 | The Assumption of our Lady |  |
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Two separate versions have been included: The first begins with the Cambridge University MS. Gg. 4. 27. 2 as its source text and concludes with the Harley MS. 2382. The second consists solely of the British Museum ADD. MS. 10,036.
ASSUMPCIOUN DE NOTRE DAME
Merie tale telle ihc þis day
Of seinte Marye þat swete may.
Al is þe tale and þis lescoun
Of hire swete assompcioun,
Hu heo was fram erþe ynome
In to blisse wiþ hire sone.
Þe kyng of heuene hem blessi
Þat þis listneþ and wel herkni.
Alle moten hi iblessed beo,
Þat vnderstonde wel þis gleo.
Of seinte Marye þat swete may.
Al is þe tale and þis lescoun
Of hire swete assompcioun,
Hu heo was fram erþe ynome
In to blisse wiþ hire sone.
Þe kyng of heuene hem blessi
Þat þis listneþ and wel herkni.
Alle moten hi iblessed beo,
Þat vnderstonde wel þis gleo.
Whan ihesu crist was don on rode,
And þolede deþ for vre gode,
He clepede to hym seint Iohan
Þat was his oȝe qenes man,
And his oȝene moder also;
Ne clepede he hym feren no mo.
And sede, “wif, lo her þi child,
Þat on þe rode is ispild.
Nu ihc am honged on þis tre,
Wel sore ihc wot hit reweþ þe.
Mine fet and honden of blod buþ red;
And þolede deþ for vre gode,
He clepede to hym seint Iohan
Þat was his oȝe qenes man,
And his oȝene moder also;
Ne clepede he hym feren no mo.
And sede, “wif, lo her þi child,
Þat on þe rode is ispild.
Nu ihc am honged on þis tre,
Wel sore ihc wot hit reweþ þe.
Mine fet and honden of blod buþ red;
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Biþute gult ih[c] þolie þis ded.
Mine men þat aȝte me to loue,
For whan ihc com fram heuene abuue,
Me haueþ idon þis ilke schame,
Ihc naue no gult; hi buþ to blame.
To mi fader ihc bidde mi bone
Þat he forȝiue hit hem welsone.”
Mine men þat aȝte me to loue,
For whan ihc com fram heuene abuue,
Me haueþ idon þis ilke schame,
Ihc naue no gult; hi buþ to blame.
To mi fader ihc bidde mi bone
Þat he forȝiue hit hem welsone.”
Marie stod and sore weop;
Þe terres feolle to hire fet.
No wunder nas þeȝ heo wepe sore;
Of soreȝe ne miȝte heo wite nomore,
Whenne he þat of hire nam blod and fless,
Also his suete wille was,
Heng Inayled on þe treo.
“Alas, my sone,” seide heo,
“Hu may ihc liue? hu may þis beo?
Hu mai ihc al þis soreȝe iseo?
Ne cuþe ihc neure of soreȝe noȝt;
Mi leue sone, wat hastu þoȝt?
Hou schal ihc lyue biþute þe?
Leue sone, what seistu me?”
Þe terres feolle to hire fet.
No wunder nas þeȝ heo wepe sore;
Of soreȝe ne miȝte heo wite nomore,
Whenne he þat of hire nam blod and fless,
Also his suete wille was,
Heng Inayled on þe treo.
“Alas, my sone,” seide heo,
“Hu may ihc liue? hu may þis beo?
Hu mai ihc al þis soreȝe iseo?
Ne cuþe ihc neure of soreȝe noȝt;
Mi leue sone, wat hastu þoȝt?
Hou schal ihc lyue biþute þe?
Leue sone, what seistu me?”
Þo spac ihesu wordes gode,
Þer he heng vpon þe rode,
And sede to his moder dere,
“Ihc schal þe teche a trewe ifere,
Þat trewliche schal loky þe,
Þe while þat þu in erþe be.”
Þer he heng vpon þe rode,
And sede to his moder dere,
“Ihc schal þe teche a trewe ifere,
Þat trewliche schal loky þe,
Þe while þat þu in erþe be.”
Þo seide vre lord to seint Iohan,
“For my loue qep me þis wymman.
Ȝem hire wel wiþ al þi miȝte
Þat noman do hure non vnriȝte.”
In to þe temple mid hire he nam,
And also sone so he þar cam,
Among þe lefdis in þe stede,
God to serui he hire dude.
Þer bilefte heo al hure lif;
Ne louede he noþer fiȝt ne strif,
Þeo þat in þe temple were,
Ne miȝte noȝt hire forbere.
Wiþ al hure miȝte þe while heo was þore,
Heo seruede boþe lasse and more;
Poure and sike he dude god,
And seruede hem to hond and fot.
Poure and hungrie wel faire he fedde,
And sike heo broȝte in here bedde.
Nas þer non so hol ne fer,
Þat to hire nadde mester.
Hi louede hure alle wiþ here miȝte,
For heo seruede hem wel riȝte.
He wakede more þane slep;
Hire sone to serui was al hire kep.
To him heo clupede wiþ Murie steuene,
And hire he sente an aungel fram heuene,
Te gladie hire him self he cam,
Crist þat fless of hire nam.
“For my loue qep me þis wymman.
Ȝem hire wel wiþ al þi miȝte
Þat noman do hure non vnriȝte.”
In to þe temple mid hire he nam,
And also sone so he þar cam,
Among þe lefdis in þe stede,
God to serui he hire dude.
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Ne louede he noþer fiȝt ne strif,
Þeo þat in þe temple were,
Ne miȝte noȝt hire forbere.
Wiþ al hure miȝte þe while heo was þore,
Heo seruede boþe lasse and more;
Poure and sike he dude god,
And seruede hem to hond and fot.
Poure and hungrie wel faire he fedde,
And sike heo broȝte in here bedde.
Nas þer non so hol ne fer,
Þat to hire nadde mester.
Hi louede hure alle wiþ here miȝte,
For heo seruede hem wel riȝte.
He wakede more þane slep;
Hire sone to serui was al hire kep.
To him heo clupede wiþ Murie steuene,
And hire he sente an aungel fram heuene,
Te gladie hire him self he cam,
Crist þat fless of hire nam.
Seint Ion hire kepte and was hire dere;
He was hire eure a trewe fere.
Nolde he neure fram hire gon;
Al þat heo wolde he dude anon.
Þe whiles hi were in þat stede,
Al þat heo wolde he hit dede.
Whane heo hadde beo þer longe,
Ten wyntere hem amonge,
Hire sone wolde heo come hym to,
Whane he hit wolde, hit was ido.
He was hire eure a trewe fere.
Nolde he neure fram hire gon;
Al þat heo wolde he dude anon.
Þe whiles hi were in þat stede,
Al þat heo wolde he hit dede.
Whane heo hadde beo þer longe,
Ten wyntere hem amonge,
Hire sone wolde heo come hym to,
Whane he hit wolde, hit was ido.
He sente hire on Aungel of heuene,
And grette hire wiþ murie steuene.
In þe temple he bad hire bede;
Þer liȝte þe aungel in þat stede,
And sede, “lefdi ful of grace,
“Wel þe beo in eche place.
Ne beo noȝt of drad þeȝ ihc beo her;
Ihc am þi sones Messager.
Fram hym to þe ihc am icome
Þe grette wel þi dere sone.
Flur of erþe, of heuene quen,
Iblessed mote þu eure ben.
Wel beo þe time þat þu were ibore,
For al þis wordle were forlore;
Ef þu nere and þat frut of þe,
Marie lefdi, wel þe be.
Lefdi, best of alle þinge,
Wel bliþe bode ihc þe bringe,
Nym þis palm wiþ þi riȝt honde;
Hit is þi dere sones sonde.
He þinkeþ long hym to se;
Ne schaltu her no lenger beo.
He wile senden after þe,
Fram heuene adun of his meigne,
And fecche þe in to his blisse,
Þat eure schal leste wiþute misse.
Þer he is kyng þu schalt beo quen;
Al heuene for þe schal bliþe beon.”
And grette hire wiþ murie steuene.
In þe temple he bad hire bede;
Þer liȝte þe aungel in þat stede,
And sede, “lefdi ful of grace,
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Ne beo noȝt of drad þeȝ ihc beo her;
Ihc am þi sones Messager.
Fram hym to þe ihc am icome
Þe grette wel þi dere sone.
Flur of erþe, of heuene quen,
Iblessed mote þu eure ben.
Wel beo þe time þat þu were ibore,
For al þis wordle were forlore;
Ef þu nere and þat frut of þe,
Marie lefdi, wel þe be.
Lefdi, best of alle þinge,
Wel bliþe bode ihc þe bringe,
Nym þis palm wiþ þi riȝt honde;
Hit is þi dere sones sonde.
He þinkeþ long hym to se;
Ne schaltu her no lenger beo.
He wile senden after þe,
Fram heuene adun of his meigne,
And fecche þe in to his blisse,
Þat eure schal leste wiþute misse.
Þer he is kyng þu schalt beo quen;
Al heuene for þe schal bliþe beon.”
Þanne ansuaredi vre lefdi,
To þe aungel þat stod hire by,
“Artu Mi sones Messager,
Þat bringest me þis greting her?
Haþ he set me any day
Aȝenes þat ihc me greþi may,
And nyme lyue of mine kenesmen,
And myne frend þat wiþ me beon,
And of him þat haþ me cloþed and fed,
And don also my sone hym bed?”
To þe aungel þat stod hire by,
“Artu Mi sones Messager,
Þat bringest me þis greting her?
Haþ he set me any day
Aȝenes þat ihc me greþi may,
And nyme lyue of mine kenesmen,
And myne frend þat wiþ me beon,
And of him þat haþ me cloþed and fed,
And don also my sone hym bed?”
Þo sede þe aungel, “ihc telle þe;
Þu ne schalt beo her bute daȝes þre.
Þe þridde day we schulle come,
Aungles fram heuene aboue,
“And fette þe wiþ murye song;
For after þe us þinket long.”
Þu ne schalt beo her bute daȝes þre.
Þe þridde day we schulle come,
Aungles fram heuene aboue,
115
For after þe us þinket long.”
Þanne ansuarede vre lefdy,
“What is þi name, belamy?”
He sede, “my name ne telle ihc þe noȝt;
Bute nym þis palm þat ihc habbe þe broȝt,
And kep hit wel ihc bidde þe;
Ne let hit neure fram þe be.
I ne dar no leng dwelle her,
For ihc was sent as Messager.
To þe apostles ihc schal gon,
And bidde hem alle, eurech on,
Þat hi beon her þe þridde day;
No leng abiden I ne may.”
“What is þi name, belamy?”
He sede, “my name ne telle ihc þe noȝt;
Bute nym þis palm þat ihc habbe þe broȝt,
And kep hit wel ihc bidde þe;
Ne let hit neure fram þe be.
I ne dar no leng dwelle her,
For ihc was sent as Messager.
To þe apostles ihc schal gon,
And bidde hem alle, eurech on,
Þat hi beon her þe þridde day;
No leng abiden I ne may.”
Þo he hadde ydon, to heueue he steȝ;
Marie abod and was wel sleȝ,
And nam þat palm þat hire was broȝt,
And of þat bode heo hadde gret poȝt,
In to hire Chaumbre stille he nam;
And so sone so heo þar cam,
He dude of al hire hatere,
And wessch hire body wyþ clene watere,
Þo heo hauede so idon,
Al y newe schrud heo dude hire on.
Þo heo was schurd and faire iclad,
To ihesu crist abone heo bad,
And sede, “sone, ihc þonky þe
Þat þu hauest iþoȝt of me.
Sone, þu ert of heuene kyng,
Ihc bidde þe þi blessing;
Sone, for þin holy name,
Schild me fram pine and fram schame,
Þat þe deuel ne habbe no myȝt;
To derie me hit were vnriȝt.
Sone, help me nu ihc haue ned,
Þat ine haue of þe feond no dred,
For wiþ þe giles þat he can,
He bitraieþ many man.
“Leue sone, ne ȝef him noȝt,
Þat þu hauest so dere iboȝt.
Sune, þu art ful of pite;
For senful manne bid ihc þe,
Þat þu for þin holy grace,
Ȝef hem boþe wille and space,
Hem to amendy er hy beo ded,
Þat þe deuel hem do no qued.
Þenk, sone, þat þu hast hem wroȝt,
And þat þu hauest hem dere iboȝt.
For hem þu þoledest pine and wo;
Wite hem wel fram here fo.”
Marie abod and was wel sleȝ,
And nam þat palm þat hire was broȝt,
And of þat bode heo hadde gret poȝt,
In to hire Chaumbre stille he nam;
And so sone so heo þar cam,
He dude of al hire hatere,
And wessch hire body wyþ clene watere,
Þo heo hauede so idon,
Al y newe schrud heo dude hire on.
