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[THE COMPLAINT OF GOD TO SINFUL MAN.]

I

Owre gracious god, prynce of pite,
That all this worlde fyrst began,
At whose wyll all thyng behovith to be,
Compleyneth hym thus to synfull man:
“Thow synfull wrech, answere thou me
And know thy-sylfe, yff that þou can,
And thynk what I have do for the.
Why forsakyst thou me & seruyst Sathan?

II

Man, such a love to the i hadde;
Thys worlde in VI dayes when I hit wrouȝt,
Thou were the last thyng that i made,
Be-cause i wolde thou wantyd noȝt;
What thyng the myȝt helpe or glade,
What the nedyth, schulde not be souȝt.
ffull many thyngys for the i made;
To thy be-hove all was i-wrouȝt.

III

More-ouer i gave the souereynte,
That all thyng schulde bowe the vntyll,
And also i made the lyke to me
And gave the konnyng & fre wyll
Me to serve, that thou myȝt se
To chese the gode & leve the ylle.
I aske no-thyng ageyn of the
But to be thy souereyn, as it is skyll.

IV

And to thys thou takyst none entent;
Thow wreythest a wey full onkyndly,
509

In lust onlefull thy lyffe is lent,
Thy hert be-holdyth not hevyn on hye.
ffor all the gode i have the sent
Vnnethe þou cannyst sey gramercye.
In tyme komyng, lest thou repent,
Make a-mendys, man, or thou dye.”

V

I, crystyn man, defoyled with synne,
Receyve in conciens thys compleynt
And fell to the grounde with dolefull dyn
And seyde: “lorde, mercy, souereyne seynt,
I, most wrech of all mankynde,
Knowlege i am thy traytor a-taynt
And am in many a dydly syn;
I may wele se by thy compleynt.

VI

I want wordys & also wytte
Of thy godenes to carpe a clause.
All that i have, thou gave me hit
Off thy godenesse withoutyn cause.
Lorde, yf I have grevyd the & do ȝit,
Thy benefyttys þou doest not withdrawe.
I have deseruyd hell pytte;
So have i lyved a-yenst thy lawe.

VII

But, lorde, thou knowyst mannys frelnesse,
How frele he is & hath be aye.
ffor thowgh the soule have thy lyknes,
The body ys lothsom erth & clay.
In syn conseyved and wrechednesse
And to the soule rebell allweye,
ffyrst a man growyth as grasse
And after welkyth as flourys or haye.
510

VIII

Than sethen man is freell a thyng,
And thy power ys so grete in kynde
That thys worlde in an eyes twynklyng
Thowe mayest dystroy, none may deffende.
Þis is to me a grete mekyng
And schall be, to my lyff is ende.
Sore me repentyth my mysse lyvyng.
Mercy, lorde, i wyll a-mende.”

IX

“Man, I haue geve the bodyly hele,
That thou schuldyst spend hit in my seruyce,
Thy fyve wittys & oþer fetrys feell,
But what doest thou with all these?
Man, all these thou spendyst in euyll
ffull wykkydly in many wyse
And lyvest in lustys and seruyst the devyll.
ffro yere to yere thou lyst not ryse.

X

Thow stodyest after nyce araye
And makyst gret cost on clothyng
To make the semelye, as who wolde saye
Thou cannyst a-mende my makyng.
Thou arayest the nycely day by daye
And steryst the people to synnyng.
Thy wrechyd wyll thou doest all-weye.
What ende syn hath, thou thynkyst no-thyng.

XI

In Noyes tyme, be-cause of syn
And for lechery in especiall,
What vengeance came to all mankyn?
Saue VIII personys drowned were all.
On Sodom and Gomer thou oughtyst to have mynde,
How i made fyre & brymston fall
ffrom hevyn to men that bode þeryn.
ffor syn were dystroyed both gret & smalle.
511

XII

Man, wenyst thou my myȝt be lesse
Then hit was then, or ellys I?
Or wenyst thou I hate not as moch wykkydnesse
As when i smote so petuouslye?
Man, thy defautys loke thou redresse,
Whyle i the spare with my mercy,
And thynk on my ryȝtwysnesse,
And make a-mendys, or that þou dye.”

XIII

“I wote wele, lorde, thou ryȝtfull arte
And that syn must be ponysched nedys.
But oo thyng holdyth in hope my hert:
Thy mercy passith my mysdedys.
I wote wele, lorde, i may hit not astert;
I have so do, me ought to drede.
Whyle i was both hole & quarte,
The to serue I toke no hede.

