[Poems from the Vernon MS]

I ceste liuere est escrit la estorie del Euangelie en engleis solum ceo ke ele est escrit en latin, et continue de la Anunciacion nostre seignour Ihesu crist. De la Natiuite benette. De sa Passio̧n. De sa Resurexion. De sa Ascension e de sa Glorificacion. Et de soun Auenement a Jugement et de nostre presentement en cors en alme.

Sum-while ich was wiþ sunne i-bounde,
And sunne me hath icast to grounde;
Bote, swete Ihesu, þi swete woundus
Leesed me haþ of harde stoundus.

Whon I to þe tornde my þouht,
Pynes to þole ne greueþ me nouht;
Þy Deþ me haueþ of serwe i-brouht
And loue to þe in me haþ wrouht.

Þe to loue is al my blisse,
Me longeþ sore þi woundus to kisse.
Swete Ihesu, my þouht þou wisse,
On þe to þenche þat I ne misse.

ffole þouhtes me were woned to tille,
ffeole tymes to don ille,
In word, In dede, In wikked wille,
Niht and Day, al me to spille:

Bote whon I me vndurstod
Þat þou for me scheddest þi blod,
ffolye to leue me þhouhte good
And to þe, Ihesu, I tornde my mood.

Bote ȝit I me bi-gon to drede
Þat he þat eggeþ mon to quede
Wiþ sunfol þouht me wolde lede
To wikked wille or fool dede.

Þerfore my þouht on þe i feste;
ffor þer i wot to fynden reste—
Of vche loue þou art þe beste,
Þou art þe loue þat euere wol leste.
Nis no mon, Ihesu, bote in þe
In whom bi-houeþ us I-borwed be.

Þi loue to winne, i wolde fonde,
Ȝif I me mihte wel vndurstonde,
Sum þing of þe to write and rede,
Þer-þorwh of þe to winnen mede.

And heo þat scholden hit iheren,
Of þe Gospel mowe sumwhat leren
Þat writen is þer-Inne of þe,
On Englisch tonge þorwh swynk of me.

Wyse men bi Olde dawes
Bokes made of goode lawes,
Hou me scholde hem wiþ rihte leden
And wys to ben in alle heor deden;

And þei no-þing ne wusten of þe,
But goddus heo maden of ston and tre,
And þing þat ne mihte seo ne here
ffor God heo honourede and heolde dere:

Sonne and Mone, Day and Niht,
Sterre and al þat ȝiueþ lyht,
Þat Goddus weren alle þei wenden,
And God of heuene no-þing ne kenden.

Of grete Clerkes also we fynde
Þat Bokes made of Beestes kynde,
Of ffoul, of Ston, of Gras, of Treo,
And al for Mon þeron to seo,

Solace to haue and techinge,
And hem to holde from fool lykynge—
ffor whose hereþ of Beestes kynde
Mony wondrus he may þer fynde,

ffeole þinges seon and here
Wher-þorwh he may him-self lere
Hys lyf to lede wiþ more wynne,
Good to do and hatyȝe synne.

A wys mon seiþ þat bestes weren,
Hert and Eddre, þeos þreo, and Ern,

Þat heore lyf chaungede þorwh here kynde—
ffor þus of hem I-write we fynde:
Þat kuynde ȝifþ vche mon eggynge,
Of vche good þing haue ȝeornyng.

Bote beter þyng ne mai no mon fynde
Þan þe, lord of alle þynge,
Þat Beest and ffoul and alle wiht
At wille beoþ vndur Monnes miht.—

Ihesu louerd, þi loue to wynne
Ȝif me grace to bi-gynne,
Loue me sende to fordo synne,
Þat al monkynde was bounden Inne.

Ar Godus sone in þe Maiden alyhte,
Aȝeyn þe deuel we nedde no mihte;
ffor we weren vndur his mihte,
Of good to don we loren þe sihte.

Þat tyme was sunne so ryf,
In Old, In ȝong, In Mon, In Wyf:
As sone as heo laften þe lyf,
To helle heo wenden wiþ-outen stryf.

Habraham, Ysaak, and seint Ion,
Dauid þe kyng, and Salamon,
Þidere heo wenden, euerichon,—
Heo nedden þo no beter won.

fforte Godus sone was don on Rode,
Þidere wente wikkede and goode,
Þe wikkede to pyne, wiþ dreri mode,
Þere to beo þe deueles foode;

Bote þulke soules swete
Þat here on lyue heore synnes leete,
In freo prisun þenne was heore sete,
To abyde þe biheste of þe prophete.