Þo heo was schurd and faire iclad,
To ihesu crist abone heo bad,
And sede, “sone, ihc þonky þe
Þat þu hauest iþoȝt of me.
Sone, þu ert of heuene kyng,
Ihc bidde þe þi blessing;
Sone, for þin holy name,
Schild me fram pine and fram schame,
Þat þe deuel ne habbe no myȝt;
To derie me hit were vnriȝt.
Sone, help me nu ihc haue ned,
Þat ine haue of þe feond no dred,
For wiþ þe giles þat he can,
He bitraieþ many man.
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Þat þu hauest so dere iboȝt.
Sune, þu art ful of pite;
For senful manne bid ihc þe,
Þat þu for þin holy grace,
Ȝef hem boþe wille and space,
Hem to amendy er hy beo ded,
Þat þe deuel hem do no qued.
Þenk, sone, þat þu hast hem wroȝt,
And þat þu hauest hem dere iboȝt.
For hem þu þoledest pine and wo;
Wite hem wel fram here fo.”
Þo heo hadde bisoȝt so,
Hire frend he clupede hire to,
Boþe sibbe and fremde Men,
Wiþ reuful speche heo spak wiþ hem,
And sede, “leue frend, my sone
Nele no leng þat ihc her wone;
He wile ihc wende and mid him be.
And bidde ihc ȝou par charite,
Ȝef ihc habbe eny þing mis wroȝt,
Telleȝ hit me, ne heleþ hit noȝt.
Ihc wulle amende, and þat is riȝt
Þat my saule ne beo idriȝt.
Þat god ȝe habbeþ me ydon,
Mi sone þat was in rode ydon,
Man to bigge fram þe ded,
Ȝelde hit ȝou at ower ned,
And bringe ȝou in to þat blis
Þat eure ilest þar my sone is.”
Hire frend he clupede hire to,
Boþe sibbe and fremde Men,
Wiþ reuful speche heo spak wiþ hem,
And sede, “leue frend, my sone
Nele no leng þat ihc her wone;
He wile ihc wende and mid him be.
And bidde ihc ȝou par charite,
Ȝef ihc habbe eny þing mis wroȝt,
Telleȝ hit me, ne heleþ hit noȝt.
Ihc wulle amende, and þat is riȝt
Þat my saule ne beo idriȝt.
Þat god ȝe habbeþ me ydon,
Mi sone þat was in rode ydon,
Man to bigge fram þe ded,
Ȝelde hit ȝou at ower ned,
And bringe ȝou in to þat blis
Þat eure ilest þar my sone is.”
Alle þat stoden hire by,
Of þat tiþinge were sory,
And sede, “lefdi, hu mai hit be?
Hu schulle we liue wiþ outen þe?
Lefdi dere, what hastu þoȝt?
Reu of vs; ne wend þou noȝt.
“In soreȝe and in Muche wo
Schulle we lyue beo þu vs fro.”
Of þat tiþinge were sory,
And sede, “lefdi, hu mai hit be?
Hu schulle we liue wiþ outen þe?
Lefdi dere, what hastu þoȝt?
Reu of vs; ne wend þou noȝt.
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Schulle we lyue beo þu vs fro.”
Þanne spak vre lefdy
To hem þat were hire by,
“Leteȝ beon; ower wepinge ne helpeþ noȝt;
Habbeþ ioye in ower þoȝt.
Þe while ihc am her, wakeþ wiþ me;
Hit doþ me god þat ihc ȝou se.
Nabbeþ no drede ac witeþ hit wel;
Of pine ne schal ihc þole no del.
Ne schal no soreȝ come me to,
For my sone hit wule so,
Mi body ne schal no pine þole,
For he was þer of ibore,
He þolede pine him self for me,
Þo he deide vpon þe tre.
He þat is almiȝtful kyng,
Schal me sende of his geng.
Iohan and þe apostles, whei hy be,
Alle hi schulle come to me.”
Þe while he spac þus to þis men,
Of al þat þing nuste noȝt Ion.
He com to speke wiþ vre lefdi,
And hym þuste heo was sori,
And sede, “lefdy, what is þe?
For my seruise tel hit me.
Lefdi, what is þe ised?
Me were leffre to beo ded,
Þane iseo þe make such chere.
What is þe, my lefdi dere?
Ne schal ihc neure habbe blis,
Fort þat ihc wite what þe is.”
Vre lefdi wep and Iohan also;
Trewe loue was bituex hem tuo.
“Lefdi,” he sede, “what is þe?
For my loue, tel hit me.”
Marie ansuerde wiþ Milde steu[ene],
“A sonde Me cam while er fram h[euene],
fro my sone a messynger;
he woll no lenger that y be here.
but y wote that rueth me,
that y shall departe fro the;
for thi loue and thi seruice
that thu me dost in al wise.
thu hast made me ofte glad;
thu has done as my sone bad.
my sone shal it yelde to the;
y wol hym pray when y hym se.”
Tho answerd to here seynt Iohan,
and was a full sory man,
“A, lady Marie, what shal y be
when y shall the no lenger se?
my ioye thu art euery dell;
no lenger in erthe worth y well,
now we shul departe a two.”
Then seid Marie, “whi seist þou so?
for sothe, thogh y go be-fore,
yet shal thu not be for-lore.
y shall pray my lef sone,
that thu may vnto vs come.
And o thyng, Iohan, y bidde the,
for the loue thu hast to me,
loke anone when y am nome,
that the fals Iewys ne come
my body for to done shame,
for thei haten moche my name.
thei wole feyn shame me,
that honged my sone on þe rode tre.
y wote well thei loue me noght;
ther-for thei bene mysthought.
when y am be-nome fro the,
to my body they do no foly.
Ihesu Crist oure allere dright,
gef ham neuer that ilke myght.”
seynt Iohan answerd tho,
“sey me, lady, if it is so,
that we shall departe atwo.
“swete lady, how shall y do?
sey me þe tyme when it shal be,
that thu shalt to heuene te.”
she seid, “Iohan, that þou shall se;
ne bide y here but dayes thre.”
Then was Iohan ful hertely sory.
wepand he seyd, “dame, mercy!
how shal y leue? how shal y fare?
now cometh al my sorow and care.
my lord was hard y-broght to deth,
thurgh fals Iewis that couthe no meth.
now shal oure lady me fro;
now cometh to me al my woo.
wold god that y were ded,
for right now can y no red.”
“Nay,” she seid, “whi seist thu so?
angelis the shall come to,
and loke to the where thu be,
erlich and late to comfort the.”
when she spake to seynt Iohan,
thapostellis cam yn euerychon),
and none of hem wiste be-forn),
how thei were theder y com,
and seid, “lady, ne drede þou noght,
thi sone hath vs hider broght,
to knowe the for oure lady,
while that we bene the by.”
“Blessid,” she seid, “be my sone.”
glad was she was of here come.
“y am his moder,” so seid he,
“glad ther for may y be.
now when it is my sones wille
to hym y come, and that is skyle,
to my body ye loke al so,
that my foos ne come ther to.
moche hateth they my name;
ther for wold thei do me shame.
y you bidde pur charite,
for the loue ye haue to me,
when y fare to heuene blisse,
waketh ther my body ys.
loketh bothe nyght and day,
that þe Iewis bere it not away.
thay wold it brenne or do shame.
Ihesu, for thi holy name,
gef ham neuer strengthe to haue
my bodi in erthe for to laue.”
Thei answerd, “for sothe, y-wys,
it shal be as thi wille ys.”
The whiles Marie badde here bone
to the apostellis euerychone,
an Angel a-light on that stede,
and seid, “Marie, god herd þi bede,
and all they that bene with the;
“loke that thu arayed be.
thu shalt to heuene and be quene;
ful blithe may thi hert bene.
thu shalt in hast be in heuene.”
when our lady herd this steuene
the angel seid here then to,
ful of blisse was she tho.
to here bed she went to aray,
a-boute þe tyme of hy mydday.
Iohan the apostell sate here by,
to kepe here body sikerly.
emonge them alle sone ywys,
a swete smell cam fro paradys,
swete it was, and ferly,
that alle þat were tho here by,
bothe yong and olde and euerychone,
thei fell a-slepe, and þat anone.
alle the slepte, saue oure lady.
herkeneth now, y tell yow why.
and als sone thei were a-slepe,
it gan to thondre al vnmete,
and the erthe so swithe gan quake,
as al the world shuld to-shake.
Marie awaked then seynt Iohan
and the apostels euerychon,
thre maydens þat were the[re]-ynne,
and no man els of hire kynne.
“waketh now, and slepe ye nought!
Sone y worth to heuene be broght;
now is tyme y were a fare,
Shall y neuer more suffre care.”
Tho cam Iesus from heuene,
with angelis and archangelis seuene,
yn to hire boure with mery song;
moche merthe was them among.
no wonder thogh ther be blisse
in eche place ther Ihesus ys.
none of them that were there
a soche blisse saw they nere.
amonge al blisses of the trone
Mary knew here leue sone.
when she hym saw, she was ful glad,
he herd the bone that she bad.
“y-blessed mote that tyme be
that thu were borne of me.
hit is sene, y am thi moder
when thu comest þi self hider.
Furst þou sendest thyn apostelis to me;
now thu comest with thi meyne,
to fette me vnto that blisse
that euer lasteth with all gladnesse.
Sone thu art hider y-come
with thyn angelis from a-bone.
do þou now what thi wille ys;
me hath longed to the, y-wys.”
Then Iesus to Marie sede,
“Moder, with ioye y woll the lede.
of all wymmen the worth best,
in heuene blisse that shal lest.
ther y am kyng; thu shalt be quene;
in grete ioye thu shall bene.”
“leue sone, y be-seche the
o thyng that thu telle me.
shall y any deuyll se,
or any with the shall be?
“for y loue them neuer one,
thei bene noght, so mote y gone.”
“Moder, y sey, drede thu noght;
ne stode it neuer on my thoght,
for thu shalt no deuyll se,
y woll go be-fore the;
ne þou shalt no deuyll herene,
but only me and my ferene.
Maiden and moder, euer thu be well;
thu shalt of sorwe wete no dell.
alle the spirettes that meten with the,
buxom to the shall they be.
Moder, one thyng y gef to the;
thu shalt be in heuene with me.
moder, for the loue of the,
y woll haue mercy and pite
of al man kynde thurgh þi prayere,
yf þou ne were, they were for-lore.
and of them namelich
that the serueth trulich,
and that to the done mercy crye
and sey, ‘help vs, dere ladye,’
In what synne that thei be,
moder, for the loue of the,
thogh a man had lad his lyf
in onde, in synne, and in strif,
yf he on his last dawe
wepe and crye, and to the be-knawe,
and telle it oute vnto the preste,
or in case, vnto his nexte,
yf that he may do no more,
but that he aruwe it sore,
in what synne that he be,
moder, for the loue of the,
I woll of hym haue mercy.
and sitthe he shall come me by,
“thogh a man had fully wroght
all the synne that he had thought,
and he on his laste day
in none other wise may,
yf he wepe and telle to the,
in what synne that he be,
full well y shall his bone here,
for thi loue, my moder dere.”
Alle tho that thu wolt bidde fore
and blesse the tyme þat thu were bore.
of alle thyng y-blessid thu be,
for that y bidde, thu grauntes me.”
Then Ihesus his hand vp heue,
and to his moder his blessyng yeue,
and called to hym seynt Mighell,
and seid, “kep thu my moder well,
that she fele no maner fere;
ther is no thyng to me so dere.”
and when he had the soule hent,
and she was fro the body went,
Then all the verdoune of heuene
fett that soule full aboue;
with the verdoune to heuene thei come,
with gret ioye she was yn nome.
she was made quene of heuene
and blessid hire sone with mylde steuene.
To hem þat were hire by,
“Leteȝ beon; ower wepinge ne helpeþ noȝt;
Habbeþ ioye in ower þoȝt.
Þe while ihc am her, wakeþ wiþ me;
Hit doþ me god þat ihc ȝou se.
Nabbeþ no drede ac witeþ hit wel;
Of pine ne schal ihc þole no del.
Ne schal no soreȝ come me to,
For my sone hit wule so,
Mi body ne schal no pine þole,
For he was þer of ibore,
He þolede pine him self for me,
Þo he deide vpon þe tre.
He þat is almiȝtful kyng,
Schal me sende of his geng.
Iohan and þe apostles, whei hy be,
Alle hi schulle come to me.”
Þe while he spac þus to þis men,
Of al þat þing nuste noȝt Ion.
He com to speke wiþ vre lefdi,
And hym þuste heo was sori,
And sede, “lefdy, what is þe?
For my seruise tel hit me.
Lefdi, what is þe ised?
Me were leffre to beo ded,
Þane iseo þe make such chere.
