Hoccleve's Works. I. :: :: University of Virginia Library

Modir of lyf / o cause of al our welthe,
Fyndere of grace and of our medecyne!
Where-as an appil refte our lyf and helthe,
And marie[de] vs vn-to ay lastyng pyne,
As sones of perdicion and ruyne;
That matrymoyne / thy virginitee
Dissolued / & vnbownden hath, virgyne,
And at our large / maad vs walke free!

2

O blessid be thow! vessel of clennesse,
In whom our soules salue list habyte!
O tree of lyf / swettest of al swetnesse,
In thy fruyt yeue vs grace to delyte!
And thogh thy sone, cause haue vs to smyte

For our giltes / yit our mediatrice,
As thow hast euere doon / thow him excite
Vn-to mercy / for þat is thyn office.

3

My soule is stuffid so with stynk of synne,
Þat ay it dreedith beforn thee appeere,
Lest for the filthe / which þat it is ynne,
Thow torne away thy merciable cheere,
And deyne nat accepte my preyeere.
And if my trespas heere / I nat confesse,
How shal I doon / o Crystes modir deere
Whan god shal iuge vs alle, more & lesse?

4

O why, my synnes / why, my wikkidnesses,
With your venym / my soule slayn, han yee,
And put in it so desperat gastnesses,
Þat mercy may ne list beholde me?
Why oppressith your heuy aduersitee
The hope of myn exaudicioun,
And shame in yow, maad hath so large entree,
Þat yee the vois me reue of orisoun?

5

Allas thy shame, o thow filthy offense
In the presence of shynynge holynesse!
O shenshipe of vnclene conscience
In the beholdynge of pured clennesse!
O caitif soule inuolued in dirknesse!
What wilt thow do / where is thy remedie?
Who may thy mescheef and thy greef redresse,
Syn of thy gilt / thow darst nat mercy crie?

6

Lo! blessid womman among wommen alle,
Syn my spirit nat dar putte vp his bille,
Thy grace ne thy mercy for to calle,
But in his mazidnesse abydith stille,
My thristy soule / drynke may hir fille

Of sorwe, and bathe in sorwe & heuynesse:
Hir ferdful shame / hir shende wole, & spille,
For to hir helthe / nat shee dar hir dresse.

7

My synnes yernen þat thyn hy pitee
Fully hem kneew / for hir curacioun;
But they lothen appeere beforn thee
For hir cursid abhominacion.
O spryng and welle of our sauuacioun,
My dirke soule of thy grace enlumyne,
And keepe it fro the castigacioun
That it disserued hath in helle pyne!

8

If I confesse myn iniquitee,
Lady / þat I wroght haue in thy presence,
Wilt thow me werne thy benignitee?
If þat my gilt / & my dampnable offense
Of giltes alle haue an excellence,
Shal thy mercy be lesse / than it oghte?
May nat thy mercy, with my gilt dispense,
And pardon gete of þat þat it mis wroghte?

9

The more þat my gilt passith mesure,
And stynkith in thy sones sighte and thyn /
The gretter neede hath it, of his cure
And of thyn help / wherfore, lady myn,
My soule fro the net and fro thengyn
Of him þat waytith it to slee / thow keepe!
His sotil snares, and cacchynge twyn,
In my memorie ficchid been ful deepe.

10

Lady / thyn help / nat wole I me despeire,
For in myn herte fully I conceyue
Þat thow to heuene / art the laddre & sterre
By which men clymben, blisse to receyue.

Despeir heer-aftir shal me nat deceyue,
Þat I ne shal ay thee byseeche of grace.
Thy might, I woot wel, is my gilt to weyue,
And of my trespas . pardoun me purchace.

11

Thow, Crystes modir / sholdest neuere han be,
Ne had our synnes causid it certayn;
For why / it had be no necessitee
But for thow qwikne shuldest vs agayn,
Þat for our gilt original wern slayn.
Thow art his modir / wherfore I thee preye
To saue me / haue thow no desdayn,
Þat of bountee & mercy art the keye!

12

Euene as the moone / a mene is verraily
Betwixt vs and the sonne / of whom hir light
Shee takith / & it vniuerselly
Yeueth vn-to the world whan it is nyght;
In swich a wyse / god, thy sone right,
The light of grace betook vn-to thee,
For to mynistre it vn-to euery wight
Þat ther-of list enlumyned to be.

13

Thyn humble goost, & maydens chastitee,
For our behoue han so mochil wroght
In sundry wyse / as þat wel knowen we,
Þat thee to thanke / we souffyse noght.
Thow hast vs vn-to swich a plyt I-broght,
Þat he, þat lord was sum tyme of vengeance,
With his blood hath our synful soules boght,
And is now lord of mercy & souffrance.

14

Where is a streighter way vn-to man-kynde,
To god, thy sone / our soules for to lede,
Than where as þat we may thy sone fynde
Beforn his fadir, with his wowndes rede,

And the before hem / mercy for to grede:
Thy sone his body shewith al bybled;
And to thy sone also, thy maydenhede
Shewith the pappes / wher-with he was fed.

15

O blessid Ihesu! for thy modres loue;
And modir! for the hy dileccion
Þat thow hast to thy sone in heuene aboue,
Haueth me, bothe, in your proteccion!
Plante in myn herte swich correccion,
Þat I, your grace / & your mercy may haue,
And fully stande in youre affeccion,
Or my body be clothid in his graue!

Cest tout.