 | Religious Lyrics of the XVth Century |  |
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15. A Salutation to the Virgin
Haile be þou! hende heven qwene
Þat thurgh chastite was chosen with childe,
Mary, most to þe I meene,
Moder meke and mayden mylde,
With-owten wem or wo I wene,
Oure herte of bale in þe gun belde,
Clens me owte of cares kene
And wreke awaye my warkes wylde.
Þat thurgh chastite was chosen with childe,
Mary, most to þe I meene,
Moder meke and mayden mylde,
With-owten wem or wo I wene,
Oure herte of bale in þe gun belde,
Clens me owte of cares kene
And wreke awaye my warkes wylde.
Mary, ihū darlynge dere,
Þus I thynke in my thoghte,
Wele I wate if synne ne were
Goddes moder ware þou noght,
ffor synne he fanged þe to fere,
To wyn & wele he haues þe wroghte.
Helpe, hende, to I am here,
Þat I be his þat me dere boghte.
Þus I thynke in my thoghte,
Wele I wate if synne ne were
Goddes moder ware þou noght,
ffor synne he fanged þe to fere,
To wyn & wele he haues þe wroghte.
Helpe, hende, to I am here,
Þat I be his þat me dere boghte.
Of grace is graunted þe þat gate,
Þat na gude will for-gete,
Heghly hende, heuen ȝate,
Þat syttes be-syde þy sun sete,
Þere my ȝernynge þou ne hate,
When dede sall founde my flesche to fete;
ffor, than to luf is to late,
When wormes make of me þere mete.
Þat na gude will for-gete,
Heghly hende, heuen ȝate,
Þat syttes be-syde þy sun sete,
Þere my ȝernynge þou ne hate,
When dede sall founde my flesche to fete;
ffor, than to luf is to late,
When wormes make of me þere mete.
ffull was fillyd þy flesche,
And derly dyghte, þrogh deyte;
And sythen with nayles nayled was,
And forthe þan was taken to a tre.
Þe water & blode, þy wemmes it wesche,
Of þat body was borne of þe;
My rede is noght worthe a rysche
Bot mary haue mercy on me.
And derly dyghte, þrogh deyte;
And sythen with nayles nayled was,
And forthe þan was taken to a tre.
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Of þat body was borne of þe;
My rede is noght worthe a rysche
Bot mary haue mercy on me.
Oure lorde lyked forto lende
And man be made in myddell erthe;
Sone his sonde gun he sende,
To þy will his wyrschyp werde.
ffor his loue helpe me, hende,—
Of folyes fell I fele me a-ferde—
& fecche me fro þe fende;
I doute on domesdaye to be a-deryd.
And man be made in myddell erthe;
Sone his sonde gun he sende,
To þy will his wyrschyp werde.
ffor his loue helpe me, hende,—
Of folyes fell I fele me a-ferde—
& fecche me fro þe fende;
I doute on domesdaye to be a-deryd.
With þe he was and ay sall be,
ffader & sone & haly gaste
Trewly taken in trinite,
And þou, moder & mayden chaste,
Þe serten sothe I teche þe,
Of all menskes þis was the maste.
ffor his loue þat lightyd in þe,
Þan saue my sawle in haste.
ffader & sone & haly gaste
Trewly taken in trinite,
And þou, moder & mayden chaste,
Þe serten sothe I teche þe,
Of all menskes þis was the maste.
ffor his loue þat lightyd in þe,
Þan saue my sawle in haste.
Blyssed be þou euere and aye
In lede þat þe þat luf lente.
Moder, if þou þy sone will praye
Þat neuere no sawll sall be schente,
fforsothe þy sone will noght saye naye—
It was his awen commaundemente;
He will be buxome to þe aye
ffor in þy worschep wome he wente.
In lede þat þe þat luf lente.
Moder, if þou þy sone will praye
Þat neuere no sawll sall be schente,
fforsothe þy sone will noght saye naye—
It was his awen commaundemente;
He will be buxome to þe aye
ffor in þy worschep wome he wente.
In women wate I none þin ewen,
God tempill, trewe to tell,
Lady of erthe, qwene of hevene,
And holden emprice of helle.
Stable sterne, here my stevene
ffor all my frendes whare so þay dwelle,
ȝif I þere names I ȝow noght nevene,
Defende þam fro the fendes of hell.
God tempill, trewe to tell,
Lady of erthe, qwene of hevene,
And holden emprice of helle.
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ffor all my frendes whare so þay dwelle,
ȝif I þere names I ȝow noght nevene,
Defende þam fro the fendes of hell.
Blyssed be þou eueremare,
Mayden moder, mary mylde,
Þy sone of þy body þou bare
And þy fayred was neuere fylde.
I byseke þe with ȝernynge ȝare
Þat þou praye to þy blissed childe,
Of this werlde when I sall fare,
ffro þe foule fende þat ȝe me schelde.
Mayden moder, mary mylde,
Þy sone of þy body þou bare
And þy fayred was neuere fylde.
I byseke þe with ȝernynge ȝare
Þat þou praye to þy blissed childe,
Of this werlde when I sall fare,
ffro þe foule fende þat ȝe me schelde.
The frute of þe makes me bothe full & fede,
Swete ihū mylde of mode,
Till his bredyr gan he bede
Als brede & wyne his flesche & blode.
Mary, for thy maydenhede,
Þou gif me grace to fang þat fode
Before my dede þat I drede,
He graunte me grace of gates gode.
Swete ihū mylde of mode,
Till his bredyr gan he bede
Als brede & wyne his flesche & blode.
Mary, for thy maydenhede,
Þou gif me grace to fang þat fode
Before my dede þat I drede,
He graunte me grace of gates gode.
Of þy body þan was he borne,
And þou with hym wroght wemles,
ffor folyce fell oure fader byforne
Ihū þe to moder he chese,
Rede ros with-owten thorne,
Þat byrde þou bare, þe Prince of pes.
Ne lat my saule neuere be lorne
Bot wyssed whare þy will es.
And þou with hym wroght wemles,
ffor folyce fell oure fader byforne
Ihū þe to moder he chese,
Rede ros with-owten thorne,
Þat byrde þou bare, þe Prince of pes.
Ne lat my saule neuere be lorne
Bot wyssed whare þy will es.
| Religious Lyrics of the XVth Century | |