University of Virginia Library

Her byginnet a tretys
Þat is yclept Castel off Loue,
Þat Bisschop Grosteyȝt made ywis
For lewede mennes byhoue.

Þat good þenkeþ good may do,
And God wol helpe him þerto,
For nas neuere good werk wrouȝt
Wiþoute beginninge of good þouȝt,
Ne neuer was wrouȝt non vuel þing
Þat vuel þouȝt nas þe biginnyng.
God Fader and Sone and Holigost,
Þat alle þing on eorþe sixt and wost,
Þat o God art and þrillihod,
And þreo persones in onhod,
Wiþouten ende and biginninge,
To whom we ouȝten ouer alle þinge
Worschupe him wiþ trewe loue,
Þat kineworþe kyng art vs aboue,
In whom, of whom, þorw whom beoþ
[Alle] goodschipes þat we here iseoþ;
He leue vs þenche and worchen so
Þat he vs schylde from vre fo.
Alle we habbeþ to help neode,
Þat we ne beþ alle of one þeode,
Ne iboren in one londe,
Ne one speche vnderstonde;
Ne mowe we alle Latin wite,
Ne Ebreu ne Gru þat beþ iwrite,
Ne French ne þis oþer spechen
Þat me mihte in world sechen,
To herie God, vre derworþe drihte,
[Ac] vche mon ouȝte wiþ al his mihte
Loftsong syngen to God ȝerne,
Wiþ such speche as he con lerne.
No monnes mouþ ne be idud,
Ne his ledene [be] ihud,
To seruen his God, þat him wrouȝte
And maade al þe world of nouȝte.
On Englisch ichul mi resun schowen,
For him þat con not iknowen
Nouþer French ne Latyn.
On Englisch ichulle tellen him
Wherfore þe world was iwrouht,
Þeraftur how he was bitauht
Adam, vre fader, to ben his,
Wiþ al þe merþe of paradys,
To wonen and welden to such ende,
Til þat he scholde to heuene wende;
And hou sone he hit forles,
And seþþen hou hit forbouht wes
Þorw þe heiȝe kynges sone,
Þat here on eorþe wolde come
For his sustren þat were to-boren
And for a prison þat was forloren;
And hou he made, as ȝe schul heeren,
Þat heo icuste and sauht weren;
And to wȝuche a castel he alihte,
Þo he wolde here for vs fihte.
Þat þe Marie bodi wes
Þat he alihte and his in ches.
And tellen we schulen of Ysay,
Þat vs tolde trewely:
“A child þer is iboren to vs
And a sone iȝiuen vs,
Whos nome schal inempned beon
Wonderful, as me may iseon,
And God, mihtful, and rihtwys,
Of þe world þat [to] comen is
Lord þe fader and Prince of Pes.”
Alle þeos nomen hou he wes
Ȝe schulen iheren and iwiten,
And of domesday hou hit is iwriten;
And of heuene we schulen telle,
And sumdel of þe pynen of helle.
Þauh hit on Englisch be dim and derk
Ne nabbe no sauur bifore [a] clerk,
For lewed men þat luitel connen
On Englisch hit is þus bigonnen.
Ac whose is witer and wys of wit
And ȝerne biholdeþ þis ilke writ
And con þat muchel of luitel vnlouken
And hony of þe harde ston souken,
Alle poyntes he fynde may
Of vre beleeue and Godes [fay]
Þat bifalleþ to Godes godhede
As wel as to his monhede.
Offte ȝe habbeþ iherd ar þis
Hou þe world imaked is;
For-þi ne kep I nouȝt to telle
Bote þat falleþ to my spelle.
In sixe dayes and seue niht
God hedde al þe world idiht,
And þo al was derworþliche ido,
Þe seueþe day he tok reste and ro.

Lustneþ to me, lordynges,
Þo God atte begynnynges
Hedde imaad heuene wiþ ginne,
And þe angeles so briht [and feir] wiþinne,
And þe eorþe þerafter þerwiþ,
And al þat euere in hire bilyþ,
Lucifer in heuene wox so proud
And he was anon icast out,
And mo angeles þen eni tonge mai telle
Fullen adoun wiþ him to helle.
And ȝit was þe sonne þo seue syþe iwis
Brihtore forsoþe þen heo now is;
Also schon þe mone aniht,
So doþ þe sonne on dayliht.
Ne holde ȝe hit not for folye,
For so seiþ þe prophete Ysaye.
Alle þe schaftes þat þo weren
More miȝt and strengþe beren
Bifore þat Adam þe world forles.
Allas! wȝuch serwe and deol þer wes:
Alle heo beoþ ibrouh[t] to grounde
Þat of his ofspringe beoþ ifounde;
Of heuene-blisse heo beoþ iflemed
And to deolful deþ idemed.
Þe reson is good and feir for-whi,
As ichulle ow telle for-þi
Þat ȝe schule loue God þe more
And him seruen and clepe to his ore.

Þo Goþ hedde al þe world iwrouȝt,
Þat þer ne faylede riȝt nouȝt,
Beest ne fisch ne foul to fleon,
And vche þing as hit ouȝte to beon,
Blosme on bouȝ and breer on rys,
And alle þing betere þen hit nou is;
And þo he hedde al wel idon,
He com to þe valeye of Ebron.
Þer he made Adam [alast] so riche
Of eorþe after hymself iliche,
And aftur [þe] holy þrillihod
He schop his soule feir and good.
How miȝte he him more loue schowen
Þen his oune liknesse habben and owen?
To paradys he ladde him þo,
And caste sleep on him also
Þat of his syde a rib he nom,
And þerof Eue, his feere, com.
He ȝaf Adam Eue to wyue
To helpen; he ȝaf him wittes fyue
To delen [þe] vuel from þe good;
Ȝif he [him wel] vnderstood,
He ȝaf him ȝit more worschipe,
Of al þe world þe lordschipe,
And alle þe schaftes of water and lond
Scholden ben vnder his hond,
Feirlek and freodam and muche miht,
And [al] þe world to delen and diht,
And paradys to wonen in,
Wiþouten wo and serwe and pyn,
Wiþouten deþ in goode lyue,
Þer ioye and blisse is so ryue,
And euere to libben iliche ȝong,
Oþat of hem to weren [at-sprong]
Þe noumbre of þe soulen þat from heuene felle
Þorw Lucifer adoun to helle.
And whon hit forþ com al þe stren,
So briȝt heo scholden iblessed ben
So was þe sonne, as I er tolde,
Brihtore þen heo now is seuen folde.
And so heo scholden to heuene wende,
To þe blisse wiþouten ende,
Wiþouten drede of deþes dome.
And al þe ofspring þat of hem come,
From þat ilke day to þis,
Scholde so steyȝen to heuene-blis,
To þe heritage of wynne and wele,
Among þe murþe of aungeles fele.

Two lawen Adam scholde iwis
Witen and holden in paradis:
Þat on him was þorw kynde ilet,
Þat oþer was clept lawe iset.
Þat on him tauȝte atte leste
Þorw kynde to holden Godes heste;
Þat oþur lawe þat him was set:
“Of þe appel þow neuer ne et,
Of þe tre þat is forbode.”
So [him] seide [and] hiȝte Gode
Þat whon he of þe appel ete,
Þorw deþ he scholde þe lyf forlete,
And al þe kynde þat of him com
Scholde þole þulke dom;
And ȝif he heolde his heste riht,
God [him ȝaf] so muche miht
To welden al þis worldes winne,
Wiþouten wo and serwe and sinne.
Þe seisyn hedde Adam þo
To wonen in blisse euere and o:
In muche murþe and ioye he wes.
Awei to sone he hit forles,
His worschipe and his welfare,
[And] brouȝte vs alle in muche care.
Þo he of þe appel eet,
Godes heste he [forlet];
Þe kuyndeliche and þe set ek,
Boþe his lawen he to-brek,
And raþure he dude his wyues bode
Þen he heold þe heste of Gode.
Þus Adam þorw reuþful rage
Was cast out of his heritage,
And out of paradys idriue,
In swynk and swot in world to liue.
Þe blisse of lyf he haþ forsaken
And to deolful deþ [him] itaken;
Carfuliche he haþ icoren!
Now he þorw riȝt haþ iloren
Þe murþe þat he miȝte hauen.
Whom mai he to helpe crauen?
Out of his heritage he is pult
For synne and for his owne gult.

Lucifer gon wel lyke þo,
Þo Adam was biswiken so,
For alle þe fendes hedden onde
Þat he scholde come to þat blisful londe
Þat he hedde þorw pruide forlore;
Wel hit likede hem þerfore.
So muche wox heore miht þo
Þat al þe world moste after hem go.
And whon mon hedde iliued in care,
Atte laste he moste dyen and forþfare;
Ne miȝte him helpe no good dede
Þat his soule moste to helle neede,
For so hit was [to] Adam bispeke,
And God nolde no forward breke.
[Ful] eyle and hard and muche hit wes
Þe synne þat þus þe world forles,
Þat vche þing vnder heuene-driht
So muche les of strengþe and miht.
God ne wrouhte neuer þat þing
Þat [mihte] les þorw his wonyng,
For nis no wone on him ilong,
Ȝif synne nere so hard and strong,
For God ȝaf vche þing al his riht.
Ac sunne wonede heore alre miht,
For sunne and wone al is on.
And wone dude Adam þo anon,
Þo he Godes heste at-seet,
And eke þo he þe appel eet.
Þorw wone he lees his seysyne,
Þorw wone he brouhte himself in pyne.
In þe kynges court ȝit vche day
Me vseþ þulke selue lay.

