University of Virginia Library

SONGS OF PENITENCE.

137. Parce Mihi, Domine

[_]

MS. Ashmole 189 (Sum. Catal. No. 6777)

Fadyr & sone & holy gost,
Grete god in trinite,
As þu art lorde of grete host,
Parce mihi, domine!

211

Fadyr of heuene, I make my mone,
With contryte hert I pray to þe:
Off my synnes euerychone,
Parce mihi, domine!
In þy seruys I haue mysdo,
And oftyne tyme offendet þe,
Mercy! lord, I wyll no more soo,
Parce mihi, domine!
As clerkes tellene to vs I-wys,
Mane was made, for thynges thre,
To wurshyp þe, kynge of blysse—
Parce mihi, domine!
I-wurshyp goddys false haue I,
I-seruyd creaturis more þen þe,
I-loued synne & eke foly—
Parce mihi, domine!
But þu fro reuerence me spare,
I-lost foreuer schall I be.
Lorde, haue mynde of mannys care,
Parce mihi, domine!

138. All Ten Commandments I Have Broken

[_]

MS. Rawlinson liturg. e. 7 (Sum. Catal. No. 15839)

Here bygynnythe the .X. comaundementis.
The ten comawndementis I haue broke
Many a tyme with wickede skylle;
To falce goddus I haue spoke
And wrowghte, a-gaynes my lordis wille.

212

Many tyme I haue take
Goddes name in Idylsheppe,
There-fore I tremell, drede and quake.
Mercy! god, for thi lordshepe.
Myne holidai I haue myspent,
Ther-for myne herte it is ful sore;
ffadur and modur I haue forfende—
Now mercy! lord, I wylle no more.
Mansleer I was with all my myȝt,
In thouȝte, in worde and eke in dede;
Befowlyd womman bothe day and nyȝt,
There-of toke I litil heede.
To do thefte wolde y noȝt reste,
Wrouȝt I haue aȝens thy lore;
To bere fals wytnesse wold I ay preste—
Now mercy! lord, I wole no more.
ffor to desyre my neyȝborus howse—
Lytil hede there-of I rowȝte—
Also his wyfe that was his spouse,
And odur catelle that he owȝte.
Thus haue I my lorde forsake,
And alle his comaundementis I-broke;
To thi mercy I me take,
ffor-sothe I can no bettur grope.

213

139. I Have Lived After My Lust

[_]

Royal MS. App. 58

Now marcy, Ihe-su, I wyll amend
and neuermore displease the,
yff grace thow wylt me send.
My thoght ys full hevy
and greuith me Ryght sore;
my synnys be pesy,
whych repentyth me euer-more.
my flesh fast swetyng
my paynys to Renew,
my body besely boylyng
with hetys—lord Ihesu,
This haue I full surely
for that I was vniust
to god, the sune off mary,
and leuyd after my lust. Now mercy, Ihesu.
My fete, sume tyme more
and lesse, they do swete;
my hert ys very pore,
and besyly doth bete;
my hed ys all macy,
and meruelowsly dothe werke;
my[n] yene dyme and dasy,
my neke ys full sterke;
Thys haue I full surely
[for that I was vniust
to god, the sune off mary,
and leuyd after my lust. Now mercy, Ihesu.]

214

My hondys do me no good
ne-dys must I ly so
and take no erthly fode
[OMITTED]
now helpe me, goode lorde,
my stomake ys full faynt;
I make to the acorde
Vppon payne off a-taynt;
I wyll no more suerly
to the be so vnjust
butt kepe thy lawes truly
And put a-way false lust. Now mercy Ihe[s]u.

140. Out of Sin My Soul Unbind

[_]

Cambridge Univ. MS. Kk. 1. 6

Almyȝti god, maker of Heuene,
Erthe & Eyre, Water & Wynde,
to þe I calle with myld steuene,
That flesche & blode tokyste of mankynde.
Out of synne my sowle vnbynde
That for me deydiste apon a tree!
To rekene, y am ful fer be-hynde,
But, Ihū, þy grace, & haue mercy on me!
ffor yff y scholde ryȝtwyse rekenynge make
ffro þat tyme þat y was bore,
Then woldest þu vengeaunce take,
Than were y loste for euer more.

