University of Virginia Library

The yer of grace, pleynly to descryue,
A thowsand, fourhundryd, fourty & fyue,
Aftyr þe cherche of Romys computacyoun
Wych wyth Iane chaungyth hyr calculacyoun,
Whan phebus (wych nowher is mansonarye
Stedefastly, but ych day doth varye
Hys herberwe among þe syngnys twelue,
As þe fyrste meuer ordeynyd hym-selue)
Descendyd was in hys cours adoun
To þe lowest part by cyrcumuolucyoun
Of þe Zodyac cercle, Caprycorn I mene,
Wher of heythe degrees he hath but fyftene,
And hys retur had sumwhat bygunne.
By wych oo degre oonly he had wunne
In clymbyng, & drow towerd Agnarye—
But in þis mater what shuld I lenger tarye?
I mene pleynly up-on þat festful eue
In wych, as alle crystene men byleue,
Thre kyngys her dylygence dede applye
Wyth thre yiftys newe-born to gloryfye
Cryst, aftyr hys byrthe þe threttende day,
Comyng from þe est in ful royal aray,
By conduct of a sterre wych shone clere:

domina Bowser commitissa Ew Dux Eborum

In presence I was of þe lady bowsere,
Wych is also clepyd þe countesse of hu,
Doun conueyid by þe same pedegru
That þe duk of york is come, for she
Hys sustyr is in egal degre,
Aftyr þe dochesse of york clepyd Isabel,
Hyr fadrys graunhtdam, [wych, soth to tel,]
In spayn kyng Petrys dowtyr was,
Wych wyth a-noþir sustyr, so stood þe caas,
The royal tytle of spayne to englond broht,
And, for þe fyrste sustyr yssud noht
But deyid baren, al stood in þe toþir,
By whhom þe ryht now to þe broþir
Of seyd da[me] Isabelle, to seyn al and sum,
The duk of york, syr Rychard, is come,

Richardus dux Eborum

Wych god hym send, yf it be hys wyl.
But of þis mater no more now spekyn I wyl,
But returnyn ageyn to seyd dame Isabelle,
And of my purpos þe remnanth furth telle.
I saye, whyl þis ladyis foure sonys ying
Besy were wyth reuel & wyth daunsyng,
And oþere mo in þere most fressh aray
Dysgysyd, for in þe moneth of may
Was neuyr [wyth] flouris [whyt], blewe & grene,
Medewe motleyid freshlyere, I wene,
Than were her garnementys; for as it semyd me
Mynerue hyr-self, wych hath þe souereynte
Of gay texture, as declaryth Ouyde,
Wyth al hire wyt ne coude prouyde
More goodly aray þow she dede en[cl]os
Wyth-ynne oo web al methamorphosyos.
I seye, whyl þei þus daunsyng dede walke
Aboute þe chaumbyr, wyth me to talke
It lykyd my lady of hyr ientylnesse
Of dyuers legendys, wych my rudnesse
From latyn had turnyd in-to our language,
Of hooly wummen, now in my last age,
As of seynt Anne, to blyssyd Marye
The modyr, of Margrete & of Dorothye,
Of Feyth & Crystyne, & of Anneys þer-to,
And of þo Eleuene thowsend uirgyns al-so,
And of þat holy & blyssyd matrone
Seynt Elyzabeth, whos lyf alone
To alle wyuys myht a merour be
Of uery perfeccyoun in sundry degre,
Whos holy legend as at þat tyme
I newly had begunne to ryme,
At request of hyr to whom sey nay
I nethyr kan, ne wyl, ne may,
So mych am I boundon to hyr goodnesse,