What is þe, my lefdi dere?
Ne schal ihc neure habbe blis,
Fort þat ihc wite what þe is.”
Vre lefdi wep and Iohan also;
Trewe loue was bituex hem tuo.
“Lefdi,” he sede, “what is þe?
For my loue, tel hit me.”
Marie ansuerde wiþ Milde steu[ene],
118
fro my sone a messynger;
he woll no lenger that y be here.
but y wote that rueth me,
that y shall departe fro the;
for thi loue and thi seruice
that thu me dost in al wise.
thu hast made me ofte glad;
thu has done as my sone bad.
my sone shal it yelde to the;
y wol hym pray when y hym se.”
Tho answerd to here seynt Iohan,
and was a full sory man,
“A, lady Marie, what shal y be
when y shall the no lenger se?
my ioye thu art euery dell;
no lenger in erthe worth y well,
now we shul departe a two.”
Then seid Marie, “whi seist þou so?
for sothe, thogh y go be-fore,
yet shal thu not be for-lore.
y shall pray my lef sone,
that thu may vnto vs come.
And o thyng, Iohan, y bidde the,
for the loue thu hast to me,
loke anone when y am nome,
that the fals Iewys ne come
my body for to done shame,
for thei haten moche my name.
thei wole feyn shame me,
that honged my sone on þe rode tre.
y wote well thei loue me noght;
ther-for thei bene mysthought.
when y am be-nome fro the,
to my body they do no foly.
Ihesu Crist oure allere dright,
119
seynt Iohan answerd tho,
“sey me, lady, if it is so,
that we shall departe atwo.
“swete lady, how shall y do?
sey me þe tyme when it shal be,
that thu shalt to heuene te.”
she seid, “Iohan, that þou shall se;
ne bide y here but dayes thre.”
Then was Iohan ful hertely sory.
wepand he seyd, “dame, mercy!
how shal y leue? how shal y fare?
now cometh al my sorow and care.
my lord was hard y-broght to deth,
thurgh fals Iewis that couthe no meth.
now shal oure lady me fro;
now cometh to me al my woo.
wold god that y were ded,
for right now can y no red.”
“Nay,” she seid, “whi seist thu so?
angelis the shall come to,
and loke to the where thu be,
erlich and late to comfort the.”
when she spake to seynt Iohan,
thapostellis cam yn euerychon),
and none of hem wiste be-forn),
how thei were theder y com,
and seid, “lady, ne drede þou noght,
thi sone hath vs hider broght,
to knowe the for oure lady,
while that we bene the by.”
121
glad was she was of here come.
“y am his moder,” so seid he,
“glad ther for may y be.
now when it is my sones wille
to hym y come, and that is skyle,
to my body ye loke al so,
that my foos ne come ther to.
moche hateth they my name;
ther for wold thei do me shame.
y you bidde pur charite,
for the loue ye haue to me,
when y fare to heuene blisse,
waketh ther my body ys.
loketh bothe nyght and day,
that þe Iewis bere it not away.
thay wold it brenne or do shame.
Ihesu, for thi holy name,
gef ham neuer strengthe to haue
my bodi in erthe for to laue.”
Thei answerd, “for sothe, y-wys,
it shal be as thi wille ys.”
The whiles Marie badde here bone
122
an Angel a-light on that stede,
and seid, “Marie, god herd þi bede,
and all they that bene with the;
“loke that thu arayed be.
thu shalt to heuene and be quene;
ful blithe may thi hert bene.
thu shalt in hast be in heuene.”
when our lady herd this steuene
the angel seid here then to,
ful of blisse was she tho.
to here bed she went to aray,
a-boute þe tyme of hy mydday.
Iohan the apostell sate here by,
to kepe here body sikerly.
123
a swete smell cam fro paradys,
swete it was, and ferly,
that alle þat were tho here by,
bothe yong and olde and euerychone,
thei fell a-slepe, and þat anone.
alle the slepte, saue oure lady.
herkeneth now, y tell yow why.
and als sone thei were a-slepe,
it gan to thondre al vnmete,
and the erthe so swithe gan quake,
as al the world shuld to-shake.
Marie awaked then seynt Iohan
and the apostels euerychon,
thre maydens þat were the[re]-ynne,
and no man els of hire kynne.
“waketh now, and slepe ye nought!
Sone y worth to heuene be broght;
now is tyme y were a fare,
Shall y neuer more suffre care.”
124
with angelis and archangelis seuene,
yn to hire boure with mery song;
moche merthe was them among.
no wonder thogh ther be blisse
in eche place ther Ihesus ys.
none of them that were there
a soche blisse saw they nere.
amonge al blisses of the trone
Mary knew here leue sone.
when she hym saw, she was ful glad,
he herd the bone that she bad.
“y-blessed mote that tyme be
that thu were borne of me.
hit is sene, y am thi moder
when thu comest þi self hider.
Furst þou sendest thyn apostelis to me;
now thu comest with thi meyne,
to fette me vnto that blisse
that euer lasteth with all gladnesse.
Sone thu art hider y-come
with thyn angelis from a-bone.
do þou now what thi wille ys;
me hath longed to the, y-wys.”
Then Iesus to Marie sede,
“Moder, with ioye y woll the lede.
of all wymmen the worth best,
in heuene blisse that shal lest.
ther y am kyng; thu shalt be quene;
in grete ioye thu shall bene.”
“leue sone, y be-seche the
o thyng that thu telle me.
shall y any deuyll se,
or any with the shall be?
125
thei bene noght, so mote y gone.”
“Moder, y sey, drede thu noght;
ne stode it neuer on my thoght,
for thu shalt no deuyll se,
y woll go be-fore the;
ne þou shalt no deuyll herene,
but only me and my ferene.
Maiden and moder, euer thu be well;
thu shalt of sorwe wete no dell.
alle the spirettes that meten with the,
buxom to the shall they be.
Moder, one thyng y gef to the;
thu shalt be in heuene with me.
moder, for the loue of the,
y woll haue mercy and pite
of al man kynde thurgh þi prayere,
yf þou ne were, they were for-lore.
and of them namelich
that the serueth trulich,
and that to the done mercy crye
and sey, ‘help vs, dere ladye,’
In what synne that thei be,
moder, for the loue of the,
thogh a man had lad his lyf
in onde, in synne, and in strif,
yf he on his last dawe
wepe and crye, and to the be-knawe,
and telle it oute vnto the preste,
or in case, vnto his nexte,
yf that he may do no more,
but that he aruwe it sore,
in what synne that he be,
moder, for the loue of the,
I woll of hym haue mercy.
and sitthe he shall come me by,
126
all the synne that he had thought,
and he on his laste day
in none other wise may,
yf he wepe and telle to the,
in what synne that he be,
full well y shall his bone here,
for thi loue, my moder dere.”
Alle tho that thu wolt bidde fore
and blesse the tyme þat thu were bore.
of alle thyng y-blessid thu be,
for that y bidde, thu grauntes me.”
Then Ihesus his hand vp heue,
and to his moder his blessyng yeue,
and called to hym seynt Mighell,
and seid, “kep thu my moder well,
that she fele no maner fere;
ther is no thyng to me so dere.”
and when he had the soule hent,
and she was fro the body went,
Then all the verdoune of heuene
fett that soule full aboue;
with the verdoune to heuene thei come,
with gret ioye she was yn nome.
she was made quene of heuene
and blessid hire sone with mylde steuene.
Now shall ye here how she was nome,
wher she was, and wheder be-come.
when þe soule fro þe body was nome,
god bede seynt Petre to hym come:
“for the loue y owe to the
my moder-is body thu kep to me.
when y first to erthe came,
of this body flesh y name.
y was of this body bore,
ther-for, Petre, go thu be-fore,
and thi bretheren forth with the
vnto Iosaphath that vale,
and leueth it there sone anone;
and drede ye nothyng of your foone,
To Ierusalem thurgh that toune
goth feire with youre processione.
foure of them shul bere þe bere,
for one shal kepe my moder dere.
and for no thyng dredeth ye,
for y my self wol with yow be.”
when Ihesus had thus y-seyd,
and the body in bere was leyd,
he yeaue them alle his blessyng,
and styed to heuene, þer he was kyng.
which blessyng he geue till vs,
oure blessid lord, swete Iesus.
Tho to them seyd seynt Iohan,
“go we theder right anone,
and gray we this processioune,
And go we syngand thurgh þe toune.”
foure of the apostelis that ther were,
that holy body fourth dud bere.
ful mery thei song, and that was right;
many tapers ther-with thei light.
The Iewis that were Cristes foone,
this thei herd sone anone.
thei asked what was the crye.
we seid it was seynt Marie,
that seynt Petre and his fere
bare Marye apone a bere.
“Allas,” quod the Iewis, “for shame,
yf thei scape, we bene to blame.
arme we vs swithe anone
and let vs take them euerychone.
that body also, take we it,
and cast it in-to a foule pytt.
Cast we it in a foule sloo,
and moche shame we it do.”
Tho cam thei lepe thedeward;
that be-fell them swithe hard.
two of the Iewis that there were,
were honged ouer the bere.
Ihesus Crist wold se no shame,
by his moder swetely came.
ful sone had thei goddes grame;
he them made bothe holt and lame.
of alle þe Iewes ther was none
that euer myghte further gone.
one of them that there were,
had knowed Petre be-fore.
the Iewe gon clepe to Petre sone,
and seid to hym with wepand bone:
and seid then, “knowest þou noght,
when Crist was to deth broght,
how thu hym folwest, and y þe knew,
now, y the pray, on me thou ruwe,
and pray to Crist, if it may be,
that he now haue mercy on me.”
Seynt Petre answerid tho
to the Iewe that was so woo,
“yf thu wolt on hym be-leve,
whom thy kynne broght to dethe,
and that he is goddis sone,
and sithens man for vs be come,
and that Marie hym bare hire be best,
a clene Maide and right honest,
and clene vnwemmed with outen man,
we shal alle bidde for þe than,
to Ihesu Crist that is a-boue,
for his owne moder loue,
he gef the myght for to go,
and brynge the oute of this woo.”
The Iewe that honged apone the bere,
answerd then as ye may here,
and seid, “y be-leue, vnder that fourme,
on Ihesu Crist, Maries sone,
that Iewis peyned on the rode,
with-outen gilt, for oure gode,
and for vs he lost his lyf,
that Marie bare, maide and wif.
y be-seche that he me brynge
of this peyne, thurgh your biddynge.”
Crist vnderstode the Iewis bone.
he was holpe, and that anone;
on feet and hand he yeaue hym myght,
and alle his lymes for to right.
he gan to stonde vp anone KING HORN.
before the Iewis euerychone.
he that was bothe halt and lame
be gan to preche in Cristes name,
and seid, “worship we euerychone
that soche a miracle hath done.”
Tho seynt Petre, that holi mane,
that Iewe Crystened after anone;
he taught hym his by-leue;
he knew he was to god y-yeue;
he ordeyned hym to prest anone,
and bade hym that he shuld gone,
and preche ouerall, of goddis sone,
in euery lond where he be-come.
The palme þat Petre had in hond,
he toke it hym, thurgh goddes sond,
and bade hym goddes word to telle
to the Iewis that were so felle.
Tho he spake the fourthe day,
he turned into goddes fay
xx thousant, and somdel mo,
thurgh the word þat he spake tho.
all the apostolis that þer were,
that holy body fourth thei bere
to the vale of Iosephas
to ley here, there here wille was,
wher she was, and wheder be-come.
when þe soule fro þe body was nome,
127
“for the loue y owe to the
my moder-is body thu kep to me.
when y first to erthe came,
of this body flesh y name.
y was of this body bore,
ther-for, Petre, go thu be-fore,
and thi bretheren forth with the
vnto Iosaphath that vale,
and leueth it there sone anone;
and drede ye nothyng of your foone,
To Ierusalem thurgh that toune
goth feire with youre processione.
foure of them shul bere þe bere,
for one shal kepe my moder dere.
and for no thyng dredeth ye,
for y my self wol with yow be.”
when Ihesus had thus y-seyd,
and the body in bere was leyd,
he yeaue them alle his blessyng,
and styed to heuene, þer he was kyng.
which blessyng he geue till vs,
oure blessid lord, swete Iesus.
Tho to them seyd seynt Iohan,
“go we theder right anone,
and gray we this processioune,
And go we syngand thurgh þe toune.”
foure of the apostelis that ther were,
that holy body fourth dud bere.
ful mery thei song, and that was right;
many tapers ther-with thei light.
The Iewis that were Cristes foone,
this thei herd sone anone.
128
we seid it was seynt Marie,
that seynt Petre and his fere
bare Marye apone a bere.
