 | Chateau d'amour |  |
Jhesu Cryst, heuyn kynge,
Be at my begyninge.
Ther is no man þat may ȝelpe
Bot he hath nede of Godys helpe.
Fader and Sone and Holy Goste,
One God of myȝhtys moste.
He helpe vs at oure nede;
Wiþouten hym may we not sped.
I sate and lokyd on a romance,
Was made in þe lond of France;
Grostyd it made out of dyuine,
All in French out of Latyne.
He saw all men hade not vertu
To know Latyn, Ebrew, and Grew,
The[r]for in French he mad it þer,
That men myȝt wyte what it were.
Ȝit may not all men French vnderstond,
And namely men of Ingelond.
Therfor, soth as I þe tolde,
Ryme on Inglych make [I] wolde,
That men myȝht haue þerof solace.
Now, God, þerto gyfe vs grace!
Be at my begyninge.
Ther is no man þat may ȝelpe
Bot he hath nede of Godys helpe.
Fader and Sone and Holy Goste,
One God of myȝhtys moste.
He helpe vs at oure nede;
Wiþouten hym may we not sped.
I sate and lokyd on a romance,
Was made in þe lond of France;
Grostyd it made out of dyuine,
All in French out of Latyne.
He saw all men hade not vertu
To know Latyn, Ebrew, and Grew,
The[r]for in French he mad it þer,
That men myȝt wyte what it were.
Ȝit may not all men French vnderstond,
And namely men of Ingelond.
Therfor, soth as I þe tolde,
Ryme on Inglych make [I] wolde,
That men myȝht haue þerof solace.
Now, God, þerto gyfe vs grace!
| Chateau d'amour | |