The Minor Poems of John Lydgate :: :: University of Virginia Library

O welle of swetnesse replete in euery veyne!
That all mankynde preseruyd hast from dethe,
And all oure ioy fro langour dydest restreyne
At thy Natiuite, O floure of Nazareth!
Whan the Holygost with hys swete breth
Gan to enspyre the, as for hys chosyn place,
For loue of man by influence of hys grace,

2

And were inuyolate, O bryght heuynly sterre!
Mong celestynes, reynyng without memory,
That by thyne empryse in thys mortall werre,
Of oure captyuyte, gatest the full vyctory,
Whom I beseche for thyne excellent glory,
Som drope of thy grace adowne to me constyll,
In reuerence of the thys dyte to fulfyll.

3

That ovnely my rewdenes thy myracle nat deface
Whyche whylom sendest in a deuoute abbey,
Of an hooly monke thorough thy myght & grace,
That of all pyte berest bothe lok and key,
For, benygne lady, the sothe of thee to sey,
Full well thow quytyst that done thee loue and serue
An hundryd sythys bettyr then they deserue.

4

Ensample of whyche here ys in portreture,
Withoutyn fable, ryght as hit was in dede,
O refuge and welthe to euery creature!
Thy clerke to further helpe now at thys nede.
For to my purpose I wyll anone procede,
The trowthe to recorde, I wyll no lengor tary,
Ryght as hit was, a poynt I wyll nat vary.

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5

Vincencius in hys speculatyf historiall
Of thys sayde monke maketh full mensioun,
Vnder the fourme to yow, as I reherse shall,
That by a gardeyne as he romyd vp and doune
He heerd a bysshop of fame & gret renoune
Seying v. psalmes in honour of that flowre,
That bare Iesu Cryst oure alther redemptoure.

6

In whiche Psalmes, standyng eche in here degre,
Whoso lyst take hede in syngler lettres fyue,
This blessyd name Maria there may he se
That furst of all oure thraldam can depryue,
To the hauen of dethe when we gan arryue,
And fro the wawes of this mortall see,
Made vs to escape from all aduersite.

7

Dystynctly in Latyn here may ye rede echone,
Folowyng these baladys as for youre plesaunce,
To whom the bysshop hade sayde hys meditacione,
The monke anone delytyd in his remembraunce,
And thought he wold as for his most affiaunce
Cotydyally with hem oonly oure lady plese,
That fro all greuaunce hys sorowes myght appese.

8

And there withall he wrote hem in hys mynde,
So stedfastly with deuoute and hy corage,
That neuer a day a worde he foryate behynde,
But seyde hem entyerly in-to hys last age,
Hys olde gyltes bothe to a soft and swage
Aftyr hyr matyns, as was hys appetyte,
To sey hem euer was hys most delyte.

9

Therto his dylygence with all hys hert & myght,
And forthe contynuyd in his deuoutest wyse,

313

Tyll at last hit befell apon a nyght
The hoole Couent at mydngyht gan aryse,
As ys here vsage, to do to God seruyse,
So when they were assemblyd there in generall,
The suppryour beholdyng aboute ouer all,

10

As ys hys offyce that noone of theym were absent,
But of Dan Ioos he cowde nowyse aspy,
He roose hym up and priuyly he went
In-to hys chambre, and there he fond hym ly
Deede as a stoone, and lowde he gan to cry
“Helpe,” quoth he, “for the loue of oure lady bryght,
Dan Ioos oure brother ys sodenly dede to-nyght.”

11

The couent anone gan renne halfe in a drede,
Tyll they had behylde when passyd was here afray
Owte of hys mowthe, a Roose boothe sprang and sprede,
Fresshe in his coloure as any floure in May,
And other tweyne out of his eyen gray
Of hys eares as many full fresshly flowryng,
That neuer yet in gardyne half so feyre gan spryng.

12

Thys rody Roose they haue so long beholde
That sprang for his mowthe, tyll they haue espyed
Full fayre grauen, in lettres of bornyd golde,
Marie full curyously as hit ys specyfyed,
In bookes oolde, and anone they haue hem hyed
Vnto the temple, with lawde & hye solempnyte,
Beryng the corse that all men myght hit se.

13

Whyche they kepte in ryalte & hy perfeccioune
Seuyn dayes in the tempel there beyng present,
Tyll thre bysshops of fame & gret renoune
Were comyn thedyr, ryght with deuout entent,
And many another clerk with hem by oon assent,
To se thys myracle of thys lady bryght
Seying in thys wyse, with all her hert and myght,

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14

“Lawde, honour, pryce and hygh reuerence
Eternally be to thee .O. heuynly Iuge,
And to thy modyr that of her gret benyuolence,
Preserueth from heuynes in this derke deluge,
That doone her magnyfy and ys her hoole refuge
More then they serue sche quyteth a thowsand folde,
Hyr passyng goodnes of vs may nat be tolde:”

15

Thus when these bysshops & clerkis many oon
Had thankyd God, as ferforth as they can,
And thys lady that hathe thys grace ydoon,
So full of ioy and blysse was euery man
Of thys myracle, that syth the world began
Yet herde I neuer in Roundell, prose ne ryme,
Of halfe the gladnes þat was withyn hem that tyme,

16

Sone aftyr thys her iorney gan they holde,
Eche in hys syde, in-to hys propre place,
Ryght as they fonde ouerall so haue they tolde,
Of thys holy Monke, O lady full of grace!
Now well ys hym, that can hys hert enbrace,
To loue the best and chaunge for no new,
That art so feythfull thow canst nat be vntrew.

17

O ye fresshe louers, that lyuyn euer in doublenesse,
And hurt your-self full oft with your owne knyfe,
Your wofull ioy ys medlyd ay with byttyrnesse,
Now glad, now sory, now lyte, now pensyfe,
Thus with your-self ye fall euer at stryfe,
Betwene two wawes ay possyd to and fro,
That in contraryosnes ye stryuyn euyr mo.

18

Youre blynde fantasyes now in hertes weyue,
Of chyldysshe vanyte and let hem ouerslyde,
And loueth this lady, that can nowyse deceyue,

315

She ys so stedfast of hert in euery syde,
That for your nedys so modyrly can prouyde
And for your poysy these lettres fyue ye take,
Of thys name Maria oonly for hys sake.

19

That for youre trauayle so well [will] yow auaunce,
Nat as these wemen on ye whyche ye doon delyte,
That fedyn yow all day with feynyd pleasaunce,
Hyd vndyr tresoun with many wordys whyte,
But bet then ye deserue she woll yow quyte,
And for ye shall nat labour all in veyne,
Ye shall have heuen there ys nomore to seyne;

20

Whos passyng goodnes may nat be comprehendyd,
In mannys prudence fully to determyne,
She ys so parfyte she cannat be amendyd,
That ay to mercy and pyty doth enclyne.
Now benygne lady that dedyst oure sorowes fyne
In honour of the that done thy psalmes rede
As was Dan Ioos, so quyte hem for theyre mede.

Amen.