XIV

I have mysspende my ȝong age
In syn & wantonhede also.
I have be lewde and lovyd to rage;
A glotyn, a lechore i was, both two.
Worthy I am none other wage
But for to dwell in endelesse woe.
A-lasse, why have i be so outrage
And seruyd the fynde that is my foe?

XV

But, lorde, in holy wryȝt rede we
That þou forsakyst no wrechede wyȝt
That leuyth hys syn & tornyth to the,
And to torne to the now haue i tyȝt.
ffull proude & rebell have i be,
But nowe i wyll meke me with all my myȝthe,
And fro hens-forward I purpose me
Ageynst my owyn flesch to fyȝt.
512

XVI

My flesche to febyll i wyll faste,
My body to travyll i wyll bende,
And thorowe thy grace i am not a-gaste.
What sorowe or syknesse that þou me sende,
To suffer hit, whyle my lyeff wyll laste,
Mekely therto i wyll entende
And do penance for my trespasse.
Mercy, Ihesu, i wyll amende.”

XVII

“Man, i have send the syluer & golde
And all the welth within thy wone
To susteyne the & thy housolde,
And with the resydue to helpe many on
Thou myghtyst helpe both yong & olde
That be desesyd & woe be-gon.
My seruandys suffer hunger & colde,
And of full lytell releyff they haue none.

XVIII

And yf thou gyffe for my loue a farthyng,
Thowe doyst hit with an hevy hert.
In almysse daryst thou no-thyng
ffor drede thou fall in-to pouerte.
In vanyte & in veyne spendyng
What-euer thou spendyst, full mery thou arte.
Therof schalt þou geve a strayt rekenyng;
At domysday thou schalt not a-stert.

XIX

Then schalt thou geve a rekenyng full streyt
How thou comyst be thy gode, ych dele,
Whethyr by trouth or be dysseyte,
And how thou spendyst hit, evyll or wele.
None other grace thou after wayte;
As thou hast do, so schalt thou fele,
And then thy wylys & thy dysseyte
They schall the helpe neuer a dele.
513

XX

But a clene consiens schall þat day
More profyt & by more set by
Than all the mukke & the monye
That euer was vnder the skye.
Then schall not helpe to plete ne pray,
ffor as ryȝt is, so deme schall I.
And therfore, man, whyle thou maye,
Make a-mendys, or that thou dye.”

XXI

“I wote wele, lorde, fro yere to yere
So gretly grevyd the i have
That, but yf thy mercy were,
I wolde my motheris wombe had be my grave.
ffor what profityth my lyvyng here,
But yf i do so þat thou wylt me saue?
Now, Ihesu, as thou bouȝtyst me dere,
Let me not dwell in hell caue.

XXII

My waste expens i wyll with-drawe,
ffor waste e[x]pens the[y] callyd may be,
ffor they were spendyd my bost to blowe
And my name to bere by lond and se.
But be reson i may wele knowe
There byn full many in my contre
That no-thyng knowe me, as i trowe,
Ne neuyr ȝyt hard speke of me.

XXIII

ffondly haue i wrought in many wyse,
ffor i myght have gete me moch mede,
Had I hit spendyd in goddys seruice
On men desesyd & almysdede.
But, lorde, thorow thy grace i wyll aryse.
ffor haue i and myne oure bare nede,
514

Wyth the remenaunt, lorde, at thy deuyse
Pore men i wyll cloth & fede.

XXIV

Sykmen that lyen in godys bondys,
That have no syluer for to spende,
And prisonerys, boundyn fote & handys,
I wyll them vysite & to them entende.
And when i se how hit with them stondys,
Such as i have I wyll them sende
And dyspose hit with myne owyn handys.
Mercy, Ihesu, I wyll amende.”

XXV

“Man, yf thou wylt amendys make,
Do thy almysse of thyne owen gode
And restore a-yen that is mystake,
And ellys thy almys doth the no bote.
ffor and thou ontruly from on take
And ther-with fyndyst other þer fode,
Such sacryfice I forsake.
Hyt is to me as bytter as sote.

XXVI

Yff thou the pore people opresse
With falshede & with fleyȝtys also
Or with any dysseyte, more or lesse,
In trust of almysse that þou wylt doe,
Then somme the curse & some the blesse,
But whom schall I here of these twoe?
But therfore, man, and thou wylt have grace,
Hate all falshede & go ther-fro.

XXVII

The mouthys that thy clothys etyn,
And þou lettyst pore men go bare,
The ruste that thy syluer fretyth,
Thy godys that euyll getyn are,
Thy drynk that souryth, & moulyd mete
Where-with the pore myȝth wele fare,
515

Hit cryeth on the venianse grete
The forto spyll, but yf i spare.

