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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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51. ‘Le Regret de Maximian.’

[_]

MS. Digby 86.

Herkneþ to mi ron,
As hic ou tellen con
Of helde al hou hit ges:
Of a modi mon,
Þat muchel of murþe won
In prude and al in pes.
His nome wes maximian;
Swech nes neuere nan
Iwis wiþ-houten les.
Clerc he wes foul goed,
As moni mon hounder-stod;
Ihereþ al hou hit wes.
Is wille he heuede I-nou,
And pal wor prude he drou
And oþere murþes mo;
He wes feirest mon
Wiþ-houten apselon,
Þat seþþen wes and þo.
Þo laste his lif so longe,
Þat he bigon to ounstronge,
As fele men tideþ swo.
Þo gon him rewen sore
Al his wilde lore,
Þo helde him wroute wo.
93

Þo his helde him com,
His bok an honde he nom
And gon of reuþe rede;
Hof his herte hord
He makede moni a word,
Hof hal his liues dede.
Menen he gon his mone,
Hou feble weren his bone;
His heu bigon to shede,
So clene he wees agon,
Þat strengþe neuede he non;
His herte bigon to blede.
Ofte ich grunte and grone,
Wen iche wondri hone,
And þenke on childes dede.
For þissen ille wone
Nis her boten a lone;
Her beþ blissen gnede.
To wepen and to wone,
To makien muchele mone,
Al me hit deþ for nede.
An ende ounder þe stone
Wiþ flesse and eken wiþ bone
Wormes shulen we fede.
Uuen blostmen brekeþ on brere,
Ich makede murie bere
Ich wes hof bliþe mod.
Helde, þe worste I-fere,
Of blisse þu makest me skere,
Þu meniest al mi blod.
94

To longe hic habbe I-ben here:
Bi mo þen þritti ȝere
Ich wes to ouer-mod.
Nou ich wolde ich were
As þau I neuere nere;
Þis lif nis noþing goed.
Kare and kunde of helde
Makeþ me for to helde,
Þat I ne may stonden opriȝt.
For-þi min herte keldeþ,
And mi bodi ounbeldeþ,
Þat wilen wes so liȝt.
Makeþ min heer so þenne,
Of-comen is worldes wenne,
Þis day me þinkeþ niȝt.
Deþ is þat I munne,
Me saiþ þat hit is sunne,
So me is nou I-diȝt.
Ar ich were þus hold,
Ich wes of speche bold,
And mon of glade chere;
Proud in euchan pres,
And wlonk in euchan res,
And lef to ben I-fere.
Ich wes hot and am kold,
Wat helpeþ al itold?
Of liue ich wolde ich were.
Me were leuere deed,
Þen eni gold so reed,
And seþþen leid on bere.
95

Ȝong ich wes, I-cnowe,
Mine lokes were I-þrowe,
And nou her nabbi non;
Me wes hem lef to showen,
Þe wind hem wolde to-wowen,
Mi ler wes wiit so swon.
As I stod in a snowe,
Heye houpon a lowe,
I tolde hit riche won.
Hounten herd i blowen,
Hertes bigounnen to þrowen,
Ne stunte me non ston.
Mi main þat wes so strong,
Mi middel smal and long,
I-brout hit is to grounde.
Nis þer non so wlonk
Of speche ne of þonk,
Þat bodi had boten a mounde.
Þer I be men among,
Ne gladieþ me no song,
Ne gomen of haueke ne of hounde.
Ich am I-wend to helde,
Þat makeþ me for to ounbelde,
And al nis boten a stounde.
Þo ich wes ȝoung and wis,
And werede grei and gris,
Ich heuede frendes þo.
Foul soþ I-seid hit Iis,
Þe mon þat is of pris,
He haueþ frendes þe mo.
96

Mi murþe nowit nis,
Agon hit is I-wiis,
Mine frendes beþ also.
Crist, al so he king iis
So soþliche and so wiis,
Me bringe of þisse wo.
Iche nuste non I-wis
Þat werede grei and gris,
So murie so me wes þo,
Ne more heuede of his;
And nou nowiit hit nis,
And al hit is ago;
So gentil ne so wiis,
Ne mon of more pris;
Me may wel ben wo.
Þis world wrechede iis,
Þat ich wot wel I-wiis,
And moni men tideþ swo.
Fair ich wes and fre,
And swete forto se;
Þat laste luitel stounde.
Gladdore gome wiþ gle
Ne miȝte neuere be
In middelert I-founde.
Helde ounhende is he,
He chaungeþ al mi ble,
Mi miȝte is al aswounde.
Ac henne woldi flee,
For ich am on of þee,
Þat ofte sikeþ ounsounde.
97

