 | Religious Lyrics of the XVth Century |  |
159. The Lament of the Soul of Edward IV
Miseremini mei, ye that ben my ffryndys,
This world hath enformyd me fforto falle.
How myȝte I endure when euery thinge endes;
What creature ys made to be eternall?
Now ys there no help butt pray ffore my sowll!
Thus Edward seyth, for latt I was kyng;
xxiijti yeres I reynyd this ymperiall,
Som men to plesoure, and som men nott to lykyng.
fforgefnes I aske fore my nyse doyng,
What A-vaylyþe it yov to be my foo?
I may nott Resiste nor Amend your compleynynge,
Quia ecce nunc in puluere dormio.
This world hath enformyd me fforto falle.
How myȝte I endure when euery thinge endes;
What creature ys made to be eternall?
Now ys there no help butt pray ffore my sowll!
Thus Edward seyth, for latt I was kyng;
xxiijti yeres I reynyd this ymperiall,
Som men to plesoure, and som men nott to lykyng.
fforgefnes I aske fore my nyse doyng,
What A-vaylyþe it yov to be my foo?
I may nott Resiste nor Amend your compleynynge,
Quia ecce nunc in puluere dormio.
I ly now in mowlde as it ys naturall,
ffore erthe vnto erthe hath his Reuerture;
What ordeyned god to be terrestyall
Wyth Recourse off erthly nature.
Euyre ffor-to lyve who may be swre?
What is hit to trust the mutabilite
Off this world whan no thyng may endure?
I am now gon wych latt was in prosperite,
To presumen there vpon hit ys butt vanite—
No sertayne butt a chery fere full of woo—
Reynyd I nott latt in greet feli[ci]te?
Et ecce nunc in puluere dormio.
ffore erthe vnto erthe hath his Reuerture;
What ordeyned god to be terrestyall
Wyth Recourse off erthly nature.
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What is hit to trust the mutabilite
Off this world whan no thyng may endure?
I am now gon wych latt was in prosperite,
To presumen there vpon hit ys butt vanite—
No sertayne butt a chery fere full of woo—
Reynyd I nott latt in greet feli[ci]te?
Et ecce nunc in puluere dormio.
Where was in my lyff such one as I
Whiles my fortune had here continuaunce?
Grauntyd nott sho to me the vyctorie,
In ynglond to Reygne and to contrybute fraunce?
Sho tok me by the hond and led me the daunce,
And with hure sewger lyppus on me she smylyd;
And for here dyssemblande countenaunce
I cowd nott be ware tyll I was begylyd.
Owtt off this lond sho hath [me] exylyd,
Whan I was lothest hens for to goo
And I in age, as who seyth, butt a child,
Ecce nunc in puluere dormio.
Whiles my fortune had here continuaunce?
Grauntyd nott sho to me the vyctorie,
In ynglond to Reygne and to contrybute fraunce?
Sho tok me by the hond and led me the daunce,
And with hure sewger lyppus on me she smylyd;
And for here dyssemblande countenaunce
I cowd nott be ware tyll I was begylyd.
Owtt off this lond sho hath [me] exylyd,
Whan I was lothest hens for to goo
And I in age, as who seyth, butt a child,
Ecce nunc in puluere dormio.
I se well they lyve that dowbyll my yerys;
Thus this world delyth with me as hit lyst,
And hath me made, to yov that byn my perys,
Example to take euyre off had-I-wyst.
I stored hucches, cofers and chyst
With tresore takyng off my commynalte—
ffore there tresore that I toke there prayers I myst—
Now whom I be-sech with pore humylyte
Off forgefnesse, off me to haue pite.
I was youre kyng and kepte yow from youre foo;
I wold a-mend, butt now hit woll nott bee,
Quia ecce nunc in puluere dormio.
Thus this world delyth with me as hit lyst,
And hath me made, to yov that byn my perys,
Example to take euyre off had-I-wyst.
I stored hucches, cofers and chyst
With tresore takyng off my commynalte—
ffore there tresore that I toke there prayers I myst—
Now whom I be-sech with pore humylyte
Off forgefnesse, off me to haue pite.
