 | A paraphrase on the Seven Penitential Psalms |  |
[They may be syker of hevene blys]
Beati quorum remisse sunt iniquitates; et quorum tecta sunt peccata.
They may be syker of hevene blys,That han forȝevenes of here synne.
Thi mercy hydeth that is amys,
Of wickede werkys ȝyf thei will blynne.
Whan body and soule departe atwynne,
All worldys frenschippe awey will fle:
Thou getyst non helpe, of sybbe nor kynne,
But ‘Ne reminiscaris, Domine!’
Beatus vir, cui non imputavit Dominus peccatum; nec est in spiritus ejus dolus.
Zyf God, that made all thyng of nouȝt,Of no synnĕ may thé apeche,
In dedĕ doon, or hertĕ thouȝt,
Ne gyle ne falsnes in my speche;
Thanne, ȝif it be as clerkys teche,
Of endeles blysse I dowte noȝt me.
Zyf I be seek, this is my leche,
‘Ne reminiscaris, Domine!’
8
Quoniam tacui, inveteraverunt ossa mea; dum clamarem tota die.
My medefull werkys, that ben ful fewe,Zyf I go telle hem every where;
My synne[s], that I in schryfte schulde schewe,
I kepe hem clos for schame or fere;—
Thanne waxe thei olde, and done me dere;
I rote as dooth a bowe on tre.
Therfore, er I be leyd on bere,
‘Ne reminiscaris, Domine!’
Quoniam die ac nocte graviter est super me manus tua: conversus sum in erumpna mea, dum configitur spina.
The hand of vengeaunce, more and more,Is up on me bothe day and nyȝt;
The prycke of conscyence grevyth me sore,
As often as I do unryȝt:
But mercy, Lord! as thou hast hyȝt
To alle tho that wyl turne un to thé.
I kan no socour in thys plyȝt,
But, ‘Ne reminiscaris, Domine!’
Delictum meum cognitum tibi feci: et injusticiam meam non abscondi.
My trespas and myn unryȝtwysnesseI knowleche, and my synnĕs fele.
Thowȝ I wolde hyde my wickydnesse,
My conscyence willĕ me apele.
9
It is mannys infirmyté:
Whan no man may his gylte concele,
‘Ne reminiscaris, Domine!’
Dixi, Confitebor adversum me injusticiam meam Domino: et tu remisisti impietatem peccati mei.
Zyf thou, with good avysĕment,Of thi synnĕs wilt thé schryve,
Thi soule in helle schal nevere be schent,
Whil thou wilt here thi penaunce dryve.
Amende thi lyif (I rede the blyve)
Er evere thi wittĕs fro thé fle;
And thynke wel, whil thou art on lyve,
On ‘Ne reminiscaris, Domine!’
Pro hac orabit ad te omnis sanctus, in tempore oportuno.
Thowȝ thou be holy in woord and dede,And besy thi God to plese and pay,
To more mercy thou hast gret nede,
Zyf thou thi conscyens wylt asay.
Sevenĕ sythes up on a day,
The ryȝtwyse fallyth, Cryist seyth to thé:
But who so cryith, he seyde nevere nay,
Of ‘Ne reminiscaris, Domine!’
Verumptamen in diluvio aquarum multarum, ad eum non approximabunt.
10
Throwȝ thi fleschly governaunce:
Lust and lykyng ȝyf thou love,
The ende therof is bitter chaunce.
Thou mayst noȝt serve bothe, with plesaunce,
Cryist and the feend, in no degré.
Serve God; and seye, with repentaunce,
‘Ne reminiscaris, Domine!’
Tu es refugium meum a tribulacione que circumdedit me. Exultacio mea! erue me a circundantibus me.
Thou art myn helpe in al dyssese!Whan I am wrappyd in wele or wo,
I schulde be besy thé to plese,
But, allas! I do noȝt so.
Delyvere me, Lord, fro many a fo,
That nyȝt and day envyroun me.
For helpe I kan no ferthere go,
But to ‘Ne reminiscaris, Domine!’
Intellectum tibi dabo, et instruam te in via qua gradieris: firmabo super te oculos meos.
Graunte me gracĕ wisdam and witt,Thi lawe to understande and lere,
That I nevere gylte aȝens itt,
Wher evere I go, fer or nere.
I pray thé, Lord, be thou my fere;
And pitously beholde, and se
How I crye, whil I am here,
‘Ne reminiscaris, Domine!’
11
Nolite fieri sicut equus et mulus: quibus non est intellectus.
I am full dull and ryȝt unwyse,As beestys that kan no resoun take;
Slowe and slak in thi servyse,
And seldĕ suffre for thi sake.
To thé my moörnyng I make,
On me have mercy and pyté.
There may no thyng my sorwe aslake,
But “Ne reminiscaris, Domine!”
In chamo et freno maxillas eorum constringe; qui non approximant ad te.
Lord! drawe hym to thé with a brydel,That will noȝt comĕ with good wylle;
And streyne here chekys fro woordys ydell,
That kan noȝt holdyn here tungys stylle.
But, Lord! late nevere mannes soulĕ spylle,
That axyth mercy and grace of thé,
And mekely puttyth to thé this bylle,
‘Ne reminiscaris, Domine!’
Multa flagella peccatoris: sperantem autem in Domino misericordia circumdabit.
The scourge of God is sharp and kene,Whanne synnĕ among men is ryif;
Often he betyth hem by dene,
To drawe hem fro here wycked lyif.
12
Ne non astatĕ nor degré:
There is no thyng may stynte this stryif,
But ‘Ne reminiscaris, Domine!’
Letamini in Domino, et exultate justi: et gloriamini omnes recti corde.
In herte thei may be merye and glad,That ryȝtfully here lyïf lede,
And kepe the lawe that Cryïst bad,
In thouȝt, in woord, and eke in dede.
God willĕ qwytĕ hem here mede,
In endles blysse when thei schul be.
Here nedys may no thyng bettyr spede,
Than ‘Ne reminiscaris, Domine!’
| A paraphrase on the Seven Penitential Psalms | |