XXVIII

With-holdyng the hyre, ageynst the ryȝth,
Of thy seruantys vengeance doth crye.
Man, ofte-tymys thou me be-hyȝth
Thou woldyst amende & leve folye.
Thou spekyst fayr both day & nyȝth
And brekyst comenant contynuellye.
But, man, be ware, whyle thou myȝth,
And make amendys, or thou dye.”

XXIX

“Now, swete lorde, what schall i saye?
I have not holde that i have hyȝth.
But i greve the gretly euery day
And do not as I am in det.
I wolde do wele, but weleawaye!
With enmyes i am so be-set
That, when i wolde the plese & pray,
My flesch is the fyrste that wyll me let.

XXX

And euer the fatter that I hit fede,
The more frescher hit is my foe,
And euer i fynde hit false at nede.
Alasse for sorowe, what schall i doe?
Some tyme the fynde wyll batell bydde.
Oure gostly enmye he is also.
But, lorde, i wyll the love & drede
And fyȝth a-geynst my gostly foe.

XXXI

But when I enforce me other-whylys
And thynk to lyve a full trew lyeff
And forsake falshede & gylys,
Then the worlde byddyth me batell ryeff.
516

And but yf i vse wrenchis & wylis,
Some men sayn i schall not thryve,
And some at me laughis, & some smylys,
And thus they holde me a kynde caytyffe.

XXXII

But, lorde, i wyll with-stonde all thys
And forsake falshede withoutyn ende
And restore that i have take a-mysse
And pay my dettys fayre & hynde.
And when i haue geue ech man hys,
As reson is, so wyll i spende
And geve my almesse that nede is.
Mercy, lorde, I wyll amende.”

XXXIII

“Man, I have send the kyndly syght
Of vnderstondyng, reson, & wytte
To rule thy lyffe be reson & ryȝth.
And also thou hast holy wryȝth;
That schall the schew gostly lyȝth
To be ware of syn & fle hit
And in what wyse thou plese me myȝth,
The which have geve the lyef & wytte.

XXXIV

Worldly ryches, royall repayr,
Jewellys & thyngys of royalte,
ffysches, bestys, & byrdys of the ayer,
All thys the thynkyth royall to se.
And yf thyngys þat schall perysch & apeyr
Onto thy syȝth so plesyng be,
Wele mayest thou wite i am full fayr,
Of whom euery thyng hath hys beute.

XXXV

But, man, as thou witlesse were,
Thow lokyst euer dovnward as a beste.
517

Hit hevyeth the of me to here.
ffoule spekyng ys to the a feste.
I comfort the and make the chere,
And thou a-yenward lovyst me leste.
I call the to me yere by yere;
Thow wylt not come at my requeste.

XXXVI

As i were thy foo, thou fro me fleeste.
I folowe the fast & on the crye.
Thou wrappyst the with vaniteys
And thynkyst my spekyng but folye.
ffor thyng that nought is þou wylt lese
My joye that lastyth endeleslye.
Now leve thy syn & vertu chese
And make amendys, or thou dye.”

XXXVII

“Swete Ihesu, none answere I can
But ofte crye mercy with hert stabyll.
Alasse for woe, why is a man
Wors than a beste on-resonabyll?
All bestys, sethyn thys worlde be-gan,
In kyndly worchyngys be durabyll.
But many synnys have i done
That be both cursyd & dampnabyll.

XXXVIII

I was made to know my maker
And to love hym above althyng.
But i, wrech, was neuer waker
To take kynde knowing of my kyng.
To tryfyllys grete tent have i take.
A song of sorowe now may i syng.
And yf i had syn for-sake,
Of Kryste i schulde have better knowyng.

XXXIX

My gostly eyen be full of duste,
Cursyd couetyse hath blynded me,
518

And they be blodeshote with fleschly luste,
That hevynly thyngys i can not se.
But, lor[d], þough i have be onjuste,
With the helpe of thy benyngnite
I hope to haue a-wey the ruste
With penaunce fro my gostly ye.

XL

And as i wolde be-fore this
My wyt in worldly thyngys spende,
ffrom hens-forwarde my purpose ys
To lerne thy lawe to my lyvys ende.
To know thy comaundmentys
And them to kepe i wyll me bende,
And ther, as I have done a-mysse,
Mercy, Ihesu, i wyll amende.”

XLI

“Man, yff thow wylt my mercy gete
Thorough my passion of grete vertu,
Why sesyst þow me not to bete?
Ech day on crosse thow doyst me newe
With thy othys many and gret.
As a trayter to me thou art ontrewe.
And but yf thou wylt thy othes let,
Ellys full sore hit schall the rewe.