Prophetes weren I-woned to grede:
“Ow schal comen wiþ-oute drede
Þat flesch schal taken in Maydenhede
And us to Ioye of pyne lede.”

Whon God of heuene herde þis cry,
Of Monkynde he hedde mercy:
And ches a Mayde of gret ferly,
Clene in soule and in body.

To hire he sende a swete fere,
Þat him was swiþe leof and dere:
Gabriel, wiþ swete chere,
And hire gon grete on þis manere:

Heil, ful of grace, God is wiþ þe,
A-Mong wymmen I-blessed þou be!”
Þe Maide was dred on him to seo,
And þouhte what þis mihte beo.

Þenne him spac þe Aungel fre:
“Marie, nouht ne dreed þou þe!
A child schal beo boren of þe,
Iesus schal his nome be.

He schal þe ffader of heuene qweme,
In Dauid sete sitte and deeme,
Þe folk of Israel he schal ȝeme
And heore fon from hem fleme.”

Þenne onswerde þat swete Mayde
To þe Aungel Gabriel and sayde:
“Hou schal þis be? nouȝwher I ne leide
Mi þouht to luste of mon vpbreide.”

Þen þe Aungel hire herte dihte,
And of þis gretynge hedde in-sihte:
“Þe holy gost (he seide) schal in þe alihte
And in þe worche wiþ his mihte.

Þe chyld þat of þe schal beo bore,
Godus sone he schal beon i-core;
He schal þe folk, þat herbi-fore,
To blisse bringe, þat heo hedden forlore.

And þat þou þe soþe lere,
Þi nece Eliȝabeþ, lo here,
Þit is in elde feole ȝere,
Heo haþ chyld take of hire feere.

Þe sixte Moneþ now is anon
Þat heo haþ wiþ chylde igon—
ffor to God of heuene, þat is on,
Nis word of vnmihte non.”

Nolde Marie no lengore plede,
Þis wordes in hire herte heo sede:

“Lo me her Godus Mayde,
Wiþ me do God as þou hast sayde!”

As sone as þis was in hire þouht,
In hire was Monnes kuynde i-wrouht
And soþfast God was þerto i-brouht—
Mon, þer-of ne dred þe nouht!

Þe Aungel Marie God bi-kende
And to him eode þat him sende.
And sone aftur þat mayde wende
To Eliȝabeþ, hire kuynde frende.

Sone so þe Mayde Marie
Entrede þe hous of Ȝakarie,
Eliȝabeth In prophecie
Þe Maide custe and þus gon crie:

“A,” heo seide, “how may þis be
Þat my lordus modur comeþ to me?
As sone as ich herde þe steuene of þe,
Þe Child in my wombe makede gle.
A-Mong wymmen I-blessed þou be,
And blessed beo þe fruyt of þe!”

Þer bilafte þat swete may
Wiþ Eliȝabeth wel moni a day—
Ne louede heo no foles play,
Bote louede God and þonked ay.

Þenne þer was a swete metynge,
Swete cluppinge and swete cussynge!
A Mayde þat bar þe lord of alle þinge,
A wyf þat bar seint Ion in holy weddinge!

Þis was seynt Ion for whom bi-fore
His ffader hedde his speche for-lore,
And to þe tyme þat he was bore,
As þe Aungel seide bi-fore.
Ȝakarie was his ffadre name;
Gret mon he was and of good fame.

Tyme com of þe seruyse,
Þat he don scholde in heore wyse:
In þe temple he saih vp rise
Bifore him a mon, and him gon agrise.

Hit was an Aungel, Godes sonde,
Þat gon at þe Auter stonde,
And Ȝakarie he com to fonde,
Don his seruyse bad him not wonde.

“Ȝakarie,” he seide, “ne dred þou nouht!
Bifore God þi bone is wrouht;
Þat þou hast him bi-souht,
Schal in Eliȝabeth ben i-wrouht:

A child þou schalt on hire winne,
Þat schal ben Ioye to al his kinne,
I-blessed he beo hire wiþ-Inne;
Ion he schal hote, clansere of sinne.