Now is Adam wiþ wo inome:
Sunnes þral he is bicome,
Þat freore was er þen eny þing
Þat liuede vnder heuene-kyng.
He is þorw riht [his] þeuwe and þral
To whos seruise he vnderstod wiþal,
Whon he him serwede in þe[u]dome
And diȝede wiþouten fredome.
And þeuwe and þral may not craue
Þorw riht non heritage to haue:
As sone as he is þral bicome,
His heritage is him binome.
In court ne in none londe
Me ne ouȝte onswere him ne vndurstonde.
Þenne he mot anoþer seche,
For to schewe for him his speche,
Þat mowe his heritage craue
And þat he þe kynde haue,
Þat he beo iboren fre
And þat he ne eete of þe tre,
Þat he habbe iwust wiþ [wynne]
Þe þreo lawen wiþouten synne:
Þulke two of paradys
And þulke of þe mount Synays,
Þat to Moyses iȝiuen was,
Þat neuer ȝute iholde nas
Of non þat euer dude sunne.
Who mihte þenne such mon munne,
Oþer þenchen or iknowe,
Þat such wonder mihte schowe?
Siggen I may in þis stude
Þerof þat ich er dude,
For nou [is tyme þat I hit telle],
[For hit bihoueþ to vr spelle].

Hit was a kyng of muche miht,
Of good wille and gret insiht,
And þis kyng hedde a sone,
Of such wit and of such wone,
Of such strengþe and of such chere,
As was his fader in his manere.
Of on wille heo weoren bo,
And of on studefastschipe also;
Of on fulnesse heo weoren outriht,
And boþe heo weoren of on miht.
Þorw þe sone þe fader al begon
Þat bilay to his kynedom:
[What þat was of] his begynnynge
Þe fader wolde to ende bringe.
Foure douhtren hedde þe kyng,
And to vchone sunderlyng
He ȝaf a dole of his fulnesse,
Of his miht and of his wysnesse,
As wolde bifallen to vchon,
And ȝit was al þe folnesse on
Þat to himself bilay,
Wiþoute whom he ne mai
His kindom wiþ pees wysen
Ne wiþ rihte hit iustisen.
Good is to nempnen hem for-þi:
Þe furste douȝter hette Merci—
Þe kynges eldeste douȝter heo is;
Þat oþer hette Soþ iwis;
Þe þridde soster is cleped Riȝt;
Pees hette þe feorþe apliȝt.
Wiþouten þeos foure wiþ worschipe
Mai no kyng lede gret lordschipe.
Þis kyng, as þou herdest ar þis,
Hedde a þral þat dude amis,
Þat for his gult strong and gret
Wiþ his lord was so ivet
Þat, þorw besiht of riht dom,
To strong prison was idon,
And bitaken to alle his fon,
Þat sore him pyneden euerichon,
Þat of no þing heo nedden onde
Bote him to habben vnder honde.
Heo him duden in prisun of deþ
And pyneden him sore wiþouten meþ.

Merci þat anon iseiȝ.
Hit eode hire herte swiþe neih,
Ne mai hire no þing lengore holde,
Byforen þe kyng comen heo wolde
To schewen forþ hire resoun
And to dilyuere þe prisoun.
“Vnderstond,” quaþ heo, “fader myn!
Þow wost þat I am douȝter þyn,
And am ful of boxumnes,
Of milce and of swetnes,
And al ich habbe, fader, of þe.
I [be]seche þat þou here me,
Þat þe [sorful] wrecche prisoun
Mote come to sum raunsum,
Þat amidden alle his fon
In strong prison hast idon.
Heo him made agulte, þulke vnwreste,
And biswikede him þorw heor feir beheste,
And seiden ȝif he wolde þe appel ete,
Þat whon he hedde al iete,
Of þe treo þat him was forbode,
He scholde habbe al þe miht of Gode;
And begile[de] him þerof and luytel rouȝten,
For falshede euer ȝite heo souhten.
And falshede hem iȝolde be,
And þe wrecche prisun isold to me!
For þow art kyng of boxumnes,
Of milce and of swetnes,
And I þi douhter alre eldest,
Ouer alle þe oþere beldest.
Neuere I þi douhter neore
Bote milce toward him were.
Milce and merci he schal haue,
Þorw milce ichulle þe prisun craue;
For þin owne swete pite
I schal him bringe to sauete.
Þi milce for him I crie euer more
[Tyll he haue ifunde] milce and ore.”

Anon whon Soþ þis iseiȝ
Hou Merci, hire soster, hir herte beiȝ
And wolde þis þral of prisun bringe,
Þat Riht hedde idemet wiþouten endinge,
Al heo chaunged hire mood,
And biforen þe kyng heo stood:
“Fader, I þe biseche, herkne to me!
I ne may forbere to telle hit þe
Hou hit me þinkeþ a wonder þing
Of Merci, my suster, wilnyng,
Þat wolde wiþ hire milsful sarmon
Diliuere þe þral out of prison,
Þat swiþe agulte, þer ich hit seih
And tolde hit to Riht þat stood me neih.
Fader, ich sigge þe for-þi:
Þou ouhtes nouȝt to heere Merci,
Of no boone þat heo bisecheþ þe,
Bote Riht and Sooþ þermide be.
Þow louest soþ and hatest lees,
For of þi fulnesse icomen ich wes,
And eke þow art kyng rihtwys.
And Merci herte so reuþful is
Þat ȝif heo mai saue wiþ hire mylde speche
Al þat heo wole fore biseche,
Neuer schal be misdede abouht,
And þou, kyng, schalt be douted riȝt nouht.
Þou art also so trewe a kyng
And stable of þouȝt in alle þyng;
For-þi me þinkeþ Merci wilneþ wouȝ
And spekeþ toȝeynes Riȝt inouȝ,
For Riht con hym in prison bynde,
He ouȝte neuere milce to fynde.
Milce and merci he haþ forloren,
He was warned þerof biforen.
Whi scholde me helpe þulke mon
Þat nedde of himself pite non?
His dom he mot habbe, as Soþ con sugge,
And al his misdede abugge.”

Riht iherde þis talkyng,
Anon heo stod bifore þe kyng.
“Þi douȝtur,” heo seiþ, “I am I wot bi þon,
For þou art kyng, riht domesmon:
[Þe] beþ rihte domes mitte,
[And] alle þine werkes beþ ful of witte.
Þis þral of whom my sustren mene
Haþ [doom] deseruet as at ene,
For in tyme while þat he freo wes,
He hedde wiþ him boþe Merci and Pees,
And Soþ and Riht he hedde bo,
And wiþ his wille he wente hem fro
And tyed hym to wraþþe and wouȝ,
To wreccheddam and serwe inouȝ.
So þat ȝif riht geþ,
He schal euere þolyen deþ:
For þo þow him þe heste hiȝtest,
Þorw Soþ [þo] him þe deþ [þou] diȝtest,
And I myself him ȝaf þe dom,
As sone as he hedde þe gult idon,
For Soþ bereþ witnesse þerto,
And elles nedde I no dom ido.
Ȝif he in court biforen vs were,
Þe dom þou scholdest sone ihere,
For Riht ne spareþ for to iugge
Whatsoeuere Soþ wol sugge.
Þorw wisdam heo demeþ alle,
As wole to his gult bifalle.”

Soþ and Riht lo þus heo suggeþ,
And þis þral to deþe iuggeþ.
Neuer nouþer ne spekeþ him good,
Ne non þat Merci vnderstood.
Ac as a mon misirad,
On vche half he is misbilad;
Ne helpeþ him no þing wher so he wende,
Þat his fo [him fetteþ] in vche ende
And istrupt him al start naked,
Of miȝt and strengþe al bare imaked.
Him and al þat of him sprong
He dude a þeuwedam vyl and strong
And made agult[en] swiþe ilome,
And Riht com after wiþ hire dome.
Wiþouten Merci and Pees heo con iugge,
Euer aftur þat Soþ wol sugge.
Ne Pees mot not mid hem be,
Out of londe heo mot fle,
For Pees bileueþ in no londe
Wher [þat] is werre, nuþ, and onde,
Ne Merci mot not among hem liue,
Ac boþe heo beþ of londe idriue.
Nis þer nout in world bileued
Þat nis destrued and to-dreued,
And dreynt, forloren, and fordemed,
But eiȝte soulen, þat weren iȝemed
In þe schup, and þat weoren heo,
Noe and his sones þreo,
And heore wyues þat heo hedden bifore;
Of al þe world nas beleued more.
Careful herte him ouȝte come
Þat þencheþ vppon þe dredful dome,
And al hit is þorw Riht and Soþ,
Þat wiþouten Pees and Merci doþ.

