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English Lyrics of the XIIIth Century


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[section]
 1. 
1. Sunset on Calvary.
 2. 
2. Penitence for Wasted Life.
 3. 
3. ‘On God Ureisun of Ure Lefdi.’
 4. 
[4. Stabat iuxta Christi Crucem.]
 5. 
5. A Prisoner's Prayer.
 6. 
6. ‘Sumer Is Icumen In.’
 7. 
7. Now Comes the Blast of Winter.
 8. 
8. I Walk with Sorrow.
 9. 
9. Love's Madness.
 10A. 
10. Death's Wither-Clench. [A.]
 10B. 
[10. Death's Wither-Clench. B.]
 11A. 
11. Three Sorrowful Tidings. [A.]
 11B. 
[11. Three Sorrowful Tidings. B.]
 12A. 
12. Three Sorrowful Things. [A.]
 12B. 
[12. Three Sorrowful Things. B.]
 13. 
13. Memorare Novissima Tua.
 14. 
14. A Warning to Sir Eode.
 15. 
15. A Prayer to the Redeemer.
 16. 
16. Mater Salutaris.
 17A. 
17. Of One That Is So Fair and Bright. [A.]
 17B. 
[17. Of One That Is So Fair and Bright. B.]
 18. 
18. A Prayer of the Five Joys.
 19. 
19. The Lily with Five Leaves.
 20. 
20. Shroud and Grave.
 21A. 
21. Tell Me, Wight in the Broom. [A.]
 21B. 
[21. Tell Me, Wight in the Broom. B.]
 22. 
22. Gaude Virgo Mater Christi.
 23. 
23. The Ten Commandments.
 24. 
24. A Light Is Come to the World.
 25. 
25. The Bargain of Judas.
 26. 
26. The Journey of the Three Kings.
 27. 
27. Look on Me with Thy Sweet Eyes.
 28a. 
28a. Doomsday.
 28b. 
28b. Doomsday.
 29. 
29. The Latemest Day. [A.]
 29. 
[29. The Latemest Day. B.]
 30. 
30. When the Turf is Thy Tower.
 31. 
31. I Sing of One That is Matchless.
 32A. 
32. A Prayer of Penitence to Our Lady. [A.]
 32B. 
[32. A Prayer of Penitence to Our Lady. [B.]
 32C. 
[32. A Prayer of Penitence to Our Lady. [C.]
 33. 
33. Aspice Mitissime Conditor.
 34. 
34. Man's Leman on the Rood.
 35A. 
35. My Leman on the Rood. I. [A.]
 35B. 
[35. My Leman on the Rood. I. B.]
 36. 
36. My Leman on the Rood. II.
 37. 
37. My Leman on the Rood. III.
 38. 
38. Over the Bier of the Worldling.
 39. 
39. Will and Wit.
 40. 
40. Weal Is a Cursed Thing.
 41. 
41. The Five Blisses.
 42. 
42. An Antiphon of St. Thomas of Canterbury.
 43. 
43. Friar Thomas de Hales' Love Ron.
 44. 
44. Gabriel's Greeting to Our Lady.
 45. 
45. Jesus Sorrows for His Mother.
 46A. 
46. This World's Bliss Will Not Last. [A.]
 46B. 
[46. This World's Bliss Will Not Last. B.]
 47. 
47. Our Lady Sorrows for Her Son.
 48. 
48. ‘Vbi Sount Qui Ante Nos Fuerount.’
 49A. 
49. Dialogue between Our Lady and Jesus on the Cross. [A.]
 49B. 
[49. Dialogue between Our Lady and Jesus. B.]
 50. 
50. ‘Swete Ihesu King of Blisse.’
 51. 
51. ‘Le Regret de Maximian.’
 52. 
52. The Thrush and the Nightingale.
 53. 
53. What Love Is Like.
 54. 
54. A Springtide Song of the Redemption.
 55. 
55. A Prayer to the Mother of Mildness.
 56A. 
56. The Mind of the Passion. [A.]
 56B. 
[56. The Mind of the Passion. B.]
 57. 
57. Be Free with What Christ Sends.
 58. 
58. World's Bliss Have Good Day.
 59. 
59. A Hymn to the Heavenly Father.
 60. 
60. A Song to the Queen of Heaven.
 61. 
61. Mother Mild, Flower of All.
 62. 
62. Now Springs the Spray.
 63. 
63. A Spring Song of Love to Jesus.
 64. 
64. A Song of Sorrow for the Passion.
 65. 
65. An Orison of Penitence to Our Lady.
 66. 
66. I Will Become a Friar.
 67. 
67. A Bidding Prayer.
 68. 
68. Our Lady Help Us at Our Ending.
 69. 
69. In Sign of Love to Man.
 70A. 
70. Decem Precepta. [A.]
 70B. 
70. Decem Precepta. B.]
 71. 
71. Proprietates Mortis.
 72. 
72. A Song of Lewes.
 73. 
73. From Earth to Earth.
 74. 
74. On the Follies of Fashion.
 88. 
[88. A Prayer of Penitence to God Almighty. B.]

