
Deþ ich wolde fawe,
For I ne may tellen no sawe,
So helde me haueþ I-diȝt.
Ich wolde ich were on rest,
Wel lowe leiid in a chest;
Mi blisse is al forlore.
Mi murþe wes monne mest,
Þat ilke wile þat hit I-lest,
And nou me is wo þerfore.
Ne gladieþ me no geest,
Ne ioie of more feest.
99

Wat solde ich I-bore?
Þis world me þinkeþ west,
Deþ ich wilni mest,
Wi nis he me I-core?
Mi ler þat wes so briȝt
Al so þe sterre a-niȝt,
Falew hit is and won;
Mi bodi þat wes so tuiȝt,
So stiþ and stod opriȝt—
Ich wes a modi mon.
Astunt is nou mi fiiȝt,
Mi main and eke mi miiȝt,
Of reuþes is mi ron.
Nis non so modi kniȝt,
Þat him ne beþ so I-diiȝt,
Wen helde him sieþ on.
Wilde ich wes her þo,
Wildere þen þe ro,
Ar I bi-gon to hore.
Helde is min I-fo,
And þat ich wilnede þo,
And nou nulli nammore,
Nulli nout don so.
I lerne for to go,
And stonde and sike sore.
Mi wele is went to wo,
Al so is oþres mo
Þat habbeþ I-liued so ȝore.
As i rod þoru-out rome,
Richest alre home,
In murþes al so ich wolde,
Leuedies wiit so swon,
Maidenes so briȝt so bon,
Comen for me biholde.
100

‘Lo! wer riit þe mon,
Þat heiȝte maximion,
Wiþ his bernes bolde.’
Nes þer non of þee,
Þat dourste me I-see
In hire cloþes holde.
Reuþfoul is mi reed;
Hoe makeþ me selden gled,
Mi wif þat sholde be.
Of me hoe is al seed,
Hoe saiþ ich waste breed.
Mine frend me nulleþ I-se.
Ich telle me for a queed,
Þe wile ich miȝt, en heueed
I-beten nedde ich hoe.
Crist þou do me reed!
Me were leuere deed,
Þen þus aliue to bee.
Iich may seien alas,
Þat ich I-boren was;
I-liued ich have to longe.
Were ich mon so ich was,
Min heien so grei so glas,
Min her so feir bihonge,
And ich hire heuede bi þe trasce
In a derne place,
To meken and to monge:
Ne sholde hoe neuere at-witen
Min helde ne me bifliten,
Wel heye I shulde hire honge.
101

52. The Thrush and the Nightingale.

[_]

MS. Digby 86.

Ci comence le cuntent parentre le Mauuis & la russinole
Somer is comen wiþ loue to toune,
Wiþ blostme, and wiþ brides roune
Þe note of hasel springeþ,
Þe dewes darkneþ in þe dale.
For longing of þe niȝttegale,
Þis foweles murie singeþ.
Hic herde a strif bitweies two—
Þat on of wele, þat oþer of wo.
Bitwene two I-fere,
Þat on hereþ wimmen þat hoe beþ hende,
Þat oþer hem wole wiþ miȝte shende.
Þat strif ȝe mowen I-here.
Þe niȝtingale is on bi nome
Þat wol shilden hem from shome,
Of skaþe hoe wole hem skere;
Þe þrestelcok hem kepeþ ay,
He seiþ bi niȝte and eke bi day,
Þat hy beþ fendes I-fere.
For hy biswikeþ euchan mon
Þat mest bi-leueþ hem ouppon.
Þey hy ben milde of chere,
Hoe beþ fikele and fals to fonde,
Hoe wercheþ wo in euchan londe;
Hit were betere þat hy nere.
102

[Nightingale]
‘Hit is shome to blame leuedy,
For hy beþ hende of corteisy;
Ich rede þat þou lete.
Ne wes neuere bruche so strong,
I-broke wiþ riȝte ne wiþ wrong,
Þat mon ne miȝte bete.
Hy gladieþ hem þat beþ wroþe,
Boþe þe heye and þe lowe,
Mid gome hy cunne hem grete.
Þis world nere nout ȝif wimen nere;
I-maked hoe wes to mones fere,
Nis no þing al so swete.’

[Thrush]
‘I ne may wimen herien nohut,
For hy beþ swikele and false of þohut,
Also ich am ounderstonde.
Hy beþ feire and briȝt on hewe,
Here þout is fals, and ountrewe
Ful ȝare ich haue hem fonde.
Alisaundre þe king meneþ of hem—
In þe world nes non so crafti mon,
Ne non so riche of londe.
I take witnesse of monie and fele
Þat riche weren of worldes wele,
Muche wes hem þe shonde.’

[Nightingale]
Þe niȝtingale hoe wes wroþ:
‘Fowel, me þinkeþ þou art me loþ
Sweche tales for to showe.
Among a þousent leuedies I-tolde,
Þer nis non wickede I holde
Þer hy sitteþ on rowe.
103

Hy beþ of herte meke and milde,
Hem-self hy cunne from shome shilde
Wiþinne boures wowe,
And swettoust þing in armes to wre
Þe mon þat holdeþ hem in gle.
Fowel, wi ne art þou hit I-cnowe?’