So þat Pees alast vpbreek
And þus to hire fader speek:
“I am þi douȝter sauȝt and some,
And of þi fulnesse am I come.
Tofore þe my playnt I make:
Mi two sustren me habbeþ forsake;
Wiþouten me heo doþ heore dom,
Ne Merci among hem nouȝt ne com.
For no þing þat I miȝte do
Ne moste Merci hem come to,
Ne for none kunnes fey
Ne moste ich hem come neyȝ,
Ak þat dom is al heore owen.
For-þi ich am of londe iflowen
And wole wiþ þe lede my lyf,
Euer [o]þat ilke stryf
Þat among my sustren is awake
Þorw sauhtnesse mowe sum ende take.
Ac what is hit euer þe bet
Þat Riht and Soþ ben iset
Bote heo [witen] wel [þe nome Pees]?
Rihtes mester hit is and wes
In vche dom pees to maken.
Schal I þenne beo forsaken,
Whon [eueri] good [for me] is wrouht,
And to habben me biþouht?
[Ak] he ne louede [me] neuere to fere
Þat Merci, my suster, nul not here.
Off vs foure, fader, ichul telle þe
Hou me þinkeþ hit ouȝte to be.
Whon þe foure beþ togedere isent
To don an euene iuggement,
And schul þorw skil alle and some
Ȝiuen and demen euene dome,
Þer ne ouȝte no dom forþ gon,
Er þen þe foure ben at on.
At on heo moten at-stonden alle
And loken seþþen hou dom wol falle.
Be vs foure þis I telle,
We beoþ not alle of on spelle;
Boþe ich and Merci,
We beclepeþ þe dom for-þi;
Hit is al as Riȝt and Soþ wol deme,
Merci ne me nis hit not qweme.
Wiþouten vs þer is bale to breme,
For-þi, fader, þow nime ȝeme!
Of vche goodschipe Pees is ende,
Ne fayleþ no weole þer heo wol lende;
Ne wisdam nis not worþ an hawe
Þer Pees fayleþ to felawe,
And hose Pees loueþ wiþouten gabbe,
Pees wiþouten ende he schal habbe.
Mi word ouȝte ben of good reles,
For þou art kyng and prince of pes;
For-þi þou ouȝtest to here me
And Merci, my suster, þat clepeþ to þe,
Þat þe þral, þe prisoun,
Mote come to sum raunsoun.
Vre wille, fader, þou do sone,
And here vre rihte bone,
For Merci euere clepeþ to þe
Til þat þe prison dilyuered be,
And ichul fleon and neuere come
[Oþat] my sustren ben sauȝt and some.”

Þe kynges sone al þis con heren
Hou his sustren hem to-beeren,
And seiȝ þis strif so strong awaken
And Pees and Merci al forsaken,
Þat wiþouten help of his wisdome
[Heo mihten] neuere togedere come.
“Leoue fader,” quaþ he, “ich am þi sone,
Of þi wit and of þi wone,
And þi wisdam [me] clepeþ me.
And so muche þou [louest] me
Þat al þe world for me þou wrouȝtest,
And so þou me in [þy] werke [brouȝtest],
For we beoþ on in one fulnesse,
In miht, in strengþe, and in heiȝnesse;
Ichulle al don þat þi wille is,
For þou art kyng rihtwis.
So muche, fader, ich nyme ȝeme
Of þis strif, þat is so breme,
Þat for þe tale þat Merci tolde þe
Ful sore þe prisun reweþ me.
For-þi he reweþ me wel þe more
For Merci euere clepeþ þin ore.
Þou art, fader, so milsful kyng;
Hire we schul heren of alle þing.
[Al hire wille ichulle] done
And sauhten Soþ and hire ful sone.
Nimen ichulle þe þralles weden,
As Soþ and Riht hit wolden and beoden,
And al one ichul holde þe doom,
As Iustice ouhte to don,
And maken ichule Pees to londe come,
And Pees and Riht cussen and be sauȝt and some,
And druyuen out werre, nuþ, and onde,
And sauen al þe folk in londe.”

Hose þis forbysene con,
He may openliche iseo bi þon
Þat al þis ilke tokenynge
Is Godes insiht almihti kynge:
Wiþ[oute] God þe Fader nis maked nouht,
Þorw God þe Sone is al þing wrouht,
And alle þing is folfuld outriht
Þorw God þe Holigostes miht;
And alle þreo beþ on, þouh hit be so,
In one fulnesse and in no mo.
He ȝiueþ his blessynge wiþ mouþ and honde
To alle þat þis writ vnderstonde.

Ȝe habbeþ iherd as ich ow tolde,
For-whi God þe world maken wolde
And hou Adam forles þorw synne
World and heuene and al monkynne,
Þat for miȝt ne strengþe ne for no þing
No mon nedde of himself a couryng,
Ne angel miȝte mon helpe on none wyse,
Ne mon miȝte himself fro deþe aryse.
Þenne moste nede beo þorw vche doom
Þat God of heuene mon bicom,
Mon þe deþ þolen þorw serwen ryue
And God vprysen from deþ to lyue,
[For] elles were alle forlore to nouht
Þat God hedde in þe world ibrouht.
Herkeneþ [whuche] loue and boxumnesse,
Whuch milce and eke swetnesse,
Þat God from heuene alihte chees
For [on sele shepe] þat he lees!
[Þe ninti nine he leuede] and eode
To sechen on in vncouþ þeode.
Þenne nis þer such herdemon non,
Ne non so [milsful] lord as he is on.
Whose wolde his herte on such lord holde
Þat so muche loue him kuiþe wolde
Þat lyk himself wolde him make
And siþen deþ þolyen for his sake;
Er him ouȝte þe herte to-springe
Þen he scholde him wraþþe for eny þinge.
Herkeneþ now forþure atte frome
How vr Saueor wolde come.
To Abraham þe tiþinges comen,
Þe prophetes hit vndernomen,
Þat is, Moyses and Ionas,
Abacuk and Helyas,
Daniel and Ieremye,
Dauid and Ysaye,
And Eliseu and Samuel
Siggeþ Godes comynge wel.
[Long] hit were hem alle to telle,
Ac herkeneþ hou Ysaye con spelle:
“A child þer is iboren to vs
And a sone iȝeuen vs,
Þat schal vpholden his kynedome,
And al þus schal ben his nome:
Wondurful God and of miht,
And redeful and fader ariht
Of al þe world þat heraftur schal ben,
Prince of pees me schal him sen.”
Þeos beþ þe nomen, as ȝe mowe leeuen,
Þat þe prophetes him ȝeeuen.
Ȝif ȝe wolen heren, tellen ichulle
How þat child is wonderfolle.
Such wonder nas neuer iherd in sawe
Ne neuer schal bi none dawe
For no tyme þat euer schal come,
As God of heuene mon bicome.
For hose now iseȝe heere
A child þat riht ilimed nere,
Þat þreo feet and þreo honden beere,
And anoþer, þat oþerweis weere,
Þat hedde foot or hond forlore,
And heo weore boþe so ibore,
Weoren heo wonderfol þeose two?
Nay, forsoþe neoren heo no,
For þe on hedde kuynde ouermeþ,
And þat oþer to luyte, and so hit geþ,
Ac hit is as hit mot nede ben,
Of vnmete kuynde a forschipte streon.
Ak þat mihte muche wonder ben,
Ȝif me miȝte eny iseon
Þat monnes kuynde hedde al ariht,
Þat him neore to luite ne to muche wiht,
So þat he were al soþfast mon,
Þat no forschippyng weore him on,
And eke were good hors wiþalle!
Such þing may neuer bifalle,
For hose seȝe a such gederyng,
He mihte hit clepe a wonder þing.
And ȝit is more wonder a þousend folde
Of þe child þat Ysayȝe of tolde
And clepede him wonderful for þon
Þat he is soþ God and soþ mon,
For of monhede ne wonteþ him nouht,
And þorw him is al þing iwrouht,
And wiþouten [synne he is] euere,
For wone dude he neuere,
Ne no schaft þorw him miȝte lees,
As biforen irad wes.
Oþur God nis þen he þat heuene dihte
Þat from heuene [to erþe] alihte
And vnder vre wede vre kynde nom
And al soþfast mon bicom.
And whon he wolde alles bicome mon,
He moste be boren of a wommon,
Þulke schaft to vnderfonge wiþalle
Þat ouȝte to monnes kynde bifalle.

God nolde alihte in none manere
But in feir stude and in clere.
In feir stude and clene siker hit wes
Þer God almihti his in ches:
In a castel wel comeliche,
Muche and [fere] and loueliche,
Þat is þe castel of alle flour,
Of solas and of socour.
In þe mere he stont bitwene two,
Ne haþ he ferlak for no fo,
For þe tour is so wel wiþouten,
So depe idiched al abouten
Þat none kunnes asaylyng
Ne may him deruen for no þing.
He stont on heiȝ roche and sound,
And is iplaned into þe ground,
Þat þer ne mai wone non vuel þing
Ne derue no gynnes castyng.
And þauȝ he be so loueliche,
He is so dredful and hateliche
To alle þulke þat ben his fon,
Þat heo flen him euerichon.
Fo[u]r smale toures [þer] beþ abouten,
To witen þe heiȝe tour wiþouten.
Seþþe beoþ þre bayles wiþalle,
So feir idiht wiþ strong walle,
As heo beoþ hereafter iwrite.
Ne may no mon þe feirschipe iwite,
Ne no tonge ne may hit telle,
Ne þouȝt þenche ne mouþ spelle.
On trusti roche heo stondeþ faste
And wiþ depe diches beþ bicaste.
And þe carnels so stondeþ vpriht,
Wel iplaned and feir idiht.
Seue berbicans þer beoþ iwrouht,
Wiþ gret ginne al biþouht,
And euerichon haþ ȝat and tour;
Þer neuer ne fayleþ socour.
Neuer schal fo him stonde wiþ
Þat þider wol flen to sechen griþ.
Þis castel is siker and feir abouten,
And is al depeynted wiþouten
Wiþ þreo heowes þat wel beþ sene.
So is þe foundement al grene
Þat to þe roche faste liþ;
Wel is þat þer murþe isihþ,
For þe greneschipe lasteþ euere,
And his heuh ne leoseþ neuere.
Seþþen [aboue] þat oþer heuȝ
So is inde and eke bleu,
Þat þe middel heuȝ we clepeþ ariht,
And schyneþ so feire and so briȝt.
Þe þridde heuȝ an ouemast
Ouerwriȝeþ al and so is icast
Þat wiþinnen and wiþouten
Þe castel lihteþ al abouten,
And is raddore þen euere eny rose schal,
Þat þuncheþ as hit barnde al.
Wiþinne þe castel is whit schinynge,
[As] þe snowȝ þat is sneuwynge,
And casteþ þat liȝt so wyde,
Afterlong þe tour and besyde,
Þat neuer comeþ þer wo ne wouȝ,
Ac swetnesse þer is euere inouȝ.
Amidde þe heiȝe tour is springynge
A welle þat euere is eornynge,
Wiþ foure stremes, þat strikeþ wel
And erneþ vppon þe grauel
And fulleþ þe diches aboute þe wal.
Muche blisse þer is oueral:
Ne dar he seche non oþer leche
Þat mai riht of þis water cleche.
In þulke derworþe feire tour
Þer stont a trone wiþ muche honour,
Of whit iuori and feirore of liht
Þen þe someres-day whon heo is briht,
Wiþ cumpas iþrowen and wiþ gin al ido;
Seuene steppes þer beoþ þerto,
Þat so feire wiþ ordre itiȝed beoþ.
Feiror þing in world no mon seoþ,
For heuene-bouwe is abouten ibent,
Wiþ alle þe hewes þat him beþ isent.
Neuere so feir chayȝere
Nedde kyng ne emperere.
Muche more feirschupe inouȝ þer wes
Þer God Almiȝten his in ches.
Þenne nis þer such castel non,
Ne neuer nas but þulke on,
Ne neuer eft after be ne schal,
For God of heuene hit dihte al
And wrouȝte hit himself and al dude,
To alihten in þulke feyre stude
From his kindam aboue.
He cudde þe stude muche loue!