At his Burth-tyme me schal gamen & pleye:
He schal greiþen godus weye,
To þe folk he schal soþ seye
And mis-bileue he schal doun leye.”

Ȝakarie onswerde wiþ dreri chere:
“Hou may þis ben on eny manere?
Boþe we beþ olde, ich and my fere,
And forþ igon in feole ȝere.”

Þe Aungel seide: “Þis schalt þou se.
And for þat þou leuest not me,
Þou schalt beo Doumbe, ich sigge þe,
fforte þat child ibore be.”

Þe Aungel bi-lafte no lengore þore,
Ne Ȝakarie ne spac no more,
Bote out he eode, sikynge sore—
Þe folk hedde wondur wherfore hit wore.

Bote heo seiden alle by-dene
Þat he haþ sum wondur i-sene
Þat he so longe haþ i-bene
In þe temple, as we wene.

Ȝakarie þenne dude his dede,
Nout for his fleschliche nede,
But child to wynnen, ȝif he miht spede,
And so of God to wynne meede.

Þat swete couple at þat metynge
Of ffleschliche lust hedde no lykynge,

Bote holy wille and swete egginge
To Godus seruyse chyld forþ bringe.

A child he won þorwh godus mihte,
Þorwh Godus heste, and hedde insihte:
In Eliȝabeth þe holigost lihte
And þat child in hire dihte.

Eliȝabeth ful glad was þo
Þat heo gon wiþ chylde go!
A-wey heo let al hire wo
Þat heo hedde fourti ȝer and mo.—

Whon þat child scholde iboren be,
His frendes aboute of þe cuntre
Wiþ blisful chere, gamen and gle
Alle he comen þe child to se.
Þenne seiden his frendes alle
Ȝakarie heo wolden him calle.

Þat herde þe Modur, þer heo lay,
And onswerde and seide: “nay,
“Mi leue frendes, doþ a-way!
Ion he schal hote, ȝif I may.”
Alle heo seiden þat þer nas non
In al heore kynde þat hihte Ion.

To Ȝakarie þe word heo brouhte
And bad him sigge what he þouhte.
And he a table sone souhte
And þeron þe nome wrouhte.

On þe tablet he wrot anon
Þe childes nome, he wrot Ion—
“God bi-fore he schal gon
And to him torne mony on.”

Wondur hedde þo al his kynde
Hou he mihte þis nome fynde.
Bote God his tonge let vnbynde;
And he him louede wiþ al his Mynde.

“God,” he seide, “i-blessed þou be,
Þat of his folk wolde haue pite,
And his Merci haþ i-sent to me,
Þat þis child schulde i-bore be!

And þou, child, schalt ben clept prophete,
Þou schalt greiþe godus strete,

Godus folk þou schalt . . gete
And hem teche heor sunnes bete.

Þis speche to godus folk Þou schalt preche,
Þou hem schalt þe soþe teche
Hou heo schulle to heuene reche.” [OMITTED]

Also as ich er seyde, þe Maide Marie
Hire lyf ladde wiþ-oute folye
Wiþ Eliȝabeth and hire cumpaygnye. [OMITTED]

Wiþ hem þenne was heo þore
Þreo Moneþes, oþur more,
Wiþ-outen sunne, wiþ-outen sore—
Heo louede god, þat was hire lore.

As seiþ þe holy mon seint Bede:
ffrom hire nece nout heo ne eode
Ar heo say fulliche in dede
Eliȝabeth seint Ion fede.—

Þenne heo þonked god, ful of blisse,
Þat he wolde seo hire mekenesse
And hire a sone sende in swetnesse,
To taken in hire monnes liknesse.

“Þerfore me schal al Monkynde
Blisful telle in heore mynde,
Þat he wolde in me Mekenesse fynde,
Þat mihtful in to lame and blynde.

Of Merci he was leche
ffrom kynde þat dredde his speche.
Of þe proude of herte he dude wreche,
And dude þe Meke an heiȝ to reche;

Þe hungri in god he made stronge,
And þe riche he lette al swonge.
Þe folk of Israel haþ vndurfonge
Þe child þat heo abide longe;
Also him spac þe heuene kyng
To Abraham and his ofspring.”

Whon Marie hedde i-seȝe þe dede
Of þe child and al þe neode,

Þe Mayden hire bi-gon to spede
And leue tok and hom heo eode.