[Thrush]
‘Gentil fowel, seist þou hit me?
Ich habbe wiþ hem in boure I-be,
I haued al mine wille.
Hy willeþ for a luitel mede
Don a sunfoul derne dede,
Here soule forto spille.
Fowel, me þinkeþ þou art les;
Þey þou be milde and softe of pes,
Þou seyst þine wille.
I take witnesse of adam,
Þat wes oure furste man,
Þat fonde hem wycke and ille.’

[Nightingale]
‘Þrestelcok, þou art wod,
Oþer þou const to luitel goed,
Þis wimmen for to shende.
Hit is þe swetteste driwerie,
And mest hoe counnen of curteisie.
Nis noþing al so hende.
Þe mest murþe þat mon haueþ here,
Wenne hoe is maked to his fere
In armes for to wende.
Hit is shome to blame leuedi,
For hem þou shalt gon sori—
Of londe ich wille þe sende.’

104

[Thrush]
‘Niȝttingale, þou hauest wrong!
Wolt þou me senden of þis lond
For ich holde wiþ þe riȝtte?
I take witnesse of sire wawain,
Þat ihesu crist ȝaf miȝt and main
And strengþe for to fiȝtte,
So wide so he heuede I-gon,
Trewe ne founde he neuere non
Bi daye ne bi niȝtte.’

[Nightingale]
‘Fowel, for þi false mouþ
Þi sawe shal ben wide couþ,
I rede þe fle wiþ miȝtte.
Ich habbe leue to ben here,
In orchard and in erbere
Mine songes for to singe.
Herdi neuere bi no leuedi
Bote hendinese and curteysi,
And ioye hy gunnen me bringe,
Of muchele murþe hy telleþ me.
Fere, al so I telle þe,
Hy liuieþ in longinge.
Fowel, þou sitest on hasel bou,
Þou lastest hem, þou hauest wou—
Þi word shal wide springe.’

[Thrush]
‘Hit springeþ wide, wel ich wot—
Þou tel hit him þat hit not!
Þis sawes ne beþ nout newe.
Fowel, herkne to mi sawe,
Ich wile þe telle of here lawe
Þou ne kepest nout hem I-knowe.
105

Þenk on costantines quene—
Foul wel hire semede fow and grene—
Hou sore hit gon hire rewe.
Hoe fedde a crupel in hire bour,
And helede him wiþ couertour.
Loke, war wimmen ben trewe!’

[Nightingale]
‘Þrestelkok, þou hauest wrong!
Al so I sugge one mi song,
And þat men witeþ wide,
Hy beþ briȝttore ounder shawe
Þen þe day wenne hit dawe
In longe someres tide.
Come þou heuere in here londe,
Hy shulen don þe in prisoun stronge
And þer þou shalt abide.
Þe lesinges þat þou hauest maked,
Þer þou shalt hem forsake,
And shome þe shal bitide.’

[Thrush]
‘Niȝttingale, þou seist þine wille,
Þou seist þat wimmen shulen me spille.
Daþeit, wo hit wolde!
In holi bok hit is I-founde,
Hy bringeþ moni mon to grounde,
Þat proude weren and bolde.
Þenk oupon saunsum þe stronge,
Hou muchel is wif him dude to wronge,
Ich wot þat hoe him solde.
Hit is þat worste hord of pris
Þat ihesu makede in parais
In tresour for to holde.’

106

[Nightingale]
Þo seide þe niȝttingale:
‘Fowel, wel redi is þi tale;
Herkne to mi lore!
Hit is flour þat lasteþ longe,
And mest I-herd in eueri londe,
And louelich ounder gore.
In þe worlde nis non so goed leche,
So milde of þoute, so feir of speche,
To hele monnes sore.
Fowel, þou rewest al mi þohut,
Þou dost euele ne geineþ þe nohut,
Ne do þou so nammore!’

[Thrush]
‘Niȝtingale, þou art ounwis
On hem to leggen so muchel pris,
Þi mede shal ben lene.
Among on houndret ne beþ fiue,
Nouþer of maidnes ne of wive,
Þat holdeþ hem al clene,
Þat hy ne wercheþ wo in londe,
Oþer bringeþ men to shonde,
And þat is wel I-seene.
And þey we sitten þerfore to striuen,
Boþe of maidnes and of wiue,
Soþ ne seist þou ene.’

[Nightingale]
‘O fowel, þi mouþ þe haueþ I-shend!
Þoru wam wes al þis world I-wend?
Of a maide meke and milde,
Of hire sprong þat holi bern
Þat boren wes in bedlehem,
And temeþ al þat is wilde.
107

Hoe ne weste of sunne ne of shame,
Marie wes Ire riȝte name,
Crist hire I-shilde!
Fowel, for þi false sawe
For-beddi þe þis wode shawe,
Þou fare into þe filde!’

[Thrush]
‘Niȝttingale, I wes woed,
Oþer I couþe to luitel goed,
Wiþ þe for to striue.
I suge þat icham ouercome
Þoru hire þat bar þat holi sone,
Þat soffrede wundes fiue.
Hi swerie bi his holi name
Ne shal I neuere suggen shame
Bi maidnes ne bi wiue.
Hout of þis londe willi te,
Ne rechi neuere weder I fle,
A-wai ich wille driue.