I was youre kyng and kepte yow from youre foo;
I wold a-mend, butt now hit woll nott bee,
Quia ecce nunc in puluere dormio.
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I had Inogthe, I hyld nott me content,
With-outt Remembraunce that I schuld dy,
More to encresse was myne entent.
Beyng nott warre who schuld occupy,
I mad the towre strong, butt I wyst nott why,
Nore to whom I purchased tatersall;
I amendyd dovere one the mowntayne hy,
And provokyd london to fortefye þer wall,
I made notynghame a place Ryall,
Wynsore and etton & many odur moo,
Westmynster & eltham—yit went I from all,
Quia ecce nunc in puluere dormio.
With-outt Remembraunce that I schuld dy,
More to encresse was myne entent.
Beyng nott warre who schuld occupy,
I mad the towre strong, butt I wyst nott why,
Nore to whom I purchased tatersall;
I amendyd dovere one the mowntayne hy,
And provokyd london to fortefye þer wall,
I made notynghame a place Ryall,
Wynsore and etton & many odur moo,
Westmynster & eltham—yit went I from all,
Quia ecce nunc in puluere dormio.
Where is my gret conquest & vy[c]tory?
Where be my Rentis & my Ryall aray?
Where be my coursors & my horsys so hy?
Where is my grett plesure, solas & play?
As vanite to nouȝte all ys gon away.
Lidy besse, for me long may ye call,
Whe be departyd vntyll domus day!
I lovyd you, lady, my souerayne ouerall.
Where be my byldyngis & my castellis Ryall?
Butt Wynsore off them I haue noo moo
And off etton ther prayers perpetuall,
Quia ecce nunc in puluere dormio.
Where be my Rentis & my Ryall aray?
Where be my coursors & my horsys so hy?
Where is my grett plesure, solas & play?
As vanite to nouȝte all ys gon away.
Lidy besse, for me long may ye call,
Whe be departyd vntyll domus day!
I lovyd you, lady, my souerayne ouerall.
Where be my byldyngis & my castellis Ryall?
Butt Wynsore off them I haue noo moo
And off etton ther prayers perpetuall,
Quia ecce nunc in puluere dormio.
Whi schuld ye be prowde & presume so hy?
Sent Barnard doth þer-off nobly trete,
Seyng a man ys butt a sake of stercory
And schall Retorne to wormys mette.
What cam off Alysaunder the grett?
And off strong samson who can tell?
Were nott wormys ordeynyd þer fleshe for to frett?
And Salamon, that off wytt was the well,
And absolon, proferyd his here forto sell—
ffor all his beavtes wormys hym ette also.
And I, latte Edward, that dyd excelle,
Ecce nunc in puluere dormio.
Sent Barnard doth þer-off nobly trete,
Seyng a man ys butt a sake of stercory
And schall Retorne to wormys mette.
What cam off Alysaunder the grett?
And off strong samson who can tell?
Were nott wormys ordeynyd þer fleshe for to frett?
And Salamon, that off wytt was the well,
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ffor all his beavtes wormys hym ette also.
And I, latte Edward, that dyd excelle,
Ecce nunc in puluere dormio.
I haue pleyd my pagent & now am I past,
I wyll þat ye wytt I was off no grett elde.
Butt all thing consumeth att the last,
Whan deth apperith lost ys the feld.
Sith this world no lenger vp-held
Mo, conservyd to me my place.
In manus tuas, domine, my spryte vp I yeld;
Humbley I be-sech the off thy grace!
And ye, corteys commyners, with your hert vnbrace
Benyngly to pray for me also,
As I forsayd, your kyng I was,
Et ecce nunc in puluere dormio.
I wyll þat ye wytt I was off no grett elde.
Butt all thing consumeth att the last,
Whan deth apperith lost ys the feld.
Sith this world no lenger vp-held
Mo, conservyd to me my place.
In manus tuas, domine, my spryte vp I yeld;
Humbley I be-sech the off thy grace!
And ye, corteys commyners, with your hert vnbrace
Benyngly to pray for me also,
As I forsayd, your kyng I was,
Et ecce nunc in puluere dormio.
| Religious Lyrics of the XVth Century | |