 | The Osteleres |  |
[Scene I,
The heights of Heaven.]Jesus.
Myne aungellis þat are bright and schene,
On my message take ye þe waye
Vnto Marie, my modir clene,
Þat berde is brighter þan þe daye.
Grete hir wele haly be-dene,
An to þat semely schall ȝe saye,
Off heuene I haue hir chosen quene,
In joie and blisse þat laste schall aye.
I wille ȝou saie what I haue þoughte,
And why þat ȝe schall tille hir wende,
I will hir body to me be brought,
To beilde in blisse with-outen ende.
Mi flesshe of hir in erþe was tone,
Vnkindely thing it were, i-wis
Þat scho schulde bide be hire allone,
And I beilde here so high in blis.
For-thy tille hir þan schall ȝe fare,
Full frendlye for to fecche hir hedir,
Þere is no thyng þat I loue more,
In blisse þanne schall we belde to-gedir.
492
O! blissfull lorde, nowe moste of myght,
We are redye with all oure myght
Thy bidding to fulfille,
To þi modir, þat maiden free,
Chosen cheffe of chastite,
As it is thy wille.
ii Angelus.
Off þis message we are ful fayne,
We are redy with myght and mayne,
Bothe be day and be nyght;
Heuene and erþe nowe gladde may be,
Þat frely foode nowe for to see,
In whome þat þou did light.
iii Angelus.
Lorde! Jesu Criste, oure gouernoure,
We are all boune att þi bidding,
With joie and blisse and grete honnoure,
We schall þi modir to þe bringe.
| The Osteleres | |