215

Thow haste ordeyned salue for euery sore
And mercy, sowles leche to bee;
That þu haste bouȝte, lette neuer be lore.
Wherefore, Ihū, have mercy on me.
ffor with-out þe no man hath myȝt,
Pore ne ryche, lough ne hygh.
Thenke how þu haste mercy be-hyȝt
To all tho þat aske hit mekelygh,
With woful herte & wepynge ye.
I ȝilde me, lorde, now thus to the,
And for my mysdedes merci I crye,
That, lord Ihū, þu have mercy on me.
Mercy! for þy comaundement
That I have ofte tymes y-broke,
And in þy seruyse be neclygent,
And mony a wylde word haue spooke.
What were to þe to ben a-wrooke
On hym þat may noþer fyȝt ne fflee?
Lette neuer thyn Eris fro me be loke,
But euer, good Ihū, haue merci on me.
Now merci! I am in wyll no more
ffrom hennes forth to do trespase.
Now mercy, lord, I be not lore,
But part with me al of þy grace,
That I may se þy swete fface,
As þu art god in trynyte,
In Heuene þer to haue a place
Wher, Ihū, þu haue mercy on me.
Amen.

216

141. Thy Gifts I Have Expended Unprofitably

[_]

MS. Hatton 73 (Sum. Catal. No. 4119)

O Lord allmyghty, blissid thou be,
That hast me formyd and redemyd;
And whenne y was dampnable thou suffrid me,
And to penaunce reseruyd that synne flemyd.
I knowlych, lord, thy mageste be quemyd,
All that to my helth y had of thi gyfte,
Vnprofitably, as to thy sight hit semyd,
I haue expendid thurgh dampnabill schyfte—
That is to say, the tyme of my penaunce
In vanitees, and in superfluite
My body also, in pride and distaunce
The grace of my baptyme; but allthyng worldle,
My lord, y haue louyd more than the,
My redemptour, my noryssher and my conseruatour.
Therfor mercy y axe, as a wrecch in degre.
And for y knew not, blyssid savioure,
Thy benigne pacience that thou had to me;
Thy gastfull Iugement, lord, y ne drade,
Ne lernyd what answer y shuld gyf the
ffor the innumerable godes that y had,
But contrarie, fro day to day ayenst my furst vowe,
With wikked dedis prouokid the.
Therfor, but oon word y haue to the nowe,
That is forto say, domine miserere!

217

Haue mercy, god, of my mysdede!
ffor thy mercy, that mychell is,
latt thy pitee spryng and sprede,
And graunte that nevir here-after y do amys.

142. Though I Have Been a Wretch, I Hope of Mercy

[_]

MS. Bodley 850 (Sum. Catal. No. 2604)

O blissed god, þat art al-miȝti,
þu arte ful of goodnesse, euer full of mercy.
how curteys and howe mercyfull þu art to mankynde,
how louly & piteful, may no man haue mynde.
for mankynde thowe tokist both flesshe and blood,
of þe blessed virgyne mary, which euer was meke and good.
for this good and many oþer, I thanke þe,
mekely euermore seyng hertly, mercy & gramercy!
With hard peynes þu woldist by us vpone þe rode tre,
but many dispites and reproues þu sofredist for me,
Angry wer the wordis which þu sofred for mane;
But angeryer were þe betyng þen I may tell or kan.
A pytefull Ihū, in peynes blessed mote þu be,
þat þu woldist such dyseases sofre so for me.
Lo! ihū, I can non oþer but lift vp myn hert only,
and euer sey with louly chere, mercy and gramercy!