XLII

No lym of me thou forberyst.
Why doyst thow evyll ageynste goode
Wyth thy othes þat thou sweryst?
fforto a-venge thyne ovyn mode
Wyth thy tonge þou me al to-teryst,
As thou were madde or wode.
Wyth thy onkyndnes þou me more deryst
Than they that rent me on the rode.

XLIII

Thou hast more pyte on-to thy too,
Yf hit be hurt and a lytyll blede,
519

Than thou hast for all the woo
That i suffyrde for thy mysdede.
And whan thou art tauȝt & covncelyd also
That thou schuldyst not swere but whan hit is nede,
A-non thou gevyst a story þerto,
And to my hestys thou takyst none hede.

XLIV

Loude lesyngys for me thou makyst
Some tyme to wyn an halpeny,
What tyme to wytnesse þou me takyst,
And ȝyt thou lyest wetyngly.
In byinge & sellyng lesyngys þou makyst,
And in idyll and fals thou sweryst me by,
And so to hell the wey thou takyst.
Man, make amendys, or thou dye.”

XLV

“Now sore I sygh, and wele i may,
ffor i a wrech am so cursyd
That i do the on the crosse ech day
With grete othys and werkys werst
And moch more the greve than they
That on the rode sloughyn the fyrst.
ffor had they knowe the, i dare wele say,
To do the to the deth they had not dyrst.

XLVI

But I know it be my beleve
That thou art god omnipotent,
And yf i sece not the to greve,
I am worthy to be schent.
How mayste þou, lorde, suffer me to meve!
All creaturys owtyn me to turment.
Hit is mervell I fall not ynto myscheyffe
And that i am not kyllyd, drownyd, or brent.
520

XLVII

The erth opyned & swalowed all quyk
As Datan & Abyron for her syn.
And i am worse, hit is full lyke,
ffor the evyll custome that i am yn.
In dedly syn men dyen now thyk.
‘What profyteth this worlde to wyn
And lese ther soulys?’ seyeth holy wryȝth.
ffor they schall dwell yn endles pyne.

XLVIII

I have be lewde & do full ylle
And for no covncell wolde amende,
But i wolde lyve after my wylle.
Hyt was the beste som tyme i wende.
I was in the brode weye to helle
And toke none hede to my laste ende,
And thus i was in poynt to spyll.
Mercy, Ihesu, i wyll amende.”

XLIX

“Man, on thy-selfe hit schall be-longe,
Yf hyt so be thy soule be spylte.
ffor-geve thou them that do the wronge,
And i wyll forgeve the thy gylte.
And yf thou be of hert so stronge
That in no wyse for-geve thou wylte,
But venge the with hert & tong,
I wyll not for-geve the thy gylte.

L

I prayde for them that me desesyd,
But i myȝth have dampned them for aye,
And yf thou be a lytyll dysplesyde,
Thowe cursyst & bannyst nyȝth & day.
ffor no prechyng wylt þou be pesyde,
But to venge the is thi wyll allway.
ffull sore schulde thy enmyes be desesyd,
And thou myȝthtyst oner them, as i onyr the may.
521

LI

A, man, do wey thy malysse & cese of thy syn
And kepe thy charite in euery chaunce,
And then my mercy schall thou wyn,
So þat thou do tru penaunce.
Loke thy hert be contrite withyn
And sory for thy mysgouernaunce.
What profyteth schryvyng of thy syn,
But yf thou in hert have repentaunce?

LII

Thou scornyst, & penaunce doest þou none,
But yf thou forthynk þy syn full sore.
ffor worldly losse thou canst make none,
But þou synnyst & sorowest nothyng þerfore.
And yf thy body be woe begone,
What bitter medycyne þat geve the were,
With gode wyll þow woldyst take hit anone
Thy bodyly helth forto restore.

LIII

Withoute cause full ofte art thou wroth
On-to thy freendys onskylfully,
When they the tech & covncell both
To leve the wrath & thy envy.
Thow dredyst not god nor sparyst none othe,
And all ys to mayntene thyne owen foly.
Thou wylt be loste, be i neuer so loth.
But þou make a-mendys, or thou dye.”

LIV

“Lorde, I se wele, what-evyr i know & ken
And speke with angelys tonge clere,
And though i dele among pore men
My worldly godys all yn fere
And geve my body forto bren
ffor the love of Kryste þat bouȝth me dere,
Ȝyt all thys profytyth to me nothyng,
In charite but yf I were.
522

LV

And I wote wele, lorde, hit is more plesyng
To the, Ihesu, my souereyn lorde,
That i love the above althyng
And be in charite & accorde
With all my neybores, olde & yng,
Then for to faste & go wolwarde,
And of all the massys that prestys syng,
But i be in charite, i gete no parte.