Þis is þe castel of loue and lisse,
Of solace, of socour, of ioye and blisse,
Of hope, of hele, of sikernesse,
And ful of alle swetnesse.
Þis is þe Mayden[es bodi] so freo;
[Þer] neuer nas non bote heo
Þat wiþ so fele þewes iwarned wes,
So þat swete Mayden Marie wes.
Heo stont in þe mere bitwene two;
Heo schilde vs alle from vre fo
Þat vs awayteþ day and niht;
Heo vs helpeþ wiþ al hire miht.
Þe roche þat is so trewe and trusti,
Þat is þe Maydenes herte for-þi
Þat neuer synne þer wiþinne com,
Ac heo to seruen God al hire nom
And wuste hire wiþ muche boxumnesse,
Hire maidenhod wiþ swetnesse.
Þe foundement þat faste to þe roche liȝþ
And þe feire greneschipe þerwiþ,
[Þat is] þe Maydenes bileeue so riht
Þat haþ al hire bodi iliht,
For hire bileeue þat is so trewe,
Þat euere is grene and euere newe,
For bileeue is apertement
Of alle vertues foundement.
Of þe middel heuȝ is to wite
Þe swetnesse and þe feirschipe.
Þat is þe bitokenyng:
In goode hope as so ȝong þing
Was so bisy in swetnesse
To seruen God in boxumnesse.
Þe þridde heuȝ on ouemast,
Þat haþ ouer al his liht icast,
And as þauȝ hit barnde al hit is—
Nis non of so muche pris—
Þat is þe clere loue and briht
Þat heo is al wiþ iliht,
And itent wiþ þe fuir of loue,
To serue God þat is hire aboue.
Þe foure smale toures abouten
Þat [witeþ] þe heiȝe tour wiþouten,
Foure hed þewes þat aboute hire iseoþ,
Foure vertues cardinals [þat] beoþ,
Þat is, strengþe and sleihschupe,
Rihtfulnesse and w[a]rschupe.
Euerichon [haþ] a ȝat wiþ ginne,
Þat may non vuel come þerinne.
And whuche beoþ [þe] þreo bayles ȝet
Þat wiþ þe carnels beþ so wel iset
And icast wiþ cumpas and walled abouten,
Þat witeþ þe heiȝe tour wiþouten?
[B]ote þe inemaste bayle, I wot,
Bitokneþ hire holy maidenhod,
Þat neuer for no þing iworsed nas,
So ful of Godes grace heo was.
Þe middel bayle, þat wite ȝe,
Bitokneþ hire holy chastite.
And seþþen þe ou[t]emaste bayle
Bitokneþ hire holy sposayle.
Riht me clepeþ hem bayles for-þi
Þat heo habbeþ þis ladi in here bayli,
Þat hireself, one makeles,
Is mayden chast and weddet wes.
Þorw on of þeos bayles he mot teon
Þat wol on ende iborwed beon.
[And] þe seue [berbicans] abouten,
Þat wiþ gret gin beon iwrouȝt wiþouten
And witeþ þis castel so wel,
Wiþ arwe and wiþ qwarel,
Þat beþ þe seuen vertues wiþ winne
To ouercome þe seuen dedly sinne;
Þat is, pruide, þe biginnynge
And þe roote of al vuel þinge,
[Þat] al maat and ouercomen wes
Þorw boxumnes þat heo ches;
And hire trewe loue ouercom envye,
And hire abstinence glotonye;
And lecherye heo made fle
[Þorw] hire holy chastite;
And [al] was distruyed couetyse
Þorw hire largesse in vche wyse;
And [euere] wraþþe heo ouercom
Þorw [pacience] þat heo nom;
And hire gostliche gladynge
Destruyed sleuþe þorw alle þinge.
Þe welle springeþ of alle grace
Þat fulleþ þe diches in vche a place.
Godes grace to-deleþ þis,
Þorw meth wiþ al as his wille is,
Ac he louede so þis mayden apliȝt
Þe folle of grace he hire ȝaf outriht,
Þorw whom þe grace þat ouerfleot
Socoureþ al þe world ȝut.
For-þi me may hire riht clepe and calle
O blessed ouer oþere alle.
And what mowe þe diches be
But hire þolemode pouerte;
[Þer was] nones kunnes assaylyng
[Þat miȝt derue þe castel] for no þing,
Þorw whom þe fend is ouercomen
And his miht al bynomen.
For þis is þe ladi so gent and fre
Þat God seide of to þe neddre on þe tre
Þat þer scholde comen a wommon [blyue]
Þat scholde al his [hed] to-dryue.
Iblessed be þis buyrde of prys
Þat ouer al oþure iblessed is,
Þat so feir was and good so sone
Þat of hir [soule] God made his trone
To his owne gistenynge,
And nom flesch and blod of hire to bringe
His folk out of prisoun;
Þat was vre garysoun.
Þis ladi is feir and good and fre,
Whon heo haþ so muche bounte,
More þen eny schaft þat wes;
For-þi [þe sonne of rihtwysnesse] hire ches
And schadewede on hire in wolde
And feirede hir more a þousend folde.
Þo[r]uȝ þe faste ȝat he con in-teo,
At þe outȝong he lette [hit] faste be.
How so þat was beo we stille,
For of alle þing God may don his wille.

A, derworþe qween, so gent and fre,
Þat helpeþ alle þat fleoþ to þe!
Mi soule is comen to þe for nede,
Þat at þi ȝate bat and loude doþ grede,
Bat and gredeþ and loude gon crye:
“[Help me], swete Mayden Marie!
Vndo, ladi, I þe biseche!
Þou lete me a luitel cleche
Of þulke [grace] þat alle frouere
Þat gostliche beoþ in herte pouere.
Lo hou I am biset heeroute,
Wiþ my þreo fon al aboute:
Þe fend, þat wiþ me fihteþ euere,
Þe world, my flesch, heo ne stunteþ neuere.
Wiþoute eny meþ on me heo foþ,
Swiþe gret harm heo me doþ.
Gret parlement heo habbeþ inome.
Þe fend [is furst] forþ icome;
Wiþ þreo hostes he deþ me gret wo,
Wiþ pruide and wraþþe and sleuþe also.
Þe world me haþ wiþ two hostes bistonde,
Þat is, wiþ couetyse and onde.
And my flesch me fondeþ to spille
Wiþ g[l]otenye and wiþ vuel wille.
Gret wraþþe heo habbeþ to me inome,
I am as campion ouercome.
But þou me helpe, Mayde Marie,
Ichabbe ilore þe maystrie!
[Þou þat art to all febull leche,
Þou let me of þy diches cleche]
Þer þe castel is faste and stable
And charite is constable.”

Of þis castel ichabbe a luitel told,
Ac more me miȝte a þousend fold,
For alle þe godschupes þat in þe world is
Out of þis castel icomen is.
Þorw þis laddre God heuene-[drihte]
From heuene in to eorþe alihte,
And nom of hire his monhede,
Þorw whom he wrey his godhede.
Þis is þe ȝard þat [bar] þe flour,
Þat maiden þat bar hire creatour.
And þus þe child is iboren to vs
And such a sone iȝeue to vs.
And nis he wonderful þerfore
Whon he is þus for vs ibore?
So muche wonder nis of no þinge
As two kuynden togeder bringe,
And þat eiþer kuynde wiþalle
Habbe þat wole to heom bifalle,
Þat neuer nouþer ne wonte no wiht,
Ac þat eiþer habbe al his riht.
Þat is Jhesu, Godes sone,
Þat from heuene to eorþe wolde come
To sauȝten his sustren þat were to-boren,
And dilyueren þe prison þat was forloren.
Two kuynden he haþ we witen bi þon
Þat he is soþ God and soþ mon.
Bihold now, mon, to Godes miht
And his deden hou heo beoþ [i]diht,
Þat þou aboute nouȝt fer se,
Ac bihold hou boxum he wolde be
Þat he wolde be boren of wommon
And for vre sake bicomen mon.
And seþþen behold hou he vs redeþ
And into sauete vs ledeþ
On ful swete manere and on non oþur,
And seiþ þus to vs: “Leue broþur,
I seo þe mislyken and al forȝemed
And out of þin owne lond iflemed,
And þou seost wel þat for no þing
Þow hast of þiself no keueryng.
Ne beo þou in wonhope non,
Ac ful siker þou beo þeron,
Ȝif þou wole me [leuen] and vnderstonde,
Ichul þe bringe into þin owne londe.
Ententyfliche þou herken to me
And do þat ich comaunde þe.
Mi ȝok is softe inowh to weren
And my burþene liȝt inouh to beren.
To Merci bihoue I am al inome,
And þus I am for þe icome,
And ich þe rede þou suwe me:
Ichulle þe batayle nyme for þe.
To ple ichulle þis princes hauen
And þi rihte ichulle crauen,
For icham of þi lynage,
I may crauen þin heritage;
And icham of freo nacion,
Me ou[ȝ]te ihere my reson;
And ichabbe iwust wiþ wynne
Þe þreo lawen wiþouten synne.
For þe ichulle to batayle wende,
[And] siker beo þou of ful good ende,
For ichulle an ende ouurcome þat fiht
And to-dreynen al þi riht.
Ne darstou on erþe þenchen elles nouht
But God and þin euencristen to loue in trewe þouȝt.”