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50

[29. The Latemest Day. B.]

[_]

B. Cotton MS. Caligula A ix.

I hereð of one þinge þat ȝe ohen of þenche,
Ȝe þat þerieð riche schrud & sitteð on oure benche;
Þah me kneoli ou bi-uore & mid þin schenche,
From þe dreorie deað ne mai no mon at-blenche.
Ȝe þat sittet i-schrud wið skarlet & wið palle,
Þel soþe tiþinge Ich ou þile telle:
Þe feond þencheð iþis þe saþle forto cþelle,
Ase þe hit findeþ iþriten in þe goddspelle.
Ah of one þinge þe schule nime gome,
Þat þe þeren poure þa þe hider come—
þe hit hereð iþis sþiþe ofte & i-lome—
Þe saþle & þe licome selde heo beoþ isome.
Hþenne þat child bið iboren & on eorþe i-falle,
Nolde ich ȝeuen enne peni for his þeden alle;
Ah seoððen moni mon biȝet bores & halle,
For-hþi þe þrecche saþle schal in-to pine ualle.
Þenche þe on þe laste dai, þat þe schule heonne fare
Vt of þisse þorlde þið pine & þið kare,
Al so þe hider comen naked & bare,
And of ure sunnen ȝeuen ondsþeare.
Nabbe no mon so muchel, al hit þolle agon—
His lond & his hus & his hom—
Þe sorie soule makeþ hire mon;
Iþis ne mai at-blenche ure neauer non.
Þenne þe latemest dai deþ haueð ibrouhit,
Bi-nimeð ure speche, ure siht, & ure þoht,
And in euche lime deþ us hafð þurh-soht,
Þenne beoð ure blisse al iturnd to noht.
51

Ne miȝte no tunge tellen þat euer þes iboren
Þe stronge pine of helle, þah he hedde isþoren,
Er þe saþle & þe bodi a-tþo beon to-drehen,
Bute crist þat lesede his folc þat þer þes for-loren.
Anon so þe saþle bið ifaren ut,
Me nimeð þe licome & preoneð in a clut,
Þat þes so modi & so strong & so sþiþe prud,
And þes iþoned to þerien moni a feir schrud.
Nu lið þe clei-clot al so þe ston,
And his freondes striueð to gripen his i-þon;
Þe sorie soþle makeð hire mon,
Of alle hire erure freond nu nafð heo non.
Þenne saið þe saþle þið sorie chere:
‘Aþai! þu þrecche fole bali, nu þu list on bere,
Ich schal habben for þe fendes to ifere.
Aþai! þat þu euere to monne ischape þere.
Ne schaltu neauer sitten on bolstre ne on benche,
Ne neuer in none halle þer me uin schencheð;
For þine fule sunnen & for þin uni-þrenche,
Hi schal, þrecche saþle, to ateliche stenche.’
Hþer beoð alle þine frond þat faire þe bihete,
& feire þe igretten bi þeies & bi strete?
Nu heo þolleð, þrecche, alle þe for-lete,
Nolden he, hore stonkes, non nu þe imete.
Hþer beoð þine dihsches midd þine sþete sonde?
Hþer beoþ þine nappes þat þe glideþ to honde?
Hþer is þi bred & þin ale, þi tunne & þine stonde?
Nu þu schalt in þe putte þunie þid þe þonde.
52

