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The poems of John Audelay

Edited with introduction, notes and glossary [by Ella Keats Whiting]
Audelay, John

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Audite hec, omnes gentes: hanc epistolam scripsit Dominus Ihesus Christus manibus suis et misit in siuitatem Gazon vbi ego Petrus primum episcopatum accepi.
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In die epephanis &c.
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41

Cantalena de puericia.

And God wold graunt me my prayer,
A child aȝene I wold I were.
Fore pride in herte he hatis all one;
Worchip ne reuerens kepis he non;
Ne he is wroþ with no mon;
In charete is alle his chere.
He wot neuer wat is envy;
He wol vche mon fard wele him by;
He couetis noȝt vnlaufully,
Fore chere stons is his tresoure.
In hert he hatis lechori,
To here þer-of he is sory;
He sleþ þe syn of glotere,
Noþer etis ne drynkis bot fore mystere.
Slouþ he putis away al gate,
And wol be bese erle and late;
Al wyckidnes þus he doþ hate,
Þe vij dedle synns al in-fere.
198

A gracious lyfe forsoþe he has;
To God ne mon doþ no trespas,
And I in syn fal, alas,
Euere day in þe ȝere.
My ioy, my myrþ is fro me clene;
I turne to care, turment, and tene;
Ded I wold þat I had bene,
When I was borne, and layd on bere.
Fore better hit were to be vnboren,
Þen fore my synus to be forelorne,
Nere grace of God þat is beforne,
Almysdede and hole prayere
Now oþer cumford se I non
Bot schryue me clene with contricion,
And make here trew satisfaccion,
And do my penans wyle Y am here.
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