Lord, wȝuch [freschip]! Hose nome ȝeme:
Whon he þat welde al þing and al mai deme
Vs schewed such frenschip and swetnes
And a forbysne of boxumnes,
Ac þulke forbisne me luitel telleþ to,
And selden in þe world iseȝen ne do,
For þe worldlich mon euere iliche
Loueþ þing þat is worldliche.
Ac þe gost of charite and of þolemodnesse
Loueþ euer goodschipe and boxumnesse,
For whon to þe world him ȝeueþ þe mon
And þe worldes good him waxeþ on,
He ne þenkeþ on God ne non oþer þynge
Bote worldes catel togeder bringe;
And whon þe catel haþ þe maystrie alast,
Hit is in his cofre biloke so fast
Þat al he bicomeþ ouergart proud
And misdoþ his neiȝebors boþe stille and loud;
No þing ne wilneþ he largesse
But lordschupe and heiȝnesse.
Þe forbysne of boxumnesse iwys
Al þorw pruyde forȝeten is.
Þeose ne mowen Jhesus suwen wiþ,
For heore dede al to-lyth,
Ne his red ne leeueþ heo nouȝt.
Whi þenne wolden heo wilnen ouȝt
Of heritage in his kyndom,
Þauȝ he in batayle þe ple biwon,
Whon heo doþ al þat he forbat
And no þing doþ of þat he hat,
Ac euer secheþ pride and heiȝnesse
Ne biddeþ heo nouȝt of boxumnesse?
For-þi Lucifer, as ȝe habbeþ herd telle,
Fel from heuene adoun to helle,
And also I drede heo scholden an ende,
Þulke þat suche werkes doþ, aftur him wende,
Ac I ne sigge hit not for þon
Þat mai ful wel eueriche goode mon
Habbe gret lordschupe and heiȝnesse,
Castels and [tounes] and gret richesse,
And may [wel don] and Godes wille holde
And libbe God to queme wel, ȝif he wolde,
Ȝif he lyueþ in [loue] and in boxumnesse,
In soþschupe and in rihtwysnes,
For God wilneþ no þing on eorþe her
But al monnes herte wiþ trewe loue and cler.
Nou mihte sum mon asken þus:
Hou wolde God plede for vs
[And] hou he eny batayle nom
And won vre riȝte and a fend ouercom?
Lustneþ þenne to me nou,
And ichulle ow tellen hou.
Þo Jhesu, Godes sone, in þe world was ibore,
So stille and derne he was þe fend fore
Þat he of his come riht nouȝt nuste,
[Ac] to beo lord and syre he truste,
As he hedde ben, ac his miht was binome
Þo þat Jhesu was ibore and into þe world icome.
Wel þe fend him seiȝ in monnes weeden,
Ac he nust what he was ne wȝuch weren his deden.
He [seiȝ him] wel mon and icomen of monkunne,
Ac euere in þe world he liuede wiþoute sinne.
Þe fend wondrede swiþe and seide. “What artou?
Wher þou be Godes sone þat [icomen art] nou?
Al þis world ichul ȝeuen þe
[Ȝif] þou bouwe and honoure me.”
Þo seide Jhesu: “Go awei, Sathan, go!
Þi lord ne schalt þow fonde so.”
“What wenestou? [Maiȝt þou not] vnderstonde
Þat icham prince and lord of þis londe,
And in þe seisyne habbe longe ibe
Þorw þe heiȝe kyng þat grant hit me.
Alle þing I seo and alle þing ich wot,
But [of] þi þouȝt no þing I not.
Þou nymest ful muche an hond
To benymen me eny þing in þis lond.
Þauȝ I nabbe miht ouer þe,
Wenestou my preie to benyme me?
Nay, for þat foreward þorw Soþ and Riht
Faste in Godes court is congraffet apliht
Þat hose passede Godes heste
He scholde [euere] be myn and in sunne leste,
An ende dyen þorw hard deþ inouh,
And þe kyng of heuene nul do no wouh.
What wenestou such foreward breke
Þat was in Godes court ispeke?”
And þo swete Jhesu him onswerde and tolde:
“Þat foreward on ende god wel was iholde,
Ac þou hit bigonne formast to breke,
Þo þou þorw treson to monkuynde speke
And seidest þat treo him was forbode,
Lest he hedde þe miht of Gode,
Ac wolde he of þe appel ete,
Þenne þou seidest he hedde igete,
He scholde konnen al þat God con
And he scholde neuer die for þon.
He agulte þorw þe and elles he wer skere.
Vnderstond my reson, ȝif hit skile were,
[Þat] þou heddest alle forward of me
And þou noldest holden hem as anont þe.”
“A, ich am bitrayȝed!” quod þe fend þo.
“Nou ich am þorw ple ouercomen so.
Of whom and hou comeþ hit,
Such reson and such hit,
Þat þou so baldeliche darst nymen þe
Forte dispute aȝeynes me?
Þorw ple ichabbe iloren al anon,
[Ac] so ne may hit nouȝt gon:
Algate he haþ misdon,
Þorw whom he is in my prison,
And bote he beo forbouȝt of me,
[I] ne ouȝte from wo disseysed be.”
Þo swete Jhesu to him con sugge:
“And ichulle him þenne forbugge.”
“Ȝif þou wolt him bugge to his feore,
He schal costen þe ful deore.”
“Hou deore?” quaþ Jhesu þo.
“As he is worþ er þenne he go
Out of bonde of my prison.”
“Þat is skile,” quaþ Jhesu, “and good reson.
Ne kep I nouȝt toȝeynes riht,
Þorw maystrie binyme þe no wiht.”
“No, ac er he dilyuered be,
Þou most also muche [worþ] delyuere me
As al þis world is nou [worþ] atte frome,
Wiþ alle þulke þat schulen heraftur come.”
“Bleþeliche,” quod Jhesus, “al ichul don þis,
For my luttel fynger more worþ is
Þen such an hondred worldes ben,
Wiþ al þat folk þat me may herafter sen.”
Þe fend þo to Jhesu onswere con:
“Þat is al soþ, I seo bi þon,
For þou maiȝt al þe world demen and dihte:
For nou ouer þe nabbe I no mihte.
And woldestou þi fynger ȝeue, þauȝ þou so sugge,
So vnworþ and so vyl chaffare to bugge?”
“Ȝe,” [quod Jhesus,] “and al my bodi for his raunsoun,
But ichul him habbe out of prisoun.”
“Þou most more do ar þou [habbe him] so,
Þolen on eorþe wandreþe and wo.
And ȝif þou wole amenden his wouȝ,
Þou most deþ þolen þorw strong pyne inouȝ.”
And þo swete Jhesu him onswerde [to]:
“Al þat þou hast seid, al schal be do,
For Soþ seide hit ouȝte ben so,
And Riht com after [and ȝef] þe dom þo.
And more þen þou hast iseid ichulle don
To diliuere þe þral out of prison.”
Þo was þe fend siker and wende wel eþe
Forte haue biȝeten þorw his deþe,
Ac he was cauȝt and ouercomen,
As fisch þat is wiþ hok inomen,
Þat whon þe worm he swoleweþ alast,
He is bi þe hok itiȝed fast.