53. What Love Is Like.

[_]

MS. Digby 86.

Ci comence la manere quele amour est pur assaier
Loue is sofft, loue is swet, loue is goed sware.
Loue is muche tene, loue is muchel kare.
Loue is blissene mest, loue is bot ȝare.
Loue is wondred and wo, wiþ for to fare.
Loue is hap, wo hit haueþ; loue is god hele.
Loue is lecher and les, and lef for to tele.
Loue is douti in þe world, wiþ for to dele.
Loue makeþ in þe lond moni hounlele.
108

Loue is stalewarde and strong to striden on stede.
Loue is loueliche a þing to wommone nede.
Loue is hardi and hot as glouinde glede.
Loue makeþ moni mai wiþ teres to wede.
Loue had his stiuart bi sti and bi strete.
Loue makeþ moni mai hire wonges to wete.
Loue is hap, wo hit haueþ, hon for to hete.
Loue is wis, loue is war and wilfful an sete.
Loue is þe softeste þing in herte mai slepe.
Loue is craft, loue is goed wiþ kares to kepe.
Loue is les, loue is lef, loue is longinge.
Loue is fol, loue is fast, loue is frowringe.
Loue is sellich an þing, wose shal soþ singe.
Loue is wele, loue is wo, loue is gleddede
Loue is lif, loue is deþ, loue mai hous fede.
Were loue also londdrei as he is furst kene,
Hit were þe wordlokste þing in werlde were, ich wene.
Hit is I-said in an song, soþ is I-sene,
Loue comseþ wiþ kare and hendeþ wiþ tene,
Mid lauedi, mid wiue, mid maide, mid quene.

54. A Springtide Song of the Redemption.

[_]

B.M. MS. Egerton 613.

Somer is comen & winter gon,
þis day biginniþ to longe,
& þis foules euerichon
Ioye hem wit songe.
109

So stronge kare me bint,
al wit Ioye þat is funde
in londe,
Al for a child
þat is so milde
of honde.
Þat child, þat is so milde & wlong
& eke of grete munde,
boþe in boskes & in bank
isout me hauet a-stunde.
Ifunde he heuede me,
for an appel of a tre
ibunde;
He brac þe bond
þat was so strong
wit wunde.
Þat child þat was so wilde & wlong
to me a-lute lowe,
fram me to giwes he was sold
ne cuþen hey him nout cnowe.
‘do we’, sayden he,
‘naile we him opon a tre
a lowe,
Ac arst we sullen
scumi him
a þrowe.’
Ihesu is þe childes name,
king of al londe;
of þe king he meden game
& smiten him wit honde
110

to fonden him, opon a tre
he ȝeuen him wundes to & þre
mi[d] honden,
of bitter drinck
he senden him
a sonde.
det he nom ho rode-tre,
þe lif of vs alle,
ne [miit]te it nowtt oþer be
bote we scolden walle
& wallen in helle dep
nere neuere so swet
wit alle.
ne miitte us saui
castel, tur,
ne halle.
Mayde & Moder þar astod,
marie ful of grace,
An[d of here eyen heo] let blod
uallen in þe place.
þe trace ran of here blod,
changed [h]ere fles & blod
& face.
he was to-drawe,
so dur islawe
in chace.
det he nam, þe suete man,
wel heye opon þe rode;
he wes hure sunnes euerichon
mid is swete blode.
111

mid flode he lute adun
& brac þe ȝates of þat prisun
þat stode,
& ches here
out þat þere
were gode.
he ros him ene þe þridde day,
& sette him on is trone;
he wule come a domes-day,
to dem us euerich one.
grone he may & wepen ay,
þe man þat deiet wit-oute lay
alone
grante ous, crist,
wit þin uprist
to gone.
AmeN.

55. A Prayer to the Mother of Mildness.

[_]

B.M. MS. Egerton 613.

[I] blessed beo þu, lauedi, ful of houene Blisse,
sþete flur of parais, moder of mildernisse.
Þu praie ihesu crist þi sone, þat he me i-þisse
þare a-lond al sþo ihc beo, þat he me ne i-misse.
Of þe, faire lauedi, min oreisun ich þile bi-ginnen,
Þi deore sþete sunnes loue þu lere me to þinnen.
þel ofte ich sike and sorþe make, ne mai ich neuere blinnen
bote þu, þruh þin milde mod, bringe me out of sunne.
112