“Allas,” quod the Iewis, “for shame,
yf thei scape, we bene to blame.
arme we vs swithe anone
and let vs take them euerychone.
that body also, take we it,
and cast it in-to a foule pytt.
Cast we it in a foule sloo,
and moche shame we it do.”
Tho cam thei lepe thedeward;
that be-fell them swithe hard.
two of the Iewis that there were,
were honged ouer the bere.
Ihesus Crist wold se no shame,
by his moder swetely came.
ful sone had thei goddes grame;
he them made bothe holt and lame.
of alle þe Iewes ther was none
that euer myghte further gone.
one of them that there were,
had knowed Petre be-fore.
the Iewe gon clepe to Petre sone,
and seid to hym with wepand bone:
and seid then, “knowest þou noght,
when Crist was to deth broght,
how thu hym folwest, and y þe knew,
now, y the pray, on me thou ruwe,
and pray to Crist, if it may be,
that he now haue mercy on me.”
129
to the Iewe that was so woo,
“yf thu wolt on hym be-leve,
whom thy kynne broght to dethe,
and that he is goddis sone,
and sithens man for vs be come,
and that Marie hym bare hire be best,
a clene Maide and right honest,
and clene vnwemmed with outen man,
we shal alle bidde for þe than,
to Ihesu Crist that is a-boue,
for his owne moder loue,
he gef the myght for to go,
and brynge the oute of this woo.”
The Iewe that honged apone the bere,
answerd then as ye may here,
and seid, “y be-leue, vnder that fourme,
on Ihesu Crist, Maries sone,
that Iewis peyned on the rode,
with-outen gilt, for oure gode,
and for vs he lost his lyf,
that Marie bare, maide and wif.
y be-seche that he me brynge
of this peyne, thurgh your biddynge.”
Crist vnderstode the Iewis bone.
he was holpe, and that anone;
on feet and hand he yeaue hym myght,
and alle his lymes for to right.
he gan to stonde vp anone KING HORN.
130
he that was bothe halt and lame
be gan to preche in Cristes name,
and seid, “worship we euerychone
that soche a miracle hath done.”
Tho seynt Petre, that holi mane,
that Iewe Crystened after anone;
he taught hym his by-leue;
he knew he was to god y-yeue;
he ordeyned hym to prest anone,
and bade hym that he shuld gone,
and preche ouerall, of goddis sone,
in euery lond where he be-come.
The palme þat Petre had in hond,
he toke it hym, thurgh goddes sond,
and bade hym goddes word to telle
to the Iewis that were so felle.
Tho he spake the fourthe day,
he turned into goddes fay
xx thousant, and somdel mo,
thurgh the word þat he spake tho.
all the apostolis that þer were,
that holy body fourth thei bere
132
to ley here, there here wille was,
and leid the body in a stone,
ther-in was body neuer none.
frendes and sibbe that þer were,
for here wepte many a tere.
when she was in the ston done,
ayene thei turned euerychone.
all the apostelis then were sory
for the deth of oure lady;
and ther a voice cam them among,
that ne lasted not full long,
and bade them alle for to gone
where thei had for to done.
The apostelis went hem ayene
in-to the Burgh of Ierusalem;
and as thei sate atte mete,
of many thynges thei gon speke.
als thei were out of that place,
Iesus, with his holy grace,
he gon to take vp anone
his moder body of the stone.
he hym self dud þerynne,
that neuer had y-done synne.
he wolde not in no manere
that the body lafte there.
in that body he dud a leme,
brighter then the sonne beme,
and made here quene of heuene blisse;
in that place she was and ys.
Seynt Thomas of ynde thederward com,
also swithe as he myght gone,
and wold haue bene at here berying,
yf he myght haue come be tyme.
as he loked hym be syde,
he saw then a bright thyng glide
in that stede as he come,
ther oure lady to heuene was nome.
he kneled adoune and seid, “lady,
now on me thu haue mercy.
lady, quene of heuene bright,
for thi mochel holy myght,
send me a token this ilke day,
soche thyng þat y bryng may
to my felawes, ther y ham fynde,
that y was toward þi berynge:
thei wol not leue þat y was there;
now graunte me, lady, my prayere.”
a-boute here gurdel a mydell sought,
that she hire self had y-wroght,
of siluer and gold wonde in palle;
a-doune to hym she lete it falle.
he toke that gurdell in his hond,
and thanked here of here sond.
fourth he went of that stede;
toward the toune he hym yede.
his felaus then he dud seche
yf he myght hem ouer mete.
atte temple of dominus
he them founde alle in ane hous.
ther ful feire he them grette;
and ayenward thei hym chidde.
“where has thu so long y-bene?
we haue beried our heuene quene.
ther-in was body neuer none.
frendes and sibbe that þer were,
for here wepte many a tere.
when she was in the ston done,
ayene thei turned euerychone.
all the apostelis then were sory
for the deth of oure lady;
and ther a voice cam them among,
that ne lasted not full long,
and bade them alle for to gone
where thei had for to done.
The apostelis went hem ayene
in-to the Burgh of Ierusalem;
and as thei sate atte mete,
of many thynges thei gon speke.
als thei were out of that place,
Iesus, with his holy grace,
he gon to take vp anone
his moder body of the stone.
he hym self dud þerynne,
that neuer had y-done synne.
he wolde not in no manere
that the body lafte there.
133
brighter then the sonne beme,
and made here quene of heuene blisse;
in that place she was and ys.
Seynt Thomas of ynde thederward com,
also swithe as he myght gone,
and wold haue bene at here berying,
yf he myght haue come be tyme.
as he loked hym be syde,
he saw then a bright thyng glide
in that stede as he come,
ther oure lady to heuene was nome.
he kneled adoune and seid, “lady,
now on me thu haue mercy.
lady, quene of heuene bright,
for thi mochel holy myght,
send me a token this ilke day,
soche thyng þat y bryng may
to my felawes, ther y ham fynde,
that y was toward þi berynge:
thei wol not leue þat y was there;
now graunte me, lady, my prayere.”
a-boute here gurdel a mydell sought,
that she hire self had y-wroght,
of siluer and gold wonde in palle;
a-doune to hym she lete it falle.
he toke that gurdell in his hond,
and thanked here of here sond.
fourth he went of that stede;
toward the toune he hym yede.
his felaus then he dud seche
yf he myght hem ouer mete.
atte temple of dominus
he them founde alle in ane hous.
ther ful feire he them grette;
and ayenward thei hym chidde.
“where has thu so long y-bene?
we haue beried our heuene quene.
134
“thu lakkest euer at euery nede;
thu helpest neuer at gode dede.”
“sore me thenketh þat y nas here;
but y ne myght come no nere.
I-blessid be the quene of blys,
in the place there she ys,
for well y wote in my thought,
there ye here layde is she nought.”
Thei seid to hym swithe anone,
bothe Petre and seynt Iohan,
“thow woldest not be-leue, Thomas,
that oure lord y-nayled was.
euer thu leuys amysse in mynde,
and tales y-now thu dos fynde.
thu bi-leuest in god right noght;
soche tales ne kepe we noght.”
“be stille,” he seid, “brother Iohan,
why chide ye me so, one and one?
me thenketh ye can litel good,
for y here saw bothe flesh and blood,
how oure lady to heuene wend;
here is the token that she me send.”
Then seid seynt Petre, “that is soth;
this ilke webbe here self woof.
with here y dud it on the bere;
wonder me the thenketh þat it is here.
go we swithe in-to the vale,
to knowe the sothe of this tale
that he hath vs now y-sayde,
for it was in the tombe y-laide.”
owte of þat that place then they yede,
and the tumba they vndede.
nothyng ther-on there thei founde
but a floure atte grounde.
That flour manna was cleped
that in the tumba was steked.
they went all a-boute þe tumbe
and kneled on the bare grounde,
and seid, “Ihesu, goddis sone,
all that thu sendes, it is wel-come.
Mightefull is the heuene kyng;
and that we know bi thi sayng.
no man may know his priuyte,
nother his swete dignite.”
Amonge þe apostolis alle a light,
the kyng that is in heuene bright,
and blessid ham alle in fere
emonge the angelis þat there were,
and seid, “my pees be with yow nowthe,
blessid ye be of goddis mowthe.”
A mysty cloude cam after thane,
and ouersprad them euerychone,
and bare them alle þer they were,
in-to the stede that they were ere.
moche wonder then hem thought
how thei were theder y-brought,
for thei ne wiste whi ne whane;
and thei seid euerychone
that rightfull is heuene kyng,
Ihesus lord ouer all thyng.
thu helpest neuer at gode dede.”
“sore me thenketh þat y nas here;
but y ne myght come no nere.
I-blessid be the quene of blys,
in the place there she ys,
for well y wote in my thought,
there ye here layde is she nought.”
Thei seid to hym swithe anone,
bothe Petre and seynt Iohan,
“thow woldest not be-leue, Thomas,
that oure lord y-nayled was.
euer thu leuys amysse in mynde,
and tales y-now thu dos fynde.
thu bi-leuest in god right noght;
soche tales ne kepe we noght.”
“be stille,” he seid, “brother Iohan,
why chide ye me so, one and one?
me thenketh ye can litel good,
for y here saw bothe flesh and blood,
how oure lady to heuene wend;
here is the token that she me send.”
Then seid seynt Petre, “that is soth;
this ilke webbe here self woof.
with here y dud it on the bere;
wonder me the thenketh þat it is here.
go we swithe in-to the vale,
to knowe the sothe of this tale
that he hath vs now y-sayde,
for it was in the tombe y-laide.”
owte of þat that place then they yede,
and the tumba they vndede.
nothyng ther-on there thei founde
but a floure atte grounde.
That flour manna was cleped
135
they went all a-boute þe tumbe
and kneled on the bare grounde,
and seid, “Ihesu, goddis sone,
all that thu sendes, it is wel-come.
Mightefull is the heuene kyng;
and that we know bi thi sayng.
no man may know his priuyte,
nother his swete dignite.”
Amonge þe apostolis alle a light,
the kyng that is in heuene bright,
and blessid ham alle in fere
emonge the angelis þat there were,
and seid, “my pees be with yow nowthe,
blessid ye be of goddis mowthe.”
A mysty cloude cam after thane,
and ouersprad them euerychone,
and bare them alle þer they were,
in-to the stede that they were ere.
moche wonder then hem thought
how thei were theder y-brought,
for thei ne wiste whi ne whane;
and thei seid euerychone
that rightfull is heuene kyng,
Ihesus lord ouer all thyng.
This tale y haue tolde with mouthe,
with wordes that bene ful couthe.
it is cleped the Assumpcioun;
Iesus gef vs his benesoun.
Iesu crist, for his myght,
we pray to hym with herte light,
and with his holy grace,
gef vs bothe myght and space,
soche workes for to worche,
thurgh the lore of holy churche,
that we may to heue[ne] wende,
that is with oute begynnyng and ende.
with wordes that bene ful couthe.
it is cleped the Assumpcioun;
Iesus gef vs his benesoun.
Iesu crist, for his myght,
we pray to hym with herte light,
and with his holy grace,
136
soche workes for to worche,
thurgh the lore of holy churche,
that we may to heue[ne] wende,
that is with oute begynnyng and ende.
Amen!
Explicit Sextus liber sancte Marie.
111
HIC INCIPIT ASSUMPCIO BEATE MARIE
In honorance of ihesu cryst
Sitteþ stille and haueþ lyst;
And ȝif ȝe wille to me here,
Off oure ladi ȝe mai lere,
Floure of heuene, ladi and quene,
As sche auȝt wel to bene,
To wham aungeles doun here myȝt
To serue hure boþe day and nyȝt.
Par auenture ȝe haue noȝt iherde
How oure ladi went out of þis werde:
Sitteþ stille and herkeneþ to me;
Now ihesu cryst oure helpe be!
Sitteþ stille and haueþ lyst;
And ȝif ȝe wille to me here,
Off oure ladi ȝe mai lere,
Floure of heuene, ladi and quene,
As sche auȝt wel to bene,
To wham aungeles doun here myȝt
To serue hure boþe day and nyȝt.
Par auenture ȝe haue noȝt iherde
How oure ladi went out of þis werde:
Sitteþ stille and herkeneþ to me;
Now ihesu cryst oure helpe be!
Whan ihesu crist was doun on þe rode
And þolede deþ for oure goode,
He callide to hym seynt Iohan,
That was his fleschli kynnes man.
His moder swete he dide also;
He callid no men mo him to.
And seide, “womman, lo here þi sone,
And, man, take hure to moder in good wone.
And þenkeþ on my sorwe nowe
How I hange here abowe,
How I hange apone a tre,
Ful sore, I wote, hit reweþ þee.
Myn feet, myn hondes, of blode ben rede;
With owte gilt I þole dede.
But þei haue wille to louen me
For wham I hange on þis tree.