A, mon, nim ȝeme and vnderstond þe
Hou fynliche in herte God loueþ þe,
Þat wolde deþ þolen þorw pyne wiþouten meþ
To saue þi soule from pyne of deþ!
Al vre gult on him he wolde take,
And lodliche was bilad al for vre sake,
For he þat neuer no sunne dude
Ne neuer nas wiþ fulþe ifounden in no stude
In alle þe lymes þat haþ þe mon,
Seþþen Adam formest sunne bigon,
Wolde þat his lymes all ipyned were
To maken vs of sunne al quit and skere.
For vre vnwrestschupe here
Þe coroune of þornes on his hed he beere,
And for vre [fol eȝe] also
His eȝen weore blyntwharuet bo,
And al was his face bifoulet wiþ spot,
And eke grete boffetes me him smot;
And for vre speche vnwreste and vyl
Atter heo him dude to drinke wiþ eisil;
[For] þe otewyse werkes as þere a[b]onden
He lette boþe þurlen his feet and honden,
And for vre woke þouȝtes he þolede smerte
Þat me his syde þurlede to þe herte.
What miht he þenne do for vs more?
No tonge may tellen of þat [s]ore,
Ne no monnes herte ne mihte þenche so,
As he þolede for vs pyne and wo.
And ho is þat ne miȝte habbe pite
Of such frendschupe and charite?
Suche beo þe duntes of batayle
Þat he þolede for vs wiþouten fayle;
Ac he þolede to deþe ben ibrouȝt:
Vre deþ þorw his deþ he haþ forbouȝt,
For more [he þolede] an hundret folde
Serwe and pyne þo he dyen wolde
Þen þe fend mihte for eny synne
Leggen hond vppon monkunne.
For þe soule loueþ þe bodi so
Þat neuere heo nule him wende fro,
For no pyne ne for [no] sore,
Þauȝ me hit to-hewe euer more,
Er þe fyf wittes ben loren outriht,
Al heore vertue and al heore miȝt:
Þat is, þe siht and þe herynge,
Þe speche and þe smellynge,
And þe felynge he schal leosen an ende,
Ar he wole from þe bodi wende.
Kuynde ne may for no þinge
Þolen her þe [to-delynge],
Ac he þat alle þing mai welde
Doublede his peyne an hondred felde,
For þo he [honged] on þe crois,
He ȝaf his soule wiþ loud vois.
Þer he schewede þat he was God so:
Vre raunsum he dude þo.
Þe bodi ȝit liuede wiþoute fayle,
And so he ouercom þe batayle.
Kuynde ne mihte þole such peyne non,
For þe fend ne miȝte hit neuer legen on.
[A,] Marie, Mayden schene,
Mihtful moder and milde qwene,
For deol mungen I ne may
Þe pyne þat þou þoledest þulke day,
Ac þe prophecye of Symeon
Was folfuld þo bi þon,
As wiþ swerd in þulke stounde
[Þorw þe soule] þou heddest ful bitter wounde.
Ac þi ioye doublede an hondrut folde,
Þo he from deþ vprysen wolde,
For nouȝt worþ weore his passion,
Neore his resurexion.
Þou seȝe openliche in alle þinge
Of his batayle þe endynge,
Þorw whom þe fend was al mat
And þe world forbouȝt and brouȝt in stat.
Þe trouþe of vs and þe beleeue also
[Forsoþe] bileuede al in þe þo.
In wonhope weore his disciples vchon,
Ac þou weore studefast euer in on,
Ne miȝte þe no þing tornen out,
In trewe bileue euere þou weore stille and loud.
Marie, mooder of pite,
Mayden ful of alle bounte,
Vre bileeue was þo in þe iwis,
And nou al vre hope is
Þat þou biseche þi sone for vs,
Þat so on rode forbouȝt vs.

Ȝe habbeþ iherd of swete Jhesu
Hou he þorw his muchel vertu
Vs redeþ to goode euer more,
And hou he wolde vs plede fore,
And hou he wolde to batayle wende,
And hou he hit ouercom an ende.
Nas þis a good redesmon
Þa[t] vs so deore forbuggen con
And haþ irud vs þe way
Þer vchone of vs þat wole he may
To þe blisful ioye come,
Þat so longe þorw Adam was binome?
Vnderstondeþ nou forþure noþeles,
Hou he is God and euere wes,
And ȝe mouwe openliche iseon
Þat hit ne may not elles ben.
O God al þe world wrouȝte
And þulke God vs alle forbouȝte;
Oþer God nis non þen he,
Þe God of whom I seide er þe:
Persones þreo in þrillehod
And o God cleped in onhod.
Men may also, clerkes þat conne reden,
Iseon his godhede þorw his deden,
For al þe deden þat he dude here
Wiþ godhede and monhede imeynt [were] ifere.
And nym nou ȝeme and þou miht sen
Hou þat ilke mihte ben.
Hose hedde a swerd here
Þat wel isteled and kene were,
And he hit into þe fuir dude
Þat hit were brennynge in þe stude,
Ho is þat þenne mihte,
Whon hit barnde so brihte,
Þe fuyr to-delen þe stel fro,
Oþer þe stel from þe fuir mo?
And hose wiþ þe swerd smite,
Two kuynden he miȝte sen and wite:
Þe stel þorw kuynde kerueþ apliht,
And þe fuir [brenneþ], and þat is riht,
And al of o swerd hit come.
Also is of Jhesu, Godes sone:
Two kuynden he haþ we witten þi þon
Þat he is soþ God and soþ mon.
For atte neces of [his] priutee,
At þe Caane of Galylee,
A gistnynge he made Architriclyn,
Þer he torned water to wyn.
Sixe vessels þer weoren idon,
Of water he bad hem fulle son.
[As mon] he bad don water þerin
And as God he turned hit to wyn,
And þis ilke dede was al on,
Of soþfast God and soþfast mon.
And elles wher þer he eode
Muche folk him suwede of feole þeode,
Þat fyf þousend men he haþ [fed]
[Wiþ tweie fisches and fiue loues of bred],
And of þe relef þat hem leuede bifore
Twelf cupeful weoren vp ibore.
As mon he hem þe bred to-brek
And as God he haþ hem ifulled ek.
Of Lazar also þou miht iseon eþe,
Hou he him arerede from þe deþe,
Þat foure dawes he leiȝ along
In þe buriles, þat he stonk.
Wiþ loud voys he clepede þus:
“Lazar, arys and cum out to vs.”
Riht as mon he clepede him to
And as God he arerede him [so].
In alle his deden me may wel isen
Þat he is God and euer schal ben.
Þulke God alle þing dihte,
Þat in þe swete Mayden alihte.
Al vre beleeue in him is,
Vre treuþe and vre hope iwis,
Persones þreo in þrillihod
And o God þauȝ in onhod.

Nou ȝe habbeþ iherd witterly
Hou he is God almihti,
Ac his strengþe ne may non telle,
Herte þenke ne mouþ spelle,
For þe heiȝe nome Jhesu
Haþ in him so muche vertu
Þat al þat is in heuene hiȝe,
In eorþe and bineoþen, feor and neiȝe,
Bouweþ to þilke nome vchon.
For-þi þer ne may hit telle non,
His miht and his strengþe hou hit geþ.
But as a mon þe rynde fleþ,
Sumwhat touchen ichulle fonde
Of þat ich may vnderstonde.
Þo Adam hedde iloren þorw synne
Heuene and eorþe and paradyses winne,
Þe fend hedde such miht þo
Þat al þe world moste after him go.
For [whom] þe world was furst wrouȝt
He haþ him vnderibrouȝt.
Such strengþe he him þo ches
Þat prince of al þe world he wes.
Þer nas non for his goodschupe,
For penaunce, ne for holyschupe,
Þauȝ he pynede himself in flesch and felle,
Þat þe fend ne ladde him to helle.
[Ac] þe strengþe of Jhesu, Godes sone,
Hym haþ al mated and ouercome.
Ouercomen and imat he was ful sone,
Þo he wende of him to done,
As he hedde don of oþer alle
Þat he lette into helle falle.
Alle he ladde after his wille
And into helle [con] hem spille.
To þe croys[, as Cryst honged,] he con come
And wolde habben his soule inome,
Ac he faylede, þe traytour.
He was abated of his tour,
For Godes godhede him haþ doun cast
Into helle and ibounden fast;
For þorw his godhede his soule eode
Þidere for hise þat hedden neode,
Þat ȝore hedden him abide
And sore longeden to gon him mide.
Helle-ȝates he al to-breek
And to-daschte al þe fendes ek.
A gret bite he bot of helle [anon]
And drouh alle hise out vchon
Þat leeueden his [come] and him knewe
And serueden him wiþ herte trewe.
Such strengþe nas neuer iherd ar þis,
Ne neuer schal but of him iwis,
For þe meste strengþe he al bireuede
Þat þe fend in þe world heuede.
[Þe fend] was armed ful stronge,
Þat his ȝat wuste ful longe,
Ac þo þe strengore him ouercom,
Gret preye he him binom.
For-þi him seiþ wel Ysaye,
Þat seiþ in his prophecye
Þat he scholde [mihtfol] icleped ben.
His strengþe may no mon iseon,
Ne no tonge ne mihte reden
Ne [herte] þenken his mihtful deden.
For his miht me ouȝte him drede
And for his swetnes him loue ful nede.
Þis is vre [s]child and vre help,
Vre strengþe and vre ȝelp,
Vre beleue and vre socour,
Vre treuþe and vre honour,
Þat so boxum bicom for vs,
He ȝaf himself to sauen vs.
And al o God dude þis,
Fader and Sone and Holigost iwis.