218

Thyne hede þu bowdist all a-downe to here me full mekely,
Thowe spreddist thyn armes all a-brode to take me to mercy,
Thowe schewdist thyn hert thurgh þi syde vpone þe rode tre.
Thi blissed loue þu graunte vs, þat euer is so fre.
In tokne þu wilt wissche vs, in dedes and in thouȝtis,
To þe crosse þi fete were nayled, whith greet and full sore peynes.
A! good ihū, what schall I sey to þe, þat art so goodly?
But euer I cry nowe louly, mercy and gramercy!
Ȝit lorde almiȝt, blessed mote þu be!
ffor many are þe benefetys þat þu haste yeuene to me,
ffor riȝt wittys and riȝt lemys, my lyfelode also,
ffull many oþer vertues and ȝiftes many moo.
But sori may I be, if I spend not deuli
All thise ȝiftes ȝeuen to me freli.
And, lord, to ȝeue mercy euer þu arte redy,
Therfor trustly I sey, mercy and gramercy!
Witte and kunnynge haue I none, þat goodnesse for to telle,
Howe plentefull þi mercy is, may no man rede ne spelle.
To them is mercy nedefull þat haue þe falsely serued,
As seruauntis vnkynde, which haue them-selfe deceyued.
But nowe, for þer is none so vntryisty, so vnthende, I hope, as I,
To þe I ȝelde me gylty, for euer I hope in mercy.

219

To be to the a trewe seruaunt, With bitter deth þu bouȝtist me,
And in thi seruyce recheles, fals and vnthende I a[m] to þe.
A mercyfull ihū, what shall I, suche a wrecche, þen do?
That haue ben so synfull, so proude and wykkyde also.
But though I be wrecchyd, ȝit I clepe and cry
To þe, almiȝti ihū, for euer I hope of mercy.
I haue also misspendede my witt, þu hast ȝeue to me,
With many dyuers thouȝtis, I haue ofte misplesede þe.
What þu hast me forbode, þat haue I do;
Aȝenst, lorde, þi commandementis I haue done also.
ffor all thise defautis, peynes though I be worthi,
Ȝit, lord, shewe me grace, for euer I hope in mercy.
Synned I haue in pride, wrath & enuy,
In slouthe of þi seruice, couetyse, gloteny & lechery.
ffor thise synnes and oþer moo, If riȝt dome should be do,
As a wrecche as I am, euer I shoulde dwelle in woo.
But mercyfull iuge, to yeue grace euer þu art redy,
I put me therfor in þi dome, for euer I hope of mercy.
A pyteful ihū, longe tyme it were, I wote well,
my synnes, my freelte, to shewe þe nowe euery dell,
Also, lord, sith it is so that all thyng is knowe to the,
ffor the may no thyng be hidde, priuy or pert wheþer it be,
But ȝit, lord, whath cometh to mynde, To þe I knowleche mekely.
ffor thoughe a wrecche I haue bene, ȝit I hope of mercy.

220

Nowe, lord, I haue shewed þe my freelte & synnes all;
To þe, crist, good ihū, wepynge I crye and calle.
Though thus falsely I haue lyuede, nowe me repent sore.
What I þe pray with sorouful hert, grawnt me nowe gostly,
ffor euermore, lorde ihū crist, trustly I hope in mercy.
Grace nowe me grawnte my synnes to forsake,
And fro hens forward neuer them to take.
But euer in leuyng, by nyȝt and day,
What is to thi plesyng and most to thi pay,
That geue me grace to do to my lyues ende.
And when I shall hens goo, to thi blisse þu me sende.
And though I turne aȝen to synne, as euer þe flesshe is redy,
Ȝit graunt me þat I hope to wynn, good ihū, thy mercy.
Nowe, lord, for hem þat ben deed, mercy I aske dewly,
And for hem whiche ledde her lyfe ofte also synfully.
ffast for þi modir loue, and oþer that be in blisse,
To me, synfull, and alle oþer, A riȝt wey þu vs wisse.
And, good lorde, suffre thow vs oure tyme not for to spille,
But euer, ihesu, to do þat what is þi wille.
Graunt vs also in oure ende to take thi sacramentis worthily,
and oure synnes forsake, And þen to dye
with full feythe, With mekenesse and chastite,
ffrom hens þu graunt vs to wende with charite.
To þe soules whiche mercy abyde, in peynes ful strong,
Graunt hem, lorde, som remedy for they thynke wel longe.