The Iewis me deden mychel schame;
Ther of hadde I neuer blame.”
And þolede deþ for oure goode,
He callide to hym seynt Iohan,
That was his fleschli kynnes man.
His moder swete he dide also;
He callid no men mo him to.
And seide, “womman, lo here þi sone,
And, man, take hure to moder in good wone.
And þenkeþ on my sorwe nowe
How I hange here abowe,
How I hange apone a tre,
Ful sore, I wote, hit reweþ þee.
Myn feet, myn hondes, of blode ben rede;
112
But þei haue wille to louen me
For wham I hange on þis tree.
The Iewis me deden mychel schame;
Ther of hadde I neuer blame.”
Marie his moder sore dide wepe;
The teeres fellen at hure fete.
Nas no wondre þouȝ sche wepe sore;
Of sorwe wist sche neuer more.
When he þat of hure flesche nam,
For his holi swete nam,
Honge þer nailed to a tre,
“Alas, my sone,” þo saide sche,
“How mai I lyue? how mai I bene?
How mai I þis sorwe ysene?
Neuer ere wist I of sorwe nouȝt;
Leue sone, what hauest þou þouȝt?
How schal I leue with oute þee?
Leue sone, what saist þou to me?”
Ihesu spak þo wordes goode,
As he henge on þe rode,
And seide to his moder dere,
“I schal þee take a trewe fere,
That trewly schal kepen þee,
While in erþe þou schalt be.”
Than seide Ihesu to seynt Iohan,
“For my loue kepe wel þis womman.
Kepe hure wel with al þi myȝt,
That no man do hure vnryȝt.”
The teeres fellen at hure fete.
Nas no wondre þouȝ sche wepe sore;
Of sorwe wist sche neuer more.
When he þat of hure flesche nam,
For his holi swete nam,
Honge þer nailed to a tre,
“Alas, my sone,” þo saide sche,
“How mai I lyue? how mai I bene?
How mai I þis sorwe ysene?
Neuer ere wist I of sorwe nouȝt;
Leue sone, what hauest þou þouȝt?
How schal I leue with oute þee?
Leue sone, what saist þou to me?”
Ihesu spak þo wordes goode,
As he henge on þe rode,
And seide to his moder dere,
“I schal þee take a trewe fere,
That trewly schal kepen þee,
While in erþe þou schalt be.”
Than seide Ihesu to seynt Iohan,
“For my loue kepe wel þis womman.
Kepe hure wel with al þi myȝt,
That no man do hure vnryȝt.”
Þan nam þe apostel, seynt Iohan,
On his kepynge þis womman.
He kept hure wel with al his myȝt,
That no man do hure none vnryȝt.
To þe temple he hure nam,
And also sone as he þer cam,
God to serue he hure dede,
Amonge þe nunnes in þat stede.
Ther sche bileft al hure lyfe,
Ne loued sche noþer fiȝt ne stryf.
On his kepynge þis womman.
He kept hure wel with al his myȝt,
That no man do hure none vnryȝt.
To þe temple he hure nam,
And also sone as he þer cam,
God to serue he hure dede,
Amonge þe nunnes in þat stede.
113
Ne loued sche noþer fiȝt ne stryf.
The ladies þat þer Inne weren,
Ful wel þei ne myȝt hure forberen,
For euer þe while sche was þore,
Sche wolde serue las and more.
Seke and hole sche dide gode
And seruede hem to hande and fote.
Naked and hungry sche cloþed and fedde;
Colde and seke sche brouȝt to bedde.
Ne was þer noþer seke ne fere,
That þei nadde to hure mystere.
Thei louede hure wel with al here myȝt;
Sche it serued and þat was ryȝt.
Sche woke more þan sche slepe;
Hure sone to serue was al hure kepe,
To hym sche callid with rewful steuene,
And he hure sent an angel fro heuene,
To glade hure, hym self he cam,
That of hure bodi flesche nam.
Seynt Iohan hure keper was hure dere,
And to hure was a trewe fere.
Ne wolde he neuer fro hure gone;
Al þat sche wolde he wolde done.
While sche was in þat stede,
Al þat sche wolde he hure dede.
When sche hadde þer longe ben,
That faire ladi, heuene quen,
Than wolde hure sone sche com him to.
When he wolde, hit was do.
He sent to hure an angel of heuene,
That gret hure with myry steuene,
Ther sche was and bad hure bede,
Lyȝth an angel in þat stede,
And seide, “ladi, ful of grace,
“Blessed be þou in eche place.
Be nouȝt adrad þouȝ I be here;
I am þi sones messagere.
Fro hym I am to þee come;
He gret þee wel, þi dere sone.
Floure of erþe, heuene quene,
Blessed mote þou euer bene.
Wel be þat tyme þat þou was born,
For al þis worlde hit was forlorn,
Ȝif þou ne were and þe fruyt of þee;
Marie, ladi, wel þee be.
Ladi, best of al þinge,
Bliþe tiþynges I þee brynge,
Thou take þis palme þat I brynge þee;
Thi dere sone haþ sent it þee.
The þynkeþ longe him to see;
Ther fore most I no lengere be,
He schal sende after þee
Of heuene ferde moche plente,
And brynge þee in to his blisse,
That euer was and now is.
Þer he is kyng, þou schalt be quene;
Al heuen ryche bliþe schal bene.
And alle him þenkeþ swiþe longe
Til þou comest hem amonge.”
Than answerede oure ladi,
And seide to þe angel, “belamy,
Art þou my sones massagere,
That bryngest me þis bodes here?
Haueþ he me sette any day,
Aȝens when I me greithe may,
With my frendes and my kynnes men,
And with hem þat I in erþe haue ben,
And hem þat I haue fedde and clad,
And don al þat my sone hem bad?”
Tho seide þe angel, “I sei þee;
Thou schalt be here but daies þre.
The þridde dai we schal come,
Alle ix. ordres fram heuen a boue,
“And fecche þee with myry songe;
For after þee vs þinketh longe.”
To þat aungel seide oure ladi,
“What is þi name, þat standeþ me bi?”
“My name seie I þee nouȝt;
But take þis palme þat I haue brouȝt.
Kepe it wel, I bidde þee,
Ne lete it neuer be fro þee.
Ne mai I no lengere abide here,
For I am sent a massagere.
I schal to þe apostles sone anone,
And seie to hem sundry, on and one,
That þei ben here þe þridde dai;
No lengere abide I ne mai.”
When he had iseide, to heuene he steie;
And marie þer bi-left he.
Vn-til hure chambre sone sche nam;
And also sone as sche þider cam,
Sche dide of hure cloþes alle,
And wasche hure with water of wille.
So sone as sche hadde doun,
Newe cloþes sche dide hure apoun.
When sche was faire schred and clad,
To ihesu cryst aboue sche bad,
And seide, “sone, I þanke þee,
That þou hast yþouȝt on me,
My sone, þat is heuene kynge,
I praie þee of þi blessing.
Sone, for þyn hye name,
Schelde my bodi fro payne and schame,
That þe deuel haue no myȝt;
To reyue þee hit were no ryȝt.
Kepe me, sone; now is nede
That I ne haue of þe deuel no drede.
For with þe wiles þat he can,
He bigileþ many a man.
“Leue sone, ȝeue hym nouȝt
Man kynde þat þou hast bouȝt.
Mi sone, þat art ful of pite,
For man kynne I praie þee,
That þou, for þi holi grace,
Ȝeue hem boþe myȝt and space,
Hem to amende or þei ben dede,
That þei haue of þe deuel no drede.
Thynke, leue sone, þou hast hem wrouȝt,
And dere þat þou hast hem bouȝt.”
When sche hadde praied so,
Hure frendes sche callid hure to,
Hure sibbe and hure kynnes men.
With reuful steuene sche spak to hem,
An seide, “leue frendes, my sone
Wol no lenger þat I here wone.
He wol þat I with him be;
Where for I praie ȝow par charite,
Ȝif I any þinge haue mys wrouȝt,
Seieþ me now; for-hele ȝe nouȝt.
I it wole amende with my myȝt,
That my soule haue no vnplyȝt,
The good þat ȝe haue doun me,
My sone þat was doun on þe tree,
Man to bigge fro þe quede,
He ȝelde it ȝow at ȝoure nede,
And brynge ȝow in to his blis,
Ther I schal be and my sone is.”
Alle þat weren hure bi,
Ful wel þei ne myȝt hure forberen,
For euer þe while sche was þore,
Sche wolde serue las and more.
Seke and hole sche dide gode
And seruede hem to hande and fote.
Naked and hungry sche cloþed and fedde;
Colde and seke sche brouȝt to bedde.
Ne was þer noþer seke ne fere,
That þei nadde to hure mystere.
Thei louede hure wel with al here myȝt;
Sche it serued and þat was ryȝt.
Sche woke more þan sche slepe;
Hure sone to serue was al hure kepe,
To hym sche callid with rewful steuene,
And he hure sent an angel fro heuene,
To glade hure, hym self he cam,
That of hure bodi flesche nam.
Seynt Iohan hure keper was hure dere,
And to hure was a trewe fere.
Ne wolde he neuer fro hure gone;
Al þat sche wolde he wolde done.
While sche was in þat stede,
Al þat sche wolde he hure dede.
When sche hadde þer longe ben,
That faire ladi, heuene quen,
Than wolde hure sone sche com him to.
When he wolde, hit was do.
He sent to hure an angel of heuene,
That gret hure with myry steuene,
Ther sche was and bad hure bede,
Lyȝth an angel in þat stede,
And seide, “ladi, ful of grace,
114
Be nouȝt adrad þouȝ I be here;
I am þi sones messagere.
Fro hym I am to þee come;
He gret þee wel, þi dere sone.
Floure of erþe, heuene quene,
Blessed mote þou euer bene.
Wel be þat tyme þat þou was born,
For al þis worlde hit was forlorn,
Ȝif þou ne were and þe fruyt of þee;
Marie, ladi, wel þee be.
Ladi, best of al þinge,
Bliþe tiþynges I þee brynge,
Thou take þis palme þat I brynge þee;
Thi dere sone haþ sent it þee.
The þynkeþ longe him to see;
Ther fore most I no lengere be,
He schal sende after þee
Of heuene ferde moche plente,
And brynge þee in to his blisse,
That euer was and now is.
Þer he is kyng, þou schalt be quene;
Al heuen ryche bliþe schal bene.
And alle him þenkeþ swiþe longe
Til þou comest hem amonge.”
Than answerede oure ladi,
And seide to þe angel, “belamy,
Art þou my sones massagere,
That bryngest me þis bodes here?
Haueþ he me sette any day,
Aȝens when I me greithe may,
With my frendes and my kynnes men,
And with hem þat I in erþe haue ben,
And hem þat I haue fedde and clad,
And don al þat my sone hem bad?”
Tho seide þe angel, “I sei þee;
Thou schalt be here but daies þre.
The þridde dai we schal come,
Alle ix. ordres fram heuen a boue,
115
For after þee vs þinketh longe.”
To þat aungel seide oure ladi,
“What is þi name, þat standeþ me bi?”
“My name seie I þee nouȝt;
But take þis palme þat I haue brouȝt.
Kepe it wel, I bidde þee,
Ne lete it neuer be fro þee.
Ne mai I no lengere abide here,
For I am sent a massagere.
I schal to þe apostles sone anone,
And seie to hem sundry, on and one,
That þei ben here þe þridde dai;
No lengere abide I ne mai.”
When he had iseide, to heuene he steie;
And marie þer bi-left he.
Vn-til hure chambre sone sche nam;
And also sone as sche þider cam,
Sche dide of hure cloþes alle,
And wasche hure with water of wille.
So sone as sche hadde doun,
Newe cloþes sche dide hure apoun.
When sche was faire schred and clad,
To ihesu cryst aboue sche bad,
And seide, “sone, I þanke þee,
That þou hast yþouȝt on me,
My sone, þat is heuene kynge,
I praie þee of þi blessing.
Sone, for þyn hye name,
Schelde my bodi fro payne and schame,
That þe deuel haue no myȝt;
To reyue þee hit were no ryȝt.
Kepe me, sone; now is nede
That I ne haue of þe deuel no drede.
For with þe wiles þat he can,
He bigileþ many a man.
116
Man kynde þat þou hast bouȝt.
Mi sone, þat art ful of pite,
For man kynne I praie þee,
That þou, for þi holi grace,
Ȝeue hem boþe myȝt and space,
Hem to amende or þei ben dede,
That þei haue of þe deuel no drede.
Thynke, leue sone, þou hast hem wrouȝt,
And dere þat þou hast hem bouȝt.”
When sche hadde praied so,
Hure frendes sche callid hure to,
Hure sibbe and hure kynnes men.
With reuful steuene sche spak to hem,
An seide, “leue frendes, my sone
Wol no lenger þat I here wone.