Ofte ihc seke merci, þin sþete name ich calle,
mi flehs is foul, þis þorld is fals, þu loke þat ich ne falle.
Lauedi freo, þu schild me fram þe pine of helle,
And send me in-to þat blisse þat tunge ne mai tellen.
Mine þerkes, lauedi, heo makieþ me ful þon;
þel ofte ich clepie and calle, þu iher me forþan!
Bote ic chabbe þe help of þe, oþer i ne kan,
help þu me! ful þel þu mist, þu helpest mani a man.
Iblessed beo þu, lauedi, so fair and so briht,
Al min hope is uppon þe, bi dai and bi nicht.
Helpe þruh þin milde mod, for þel þu mist,
þat ich neuere for feondes sake fur-go þin eche liht.
Briht and scene quen of houene, ich bidde þin sunnes hore.
Þe sunnes þat ich habbe i-cvn, heo reþþeþ me ful sore;
þel ofte ich-chabbe þe fur-saken; þilich neuer eft more,
Lauedi for þine sake, treuþen feondes lore.
Iblessed beo þu, lauedi so feir and so hende;
þu praie ihesu crist þi sone, þat he me i-sende,
Þhare a-lond alsþo ich beo er ich honne þende,
þat ich mote in parais þonien þi-þuten ende.
Bricht and scene quen of storre, so me liht and lere,
in þis false fikele þorld so me led and steore,
Þat ich at min ende-dai ne habbe non feond to fere.
ihesu, mit ti sþete blod þu bohtest me ful deore.
113

Ihesu, seinte marie sone, þu i-her þin moder bone!
to þe ne dar i clepien noht, to hire ich make min mone;
þu do þat ich, for hire sake, beo imaked so clene
þat ich noht at dai of dome beo flemed of þin exsene.

56. The Mind of the Passion. [A.]

[_]

A. MS. Ashmole 360.

Þe minde of þi passiun, suete ihesu,
þe teres it tollid,
þe heine it bolled,
þe neb it wetth,
in herte sueteth.

[56. The Mind of the Passion. B.]

[_]

B. St. John's Coll. Camb. MS. 62.

Loverd þi passion,
Who þe þenchet arist þaron,
teres hit tollet,
and eyen hit bollet,
nebbes hit wetet,
ant hertes hit swetet.

57. Be Free with What Christ Sends.

[_]

Bodl. MS. Rawlinson C 22.

Eueriche freman hach to ben hende,
for to be Large of þat him crist sende;
þan it es al ydon that cume to þen ende,
na haues naman of þis werld bot gnedeliche his Lenge.
114

58. World's Bliss Have Good Day.

[_]

Corpus Christi Coll. Camb. MS. 8.

Worldes blisce, haue god day!
Nou fram min herte wand away;
him for to louen min hert his went,
þat þurȝ his side spere rent,
his herte blod ssadde for me,
nayled to þe harde tre.
þat swete bodi was y-tend,
prened wit nayles þre.
Ha iesu! þin holi hefd
wit ssarpe þornes was by-weued,
þi feyre neb was al bi-spet,
wit spot and blod meynd al by-wet;
fro þe crune to þe to
þi body was ful of pine and wo,
and wan and red.
ha iesu! þi smarte ded
be my sseld and my red
fram deueles lore.
ha, suete iesu, þin hore!
for þine pines sore,
thech min herte riȝt loue þe
ȝwas herte blod was ssed for me.

59. A Hymn to the Heavenly Father.

[_]

Corpus Christi Coll. Oxf. MS. 59.

Hit bilimpeð forte speke, to reden & to singe
Of him þe no mon mai at-reke, king of alle kinge.
He mai binde & to-breke, he mai blisse bringe,
He mai luke & unsteke, michte of alle þinge.
115

Vroure & hele, folkes fader, heouenliche drichte,
Alle þing þet is & þas is on þine michte;
Þu ȝifst þe sunne to the daiȝ, þe mone to þe nichte,
þine strengþe non ne mai telle, ne þin michte.
Iherdȝe beo þin holi nome, in heouene & in eorþe;
þu sscope eld & þind & þater, þe molde is þet feorþe
Of þham þe alle imaked beoð þat is þe holi eorþe.
þu þe þost al ure þoucht, louerd, drauȝ us neor þe!
Fader & sune & holi gost, on god in þrimnesse,
inne þe nis lac ne lest, auȝ alle holinesse.
Vre neode þel þu þost & ure unkunnesse;
in þine hond is michte mest, louerd, þu vs blesce.
Let vs, louerd, comen among þin holi kineriche.
ihesu crist, þin elpi sune þe is þe seolf iliche,
he vs bouchte þið his blod of þe feondes sþiche,
& of bitter helle-fur & of þe fule smiche.
Al sþo is in heuene heȝ, in eorþe beo þin þille,
holi drichte sþete & dreȝ, in heldes & in hulle;
ne let þu neure cumen vs neȝ, þene feond þe is sþo ille,
Ach bind him honden, fet & þeȝ & let him ligge stille.
Vre daȝþunelich bred, louerd, þu vs sende
þat bred of hele & of lif, ihesu crist þe hende;
þat bréd þe monkun haueð ibroucht út of feondes bende,
he beo vre help & ure red to ure liues ende.
Fader, for-ȝif vs ure gult & eke alle ure sunne,
Al sþo þe doð þe us habbeð igruld to freomede & to kunne;
bring us ut of þorldes þo in-to alle þunne,
for her beoð þerkes sþiþe unþreste & þeþes sþiþe þunne.
116

Bring us ut of þo & kare & of feondes fondinge,
þicke is here ure fare & ure þuniȝinge;
mid þicke speche & false sþare & mid lesinge,
þu ert hele & help & lif, & king of alle kinge.

60. A Song to the Queen of Heaven.

[_]

Corpus Christi Coll. Oxf. MS. 59.

