The poems of John Audelay Edited with introduction, notes and glossary [by Ella Keats Whiting] |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
10. |
11. |
12. |
13. |
14. |
15. |
16. |
17. |
18. |
19. |
20. |
21. |
22. |
23. |
24. |
25. |
26. |
27. |
28. |
29. |
30. |
31. |
32. | 32 |
33. |
34. |
35. |
36. |
37. |
38. |
39. |
40. |
41. |
42. |
43. |
44. |
45. |
46. |
47. |
48. |
49. |
50. |
51. |
52. |
53. |
54. |
55. |
The poems of John Audelay | ||
185
32
De septem dona spiritus sancti.
God haþ ȝeuen of myȝtis most
Þe vij ȝiftis of þe Hole Gost.
Þe vij ȝiftis of þe Hole Gost.
Mynd, resun, vertu, and grace,
Humelete, chast, and charete,
Þese vij ȝiftis God ȝeuen has,
Be þe vertu of þe Hole Gost to mon onle,
Ellis were we lost.
Humelete, chast, and charete,
Þese vij ȝiftis God ȝeuen has,
Be þe vertu of þe Hole Gost to mon onle,
Ellis were we lost.
Mynd makis a mon himselue to know,
And resun him reulis in his werkis alle,
And vertu makis his goodnes y-know,
And grace is grownde of hem alle,
Ellis were we lost.
And resun him reulis in his werkis alle,
And vertu makis his goodnes y-know,
And grace is grownde of hem alle,
Ellis were we lost.
Humelete, pride he doþe downe falle;
Chast kepis þe clene in þi leuyng;
Þen charete is chef of hem alle;
Mon soule to blis he doþe hom breng,
Ellis were we lost.
Chast kepis þe clene in þi leuyng;
Þen charete is chef of hem alle;
Mon soule to blis he doþe hom breng,
Ellis were we lost.
Haue fayþe, hope, and charete;
Þese be þe grownd of þi beleue,
Ellis sauyd þou myȝt not be;
Þus Poule in his pistil he doþ preue,
Ellis were we lost.
Þese be þe grownd of þi beleue,
Ellis sauyd þou myȝt not be;
Þus Poule in his pistil he doþ preue,
Ellis were we lost.
Þi fayþe is þi beleue of hole cherche;
Onle in hope God haþe hordent þe,
Good werkis þat þou schuld werche,
And be rewardid in heuen on hye,
Hellis were we lost.
Onle in hope God haþe hordent þe,
Good werkis þat þou schuld werche,
And be rewardid in heuen on hye,
Hellis were we lost.
186
Þen charete chef callid is he;
He cownselis vche mon þat is leuyng,
To do as þou woldist me did be þe,
And kepe Godis est and his bidyng,
Ellis were we lost.
He cownselis vche mon þat is leuyng,
To do as þou woldist me did be þe,
And kepe Godis est and his bidyng,
Ellis were we lost.
The poems of John Audelay | ||