Of me þu heuedest miȝte to don al þine þille,
Euer þu þere a-buten us bo for to spille;
Nu þu schalt, þrecche, liggen ful stille,
And ich schal þine gultes abuggen ful ille.
Hþi noldest þu mid crist maken us isahte,
Masse leten singe of þat he þe bi-tahte?
Euer þu þere abuten to echen þin ahte;
For-þi þe beoð an ende boþe bi-pahte.
Selde þole me for þe masse lete singe,
Oþer in holi chirche don ei offringe;
Me þule for þin ahte make striuinge,
And pute þe þið-uten of alle þine þinge.
Li, aþariede bali, þer neauer þu ne arise!
Hþenne ich þenche þe uppon ful sore me mai agrise;
For ich schal bernen in fur & chiuerin in ise,
& euer beon in pinen a feole kunne þise.
Nu schal þin halle Mid spade beon iþroȝt,
And þu schald þerinne, þrecche, beon ibroȝt;
Nu schulen þine þeden Alle beon isoȝt,
Me þule sþopen þin hus & ut mid þe swoft.
Þi bur is sone ibuld þer þu schald þunien inne,
Þe rof, þe firste, schal ligge o þine chinne;
Nu þe sculen þormes þunien þið-inne,
Ne mai me heom vt driuen þið nones kunnes ginne.
Nu is afered of þe, þi mei & þi moþe,
Alle heo þereð þe þeden þat er þeren þin oþe,
And þu schald nu in eorþe liggen ful lohe.
Þai hþi noldestu er of þisse beon icnoþe?
53

Nu schal for-rotien þine teð & þi tunge,
Þi mahe & þi milte, þi liure & þi lunge,
And þi þrote-bolle þat þu mide sunge—
And þu schal in þe putte faste beon iþrunge.
Hþer beoð þine þeines þat þe leoue þere?
Of alle þine riche þeden nu þu ard al skere;
Beo þu in þe putte þormes ifere—
Hit bið sone of þe al so þu neauer nere.
Al þat ich hatede hit þuȝte þe ful god,
Þat makede þe qued þer, þat þe bistod;
Heuedest þu þi þille þu þere al þod
And ich am, þrecche saþle, ful sori mod.
Nu þu schald bileuen & ich mot fare nede,
For alle þine gultes fongon i schal mede;
Þer is hunger & chele & fur-berninge glede,
And so me þule sathanas ful ateliche brede.
Ich am sori inoh bi dai & bi niht,
I schal to þeostre stude þer neauer ne kumeð liht;
Þat i schal i-mete moni a ful þiht,
Ne schal ich neauer i-seo crist þat is so briht.
In ful a bitter bað baþien ich schal naked,
Of pisch & of brimeston þallinde is imaked;
Þer is sathanas þe cþed redi þið his rake,
And sþo he me þule for-sþolehen þe fur-berninde drake.
Þah al þat fur in þis world to-gedere þere ibroht,
Aȝeines þare hete nere hit al noht.
Þo is him aliue þat þer-inne is ibroht!
A þai! þas ilke pine þu hauest me bi-soht.
54

Hþo isehe þene cþed hu lodlich he beo,
Hornes on his heaued, hornes on his cneo,
Nis no þing aliue þat so ateliche beo;
Wo is heom ine helle þet hine schule i-seo.
He ȝeoneþ mid his muþe & stareþ mid his eȝe,
Of his neose-þurles cumeð þe rede leie,
Þat fur springeþ him vt of eueruche Breþe;
He moste deie for care, hþase hine iseȝe.
Also beoð his eȝe-puttes ase a bruþen-led,
Þat fur springeþ him of þunderliche red—
Ne mai no tunge telle hu lodlich is þe cþed;
Hþase lokede him on for care he miȝte beo dead.
Holde þe us clene ut of hordom,
Masse leten singen & almes-dede don,
& þið hali chirche maken us i-som;
Þenne mohe ve cþemen crist at þe dom.
Þe king þat al þis þorld scheop þurh his holi miȝte
Bi-þite vre saþle from þan fule þiȝte,
& lete us hatie þat þoh & luuie þat riȝte,
& bringe ure saþle to heoueriche liȝte.
Amen.
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