Edi beo þu, heuene quene,
folkes froure & engles blis,
moder unþemmed & maiden clene—
sþich in þorld non oþer nis.
On þé hit is þel eþ sene
of alle þimmen þu hauest þet pris;
mi sþete leuedi, her mi béne
& reu of mé ȝif þi þille is.
Þu asteȝe so þe daiȝ-reþe,
þe deleð from þe deorke nicht,
of þe sprong á leóme neþe
þat al þis þorld haueð iliȝt.
Nis non maide of þine heoþe
sþo fair, so sschene, so rudi, sþo bricht;
sþete leuedi, of me þu reoþe
& haue merci of þin knicht.
Spronge blostme of one rote,
þe holi gost þe reste upón,
þet þes for monkunnes bote
& heore soule to alesen for on.
Leuedi milde, softe & sþote,
ic crie þe merci, ic am þi mon,
boþe to honde & to fote,
on alle þise þat ic kon.
117

Þu ert eórþe to gode sede,
on þe liȝte þe heouene deúȝ,
of þe sprong þeó edi blede,
þe holi gost hire on þe séuȝ.
Þu bring us út of kare of dréde
þat Eue bitterliche us breúȝ,
þu sschalt us in-to heóuene lede—
þelle sþete is þe ilke déuȝ.
Moder, ful of þeþes hende,
Maide dreiȝ & þel itaucht,
ic ém in þine loue-bende,
& to þe is al mi draucht.
Þu me sschildȝe from þe feonde,
ase þu ert freó & þilt & maucht,
help me to mi liues ende,
& make me þið þin sone isauȝt.
Þu ert icumen of heȝe kunne,
of dauid þe riche king,
nis non maiden under sunne
þe mei beó þin eueni[n]g,
Ne þat sþo derne louiȝe kunne,
ne non sþo treoþe of alle þing;
þi loue us brouchte eche þunne,
ihered ibeó þu, sþete þing!
Seolcudliche ure louerd hit diȝte
þat þu, maide þið-ute þère,
þat al þis þorld bicluppe ne miȝte,
þu sscholdest of þin boseme bere.
118

Þe ne stiȝte ne þe ne priȝte
in side in lende ne elles-þhere—
þat þes þið ful muchel riȝte,
for þu bere þine helere.
Þo godes sune aliȝte þolde
on eórþe al for ure sake,
herre teȝen he him nolde
þene þat maide to beon his make.
Betere ne miȝte hé, þaiȝ hé þolde,
ne sþetture þing, on eórþe take.
leuedi, bring ús to þine bolde,
& sschild ús from helle þrake.
AMEN.

61. Mother Mild, Flower of All.

[_]

Corpus Christi Coll. Oxf. MS. 59.

Moder milde, flur of alle,
þu ert leuedi sþuþe treóþe,
bricht in bure & eke in halle,
þi loue is euer iliche néoþe.
on þe hit is best to calle,
sþete leuedi of me þu reoþe,
ne let me neuere in sunnes falle,
þe me ȝarked bale to bréoþe.
Riche quene & maiden bricht,
þu ert moder sþuþe milde;
min hope is in þe daȝ & nicht,
þat þu me sauchte þid þine childe,
for þu nult noþing bote richt.
sþete leuedi, þu me sschilde
þat ic non þing, mid unricht,
þurche þe þerches þe beoð to þilde.
119

Sþete leuedi, ic bidde þe,
quen of heouene þer þu ert in,
bisech þin sune par cherite
þat he me sschilde from helle-pin;
for þer nis nouþer gome ne gleó,
auȝ þer is pine þid-ute fin;
sþete leuedi, sschild þu me
þat min soule ne cume þer-in.
Amen.

62. Now Springs the Spray.

[_]

Lincoln's Inn MS. Hale 135.

No[u] spri[nke]s the sprai,
al for loue icche am so seeke
that slepen i ne mai.
als i me rode this endre dai
O mi [pleyinge],
s[ei]h i hwar a litel mai
bigan to singge:
‘the clot him clingge!
wai es him i louue-l[on]g[in]ge
sal libben ai,
Nou sprinkes,’ &c.
Son icche herde that mirie note,
þider i drogh;
i fonde hire [in] an herber swot
under a bogh
with ioie inogh.
son i asked, ‘thou mirie mai
hwi sinkes-tou ai
Nou sprinkes the sprai,’ &c.
120

than answerde that maiden swote
midde wordes fewe:
‘mi lemman me haues bi-hot
of louue trewe;
he chaunges a newe.
ȝiif i mai, it shal him rewe
bi this dai,
Now sprinkes,’ &c.

63. A Spring Song of Love to Jesus.

[_]

B.M. MS. Royal 2. F. viii.

