 | The Wheatley Manuscript |  |
42
Quia dixi: Nequando supergaud[e]ant michi inimici mei; et dum commouentur pedes [mei, super me magna locuti sunt].
For I haue seyd, “Lord mercyable,
Let noght [vp me] my foos be gladde!”
For, while I stere my feet vnstable,
Vpon me thei grete wordes made.
Bot Crist, that art so comfortable,
Make her floures falle and fade,
And the to plese make me able:
In synne wil I no more waade.
Let noght [vp me] my foos be gladde!”
For, while I stere my feet vnstable,
Vpon me thei grete wordes made.
Bot Crist, that art so comfortable,
Make her floures falle and fade,
And the to plese make me able:
In synne wil I no more waade.
| The Wheatley Manuscript | |