Elizabetha ver comitissa Oxenfordiae

I mene of Oxenforthe þe countesse,
Dame Elyzabeth ver by hyr ryht name,
Whom god euere kepe from syn & shame,
And of good lyf so hyr auaunce
Here in þis werd wyth perseueraunce,
That, whan she chaungyth hir mortal fate,
Of lyf eterne she may entryn þe gate,
Ther-ynne to dwellyn wythowten endyng.
And whyl [we] were besy in þis talkyng,
My lady hyr hooly & blyssyd purpoos
To me þis wyse þer dede oncloos:
‘I haue,’ quod she, ‘of pure affeccyoun
Ful longe tym had a synguler deuocyoun
To þat holy wumman, wych, as I gesse,
Is clepyd of apostyls þe apostyllesse;
Blyssyd Mary mawdelyn y mene,
Whom cryste from syn made pure & clene,
As þe clerkys seyn, ful mercyfully,
Whos lyf in englysshe I desyre sothly
To han maad, & for my sake
If ye lykyd þe labour to take,
& for reuerence of hyr, I wold you preye.’
At wych wurde, what I myht seye
I stood in doute, for on þe to part
My lytyl experyence in rymy[n]gs art,
My labyl mynde, & þe dulnesse
Of my wyt & þe greth rudnesse
I wele remembryd, & on þe toþir partye
I thowt how hard it is to denye
A-statys preyer, wych aftyr þe entent
Of þe poete is a myhty comaundement;
Wherfore me thoht, as in þis caas,
That my wyt wer lakkyd bettyr it was
Than my wyl, & þerfore to do
My ladyis preyere I assentyd to,
Of my sympyl cunnyng aftyr þe myht,
Vp condycyoun þat she me wolde respyt
Of hir ientyllnesse tyl I acomplysyd
My pylgramage hade, wych promysyd
I to seynt Iamys wyth hert entere
Had to performe þe same yere,
Þere to purchase thorgh penytence
Of myn oolde synnys newe indulgence;
Where men contryth thorgh clere confessyoun
Mown of her synnys han plener remyssyoun
From þe fyrst day, as I kan remembre,
Of Ianuarye to þe last of Decembre
Next folwynge al þe yerys space,
Wych clepyd is þere ‘þe yere of grace’,
Grauntyd, as men mown vndyrgrope,
Ful longe agoon of Calyxt þe pope
Euere to endure, whan seynt Iamys day
On þe sunday fallyth, þis is no nay.
And whan my lady herd had myn entent,
Ful ientylly þer-to she dede assent
Aftyr my desyr, & sothly to seyn
She me pardonyd tyl I come ageyn
From seynt Iamys, yf god wold so.
And I now haue performyd & do
Aftyr myn entent myn pylgrimage,
Applyin I wyl al þe corage
Of my wyt & of my kunnyng
To performen wyth-oute tarying
My ladyis wyl & hir comaundement.
But fyrst I wyl wyth an humble entent
Me conform to þe sage counsel
Of a phylosofyr, wych, as Austyn doth tel,
The prynce is of phylosofyrs alle,
Wurthyly whom men Plate calle,
Wych in hys book of hy Phylosofye
That he entyt[l]yt vn-to Thymye,
Hys dyscyple, seyis on þis wyse:
‘To al men,’ quod he, ‘it is a guyse,
A cerymonye aryit, & a custom
Obseruyd & kept as a relygyoun,
In alle her werkys both more & lesse,
At þe begynnyng wyth humbylnesse
To beseche þe souereyn dyuynyte
In here werk begunne here help to be,
That þei not erre ner do amys.’
Syth þan paynyms obseruyd þis,
Mych more me þinkyth awt we
It to perform wych crystyn be,
And of owr-self mowe no þing do,
In alle oure werkys recours haue to
Our souereyn god wyth humble preyere;
Wherfore, er ferther in þis matere
I do procede, wyth hert & thought
To hym I þus preye þat me made of nought.