Nv yh she blostme sprynge,
hic herde a fuheles song.
a swete longinge
myn herte þureþhut sprong,
þat is of luue newe,
þat is so swete and trewe
hyt gladiet al my song;
hic wot mid ywisse
my lyf an heke my blysse
is al þar-hon ylong.
Of iesu crist hi synge,
þat is so fayr and fre,
swetest of alle þynge;
hys oþwe hic oȝe wel boe,
wl fer he me soþte,
myd hard he me boþte
wyþ wnde to and þree,
wel sore he was yswnge
and for me myd spere istunge,
ynayled to þe tree.
121

Wan hic my-self stond
and myd herte ysee,
yþerled fetd and onde
wyt grete neyles þree—
blody was hys eved,
of hym nas novt byleved
þet of pyne were vre—
wel oþte myn herte,
al for hys lvue smerte,
syc and sory be.
Away! þat hy ne can
to hym tvrne al my þovt
and makien hym my lefman
þat þvs me haued hy-bovt—
wyt pine and sorewhe longe,
wyt wnde depe and stronge—
of luue ne can hy novt.
hys blod fel to þe grvnde
hut of ys swete wnde,
þat of pyne hvs hauet hy-brovt.
Iesu, lefman suete,
þv hyef me strenghte and myþt,
longinge sore and ofte
to servi þe aryþt,
a[nd] lene pine drye
al for þe swete marie,
þat art so fayr and bryþt. [OMITTED]
Iesu, lefman swete,
ih sende þe þis songe
and wel ofte ih þe grete
and bydde þe among;
122

hyf me sone lete,
and myne sennes bete
þat ih haue do þe wrong,
at myne lyues hende
wan ih shal henne wende,
Iesu, me hvnder-fonge!
Amen.

64. A Song of Sorrow for the Passion.

[_]

MS. Digby 2.

Hi sike, al wan his singe,
for sorue þat hi se
wan hic wit wepinge
bi-holde a-pon þe tre.
hi se ihesu, mi suete,
his herte blode for-lete
for þe luue of me.
his wondis waxin wete—
marie, milde and seete,
þu haf merci of me!
Hey a-pon a dune
as al folke hit se may,
a mile wyt-hute þe tune
a-bute þe mid-day,
þe rode was op a-reride.
(his frendis werin al of-ferde,
þei clungin so þe cley)
þe rod stonit in ston.
mari hir-selfe al-hon,
hir songe was way-le-[way].
Wan hic him bi-holde
wyt hey and herte boþe,
hi se his bodi colde,
his ble waxit alle bloe.
123

he honge al of blode
se hey a-pon þe rode
bi-twixen þefis two—
hu soldi singe mor?
mari, þw wepe sor,
þu wist of al his woe.
Wel ofte wan hi siche,
hi make mi mone,
hiuel hit may me like;
ande wondir nis hit non
wan hi se honge hey
ande bitter peynis drei
ihesu mi lemmon.
his wondis sor smerte,
þe sper his at his herte,
ande þorit his side gun.
Þe naylis beit al to longe,
þe smyt his al to sleye,
þue bledis al to longe,
þe tre his al to heye.
þe stonis waxin wete—
allas! ihesu mi suete,
feu frendis hafdis ney[e],
but sin Ion mur[n]ind
and mari wepind,
þat al þi sorue seye.
Wel ofte wan hi slepe
wit soru hic ham soit,
wan hi wake and wende
hi þenke in mi þoit,
124

allas! þat men beit wode,
bi-holdit an þe rode
and silit—hic li noyt—
her souelis in-to sin
for any worlde-his win,
þat was so der hi-boyt.

65. An Orison of Penitence to Our Lady.

[_]

MS. Digby 2.

Hayl mari!
hic am sori,
haf pite of me and merci,
mi leuedi,
to þe i cri.
for mi sinnis dred ham hi
wen hi þenke þat hi sal bi
þat hi haf mis hi-don
in worde, in worke, in þoith foli.
leuedi, her mi bon!
Mi bon þu her,
leuedi der,
þat hic aske wit reuful cher.
þu len me her
wil hic am fer,
do penanz in mi praier,
ne let me noth ler þat þu ber.
at min endin-day
þe warlais þai wil be her
fort[o] take þair pray.
125

To take þar pray,
alse hi her say,
þai er redi boyt nite and day;
so strange er þai
þat we ne may
agaynis þaim stond, so way la way!
but-gif þu help us, mitteful may,
wit þi sunes grace.
wan þu comes þai flet a-wai,
dar þai not se þi face.
Þi face to se,
þu grant hit me,
lefdi ful-fillid of pite;
þat hi may be
in Ioy wit þe
to se þi sone in trinite,
þat sufferid pine and ded for me
and for al man-kyn.
his flesse was sprade on rode-tre
to leys us al of sine.
Of sine and kar
he maked vs bar,
wan he þollid pines sar.
to drupe and dar
we athe wel mare,
alse for þe hondis doyt þe har,
wan we þenke hu we sal far
wan he sal dem vs alle;
we sal haf ned þare
a-pan mari to calle &c.
126

66. I Will Become a Friar.

[_]

MS. Digby 2.

No more ne willi wiked be,
Forsake ich wille þis world-is fe,
Þis wildis wedis, þis folen gle;
ich wul be mild of chere,
of cnottis scal mi girdil be,
becomen ich wil frere.
Frer menur i wil me make,
and lecherie i wille asake;
to ihesu crist ich wil me take
and serue in holi churche,
al in mi ouris for to wake,
goddis wille to wurche.
Wurche i wille þis workes gode,
for him þat boyht us in þe rode;
fram his side ran þe blode,
so dere he gan vs bie—
for sothe i tel him mor þan wode
þat hantit licherie.