221

And though they be in peynes strong, ȝit mercy they hope to haue,
And aftir þer sorowes they hope þat thowe wilte hem saue.
Therfore lorde of pyte, ihū, þat dydest one þe tree,
Sore sighyng, I pray to the with bitter teris, as þu mayste see.
Besechynge also mekely, nowe for oure synnes we be sory,
That fully what we hope, trustely graunt vs þat graciously.
Ihū þat art almiȝti, Nowe and euer, þi mercy.
Amen, ihūs.

143. O Redeemer, Purge Me of My Vices

[_]

MS. Douce 1 (Sum. Catal. No. 21575)

O glorius god, redemer of mankynde,
whiche on the crosse hyng full of compassyon,
Graunt of thi grace, within my herte and mynde
Holly to remember the armes of thy passion.
Enrote, good lorde, thi greuous paynes stronge,
Depe in my thought, auoydynge all synne,
and purge the vyces þat hathe ben in me longe,
with contrite herte these verses to begynne.
Enclyne alowe, of mercy, now thyne ere,
Contemplynge thy paynes, vnto my peticion,
And graunt me grace so to serue the here,
Affter this lyfe to be in thi tuycion.
Amen.

222

144. Jesu, Mercy for My Misdeeds

[_]

Chetham Library, Manchester, MS. 6690

Incipit oracio deuota ad dominum Ihesum Orō.

Ihū, Ihū, mercy I cry!
myn huge synnes þou me forgyf!
þe werld, my flesch, þe fend, felly
þei me be-sette boþe strong & styf;
I haue ful ofte to hem consent,
And so to do, it is gret drede:
I aske mercy wiþ good entent;
Ihū, mercy for my mysdede!
Þe werld þurgh his fals coueytis,
Þe fend wiþ pryde, wiþ Ire, enuye,—
I haue, Ihū, ben fyled oft-sythis—
Mi flesch, wiþ slauthe & leccherye,
And oþer manye ful grete synnes:
Wiþ repentaunce, Ihū, me fede,
ffor euere þe tyme vpon me rynnes;
Ihū, mercy for my mysdede!
Turne nouȝt þi face, Ihū, fro me,
þowh I be werst in my leuynge;
I aske mekely mercy of þee,
ffor þi mercy passeth alle þinge.
In þi fyue woundes þou sette myn hert,
Þat for mankynde on crosse wolde blede.
And, for þi ded vgly and smert,
Ihū, mercy for my mysdede!
To þi lykenes þou hast me made;
þee for to loue, þou ȝeue me grace!
þou art þe loue þat neuere schal fade;
Mercy, I aske, to haue tyde & space.

223

I trost Ihū of forgyfnesse
Of alle myn synnes—þat is my crede;
I me bytake to þi goodnesse,
Ihū, mercy of my mysdede!
As touching grace, but aske & haue—
þus hast þou hyght in þi beheste.
Þerfore some grace of þe I craue;
Wiþ-outen grace I am but a beste
And, were þan beste, defyled wiþ synne;
þou graunte þat grace may in me brede,
Þat I þi loue, Ihū, myȝt wynne:
Ihū, mercy for my mysdede!
Al werldly loue is but vanyte,
But loue of þe passeth alle þinge;
þer is no loue wiþ-outen þee,
[& þe to lufe I aske syghynge.
Ihū, me graunt lufe þee for-thy,]
And in þi lawe, Ihū, me lede.
þat I myslouede, I aske mercy:
Ihū, mercy for my mysdede!
It is of þee for to forgyue
Al kynnes trespas, boþe more & mynne;
It is of me, whiles I here lyue,
Or more or lesse ylke day to synne;
It is of þee fende to dwelle þer-Inne.
þou ȝeue me grace to take good hede
þat I þi loue, Ihū, myght wynne:
Ihū, mercy for my mysdede!