Sumdel ȝe habbeþ iherd nou riht
Of his strengþe and of his miht,
Ac herkneþ ȝit forþure of Ysaye,
Þat cleped him in his prophecie
Fader of þe world þat scholde come,
For while he walkede her atte frome,
He folfulde in alle þinge
Alle holye prophetes [biddynge].
Hou he is fader, ȝe schullen iheren,
And hou we alle of him istreoned weren.
Þorw Adam we sungeden furst vchon
And eeten þe appel wiþ him anon,
And alle [þat] of him istreoned weoren,
Þe cors þat he beer alle beeren;
Þorw kuynde [heo] hedden þe curs alle,
Þorw riht ne miȝt hit elles bifalle.
Adam, vr fader, þe forme mon,
Fleschliche streoned vs euerichon,
Ac þulke flesc[h]liche streonynge
Beere vs bale and serwynge,
Neore þe grace of swete Jhesu,
Þat vs strenede [þorw] gostliche vertu.
Þorw Adam we weore to deþe idemet,
Þorw Jhesu vprered and al iquemed.
He is vre fader ariht,
And so goodliche vs haþ idiht
Þat wiþ his blod he vs [waschede] of sinne
And [forbouȝt] vs out of wo to winne.
Neuer fader for no childe
Of fyn loue nas so freo ne mylde,
[For] from þe roode for vre neode
Riht into helle he eode.
Fourti tymen þer he wes
[O]þat he vprisen ches.
Þat was on þe þridde day,
Erliche vppon a sonenday,
Þo þe niȝt fro þe day to-brek.
So seide Seynt Austin þo he spek.
Wiþ him he drouȝ out alle hise
Þat diȝeden in his seruise,
From þe tyme þat he Adam wrouȝte
[O]þat he vpros and vs forbouȝte.
To his disciples he him schewede ilome,
And eet and dronk, eode and come.
Fourti dawes he was heere fulliche
And prechede hem Godes kineriche,
[Oþþon] holy þoresday, þer on his nome,
Heo weren igedered alle isome
Vppon a stude, þer he among hem com,
And of misbileue hem vndernom.
In whonhope and doute heo weoren vchon,
Ȝit heo seȝen him [aryse] a lyuesmon.
Þo ȝit ne mihten heo for no wit
Riht to soþe ileeuen hit,
Ac heore doute was vre biheue
And fastnede ful wel vre bileeue,
For muche vs dude sikernesse
Of Thomas misbileuenesse,
Þat nolde for no mon þat was
Bileeuen þat he arisen was,
Ar he hedde hondlet þe wounde so wyde
Þat Longeus made in his syde,
And seon þe woundes grene and weet
Wȝuche þat weoren on honden and feet.
Þo schewed Jhesus him his wondes wyde,
In hondes and feet and þulke on his syde.
“Þou art, ichot,” quaþ Thomas þo,
“Mi God and my Lord also.”
“Ȝe, Thomas,” quaþ Jhesu Crist,
“Þou hit leuest for þou hit sixt.
Alle heo moten iblessed ben
Þat hit leeuen [and doþ] hit not sen.”
Openliche he made þulke day
Faste and siker vre [f]ay.
Wiþ his disciples he eet þo,
As he was er iwont to do,
And sette tweyne and tweyne to gon,
Ȝond al þe world to prechen vchon,
To alle schaft and to alle wihte,
Þat is, to mon þorw rihte,
Þat heo bileeuen in Godes sone, þat is in him,
And þat vche mon folwede him,
In þe Fader [nome and þe] Sone also
And in þe Holygost[es], þat glit of hem bo.
For hose neore iboren eft at þe frome,
Into heuene ne miȝte he neuer come,
Ac þulke þat beþ ifulwed in riht bileeue
Schulen beo brouȝt in Godes biheue.
Wel openliche he scheweþ vs þerfore
Þat vche mon mot eft ben ibore,
And ȝif we schulen eft iboren ben,
We mote comen of [sume] streon.
Þat is þe water of vertu
Þer vs gostliche streneþ swete Jhesu,
And whon he vs haþ so strened iwis,
Forsoþe vre fader [þenne] he is
And þenne we alle his children beþ.
Sikerliche vnwrestliche he deeþ
Þat such fader ne loueþ wiþ al his þouȝt.
He ne eet of þe appel riht nouȝt:
Baldeliche we mouwe þorw him craue
Vre rihtes in heuene to haue,
For he haþ alle þe lawen iwust,
Of o poynt ne haþ he mist,
Þat neuere neore iwust ne iholde,
Er he himself comen wolde.
Þe forme mon, þat of eorþe com,
Brouȝt vs werre and pees binom;
Þat oþur from heuene com wiþ meyn
And haþ iȝolden vre pees aȝeyn.
Fleschliche was þe forme mon,
Þat muche wo vs brouȝte vppon,
Þat was out of paradys ipult,
And al his ofspring for his gult,
Ac vre gostlych fader, swete Jhesu,
Vs bryngeþ aȝeyn þorw his vertu.
He þat from heuene com,
From louh an heiȝ he vs vpnom.
Þat from eorþe com, to eorþe he geþ;
Þat from heuene com, to heuene he steþ.
On holy þoresday þer al þe folk iseiȝ
Wȝuche þat stoden abouten him neih;
Þe wey he made vs to lede,
Þorw þe skewes þer he eode,
Wiþ soþnesse and wey [and lif].
[His] feire cumpanye him ladde wiþ
Þat he out of helle nom,
Þat to muche blisse com.
To þulke blisse he made hem wende
Þat euer lasteþ wiþouten ende,
Þer he woneþ as he dude er,
Wiþ his fader, o God þer,
Persones þreo in þrillihod
And o God þauȝ in onhod,
Þat alle þing wrouȝte, as þou, mon, wost,
Fader and Sone and Holygost.
Þauȝ vche nome of þise þre
[Be] sinderliche, as he ouȝte to be,
O God hit is wiþouten care,
Of alle schaftes schuppare,
To whom ioye and honour bicome,
Wiþouten ende þe holy gome.

Lusteneþ ȝet forþer of Ysayes spelle,
For now ȝe han herd me telle,
How swete Jhesu our fadur wes;
Herkenyth how is now prince of pes.
Beforen I tolde ȝow vchon
How he is into heuyn igon;
Ryȝht so, þe sothe truly to syggen,
He shall aȝeyn come þis world to iuggen,
In bodi and soule and godhede,
To deme bothe queke and dede.
But fyftene dayes before þe dome
Fyftene tokyns ther shull come.
The furst day þe see vpryse shall
And stonden on hye as a wall,
Fourti cupetys heir iwys
Then eny hill in þe world is.
That oþer day heo wole isonkyn byn,
That eny mon vnneþe may her isyn.
The þrid day heo woll be noþeles
As full as heo furst wes,
And þen woll whalles and grete fysshes wiþ fynne
And all oþer smale fysshes þat byn þerinne
Gedryn hem on þe watur vchone.
But þat wot no mon but God allone
What is the betokenyng
Of the loude cry and ȝeiyng
The[t] heo wolleþ wiþ loude steuyn
Ȝeuyn and crye vp to heuyn.
And on þe fourthe day heo shall
Wiþ red fyr brennen all,
And all oþer watrys in euery stede
Shullen brenne as red as eny glede.
The fyfthe day þe tren þat don stonde
And floures and erbis in vche londe,
Blod thei shullen blede,
In stede of her dewe wiþoute drede.
The sixte day byth not bold,
Palyse ne pyler ne so strong hold,
Castell, tour, bour, ne halle,
But þei shull to-skatur and down falle.
The seuynth day the stones vchon
Woll lepe togedre and fyȝht anon,
That þorwgh the fyȝht þat þer woll byn
The stones woll breke and all to-flyn.
The eyȝhte day betokynþ gret wrache:
All ȝende þe world þe erthe shall quake,
And men woll flyn into vche hurne.
The erthe-quake shall be so loude and sturne,
And on þylke dredfull byttur day
The pepull woll crye weloway
And sey to monteynes: ”Falleþ on vs!
Erthe to-clyf and hyde vs,
That we þis fer and erthe-quake ne syn.”
How wroth our creatur woll byn,
For in alle hye heuyn-blys
Non so holi ne so good is,
Patryarch, apostell, ne martir,
Confessor ne virgine wiþ so feyr attyr,
Prynce, potestate, ne angell,
Ne non so bryȝht archangell,
That nold neuer synne done
But he shall dredyn aȝeyne þat dome.
Full sor mowe heo þen dreden
That byth all full of synfull deden.
The nynthe day alle þe valeis þat byth
And the hylles þat we so hye syth
Shull be made smethe and playn,
And into her kynde shull þey not turne aȝeyn.
The tenþe day shull all maner men
Gon out of her holes and of her den
And renne abowte as þey wer wod,
As þey cowþen nowþer euyll ne good,
Ne thawgh her hert shulde to-breke,
On word myȝht not oon wiþ oþer speke.
The elevyth day þe mone and þe sterres alle
Shulle adown to erthe falle.
The twelfthe day þe bones of vche ded mon
Shull come togedre vchon,
Thawgh þey be dryuyn ner so wyde;
At her [byryles] her soules shull abyde.
The threttenyth day all maner men
Shull dyen anoon þat lyuen þen,
That heo mowe togedre wiþ oþer aryse
And takyn her dome of God ryȝhtwyse.
The fourteneth day ther may no þyng werne
But all þe world on fyre shall berne;
Heuyn and erthe shull byn aleyde,
And the four elements shull vnteyede,
For thike fyr shall clansyn þe eyr
And makyn all þyng bryȝht and feyr,
And all þe world shan iclansed byn,
But watur þer shall no mon eft isyn,
Ne neuer fyr in þe world me syth
When þat fyr shall ben aquenchith.
The fyfteneþe day God wol taken
Heuyn and erthe and all hit newe maken,
Not oþerweys þen hem beforen wrowght.
Loke þou, þenke, ne wylle hit nowght,
But he wole newen hem iwys
In betur state þen heo weryn iwys.
Theraftur Jhesu wole his dome demyn,
The angeles shull come and blowe þe bemyn.
Furst shull in body and soule aryse
All þat dyedyn in his seruise,
And all þat eke þat shull to þe blysse fonde
Shul furst aryse and on þe ryȝht syde stonde.
Then shall Jhesu come ryȝht [þus]
And his body tornen and showe to vs
Whad peyne he suffred for vr sake
And how lodlyche he was for vs itake,
Wyth scorges ibetyn wiþoute gryth,
That þe blode barst oute on ich a lyth,
And how vylensli he wes ladde ȝet
Wiþ crowne of þornes on his hed set,
And how he suffred þat þe nayles stode
Thorgh fete and honden into þe rode,
And how þe sper þat him wonded smerte
Browght blod and watur from his hert.
And þen Cryst woll clepe and calle
And sey: ”Þus myche I suffre[d] for ȝow alle.”
Then helpeþ [þe] no pledyng þer,
Ne forsakyng ny answer,
Ne helpyth vs þe castell ne tour,
Nowþer palyse, halle, ne bour:
All þyng þen shall torne to nowght
That is wiþ monis hond iwrowght.
Ther shull þe synfull quake
And her tethe togedur hacke and shake.
Ther may segge þenne no mon
But þat vchon shull seyn her martyrdom,
And beforyn hym his iuggement sycorly
Shall byn iwryten apertely,
And allso his synnes ther shull be knowe,
Tofor all maner men boþe hie and lowe.
Then woll swete Jhesu to hem be syn
That shull þat day isaued byn,
And sey wiþ mylde steuyn and swete:
“When I was hongry, ȝe ȝeue me mete;
When I was afurst, ȝe ȝeue me dryng;
When I was naked, ȝe ȝeue me cloþyng;
When I was herberlasse, ȝe herberde me sayne,
Boþe in heete, in cold, in wynde, and rayne;
And ȝe comforted me in prison eke
And loked to me when I was seke.
Comyth, my blessed children vchon,
And receyuyth þe blysfull ioy anon
That to ȝow byth rewarded wiþoutyn endenge
Fro þis worldis begynnyng.”
Then shull þe blessed byn receyued an hyȝhe,
In heuyn to walke Jhesu nyȝh.
And þe cursede shull in erthe byn,
Of heuyn blys þey shull no þyng isyn,
But ȝet wyth þe vpreceyueng þey shull agryse,
When þe saued shull vpryse,
So wery, so wrecched, so lodlyche,
Icharged wiþ synne so heuyleche,
That all heuyli on þe erthe þey shull steke,
When þei heryn þe domesmonis speke
Wyth gret and grymfull wrathe full sone.
Thei shull heryn a full hard dome:
“Goth wiþ þe deuelys, ȝe acoursed bestes,
For ȝe heled not my lawes and my hestes,
Into þe fir þat shall last for euer,
For ȝe han diserued her non oþer!”
The blessed shull blysfull gon
In bodi and soule euerichon,
As bryȝht as ys the sonne wiþoute fayle.
Neuer hem nedeþ to haue trauayle
But ioy and blys þat shall laste euer mor.
In good tyme [þey] wer ibor
That to þat feste mowe takyn,
That God wole wiþ hem in heuyn makyn.
So myche ioy shall byn at þeke feste
That euer wiþouten ende shall leste,
Mor ioy þen hert may thenkyn
Or eye isyn or ȝer iherkyn;
Seche ioy God haþ igrethed ther
To hem þat han loued him her.
And when [hit is] so endeles,
Thenne he is aryȝht prince of pes.
But theke þat byth into helle inome,
Thei shull neuer out come,
And in þeke stynkyng deþe-pytte
Thei shull byn ipyned and to peyne iknytte.
In gret sorewe and pyne þei byth full sor,
For thei lyuyn in wanhope euer more.
Thei wolde dyen ȝef thei myȝhte,
But ȝet her soule may not þorgh ryȝhte.
Vchon oþers peyne shall isyn,
That her peyne shall dowble byn.
Anoþer peyne þey shull haue of derknes,
Wiþ gret fer and gret heuynes.
And þe four is fyr þat may not be queynte,
And in stynkynge watur þey shull be dreynte,
And pycche wallyng euer among.
Wayleway euer shall byn her song,
For hidor or thidur wher ser heo turne
They syn þe foule fynde in vche horne.
That hem lothest wer to syn
He shall euer toforyn hem byn.
And þe stenche is ouerall þer so strong,
And byttur wormys ther stykeþ among,
Neddris, snakys, and taddis þer strykyth;
No place shall he þer isyn þat him lyketh.
Euermor wiþoutyn ende þey shull be wepyng
And wrynge her hondes wiþ gret weylyng.
Then shall þe syster sey to þe broþer,
The fremed and þe sybbe vchon to oþer:
“A, waryed wrecche, whad doost þou her?
Acursed be the tyme þou iboryn wer;
I may not for no þyng suffre the,
So foule þy synne stynkeþ on me.
For [min owne] gret synne I styke in pyne,
But a thousonde fold more I suffre for þyne.
But þou waryed wrecche forlore,
Accursed be the tyme þat þou wer ibore!
I am sor [stykyd] among,
Thi synne stynkeþ on me so strong.”
Thus shall vchon to oþer menyn his sorewe,
Euer wiþowtyn ende on euyn and morewe;
Thawgh þer sete a mon for the nonys
And he myȝht leftyn in flesshe and bonys,
Half þe sorewe he myȝht not telle
Ne þe peynes þat byth in helle.
Ther is nowþer solace ne loue iwys;
Ther is wepyng, pyne, and sorewe wiþoute blys.
In theke foule stynkyng pytte
They shull in sorowe for euer be knytte.
Long is “euer” and long is “oo,”
But þei shull neuer come out of wo.
The fynde shall her prince byn þat þey serued er;
Sore wiþowten ende peyned þey shull be þer.