67. A Bidding Prayer.

[_]

Cotton MS. Cleopatra B. vi.

[B]idde huue with milde steuene,
til vre fader þe king of heuene
In þe mununge of cristis pine,
For þe lauerd of þis hus and al lele hine,
for alle cristinfolk that is in gode lif,
that god schilde ham to-dai fro sinne and fro sithe,
127

for alle tho men that are in sinne bunden
that ihesu crist ham leyse for is hali wndes,
for quike and for deade and al mankinde,
and þat ws here god don, in heuene mot þai it finde,
and for alle þat on herþe vs fedin and fostre,
saie we nu alle þe hali pater noster.
[U]re fadir þat hart in heuene
halged be þi name, with giftis seuene
Samin cume þi kingdom,
Þi wille in herþe als in heuene be don,
vre bred þat lastes ai
gyue it hus þis hilke dai,
and vre mis-dedis þu forgyue hus,
als we forgyue þaim þat misdon hus,
and leod us in-tol na fandinge,
bot frels us fra alle iuele þinge.
am[en]

68. Our Lady Help Us at Our Ending.

[_]

Cotton MS. Cleopatra B. vi.

[M]aidin and moder þat bar þe heuene-kinge,
Wer us fro ure wyþer-wines at ure hending,
Blisced be þe pappis þat godis sone sauk
Þat bargh ure kinde þat þe nedre bysuak.
Moder of milce and maidin mari,
help us at ure hending for þi merci.
þat suete ihesu þat born was of þe,
þu giue us in is godhed him to se.
Ihesus for þi moder luue and for þin hali wndis,
þu leise us of þe sinnes þat we are in-ne bunde.
128

69. In Sign of Love to Man.

[_]

B.M. MS. Addit. 11579.

Anglice ad idem
Man, folwe seintt Bernardes trace
And loke in ihesu cristes face,
How hee lut hys heued to þe
Swetlike for to kessen þe,
And sprat hise armes on þe tre,
Senful man, to klippen þe.
In sygne of loue ys open his syde;
Hiis feet y-nayled wid þe tabyde.
Al his bodi is don on rode,
Senful man, for þyne goode.
129

70. Decem Precepta. [A.]

[_]

A. Trinity Coll. Camb. MS. 43.

Decem precepta
Ne haue þou no god botin on,
Idel oth ne suere þou non,
Halidai þane schalt tou iemen,
Fadir & moder þou salt quemen,
Ne reue þou no man his lif,
Ne haue þou bot tin owene wif,
Be neiþir þef ne þefis fere,
Ne fals witnesse þat tu ne bere,
þi neiebores housis ierne þou nout,
Ne wif ne maidin ne his aut.

70. Decem Precepta. B.]

[_]

B. Emmanuel Coll. Camb. MS. 27.

No god ne haue þov boten on,
Hys name þov naȝt an ydel don,
Holiday þov hold ful wel,
ffader and Moder wrschepe ber,
Bi-nym þov noe Man his lif,
Ne for-lie þov naȝt his wif,
Ne no þing þat þov ne stele,
Ne false witnasse þat þov ne bere,
Ne ȝurn naȝt oþer Mannes wif,
Ne no þing þat toe him biliþ.
þe on þat haueþ þes worlde i wolde
þes ten hestes us biddeþ holde.
130

71. Proprietates Mortis.

[_]

Trinity Coll. Camb. MS. 43.

Wanne mine eyhnen misten,
and mine heren sissen,
and mi nose koldet,
and mi tunge ffoldet,
and mi rude slaket,
And mine lippes blaken,
and mi muþ grennet,
and mi spotel rennet,
and min her riset,
and min herte griset,
and mine honden biuien,
and mine ffet stiuien,
al to late, al to late,
wanne þe bere ys ate gate.
Þanne y schel fflutte
ffrom bedde te fflore,
ffrom fflore to here,
ffrom here to bere,
ffrom bere to putte,
and te putt ffor-dut.
þanne lyd min hus vppe min nose,
off al þis world ne gyffe ihic a pese.
131

72. A Song of Lewes.

[_]

MS. Harley 2253.

Sitteþ alle stille & herkneþ to me!
þe kyng of alemaigne, bi mi leaute,
þritti þousent pound askede he
fforte make þe pees in þe countre,
ant so he dude more.
Richard, þah þou be euer trichard,
tricchen shalt þou neuermore!
Richard of alemaigne, whil þat he wes kyng
He spende al is tresour opon swyuyng,
Haueþ he nout of walingford o ferlyng;
let him habbe ase he brew, bale to dryng,
Maugre Wyndesore.
Richard, þah þou be euer trichard,
tricchen shalt þou neuer more!
Þe kyng of alemaigne wende do ful wel,
he saisede þe mulne for a castel,
wiþ hare sharpe swerdes he grounde þe stel,
he wende þat þe sayles were mangonel
to helpe Wyndesore.
Richard, &c.
Þe kyng of alemaigne gederede ys host,
makede him a castel of a mulne post,
wende wiþ is prude ant is muchele bost,
brohte from alemayne mony sori gost
to store Wyndesore.
Richard, &c.
132