224

Dispyse me nouȝt, swete lord Ihū,
þat am þee werk of þin hande hende;
þowh I haue be to þe vntrew,
Ihū, þou canst me sone amende;
þou hast me made to þi lyknesse,
þurgh synne I haue lost heuenly mede;
Now, lord, I aske of þi goodnesse,
Ihū, mercy of my mysdede!
Þou woldest ben born for synful man,
And suffir ded vp-on a tre;
I preye þee, for þat kyndenesse þan,
ffor synne þou take no wreche of me;
Me counforte be þi passyoun,
Ihū, þer-of haue I gret nede;
ffor synne graunt me contricyoun,
Ihū, mercy for my mysdede!
After my dedys þou deme nouȝt,
After mercy þou do to me;
If þou me deme as I haue wrouȝt,
In bytter peynes I drede to be.
My lyf to mende þou haue mercy,
My lord ihū, þou be my spede,
Loue þee and drede, þat syttes on hy:
Ihū, mercy for my mysdede!
If I haue done yche cursed wark,
And alle manere synnes were wrouȝt in me,
þou may hem slake, as is a spark
Whan it is putte in myddis of þee see;
Þer may no man, lord, slake my mysse
But þou, Ihū, of þi godhede;
Whom þou wolte sauen, þou sone forgeuysse:
Ihū, mercy for my mysdede!

225

Who schal þe loue in fynal blysse
But mankynde & aungel so fre?
Myn herytage for sothe þat isse.
Þurgh good lyuynge & grace of þe,
þou me restore vn-to þat blysse;
Beholde þe frelte of myn manhede
Þat me maketh ofte to don amysse:
Ihū, mercy for my mysdede!
Þou wylt nouȝt þe ded of synful man—
þus seyst þou, lord, in holy wrytt.
fful wel wote I þou coueytis þane,
He torne his lyf and sone mende It.
þou ȝeue meg race my lyf to mende,
Besoyled in synne as wicked wede;
Graunte me þi loue wiþ-outen ende:
Iesu, mercy for my mysdede!
Þou art my god, I þe honoure,
þou art þe sone of mayden & moder;
In my dysese þou me socoure,
þou art my lord, þou art my broþer;
þou schalt me deme, my creatoure,
Whan vp schal ryse euereylke a leede:
Mercy, Ihū, my sauyoure,
Ihū, mercy for my mysdede!
þou helpe me, lord, in my dysese,
Þat woldest Susanne help in hire tyme;
fful gret clamour þan gunne þou pese
Whan sche accused was of cryme.
þou sette myn soule, myn herte, in ese,
þe fend to fle his falshede,
And souereynly þe forto plese:
Ihū, mercy of my mysdede!

226

In my baptem I made beheste
þe for to serue lellely and wele;
Of þi seruyse ofte haue I seste,
Wiþ synnes þousandes seruyd vnsele;
Bot þi mercy nedis moste be sene
þer most synne is & wicked dede;
þe moste synful man am I, i wene:
Ihū, mercy of my mysdede!
ffor synful man wolde þou be born,
ffor ryghtwys nouȝt, þou wil recorde;
Whanne man hadde synned he was for-lorn,
þanne hym kyndely þou restorede;
þou suffred peynes, crouned wiþ þorne,
Naked, wiþoute cloth or schrede,
Wiþ mykel scorne þi body to-torne:
Ihū, mercy for my mysdede!
Þou art myn hope, my way ful sure,
Ay lestyng hele, trewthe and pesse;
þou art pyte þat schal endure,
þou art goodnes þat neuere schal cesse;
þou art clennes, boþe mylde & mure,
Me þee dysplese, Ihū, forbede:
As þou were borne of virgyne pure,
Ihū, mercy for my mysdede!
Þou byddis yche man ȝelde good for ille,
Nouȝt ylle for ylle to ȝelde ageyne;
þanne I beseke þee þat þou wille
Graunte me mercy for peyne!
þou me forȝeue and mercy graunte,
And in my soule þou sowe þi sede,
þat I may, lorde, make myn a-vaunte:
Ihū, mercy for my mysdede!