He wol þat I with him be;
Where for I praie ȝow par charite,
Ȝif I any þinge haue mys wrouȝt,
Seieþ me now; for-hele ȝe nouȝt.
I it wole amende with my myȝt,
That my soule haue no vnplyȝt,
The good þat ȝe haue doun me,
My sone þat was doun on þe tree,
Man to bigge fro þe quede,
He ȝelde it ȝow at ȝoure nede,
And brynge ȝow in to his blis,
Ther I schal be and my sone is.”
Off suche tiþinges weren sori,
And saide, “lady, how mai þis be?
How schulle we lyuen with oute þee?
Ladi, þou hast vs serued so;
Alas, how schulle we parte a two?
Swete ladi, what is þi þouȝt?
Rewe on vs; departe vs nouȝt.
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Schulle we lyue, be þou a go.”
Þan answerede oure ladi
To þat folke þat stode hure bi,
“Lateþ be ȝour greding hit helpeþ noȝt;
And haueþ blis in ȝoure þouȝt.
Whiles I am here, wakeþ with me;
Hit doþ me good þat I ȝow se.
Haueþ no drede in wel;
Of peyne schal I þole no del.
Mi bodi mai no peyne þolen,
For he was þer of y-boren.
He þoled deþ him self for me;
He honged nailed on þe tree.
Mi sone þat is kyng of heuene,
Schal me sende worde wel euene;
Iohan and þe apostles, where so þei bene,
Schulle alle come for to sene.”
As sche so spak to þe mon,
Off al þat wist nouȝt seynt Ion.
He come to speke with oure ladi;
Ferli him þouȝt þat sche was sory,
And seide, “ladi, what is þee?
What is þis folk þat I here se?
Seie me, ladi, what is þee?” he sede;
“For me were leuer þat I were dede,
Than I þee se suche semblaunt make,
“For schal I neuer suche a ladi take.
Hastou ouȝt herde þat I ne can,
Off me or of any oþer man?
Schal I neuer haue blis
Til I wite, ladi, what þee is.”
Oure ladi wept and Iohan also,
For trewe loue was bitwene hem two.
Iohan seide, “ladi, what is þee?
For þi sones loue, seie þou me.”
Marie answerde with rewful steuene,
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Fro my sone a massagere;
He wol no lengere þat I be here.
Wite þou wel hit rewiþ me
That I schal, Iohan, parte fram þee.
For þi loue and þi seruyce
That þou hast doun on eche wise,
Thou hast me boþe fed and clad,
And doun also my sone þee bad.
My sone schal it wel ȝelde þee;
I schal him telle when I him se.”
Than answerde seynt Iohan,
That was a ful sori man,
And seide, “ladi, how mai þis be
That I schal þee no more se?
Mi ioie, my blis, is doun eche del;
Ne schal me neuer worþen wel,
Sithen we ben parted atwo.”
Þo seide our ladi, “why saistou so?
Wite þou wel, I go be-forn;
Thi seruyse schal noȝt be forlorn;
I schal to my sone seie of þee
That þou with hym and me schal be.
But herestou now, my frende Iohan,
When þou sest þat I am gon,
Kepe my bodi þat I ne be binomen,
When þe fellon Iewes comen,
Mi bodi forto doun no schame,
For þei hate no þing more þan my name.
Mi sone þei hongen on a tre;
Wel I wote so wolde þei me.
I wote wel þei louen me nouȝt;
But þer of be þi most þouȝt.
When I am parted, Iohan, fram þee,
That þei do my bodi none euelte.
My sone, þat woneþ in heuene liȝt,
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“Ladi, sithen hit is so,
That we schal departe a two,
Seie me how long hit is to þan.”
“For soþe,” marie seide to Iohan,
“Bi þis and þe þridde day,
No lenger abide I ne may.”
When he it herde, he was sory;
He wept, and seide, “ladi, mercy.
How schal I lyue? how schal I fare?
How schal I blis or ioie haue?
Furst my lord was brouȝt to dede,
Thorw þe felun iewes rede,
And now my ladi wil me fro,
Swete lord, now me is wo.
Wolde my lord I wolde be dede,
For I ne can no better rede.”
“Iohan,” sche seide, “whi seistou so?
Th[e] aungeles schal þee come to,
To kepe þee where so þou be,
Erliche and late to gladen þee.”
Whiles he spak so to seynt Ion,
Come þe apostles euerychon,
To gidre; but þei wist nouȝt
How þei weren to gidre brouȝt;
Off oþeres come ne wist none;
But of hure come bliþe was Ion.
He cust hem alle, so fayn he was,
And seide, “deo gracias;
Blessed, ihesu, be þi myȝt,
For it is faire and hit is ryȝt
That þi moder come to þee,
That sche faire welcom be
Of þine apostles þat most þee louen,
I ne wote how þei ben hidre ycomen.”
Than seide Petyr to seynt Ion,
“Whi art þou so sory A mon?
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For felaschip telle þou me.
I schal þee seie, seynt Ion,
Whi I am so sory a mon,
But seie me furst, for godes loue,
Whi ȝe arn hider icome,
And weryn so wide isprad:
Seieþ what haþ ȝou hidre ilad.”
Tho seide Petyr a ferli þinge:
“I was fer hens atte my prechinge.
I was so henne in anoþer londe
And helde my boke in my honde,
And tauȝt men of my sermoun,
I ne wote how I cam to þis toun.”
So seide alle þat weren þere,
Suche wondre sawe I neuer ere.
None of hem ne wist þorw wham,
Ne what wai þei þidre cam,
Than seide seynt Iohan, “for soþe, I wys,
I schal ȝow telle what it is.
Comeþ wiþ me in to þis hous;
Oure ladi þer abideþ vs.
Sche ordeyneþ hure to fare vs fro,
For hure sone hit wolle so.
Hure sone haþ sent his messagere;
He wol no lengere þat sche be here.
And hider he haþ ȝow alle ysent
To kepe hure bodi when sche is went.
Bi fore hure knele ȝe alle bi-dene
And seieþ, ‘ladi, heuene quene,
Off alle wymmen, best þee be;
Thi sone vs haueþ sent to þee,
To kepe þee and do þi wille:
Vs þenkeþ wel þat it is skille,
That heuene and erþe bowe þee to,
For þi sone hit wol so,
Thi sone, þat is heuene kynge,
And alle þing haþ in his kepinge.’”
Than comen þe apostles alle,
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Vp ros oure swete ladi
And kist þe apostles bi and bi.
Off here come sche was glad;
Alle þei dide þat sche bad.
Sche asked hem how þei come þere,
That sprad so sundry were.
The seide in ful good þouȝt,
“Thi sone vs haþ hidre ybrouȝt
To kepe þee, and by þee by;
Ther fore we comen to þe, lady.”
Ful bliþe sche was of here come;
“Blessed,” sche seide, “be my sone!
When it is my sones wille
That I come him to, hit is skille.
Mi bodi ȝe schal kepe so
That þer-to come nouȝt my fo.
Kepeþ faire my body,
That none do me no vilany.
The Iewis ben ful of felony;
My sone þei slow þorw enuye.
The haten no þing more þan my name,
God late hem neuer do me schame.
Ther fore I praie ȝow, pur charyte,
And for þe loue þat ȝe haþ to me,
When I am faren to heuen blis,
Wakeþ alle þer my body is.
Kepiþ it boþe nyȝt and dai,
That no Iewe stele it awai.
Thei wolde it brenne or do it schame;
But ihesu, for þi holi name,
Late hem neuer þer-to haue myȝt,
For sikirli hit were vnryȝt.”
Thei seiden, alle soþe, I wys,
“Hit schal be, ladi, as þi wille is.”
Whiles oure ladi spak so
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Come an aungel and stode hure bi,
And seide, “wel þee be, ladi,
And so be alle þat ben þee bi;
“Loke þou be ful redi.
Þou schalt to heuene and be made quene;
Ful bliþe mai þine hert bene.
Alle schal þee serue, þe company of heuene.”
As soone oure ladi herd þat steuene
That þe aungel seide hure to,
Wel ful of Ioie was sche þo;
Sche ȝede to hure bedde and lai,
A bowte þe tyme of myddai;
Iohan and þe apostles weren hure bi,
To kepen hure as oure ladi.
Sche badde Iohan and þe apostles alle.
To kepen hure what so bi falle.
Sitteþ now stille, boþe more and lesse,
And herkeneþ of þe moche blesse
Off Ihesu, þer he come so lyȝt:
He dide his moder ful moche riȝt,
As a sone auȝt his moder to done,
He callid þe aungeles euerychone,
And alle þe mayne þat was in heuene,
And seide to hem with mury steuene:
“Commeþ with me to my lemman!
Sche is my moder; hure sone I am;
Off hure I toke flesche and blode.
And sithen I hange on þe rode,
I þat euer was and ay schal ben,
In al þis blisse þat ȝe here sen,
I hadde reuþe on al mankyne,
That alle went to helle pyne.
I made man to serue me,
And þorw þe appel of a tre,
That adam toke and ete it Inne,
To helle he went, and al his kynne,
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And I it wolde þole no more.
I lyȝt doun, and man bi-cam,
And of þat maide flesche nam.
“Bi fore alle oþer I hure ches,
And I was born of hure flesches.
Thritti wynter and somme del more,
Men to wissen, I was þore.
Men dide me moche euelte;
Myn owyn þat ouȝt for to be,
Thei token me and bette me sore,
And atte þe last þei dide wel more,
With oute gult þei me swongen,
And to a piler þei me bounden.
Nailes þei smyten in my fette;
Off blode myne handes weren rede.
Myn hert þei stongen with a spere;
That sawe alle þat weren þere.
Ther I hange nailed on þe tree,
My modre was wel wo for me,
And also was hure cosin Ion.
I callid hure to me soone anon,
And seide, ‘Iohan, for my loue,
Kepe wel þis wyf; I am hure sone.’
Boþe þei wenten þo fro me;
Al one I hanged on þe tree,
Mi soule fram my bodi I nam,
In to þe pyne of helle sone I came.
Alle my frendes þat I þer fonde,
I toke hem oute with my ryȝt honde,
Adam and Eue and many mo,
I dide hem oute of helle go.
When I hadde harwed helle,
And don as I ȝow telle,
And fet adam fro þe quede,
The þridde dai I ros fro dede.
Fram erþe to heuene I cam;
God and man, bothe I am,
In heuene and in erþe is my myȝt;
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That my modre be me bi;
This tyme I wol for þi,
Comeþ with me with mury songe,
And do we hure come vs amonge.”
Than cam ihesu with his mayne,
Aungeles, archaungeles, moche plente,
In to þe chambre þer sche was Inne,
with ful many of hure kynne.
That chambere was ful of moche blis,
As euer is þer ihesu is.
Tho seide alle þat were þere,
Suche a blis sawe þei neuer ere.
Amonge þat Ioie and þat glewe,
Oure ladi, hure sone knewe.
When sche him sawe, sche was glad;
Listeneþ þe bede þat sche bad:
“Sone, blessid mote þou be,
That þou bicome man of me;
Hit is wel sene, I am þee dere,
Now þi self art comen here.
Thine apostles þou sendist furst to me,
And now þou art come with þi meyne,
To fecchyn me in to þi myȝt:
Was neuer modre sone so bryȝt.
Mi leue sone, now art þou come
With þi meyne, here a bone.
Do, my sone, þat þi wille is;
To þee me þinkeþ longe I wis.”
“Modre,” he seide, “come with me;
Of alle wymen best þee be.
Thou schalt to heuen and be made quene;
Wel bliþe may þine hert bene.”
“Sone,” sche seide, “I be-seke þee
O þing þat þou graunt me,
That I noȝt þe deuel se,
Ne none þat euer with him be.
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Ne wolde I neuer sene hem none.”
“Moder,” he seide, “ne drede þee nouȝt;
Ne come it neuer in my þouȝt;
Ne wille I neuer more þole
That any of hem come þee bi fore;
Ne schal þou neuer se-ne here
But me and aungeles, þine fere.
Moder, a ȝift I schal þee ȝyue,
Thou schalt with me in heuene lyue,
And more schal I ȝeue þee;
Al heuene companye schal serue þee.
“Modre, for þe loue of þee
I schal haue mercy and pite
Off al man kynne for þi praiere,
That were forlorn ȝif þou ne were.
Alle þat doun þee worschipe,
And seruen þee wel, and treuliche
Bi seke to þee, and mercy will crie,
And seyn, ‘help, seynt marie,’
In what peyne so he be,
Moder, for þe loue of þee,
I schal hem reles sone anon;
For þi loue I schal þus done.