By god þat is abouen ous, he dude muche synne
þat lette passen ouer see þe erl of Warynne;
he haþ robbed engelond, þe mores ant þ[e] fenne,
þe gold ant þe seluer and yboren henne
for loue of Wyndesore.
Richard, &c.
Sire simond de mountfort haþ suore bi ys chyn,
heuede he nou here þe erl of waryn,
shulde he neuer more come to is yn,
ne wiþ sheld ne wiþ spere ne wiþ oþer gyn,
to help of Wyndesore.
Richard, &c.
Sire simond de montfort haþ suore bi ys top,
Heuede he nou here sire hue de bigot,
al he shulde quite here tuelfmoneþ scot,
shulde he neuer more wiþ his fot pot
to helpe Wyndesore.
Richard, &c.
Be þe luef be þe loht, sire edward,
þou shalt ride sporeles o þy lyard
al þe ryhte way to douere ward;
shalt þou neuermore breke foreward,
Ant þat reweþ sore.
Edward þou dudest ase a shreward,
forsoke þyn emes lore.
Richard, &c.

73. From Earth to Earth.

[_]

MS. Harley 2253.

Erþe toc of erþe, erþe wyþ woh,
Erþe oþer erþe to þe erþe droh,
Erþe leyde erþe in erþene þroh—
Þo heuede erþe of erþe erþe ynoh.
133

74. On the Follies of Fashion.

[_]

MS. Harley 2253.

Lord þat lenest vs lyf ant lokest vch-an lede,
fforte cocke wiþ knyf nast þou none nede,
boþe wepmon & wyf sore mowe drede
lest þou be sturne wiþ strif for bone þat þou bede
In wunne,
þat monkune
shulde shilde hem from sunne.
Nou haþ prude þe pris in euervche plawe,
by mony wymmon vnwis y sugge mi sawe,
for ȝef a ledy lyne is leid after lawe,
vch a strumpet þat þer is such drahtes wl drawe;
In prude
vch a screwe wol hire shrude
þah he nabbe nout a smok hire foule ers to hude.
ffurmest in boure were boses ybroht,
leuedis to honoure, ichot he were wroht,
vch gigelot wol loure bote he hem habbe soht,
such shrewe fol soure ant duere hit haþ aboht.
In helle
wiþ deueles he shulle duelle,
for þe clogges þat cleueþ by here chelle.
Nou ne lackeþ hem no lyn boses in to beren;
He sitteþ ase a slat swyn þat hongeþ is eren.
such a ioustynde gyn vch wrecche wol weren,
al hit comeþ in declyn þis gigelotes geren.
Vp o lofte
þe deuel may sitte softe
& holden his halymotes ofte.
134

Ȝof þer lyþ a loket by er ouþer eȝe
þat mot wiþ worse be wet for lac of oþer leȝe,
þe bout & þe barbet wyþ frountel shule feȝe.
Habbe he a fauce filet he halt hire hed heȝe
to shewe
þat heo be kud & knewe
for strompet in rybaudes rewe.
158

[88. A Prayer of Penitence to God Almighty. B.]

[_]

B. Pratt MS.

God þat alle myȝtes may,
in heuene and erþe wille is oo;
I haue ben tynt many a day,
eerly & late haue y ben þi foo.
I was to wyte y wiste my lay,
& euer haue holden me þer fro;
But ful of mercy þou art ay,
and y am vnredy to goo.
To go to hym þat has us bouȝt,
my goode dedis are ful smalle;
And my werkis were þorou souȝt,
þe best is bitterer þan þe galle.
Þe goode y knew & wolde it nouȝt,
in folies me was lef to falle;
Þus wittand haue y wrongli wrouȝt,
y knowe my-self for worst of alle.
But god, þat was done on rode
& al þis world schal forþre and fille,
To erþe þou come for oure gode;
þat y haue mys done me likes ylle.
159

Euere aȝen þee stifly I stoode,
erly and late, loude & stille.
Of alle my werkis y knowe noon gode,
but, lord, of me þou do þi wille.
My herte wolde y neuere bowe,
ne to my kyndliche lord drawe;
My moost foo wolde y gladliest trowe,
of þee, god, stode y neuere awe;
I holde me wel worse þan a iewe,
and y cowde my gilte knawe.
Now mercy, lord, & on me rewe!
& reise up þat is falle so lawe.
God, þat þis world shal lede
& al þing þou hast in wolde,
To erþe þou come for oure nede,
for us þou was boþe bouȝt & solde.
If y be demed after my dede
on domes day, when riȝt is tolde,
To se þi semeli sidis blede,
þere to speke y am vnbolde.
Vnbolde y am to byd bote,
& al vnredy of my rese;
Þi wille welke y neuere fote,
but to my foli as first y chese,
Ful redy at my hert rote.
þe goode werkis y þere lese—
Mercy, lord, & be my bote,
for y am bowne to make my pese.
Bowne y am to bid bote.
allas! lord, what shal y say?
þy wille welke y neuere fote
syn first þat euer y mynne may.
160

I haue ben fals in crop & rote,
to wickid werkis my wille was ay;
Mercy, lord, and be my bote!
god, þat alle myȝtes may!
Amen.
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