62. ON THE IMAGE OF PITY.
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[MS. B.M. Adds. 29729, leaves 129 back, to 130.]
1
O wretched synner! what so ever thow be,
With hert endurat hardar than þe stone,
Turne hidder in hast, knelle doun, behold and se
The moder of Cryst, whose hert was woo begon
To se her childe, whiche synne dide nevar non,
For thyn offence thus wounded & arayd;
Rewe on that peyne, remembringe here vpon,
Pray to that quene, that moder is, and mayd,
2
With this conceyt, þat yf syne had not bene,
Causynge our fadar Adam his grevous fall,
Of heven had she not be crounyd quene,
Ne ther ataynyd astate emperiall;
Besechyng her þat this memoriall
Of very pitie wold meve hir for thy grace
To pray þat lord, which may pardon all,
To here her bone, & then with hasty pace
3
Rene to a prest whill this is in thi mynd,
Knelynge down lowly withe hert contryt,
Tell out bothe croppe & rote, leve nought behynd—
Thy synnes all, be they gret or lyte,
Wher they were blake, then shall they wexe whyt,
His bittar passion is thy wesshyng welle.
Continew in clennys, & then thow shalt be quyte,
And saffe fro fendes all that are in helle.
4
Enprynt thes wordes myndly thy hert within,
Thynk how thow sest Cryst bledyng on þe tre,
And yf thow steryd or temptyd be to syne
It shall sone sese and pase a-way from the.
Remembre all so this dolorus pytie,
How þat this blyssid ladye thus doth enbrace
Her dere son ded, lygyng vpen her kne,
And, payne of deth, thow shalt not fayll of grace.
5
Lerne well this lesson, it is bothe short and lyght,
For with this same the wekest creature
That ys on lyffe may putte þe fend to flyght
And saffe hym-selffe in sole and body sure;
To suche entent was ordeynt purtreture
And ymages of dyverse resemblaunce,
That holsom storyes thus shewyd in fygur
May rest with ws with dewe remembraunce.
finis lidgat.
Amen.