Whon heo com hom, Iosep to queme
Þat als his spouse hire hedde to ȝeme,
In his herte he gon hire deme,
Hou heo mihte wiþ childe seme.

Whar-of hit were, noþing he nuste,
So as he neuere hire Mouþ custe
Mid wille of sunne, ne neuer luste
Hire Maidenhod fulliche vpbreste.

And for in him nas no falshede,
In word ne in þouht ne in dede,
In his herte nas no drede
Þauh heo hedde ilore hire Maydenhede.

And for he neuere ne saiȝ wiþ eiȝe
Þat heo to fool dede gon hire beyȝe,
Loth him was on hire to lyȝe,
Of fleschliche dede hire be-wrye.

ffor wel he wuste, nas þer no speche,
Þorwh þe lawe of spousbruche,
Bote hire þe domesmon bi-teche,
Sone of hire to take wreche.

Aȝe þe lawe him lyked ille
Þat me scholde a Mayde spille.
ffor-þi bi-fel hit in his wille
Þat Mayde lete and leuen hire stille.

Þo Ioseph in his herte wende
Ho[u] þis scholde come to ende,
A-slepe he fel, as god him kende,
And to him his Aungel sende:

“Ioseph,” he seide, “no-þing ne drede,
Marie as þi spouse þou lede;
Þat child in hire þo[u] schalt fede:
Hit is þe holigostes dede.

Þe holigost hire haþ beo mylde
And Marie haþ i-brouht wiþ chylde;
God in hire haþ i-do vertu:
His nome þou schalt clepe Ihesu.”

Whon Ioseph herde þis tyþinge,
Marie he heold in clene weddynge
And wiþ þe Maide in good lykinge
Mayde bi-lafte to his endynge.—

Bi hem þat weore bi-fore
Ioseph wuste whon god scholde be bore . . . .
Þat tyme was mih[OMITTED]
Augustus Cesar wa[OMITTED]
In al þat lond nas[OMITTED]
Ouer al þat lond w[OMITTED]

He criede his ban[OMITTED]
To alle þat weren[OMITTED]
Þat vndur him no[OMITTED]
Þat were of eny oþu[OMITTED]

Whon Ioseph þus h[OMITTED]
Wiþ him tok þe Ma[OMITTED]
Out of Naȝareth h[OMITTED]
And to Bethlehem h[OMITTED]

In Bethleem he tok his wonynge,
ffor Marie was neih childynge,
And for his kun and his ofspringe
Weoren of Dauidþes hous, þe kynge.

In Bethlehem hous he tok,
Luytel and pore, as seiþ þe Bok,
In an old cote and al to-falle—
Nedden heo no bettere halle.

Seint Ierom a Mayde kende
In a writ þat he hire sende:
Þat [þat] Mayde won hire bred
Wiþ hire nelde and hire þred.

Whon þat child was forþ brouht,
Luytel heo hedde oþur riht nouht
fforte leggen Inne þat Bern,
But a luyte hei oþur vern;
Heo wounden him wiþ þat heo mihten gete,
And leyden him, þer bestes ete.

Heo leyden him in Bestes stalles,
I-loke bi-twene two olde walles—

Þenne was fuld þe prophecie
Þat bi-fore seide Ysayȝe:

Þe Oxe and þe Asse hedde kennynge
Of heore lord in heore stallynge.
And Abacuc also haueþ i-seyd:
By-twene two bestes he scholde be leyd.—

So bi-fel þat ilke tyde
Þat in þe cuntre þerbisyde
Herdes wakede in a Mede,
Heore bestes and heore schep to fede.

Sone to hem an Angel wende
And to hem brouhte a swete tyþinge—
Heo bi-gonne to ben in doute
Of liht þat was þer hem aboute.

Þe Aungel seide: “nouȝt ȝe ne drede!
Ich wole ow telle a blisful dede:
A child is boren for oure nede,
Þat schal his folk of pyne lede.

And [þat] ich ou þe soþe bringe,
Þat ich ȝiue ow to tokenynge:
In Bethlehem he liht, i-wounde
In cloþus, and in a Crubbe i-bounde.

In a Crubbe he is leyd,
As ich ow habbe er i-seid.
He schal his [folk] of sunne bringe,
As crist and lord of alle þinge.”

[OMITTED]

University of Virginia Library

I. La estorie del Euangelie.

[A FRAGMENT.]