O souereyn & most blyssyd trynyte,
O god in substaunce, in personys thre,
Fadyr & sone & þe holy gost wyth-al,
Whos myht, wyt & goodnesse is egal,
Al-be-it þat yche of þese thyngys thre
To a dystynit persone appropryat be
For dyuers causys, as clerkys preue,
But yet alle thre, as we bele[u]e,
In uery beyng arn but o thyng
Wych neythyr hath end no begynny[n]g,
Whos mesur noon oþir þan eternyte
May be clepyd, wych in meruelous degre
Both heuene & erthe hast made of nouht,
And alle þe conteyntys in hem hast wrouht,
And aungels in þe emperyal heuyne on hy,
Sunne, mone & sterrys þer-vndyr, & sky,
Herbys, trees, stonys & gresse al-so,
Fysshys & foulys, & al þat longyth to
Eyr, erthe & watyr in hys propyr sper,
The fourt element wych clepyd is fer;
And aftyr al þis, þorgh þi goodnesse,
Man þou formydyst to þi lyknesse,
Indewyng hym wyth natural yiftys thre,
As Mynd, Resoun, Wyl, in swych degre
Þat noon is oþir but dystynctly
They han her operacyouns, & yet essencyally
But oon soule þei ben al thre;
And þis is þe uery ymage of þe;
And moreouyr, pleynly to conclude,
In hym þou prendydyst þi symylytude
Wyth þo fre yiftys clene & pure,
Wych þou addyddyst to þe yiftys of nature,
In hys creacyoun whan þorgh þi grace
A spyryth of lyf þou brethyddyst in hys face.
And aftyr þat, as testyfyyth þe prophete,
Alle þingys þou kest vndyr hys fete,
Sheep, oxyn, & eek þe bestys alle
Of þe felde, what-euere men hem calle,
Bryddys of heuene & fysshys of þe se,
But whan he lost had þis greth dygnyte,
An hym-self deformyd abhomynabylly,
By þe enuye deceyuyd of hys enmy
Clepyd serpent, behemot, or leuyathan,
And many mo wysys þan I now rehers kan,
Thorgh þi greth grace & þi mercy
Thow hym reformyddyst more meruelously
Than in þe begynnyng he formyd fyrst was;
For wych reformyng, so stode þe caas,
The secunde persone euyn of you thre
By your comoun assent took oure freelte,
Here in erthe in a madyns bour,
And mannys aduocat becam & medyatour
Twyn þe fadyr of heuene & mankende;
And so aftyr thre & thretty wintris ende,
By suffraunce of ryht greuous passyoun,
He of mankende maad þe reparacyoun
Suffycyently, for wyth-owtyn doute
The leest drop of blood þa[t] yssuyd oute
Of hys blyssyd body, & hys circumcysyoun,
[F]or euere aftyr suffycyent raunsoun
Had been for al þe werdys wo,
And þow þer were werldys a þousend mo.
But not-for-þan yet wold not he,
So greth to man was hys cheryte,
Wyth lesse raunsoun mankynd by
Than wyth al þe blood of hys body,
And wyth al þe blood of hys hert eek, wh[e]rfore
Al mannys loue þou askyst & no more,
Wyth hertly laude & wyth meke preysyng,
For of our goodys þou nedyst no thyng,
As Dauid seyth in hys professye.
Where-fore, lord, to þe alone I crye
Wych welle art of mercy & of pyte,
And neythyr to Clyo ner to Melpomene,
Nere to noon oþir of þe musys nyne,
Ner to Pallas Mynerue, ner Lucyne,
Ner to Apollo, wych, as old poetys seye,
Of wysdam beryth both lok & keye,
Of gay speche eek & of eloquencye;
But alle þem wyttyrly I denye,
As euere crystene man owyth to do,
And þe oonly, lord, I fle on-to;
Not desyryng to haue swych eloquence
As sum curyals han, ner swych asperence
In vttryng of here subtyl conceytys,
In wych oft tyme ful greth dysceyt is,
And specyally for þere ladyis sake
They baladys or amalettys lyst to make,
In wych to sorwyn & wepyn þei feyn
As þow þe prongys of deth dede streyn
Here hert-root, al-be þei fer þens;
Yet not-for-þan is here centens
So craftyd up, & wyth langwage so gay
Uttryd, þat I trowe þe moneth of may
Neuere fresshere enbe[l]shyd þe soyl wyth flours
Than is her wrytyng wyth colours
Of rethorycal speche both to & fro;
Was neuere þe tayl gayere of a po,
Wych þan enherytyd alle Argus eyne
Whan Marcuryis whystyl hym dede streyne
To hys deed slepe; of wych language
The craft to coueyte where grete dotage
In m[yn] oold dayis & in þat degre
That I am in; wher-fore, lord, to þe
Wyt humble entent & hert entere
In þis conclude I my long preyere:
That I kunnyng may han suffycyently
To seruyn þe deuocyoun of my lady
Aftyr hyr entent, þat is [to] seyne,
That I may translate in wurdys pleyne
In-to oure langwage oute of latyn
The lyf of blyssyd Mare Mawdelyn,
To hyr goostly confourth in especyal,
And of them generally wych it redyn shal;
By wych redyng þat þai may wynne
Fyrst remyssyoun here of al here synne,
Lych as Mary Mawdelyn dede purchace,
And þat aftyr þis lyf þey may [þorgh grace]
To þat blys comyn wher-yn is she.
Sey ych man Amen, pur cheryte.