Ȝif any haue ben al his lyue
In hede synne, maide or wyue,
And he wille, on his last þrowe,
Schryue him and ben y-knowe,
And telle it, ȝif he haue þe prest,
Or a noþer man þat is him nest,
And ȝif he ne mai do no more,
But þat him forþinkeþ sore,
In what synne so he be,
Moder, for þe loue of þee,
I schal on him haue mercy,
And sithen þei schulle wone þee bi.
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Alle þe synnes þat myȝt be þouȝt,
And he on his last dai,
Ȝif he none ere ne mai,
Repent him, and calle to þee,
In what synne so he be,
I schal here his praiere,
For þi loue, modre dere,
Al þat þou wolt bi seke fore,
Be it lasse, be it more,
Hit schal ben aftur þi wille,
For I it wille, and þat is skille,
Þat no þing with seie þee,
Off þat þou wolt biseke me.”
Oure ladi knelid him bi forn,
And seide, “þe tyme þat þou were born,
Ouer alle oþer blessed þou be,
For alle þat I wol, þou grauntest me.”
And seide, “þe tyme þat þou were born,
Ouer alle oþer blessed þou be,
For alle þat I wol, þou grauntest me.”
“So I auȝt, moder, and so I wille;”
He left vp his hond and blessed hure stille;
His blessing sche þouȝt good,
And he hure soule vndrestode.
He callid to him seynt myȝhel,
“Thou kepe me þis soule wel,
Thou and alle þine fere;
Is no þinge me so dere.”
Alle þat mayne þat cam fro heuene,
Thei syngen with a myry steuene;
Men myȝt wite bi here songe
That moche ioie was hem amonge.
With alle þat mayne to heuen he hure nam;
And as soone as he þer cam,
He made hure quene of heuen liȝt;
Blessid be hure sones myȝt! amen!
He left vp his hond and blessed hure stille;
His blessing sche þouȝt good,
And he hure soule vndrestode.
He callid to him seynt myȝhel,
“Thou kepe me þis soule wel,
Thou and alle þine fere;
Is no þinge me so dere.”
Alle þat mayne þat cam fro heuene,
Thei syngen with a myry steuene;
Men myȝt wite bi here songe
That moche ioie was hem amonge.
With alle þat mayne to heuen he hure nam;
And as soone as he þer cam,
He made hure quene of heuen liȝt;
Blessid be hure sones myȝt! amen!
Now schal we here of þe bodi,
Where it bi cam, and where it li.
When þe soule was þere fro hure nomen,
Than bad god Peter to him comen,
And seide, “Peter, I comaunde þee,
Mi moder bodi kepe þou me.
Iohan and alle þine fere,
Nis no þinge me so dere;
When I furst in þis worlde cam,
Off hure bodi flesche I nam;
Off hure bodi, I was born.
Petyr, go forþe þou be forn,
Thou and alle þine feres with þee,
To Iosephat, to þat vale,
And leiþ þe bodi in a stone;
Haueþ no drede of ȝoure fone;
Goth with faire processioun
To ierusalem þorwe þe toun.
Doþ þe belles alle to ryngen,
And loke þat ȝe mury syngen.
Loke þat ȝe haue candele,
Torches boþe faire and fele.
Foure of þe apostles schal bere þe beere;
Ther-on schal ligge me modre deere.
Haueþ no drede of no Iew,
For I my self schal be with ȝow.”
When ihesu hadde him so seide,
And þe bodi was on bere leide,
He ȝaf hem alle his blessinge
And stye to heuen, þer he is kynge.
Where it bi cam, and where it li.
When þe soule was þere fro hure nomen,
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And seide, “Peter, I comaunde þee,
Mi moder bodi kepe þou me.
Iohan and alle þine fere,
Nis no þinge me so dere;
When I furst in þis worlde cam,
Off hure bodi flesche I nam;
Off hure bodi, I was born.
Petyr, go forþe þou be forn,
Thou and alle þine feres with þee,
To Iosephat, to þat vale,
And leiþ þe bodi in a stone;
Haueþ no drede of ȝoure fone;
Goth with faire processioun
To ierusalem þorwe þe toun.
Doþ þe belles alle to ryngen,
And loke þat ȝe mury syngen.
Loke þat ȝe haue candele,
Torches boþe faire and fele.
Foure of þe apostles schal bere þe beere;
Ther-on schal ligge me modre deere.
Haueþ no drede of no Iew,
For I my self schal be with ȝow.”
When ihesu hadde him so seide,
And þe bodi was on bere leide,
He ȝaf hem alle his blessinge
And stye to heuen, þer he is kynge.
To hym þo seide seynt Ion,
“Felawes, go we soone anon,
And turne we þis processioun,
And synge we faire þorw þis toun.”
Ther was a Iew hem amonge,
Off þe apostles harde þe songe.
To þe beere he cam lepand,
And as he wolde lai on his hande;
To þe bere he cleued fast,
And to Petir he criede atte þe last,
And seide, “Petir, þenkest þou nouȝt,
When þi lord was to vs brouȝt,
Thou him forsoke, and I þe knewe?
Praie for me,” seide þe Iewe,
“Praie þi lord, ȝif I mai so be,
That he haue mercy on me.
Thenke,” quod þe Iewe, “what I þee dede.
When þou was with vs in þat stede,
When þi lord was ytakyn,
And þou haddest him forsakyn,
Oure mayne þee knewe þat ilke nyȝt
Bothe bi speche and by syȝt,
And seiden alle, for I stode þee bi,
That þou was of Ihesus companye.
Thou seidest with wordes and with þouȝt,
‘For soþe þat þou knewe him nouȝt.’
Praie þi lord of moche myȝt,
And his moder þat art so bryȝt,
That he me help at þis stounde,
For I was neuer so harde ybounde.
As I þee helped atte þi nede,
Ȝelde me, Petir, now my mede.”
Seynt Petir answerde þo
To þe Iewe þat was so wo,
“Ȝif þou woldest leue on him,
That on þe rode dide þi kyn,
That he is soþefast godes sone,
God and man for him bi come,
That marie bare in hure lyf,
Clene maide and clene wyf,
Clene widewe with oute wem,
For þee I wol praie þen,
Ihesu cryst vs liȝteþ aboue,
That he, for his moder loue,
So ȝeue þee myȝt for to go,
And bringe þee oute of þi wo.”
The Iewe þat henge apoun þe bere,
Answerde anone as ȝe mai here,
“I leue wel, and better I schal done,
On ihesu crist, godes sone,
That Iewes diden on þe rode,
And for vs he schedde his swete blode,
That marie bare in hure lyf,
Clene maiden and clene wyf;
He brynge me, I praie it him,
Oute of þe wo þat I am Inne.”
As soone as he hadde seide þis bede,
He was al hole in þat stede:
Off fote, of honde, he hadde myȝt;
Alle his lymes bi come ful ryȝt.
He stode vp swiþe anone
Bi-fore þe Iewes euerechone,
That suche a myracle haþ done,
Ihesu crist, godes sons,
Of a wilde hounde haþ made a lomb,
To preche his worde in eche a lond.
Seynt Petir, þat holi man,
The Iew he crystened anone,
He tauȝt him al his bi leue;
He wist he was to godes biheue;
He ordeyned him to prest anone,
And bad him soone for to gone
And prechen al of godes sone,
In eche a lond where he come.
That palm þat Petir helde in his honde,
He toke it him þorw godes sonde,
And bad him godes wordes telle
Among þe Iewes þat were so felle.
So he spak þe furst day,
That he turned to godes lay
Twenty þousand and sommedel mo,
Thorw wordes þat he spak þo.
Foure of þe apostles þat were þere,
That swete bodi forþe þei bere,
The Iewes þat were godes fone,
Thei herde þe cri sone anone,
And þei asked what was þat crie,
And men seiden it was mari,
That seynt Petir and his fere
Bare þare apoun a beere.
“Alas,” seide þei, “for schame,
Ascape þei vs, we schulle haue blame.
Arme we vs alle sone anone,
And take we hem alle þer þei gone.
That bodi þat þei bere, nyme we it,
And cast we it in a foule pit,
Or brenne we it, and do it somme where,
Or cast we it in a foule sere.”
Thei comen lepand þiderwarde,
And þat hem fel swiþe harde.
Ihesu wolde nouȝt þat schame;
He made hem boþe blynde and lame.
Off hem alle, was þer none
That myȝt a fote on erþe gone.
Here mouþes were to here nek went;
Thei þouȝt alle þat þei were schent.
Boþe here feet and here handes
Where bounde with stronge bandes:
Ful sore bounden þei were,
For þei ne myȝt go ne here.
Than comen here frendes hem to,
And seide, “alas, whi leie ȝe so,
In ȝoure armour so fast ycliȝt,
That beþ so faire and so bryȝt?
Ȝoure speres, ȝour schildes, helpeþ ȝow nouȝt;
Telleþ vs what ȝe haue þouȝt.”
Thei answerd nouȝt þat leyen þere,
For þei ne myȝt hem noȝt here,
But somme of hem þat myȝt speke
Seide, “alas! who schal vs wreke?”
And euer þei cryede many a stounde,
“Alas, how harde we lie here ybounde!”
Off fyue þousand was þer none
That myȝt of þat stede gone.
Than seide some þat stode hem bi,
That hadde ysene þat ferli,
That ‘seynt Petir and his fere
Bare oure ladi on a beere,
“Thise men wolde hure haue nomen,”
And þus þei ben ouer comen.
The ladi þei wolde haue doun schame;
Ther fore þei hauen godes grame.’
The folke hem bad mercy to crie
To ihesu cryst of here folie,
And leue þat he is godes sone,
And siþen crysten men bi come.
“We hope þat ihesu schal sone tyme
Delyuere ȝow of ȝoure pyne.”
Thei criede “mercy” with good wille,
Somme lowde and somme stille,
And ihesu, þorw his mochil myȝt,
Here feet and handes gan to ryȝt.
Thorw myracle þat þer was doun,
Bi-come cristene many on,
And leuede on cryst and criede mercy,
That none oþer god was so myȝty.
The apostles went forþe on here way,
To Iosephat, to þat Valay.
When þe apostles comen were,
Wel softe þei setten doun þe beere.
With gret deuocioun, euerychone,
Thei leide þe bodi in a stone,
And bileft alle in þat stede,
As oure ladi hadde hem bede,
And woke þer al þat nyȝt
With many torches and candle lyȝt.
On þe morwe when it was dai,
Thei loked where þat bodi lai.
Thei ouerturned þat ilke stone;
Bodi þei founde þer none;
But þei sawe in þat stede þana
Liand as it were a mana.
That manna bitokned hure clene lyf,
That sche was modre, maide, and wyf.
Tho wist þe apostles, I wis,
The bodi was in to paradis,
Also godes wille was.
Thei seide, “Deo gracias.”
Seynt Thomas of ynde þiderward cam
Also blyue as he myȝt gan,
And wolde haue ben at hure fyne,
Ȝif he myȝt haue come bi tyme.
As he loked him bi side,
He sawe a briȝtnesse bi him glide;
Bi þat stede þer he come,
Oure ladi to heuene was nome.
He knelede doun and seide, “ladi,
Off me, I praie ȝow, haue mercy.
Ladi, quene of heuene lyȝt,
For þine swete mychel myȝt,
Sende me token þis ilke day,
What þing þat I say may
To myn felawis, þer I hem fynde,
That I was toward þi buriynge.
Thei wil nouȝt leue þat I were;
Now graunt me, ladi, my praiere.”
A-bowte hure myddel a seynt sche souȝt,
That sche hure self hadde wrouȝt,
Off silk and gold wounden in pal;
Doun to thomas sche lete it fal.
He toke þer þe gurdel in his honde,
And þanked hure of hure sonde.
Forþe he went of þat stede;
Toward þe toune he him dede,
His felawis for to seke on his fete,
Ȝif he hem ouȝt myȝt mete.
Atte þe temple dominus
He fonde hem alle in an hous.
When he hem sawe, he gret hem,
And þei answerde alle hym,
And seiden, “thomas of ynde,
Euer art þou bi-hynde.
“Whare hast þou so longe bene?
We haue buried heuene quene.
Thou helpest noȝt at no good dede;
Thou failest euer at most nede.”
“Sore me forþinkeþ þat I ne was here,
But I ne myȝt come no nere.
Blessed be sche, quene of blis,
In þat stede þer now sche is!
For wel I wote bi my þouȝt,
Ther ȝe hure left, is sche nouȝt.”
Than seide to him sone anone,
Bothe Petir and seynt Ione,
“Thou ne woldest, leue thomas,
That oure lord fram deth ras.
Come, þou art mys bileuyd,
And tales ynow þou canst fynde,
Thou leuest nouȝt on godes craft;
Swylk felawis wille we nauȝt.”
“Be stille,” he saide, “broþer Iohan.
Whi chyde ȝe me euerychone?