Jhesu in heuyn, as I seyde before,
Is pryns of pes and shall byn euer mor.
His pes shall falle neuer,
And his ioy and his blys þat is euer.
Loue, swetnesse, and pley,
In heuyn hit neweþ fro day to day.
The furst ioy þat þer shall byn,
The blessed shall hit isyn
The swete face of his lorde þer,
His God and his shaper.
In his feyreship he may him showen,
And all þyng in him may knowen.
So full he shall byn of ioy and skyle
That he shall haue all þat he wyle;
Whatseuer he wylneþ wiþouten gabbe,
Bese on him, and he may it habbe.
Of heuyn he may ise þe wydnes,
The feyrshepe and þe heynes,
And he may ise þe dereworth quene,
Goddis modur so bryȝht and shene,
The swete made Seynt Marye,
And all þe feyr company
Of angels so feyr and bryȝht.
They woll makyn him ioye wiþ her myȝht;
The apostlys and þe martiris,
The confessors and þe virginis,
Alle wolle him ioy makyn—
Well is him þat þidur may takyn!
And alle is fryndys he shall knowe þer
That he hede in þis world her.
Fadur and moder, systur and broþer,
Miche ioy euerichon shall make wiþ oþer,
Mor þen eny hert may vnderstonde.
When þei hem syn in theke londe,
So myȝhti þei shull byn eueruchon
That whidur þei wolle þei may gon,
And þei shull be so lyȝht and swyft
That whidur seuer þey þenk þey may be lyft,
And so slye and crafty þey shull byn alle
That þei shull do all þyng þat in her hert doþ falle.
And wher ser þe toon þe toþer metyth,
Wiþ louely cher þus he him gretyth:
“Iblessed be þe lord þat þe wrowght
And hidur to þis blysse and ioy þe browght.
Iblessed be þe tyme þat þou ibore wer,
So myche ioy I haue þat I se þe her.
So myche blys I see on the
That all my blisse neweþ me.”
Thet oþer answereth him anonryȝht:
“Euer iblessed be God allmyȝht,
That seche ioy haþ iȝeue to þe,
Therfore my ioy doubleþ me;
On þe I se mychell ioy and blys
That all my ioy newed is.
And euer her is myrthe and gret song,
And euer I se our shaper among,
That ilike himseluyn vs haþ wrowght
And sethyn to þis ioy vs browght.
Mi ioy is doubled an hondred fold,
For I haue all þat I wolde.”
Meche is þe murthe þat is at þe feste
That euer wiþoutyn ende shall leste.
He þat is lest feyr þer
Shall shyne as þe sonne for er.
No nyd is þenne þat sunne be þer iwys,
[That] sh[a]ll shyne seuen sythe bryȝht þen heo now is.
When all þei shull be so bryȝht,
Then by all maner of ryȝht
He most be feyr and bryȝht and mor cler
That mor deserued þat ioy her.
So mony wonyngis me may þer isyn,
And gret compani of angels þat woll þer byn,
In þe ioy so mony and so ryche,
In diuerse ioyes neuer oon oþer ilyche;
And euer beholde þe bryȝht and þe shene,
The swete mayden, our heuyn quene,
The bryȝhtes[t] and clennest of bodi and þowght
Of alle þe creaturis þat euer God wrowght.
That is swete Marie, as I seyde befor.
Her feyrenesse is so mychell mor
Before all oþer in feyrenesse,
As heo is worþe in hyenesse.
So worþi and so hie is þis mayden myld
That Jhesu Cryst is her child,
And as myche as he haþ of feyrenesse,
As myche heo haþ of worship and godnesse,
For heo wernyth her loue to no mon.
Heo helpeþ vs and socoureþ vs ichon,
For all þat euer in heuyn is
Makeþ to her ioy and blis.
Her goodship ne her hienesse,
Her frenship ne her bucsonnes,
Ther may no mon þenke ne suggen
Ne her feyreship neuer iuggen,
For els myȝht hit not be þerfore,
When he wolde of her be bore,
That all feyrenes haþ idyȝht
And all þyng wrowght aryȝht,
That whoso wer on hym beþowght
In myche blysse wer his hert ibrowght.
But þe moost ioy þat þer woll byn
Tho we shull God, our savior, isyn;
That ouergeþ alle oþer blyssis vchon,
Toȝeyns þilk ioy þer nys non,
For þawgh a mon wiþoutyn gabbe
Myȝht all þat wyt holde and habbe
That han all men þat byth,
That now in þe world me syth,
And he sete and þowght boþe nyȝht and day,
Euer whill þe world leste may,
Ȝe[t] he shuld not for all his myȝht
Openli vnderstonden aryȝht
Oon þe lest ioy þat God haþ idyȝht
To hem þat han seruid him aryȝht.
How myȝht he þen for eny þowgh[t]
Of Goddis feyrenes þenkyn owght?