The poems of John Audelay Edited with introduction, notes and glossary [by Ella Keats Whiting] |
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The poems of John Audelay | ||
188
35
In die Sancti Iohannis apopstole et ewangeliste.
I pray ȝoue, breder euerechon,
Worchip þis postil, swete Saynt Ion.
Worchip þis postil, swete Saynt Ion.
Synt Ion is Cristis derlyng dere;
He lenyd on His brest at His sopere,
And þer He mad hym wonderful chere,
To-fore His postilis euerechon.
He lenyd on His brest at His sopere,
And þer He mad hym wonderful chere,
To-fore His postilis euerechon.
‘Saynt Ion,’ He said, ‘my dere derlyng,
Take my moder into þi kepyng;
Heo is my ioy, my hert swetyng;
Loke þou leue not here anon.
Take my moder into þi kepyng;
Heo is my ioy, my hert swetyng;
Loke þou leue not here anon.
‘Ion, I pray þe make here good chere
With al þi hert and þi pouere;
Loke ȝe to part not in fere
In wat cuntre þat euer ȝe goon.
With al þi hert and þi pouere;
Loke ȝe to part not in fere
In wat cuntre þat euer ȝe goon.
‘I comawnd ȝoue, my postilis alle,
When my moder doþ on ȝoue calle,
Anon on k[ney]s þat ȝe down falle,
And do here worchip þer-with anon.
When my moder doþ on ȝoue calle,
Anon on k[ney]s þat ȝe down falle,
And do here worchip þer-with anon.
‘I pray ȝoue al on my blessyng,
Kepe ȝe charete fore one þyng;
Þenke what I said in ȝour waschyng,
Knelyng to-fore ȝoue on a stone.
Kepe ȝe charete fore one þyng;
Þenke what I said in ȝour waschyng,
Knelyng to-fore ȝoue on a stone.
‘Farewel, now I wynd ȝoue fro;
To Ierusalem I most goo,
To be betrayd of my fo,
And sofir payn and passiown.’
To Ierusalem I most goo,
To be betrayd of my fo,
And sofir payn and passiown.’
189
‘A! my Sun, my heuen Kyng!’
Oure lady þer-with felle downe sonyng;
Þis was a dolful departyng;
Þai toke here vp with gret mon.
Oure lady þer-with felle downe sonyng;
Þis was a dolful departyng;
Þai toke here vp with gret mon.
‘A! my moder, my dere derlyng,
Let be þi wo and þi wepyng,
Fore I most do my Fader bidyng,
Ellis redempcion were þer non.’
Let be þi wo and þi wepyng,
Fore I most do my Fader bidyng,
Ellis redempcion were þer non.’
‘Farewel my fader, farewel my childe!’
‘Farewel moder and maid mylde,
Fro þe fynd I wil þe childe,
And crowne þe quene in heuen trone.’
‘Farewel moder and maid mylde,
Fro þe fynd I wil þe childe,
And crowne þe quene in heuen trone.’
Swete Saynt Ion, to þe we pray,
Beseche þat Lord þat best may,
When our soulis schal wynd away,
He grawnt vs al remyssion.
Beseche þat Lord þat best may,
When our soulis schal wynd away,
He grawnt vs al remyssion.
The poems of John Audelay | ||