I am ful wery man for-gone;
Me ne list answeri neuer one.
But I thanke oure lord god,
I sawe hure with flesche and blood,
Ther oure ladi to heuene went:
Here is þe token þat sche me sent.”
Quath seynt Petir, “þat is sothe.
This seynt sche hure self wof.
We dide it on hure in þe beere;
Wonder me þinkeþ þat it is here.
Go we swiþe in to þe vale,
To wite þe sothe of þis tale
That he haþ vs here yseide,
For it was in þe tumbe ylaide.”
Oute of þe place swiþe þei ȝede,
And þe tumbe þei vndede;
No þing þer Inne þei ne founde,
But a manere floure at þe grounde.
That floure was ‘manna’ yclepid;
Hit was in þe tumbe ystekyd.
Thei ȝeden alle abowte þe tumbe
And knelede on þe bare grounde,
And seiden, “ihesu, godes sone,
Al þi sonde be welcome.
Myȝtful art þou, heuene kynge;
That mai we wite bi þis tokenynge;
For no man mai wite ne se
What is þi derne priuete.”
Cryst of heuene, þat is so bryȝt,
Amonge þe apostles sone he lyȝt,
And gret hem alle yfere,
With aungeles fele þat with him were,
And seide, “now pees be with vs!
Blessed be ȝe,” seide Ihesus.
A lyȝt cloude come after þan,
And ouer sprad hem euery man,
And bar hem alle þat ben þere,
In to here stedes þer þei preched ere;
And fonden alle þat folke ȝete,
Sittand stille atte here fete.
And þei bigonne for to preche,
And þe folke for to teche.
Moche wondre hem þo þouȝt
How þei weren þidre brouȝt.
Miȝtful art þou, heuene kynge,
Ihesu Crist, in alle þinge!
The apostles kneled in þat stede;
To ihesu þei bede a bede.
Ihesu herde here praiere,
For þei were him leue and dere.
We biseche þee for alle þat hereþ þis vie
“Felawes, go we soone anon,
And turne we þis processioun,
And synge we faire þorw þis toun.”
128
Off þe apostles harde þe songe.
To þe beere he cam lepand,
And as he wolde lai on his hande;
To þe bere he cleued fast,
And to Petir he criede atte þe last,
And seide, “Petir, þenkest þou nouȝt,
When þi lord was to vs brouȝt,
Thou him forsoke, and I þe knewe?
Praie for me,” seide þe Iewe,
“Praie þi lord, ȝif I mai so be,
That he haue mercy on me.
Thenke,” quod þe Iewe, “what I þee dede.
When þou was with vs in þat stede,
When þi lord was ytakyn,
And þou haddest him forsakyn,
Oure mayne þee knewe þat ilke nyȝt
Bothe bi speche and by syȝt,
And seiden alle, for I stode þee bi,
129
Thou seidest with wordes and with þouȝt,
‘For soþe þat þou knewe him nouȝt.’
Praie þi lord of moche myȝt,
And his moder þat art so bryȝt,
That he me help at þis stounde,
For I was neuer so harde ybounde.
As I þee helped atte þi nede,
Ȝelde me, Petir, now my mede.”
Seynt Petir answerde þo
To þe Iewe þat was so wo,
“Ȝif þou woldest leue on him,
That on þe rode dide þi kyn,
That he is soþefast godes sone,
God and man for him bi come,
That marie bare in hure lyf,
Clene maide and clene wyf,
Clene widewe with oute wem,
For þee I wol praie þen,
Ihesu cryst vs liȝteþ aboue,
That he, for his moder loue,
So ȝeue þee myȝt for to go,
And bringe þee oute of þi wo.”
The Iewe þat henge apoun þe bere,
Answerde anone as ȝe mai here,
“I leue wel, and better I schal done,
On ihesu crist, godes sone,
That Iewes diden on þe rode,
And for vs he schedde his swete blode,
That marie bare in hure lyf,
Clene maiden and clene wyf;
He brynge me, I praie it him,
Oute of þe wo þat I am Inne.”
As soone as he hadde seide þis bede,
He was al hole in þat stede:
Off fote, of honde, he hadde myȝt;
Alle his lymes bi come ful ryȝt.
He stode vp swiþe anone
130
That suche a myracle haþ done,
Ihesu crist, godes sons,
Of a wilde hounde haþ made a lomb,
To preche his worde in eche a lond.
Seynt Petir, þat holi man,
The Iew he crystened anone,
He tauȝt him al his bi leue;
He wist he was to godes biheue;
He ordeyned him to prest anone,
And bad him soone for to gone
And prechen al of godes sone,
In eche a lond where he come.
That palm þat Petir helde in his honde,
He toke it him þorw godes sonde,
And bad him godes wordes telle
Among þe Iewes þat were so felle.
So he spak þe furst day,
That he turned to godes lay
Twenty þousand and sommedel mo,
Thorw wordes þat he spak þo.
Foure of þe apostles þat were þere,
That swete bodi forþe þei bere,
The Iewes þat were godes fone,
Thei herde þe cri sone anone,
And þei asked what was þat crie,
And men seiden it was mari,
That seynt Petir and his fere
Bare þare apoun a beere.
“Alas,” seide þei, “for schame,
Ascape þei vs, we schulle haue blame.
Arme we vs alle sone anone,
And take we hem alle þer þei gone.
That bodi þat þei bere, nyme we it,
And cast we it in a foule pit,
Or brenne we it, and do it somme where,
Or cast we it in a foule sere.”
Thei comen lepand þiderwarde,
131
Ihesu wolde nouȝt þat schame;
He made hem boþe blynde and lame.
Off hem alle, was þer none
That myȝt a fote on erþe gone.
Here mouþes were to here nek went;
Thei þouȝt alle þat þei were schent.
Boþe here feet and here handes
Where bounde with stronge bandes:
Ful sore bounden þei were,
For þei ne myȝt go ne here.
Than comen here frendes hem to,
And seide, “alas, whi leie ȝe so,
In ȝoure armour so fast ycliȝt,
That beþ so faire and so bryȝt?
Ȝoure speres, ȝour schildes, helpeþ ȝow nouȝt;
Telleþ vs what ȝe haue þouȝt.”
Thei answerd nouȝt þat leyen þere,
For þei ne myȝt hem noȝt here,
But somme of hem þat myȝt speke
Seide, “alas! who schal vs wreke?”
And euer þei cryede many a stounde,
“Alas, how harde we lie here ybounde!”
Off fyue þousand was þer none
That myȝt of þat stede gone.
Than seide some þat stode hem bi,
That hadde ysene þat ferli,
That ‘seynt Petir and his fere
Bare oure ladi on a beere,
“Thise men wolde hure haue nomen,”
And þus þei ben ouer comen.
The ladi þei wolde haue doun schame;
Ther fore þei hauen godes grame.’
The folke hem bad mercy to crie
To ihesu cryst of here folie,
And leue þat he is godes sone,
And siþen crysten men bi come.
132
Delyuere ȝow of ȝoure pyne.”
Thei criede “mercy” with good wille,
Somme lowde and somme stille,
And ihesu, þorw his mochil myȝt,
Here feet and handes gan to ryȝt.
Thorw myracle þat þer was doun,
Bi-come cristene many on,
And leuede on cryst and criede mercy,
That none oþer god was so myȝty.
The apostles went forþe on here way,
To Iosephat, to þat Valay.
When þe apostles comen were,
Wel softe þei setten doun þe beere.
With gret deuocioun, euerychone,
Thei leide þe bodi in a stone,
And bileft alle in þat stede,
As oure ladi hadde hem bede,
And woke þer al þat nyȝt
With many torches and candle lyȝt.
On þe morwe when it was dai,
Thei loked where þat bodi lai.
Thei ouerturned þat ilke stone;
Bodi þei founde þer none;
But þei sawe in þat stede þana
Liand as it were a mana.
That manna bitokned hure clene lyf,
That sche was modre, maide, and wyf.
Tho wist þe apostles, I wis,
The bodi was in to paradis,
Also godes wille was.
Thei seide, “Deo gracias.”
133
Also blyue as he myȝt gan,
And wolde haue ben at hure fyne,
Ȝif he myȝt haue come bi tyme.
As he loked him bi side,
He sawe a briȝtnesse bi him glide;
Bi þat stede þer he come,
Oure ladi to heuene was nome.
He knelede doun and seide, “ladi,
Off me, I praie ȝow, haue mercy.
Ladi, quene of heuene lyȝt,
For þine swete mychel myȝt,
Sende me token þis ilke day,
What þing þat I say may
To myn felawis, þer I hem fynde,
That I was toward þi buriynge.
Thei wil nouȝt leue þat I were;
Now graunt me, ladi, my praiere.”
A-bowte hure myddel a seynt sche souȝt,
That sche hure self hadde wrouȝt,
Off silk and gold wounden in pal;
Doun to thomas sche lete it fal.
He toke þer þe gurdel in his honde,
And þanked hure of hure sonde.
Forþe he went of þat stede;
Toward þe toune he him dede,
His felawis for to seke on his fete,
Ȝif he hem ouȝt myȝt mete.
Atte þe temple dominus
He fonde hem alle in an hous.
When he hem sawe, he gret hem,
And þei answerde alle hym,
And seiden, “thomas of ynde,
Euer art þou bi-hynde.
134
We haue buried heuene quene.
Thou helpest noȝt at no good dede;
Thou failest euer at most nede.”
“Sore me forþinkeþ þat I ne was here,
But I ne myȝt come no nere.
Blessed be sche, quene of blis,
In þat stede þer now sche is!
For wel I wote bi my þouȝt,
Ther ȝe hure left, is sche nouȝt.”
Than seide to him sone anone,
Bothe Petir and seynt Ione,
“Thou ne woldest, leue thomas,
That oure lord fram deth ras.
Come, þou art mys bileuyd,
And tales ynow þou canst fynde,
Thou leuest nouȝt on godes craft;
Swylk felawis wille we nauȝt.”
“Be stille,” he saide, “broþer Iohan.
Whi chyde ȝe me euerychone?
I am ful wery man for-gone;
Me ne list answeri neuer one.
But I thanke oure lord god,
I sawe hure with flesche and blood,
Ther oure ladi to heuene went:
Here is þe token þat sche me sent.”
Quath seynt Petir, “þat is sothe.
This seynt sche hure self wof.
We dide it on hure in þe beere;
Wonder me þinkeþ þat it is here.
Go we swiþe in to þe vale,
To wite þe sothe of þis tale
That he haþ vs here yseide,
For it was in þe tumbe ylaide.”
Oute of þe place swiþe þei ȝede,
And þe tumbe þei vndede;
No þing þer Inne þei ne founde,
But a manere floure at þe grounde.
That floure was ‘manna’ yclepid;
135
Thei ȝeden alle abowte þe tumbe
And knelede on þe bare grounde,
And seiden, “ihesu, godes sone,
Al þi sonde be welcome.
Myȝtful art þou, heuene kynge;
That mai we wite bi þis tokenynge;
For no man mai wite ne se
What is þi derne priuete.”
Cryst of heuene, þat is so bryȝt,
Amonge þe apostles sone he lyȝt,
And gret hem alle yfere,
With aungeles fele þat with him were,
And seide, “now pees be with vs!
Blessed be ȝe,” seide Ihesus.
A lyȝt cloude come after þan,
And ouer sprad hem euery man,
And bar hem alle þat ben þere,
In to here stedes þer þei preched ere;
And fonden alle þat folke ȝete,
Sittand stille atte here fete.
And þei bigonne for to preche,
And þe folke for to teche.
Moche wondre hem þo þouȝt
How þei weren þidre brouȝt.
Miȝtful art þou, heuene kynge,
Ihesu Crist, in alle þinge!
The apostles kneled in þat stede;
To ihesu þei bede a bede.
Ihesu herde here praiere,
For þei were him leue and dere.
Off oure ladi seynt marie,
That Ihesu schelde hem fram grame,
Fro dedly synne and fro schame.
Ne mys auenture schal bi falle þat man
That þis a vie here can.
136
That of oure ladi hereþ þis lai,
Dien ne schal of hure childe,
For oure ladi hure schal be mylde.
Ne none mys auenture schal be-falle
In felde, in strete, ne in halle,
In stede þer þis vie is rad,
For oure ladi hure sone it bad.
And þe archibisshop seynt Edmound
Haþ graunted xl. daies to pardoun
To alle þat þis vie wol here
Or with good wille wol lere.
Ihesu, for þi modre loue,
That woneþ in heuene vs aboue,
Graunt vs, ȝif þi wille is,
The mochil Ioye of paradis!
A praier þer-to seie alle we,
A Pater noster pur charite,
And an Aue marie þer-to,
That Ihesus vs graunt so.
Amen!
Celi regina sit scriptori medicina.
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