Ich mourne and sike sore,
For I ne may be namore
Mon as ich wes þo;
So crafti clerc of lore,
So godlich ounder gore,
And al hit is ago.
Ich walke as water in wore.
Louerd Crist, þin ore!
Wi is me so wo?
Riche I wes and riȝt
Borlich I-wis and liȝt,
As ich am ounderstonde.
Of herte ich wes wel liȝt,
Soþliche wiis and briȝt,
And franc mon of honde.
Þer nis clerk ne kniȝt,
Ne mon of more miȝt,
Þat leuere wes in londe.
I-tint is al mi fiȝt,
Þis day me þencheþ niȝt,
And þus ich am I-bounde.
Fair I wes of hewe,
And of treuþe trewe;
Þat laste luitel stounde.
Þee þat her me knewe,
Ich hem sore rewe;
And þat ich habbe I-founde.
Wen rose blostme blewe,
Me wes murþe newe,
And nou ich am aswounde.
Wo is me þe siþe,
Ne worþe I neuer eft bliþe,
I-brout ich am to grounde.
98

Þe wimmen þat I se,
Þat gladieþ hem wiþ me,
Hy brekeþ min herte a-two;
For ich wes on of þee,
Þat gladdoust wes woned to bee,
In londe þat were þo.
Nou am ich liih þan tre,
Þat loren haueþ his ble,
Ne greneþ hit nammo.
Henne wold i fle,
Ich ne wot weder ich te;
Helde me doþ so wo.
I-tint is al mi plawe,
Þat i wes woned to haue,
Þe wile i wes so liȝt.
Hold ich am and ounmon,
Ich lerne for to gon,
And þenche on children briȝt.
Helde wiþ-houten hawe
Makeþ þat I ne may wawe
Mi bodi wiþ-houten miȝt.
Deþ ich wolde fawe,
For I ne may tellen no sawe,
So helde me haueþ I-diȝt.
Ich wolde ich were on rest,
Wel lowe leiid in a chest;
Mi blisse is al forlore.
Mi murþe wes monne mest,
Þat ilke wile þat hit I-lest,
And nou me is wo þerfore.
Ne gladieþ me no geest,
Ne ioie of more feest.
99

Wat solde ich I-bore?
Þis world me þinkeþ west,
Deþ ich wilni mest,
Wi nis he me I-core?
Mi ler þat wes so briȝt
Al so þe sterre a-niȝt,
Falew hit is and won;
Mi bodi þat wes so tuiȝt,
So stiþ and stod opriȝt—
Ich wes a modi mon.
Astunt is nou mi fiiȝt,
Mi main and eke mi miiȝt,
Of reuþes is mi ron.
Nis non so modi kniȝt,
Þat him ne beþ so I-diiȝt,
Wen helde him sieþ on.
Wilde ich wes her þo,
Wildere þen þe ro,
Ar I bi-gon to hore.
Helde is min I-fo,
And þat ich wilnede þo,
And nou nulli nammore,
Nulli nout don so.
I lerne for to go,
And stonde and sike sore.
Mi wele is went to wo,
Al so is oþres mo
Þat habbeþ I-liued so ȝore.
As i rod þoru-out rome,
Richest alre home,
In murþes al so ich wolde,
Leuedies wiit so swon,
Maidenes so briȝt so bon,
Comen for me biholde.
100

‘Lo! wer riit þe mon,
Þat heiȝte maximion,
Wiþ his bernes bolde.’
Nes þer non of þee,
Þat dourste me I-see
In hire cloþes holde.
Reuþfoul is mi reed;
Hoe makeþ me selden gled,
Mi wif þat sholde be.
Of me hoe is al seed,
Hoe saiþ ich waste breed.
Mine frend me nulleþ I-se.
Ich telle me for a queed,
Þe wile ich miȝt, en heueed
I-beten nedde ich hoe.
Crist þou do me reed!
Me were leuere deed,
Þen þus aliue to bee.
Iich may seien alas,
Þat ich I-boren was;
I-liued ich have to longe.
Were ich mon so ich was,
Min heien so grei so glas,
Min her so feir bihonge,
And ich hire heuede bi þe trasce
In a derne place,
To meken and to monge:
Ne sholde hoe neuere at-witen
Min helde ne me bifliten,
Wel heye I shulde hire honge.
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