227

Bot, worþi lord, to þee I cry,
And in my synne stande obstynate;
þerfore þou hers nouȝt me, for-þi
þou wilt nouȝt here me in þat state;
þou ȝeue me grace to leue my foly,
And feruently þee loue and drede,
þanne, weel wote I, .I. get mercy:
Ihū, mercy for my mysdede!
Nouȝt euery man þat calleþ þe lorde
Or mercy aske, schal haue þi blysse,
His conscience but he remorde,
And werke þi wille & mende his mysse.
To blysse schal I be restorede
If I my soule þus-gates wil fede;
Of þi mercy late me recorde:
Ihū, mercy for my mysdede!
I me betake to þi mercy
þat mercy ȝeuest to synful men;
Þou kepe me, lord, I schal dy,
And wote neuere wher, whou, ne when.
In þin hote loue me graunte to bren,
And þat lessoun trewely to rede;
Mercy, þou graunte! amen, amen!
Ihū, mercy for my mysdede!
Ihc, Amen, Maria, AmeN.

Alia Oracio Deuota

Ihū, þi name honoured mot be
Wiþ alle þat ony lyf is Inne.
Swete Ihū, as þou made me,
Þou kepe me ay fro dedly synne!

228

Ihū, þe sone of Marye fre,
Þe ioye of heuene þou graunte me wynne!
Mi soule, Ihū, take to þee
Whanne my body & it schal twynne.
Ihū, þi name in me besette,
As þou art kyng & lord of lyght;
And graunte me grace ay bet & bette
Mi lyf to mende and lyue aryght.
Ihū, þi sydis wiþ blode were wet,
And dolfully for me were dyght;
Þou kepe me out of synne & det,
Swete Ihū, ay most of myght!
Ihū, þi name is heygh to neuien,
And ȝet I, caytif, crye & calle:
Þou forȝeue me þee synnes seuen,
ffor I am gylti of hem alle.
Ihū, me helpe, & brynge me to heuen
Wiþ þe to wone, my synful saule.
Myghti Ihū, þou here my steuen,
As þou me bought whan I was þralle.
Ihū, my loue, my lykyng,
Euere more blyssed mot þou be.
Mi louely lord, my dere derlyng,
Weel were me I myght see þee.
Ihū, my counfort, þou me synge,
A loue-likyng is come to me;
My swete swetnesse of alle þinge,
Myn hope & troste is al in þee.
Ihū, helpe euere-more at nede,
ffro þe fende þou me defende;
Set my soule to loue and drede,
And my mysse þat I may mende.

229

Ihū, for þi blode þat þou wolde blede,
ffro þis lyf or þat I wende
Wasche awey al my mysdede,
And graunte me blysse wiþ-outen ende.
AmeN.

145. Our Three Foes Make Us Mis-speak, Mis-think, Mis-do

[_]

B.M. Addit. MS. 39574 (The Wheatley MS.)

God, þat madist al þing of nouȝt
And with þi precious blood us bouȝt,
Mercy, helpe and grace!
As þou art verry god and man,
And of þi syde þi blood ran,
fforȝeue us oure trespace!
þe world, oure flesch, þe feend oure fo
Makiþ us mys-þinke, mys-speke, mys-do—
Al þus we falle in blame.
Of alle oure synnes, lasse and moore,
Swete ihc, us ruweþ soore,
Mercy! for þin holy name.

146. A Song of ‘Sins’

[_]

Bodleian MS. Add. B. 66 (Sum. Catal. No. 29273)

Man sigh & sorw for þi synnes,
þan semeþ þi synnes as slayn.
Man, in schrifte schewe al þi synnes,
þan lyn þei ful dede for certeyn.

230

Man, do penaunce her for þi synnes,
þi soule schal haue þe lesse peyne.
Þei þat don þus for hir synnes,
And nowȝt in wille to turne agayne,
Þei ben assoilid for hir synnes
ffor-soþe as grete clerkis seyne;
And if þou falle aȝen in synnes,
Anon, with al þy myght & mayne,
Vnto þi prest telle þou þi synnes—
Non of hem loke þat þou leyne;
ffor if þou do for-soþe suche synnes,
Þei schal turne þe to tene & treyne.
And if þou schryue þe of þi synnes
þei wasche a-way as doþe þe rayne.
þus to be schryuen & soilid of synnes,
Euery wise man schuld be fayne.
þat we mow do þus for our synnes,
To god mekly, I rede, we pray.
Now god, haue mercy for our synnes,
þat mercy had of mary mawdleyn,
And bringe us to þat blis þat neuer blynnes,
Almyghti god, lord & souereyne.
A[men].