LVI

Lorde, for oure sake xxxti yere & moo
ffull gret travayll in erth thou had.
Thy mother & thy apostolys also
In grete dyseese ther lyffe they ledde.
ffull gret tribulacion & moch woe
All thy holy martyrys hadde.
With such a company hit were gode to goo,
And of that lyuerey we schulde be cladde.

LVII

And sethen þy derlyng, that with the dwell,
Had such dyseese here in this lyeff,
What hart may thynk or tunge may tell
The payn, the anguysch, & the stryeff
That damnede men schall have in hell,
Ther endles woo is & sorow-full ryeff?
I wole forsake my synnys fele,
And to a dyscrete preste i wyll me schryeff.

LVIII

In trew penaunce is my entent
ffrom hens-forwarde my tyme to spende
And kepe oure lordys comaundment,
And þerto i wyll a-tende.
All ryches & royall rent,
What may they helpe me at my ende?
But yf i serue god, I am but schent.
Mercy, Ihesu, I wyll amende.”
523

LIX

“Man, turne not to thy syn ageyn,
But with sorowfull hert thy syn þou tell,
And to do penaunce loke thou be fayn,
As thy schryft-father wyll the covnceyll.
And loke thou restore a-geyn
ffals gotyn gode that thou with melleste.
Man, thou moste nedys suffer peyn
ffor thy synnys here or some-where ellys.

LX

Hit is impossyble, & may not be,
The to passe fro joy to joy vpryȝth.
Thow moste take the crosse & folow me,
Yf thou wylt to my joy vp-stye;
That is to sey, penance and aduersite,
What-so-euyr comyth, suffer hit paciently,
And hate syn & fro hit fle,
And thow schalt have joy endlesly.

LXI

Do penance, whyle þou may,
Lest sodenly i take vengeance.
I have a-beyden the day by day,
Be-cause i wolde þou dyd penance.
And i am more redy alwey
fforto forgyffe thy mysgouernance
Then thow art mercy for to pray,
ffor my wyll is the to a-vaunce.

LXII

When thou hast all thy frendys asayed,
Thow schalt fynde no frende lyke to me.
And thou wylt amende, as thou hast sayde,
A-yenst a-mendys wyll I not be.
Do trewe penaunce, & I holde me payde,
And fro endles payn i wyll make the fre.
524

Man, for thy love my lyve I leyde.
What freende wolde do so for the?

LXIII

Man, do awey thy wykkydnesse
And kepe my byddyngys by & by,
And thow schalt have in my paleys
Worschyp without velany.
No pouert, but all rychesse,
Helth & wysdom endlesly
Thowe haue schalt plente & all godenesse
And lyve in joy and neuyr dye.”

LXIV

“Gramercy, Ihesu, crop and rote
Of thy godenesse, þat nevyr schall fayll,
But evyr is redy to be oure bote.
And oure gostly enmy us asayll,
And i wyll fall dovn to thy fote
And pray the to helpe me in my batayll.
ffor a-geynst all balys þou art bote
And makyst us strong in gostly travayll.

LXV

And I se wele, lorde, thou lovyst vs
ffor oure profyte & not for thyne.
ffor what were thou the wers, Ihesus,
Though all we were in endlesse pyne?
Alasse, why be we so vicious
And so onkynde to hym ageyn
That is oure lorde so gracious
And for us suffyrd so moch payn?

LXVI

Lorde, when i thenke on thy pouerte
And howe wylfull thou were & fayn
To suffer for vs woundys smert,
To sle oure synnys thou were slayn,
525

Harder than iren is that hert
That hath no pite of thy peyn.
And euer the kynder that thow art,
The more onkynde be we ageyn.

LXVII

Lorde, gyff vs grace amendys to make,
ffor of my-sylf me fayleth power,
And that i may my synnys forsake
And do gode dedys, whyle I am here,
And in this worlde sende me wo & wrake,
ffor hit is but ryȝth that hit so were.
Who that hath no dyseese here, he may quake,
ffor them that þou lovyst þou chastysest here.

LXVIII

Now, gracious Ihesu, of thy goodnesse
Be oure comford, where-euer we wende,
And in all our dedys vs helpe & wysse
With the grace that thou wylt vs sende,
That we may come onto thy blysse,
That euer s[c]hall last withoutyn ende,
That to thy chosyn ordeyned ys
Þat leve there synne & them amende.”
Explicit tractatus compilatus per Magistrum Willelmum lychefelde doctorem Theologie.
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