 | Religious Lyrics of the XVth Century |  |
37. A Song of the Assumption
Veni Coronaberis
Surge mea sponsa, so swete in syȝte,
And se þy sone in sete full shene!
Thow shalte a-byde with þy babe so bryȝte
And in my glorye be, & be called a qwene.
Thy mamelles, modur, full well I mene,
I hadde to my mete, I myȝte not mysse.
Aboue all creatures, my modur clene,
Veni Coronaberis.
And se þy sone in sete full shene!
Thow shalte a-byde with þy babe so bryȝte
And in my glorye be, & be called a qwene.
Thy mamelles, modur, full well I mene,
I hadde to my mete, I myȝte not mysse.
Aboue all creatures, my modur clene,
Veni Coronaberis.
Cum, clene Crystall, to my cage.
Columba mea, I þe calle,
And se þy sone, in seruage
ffor mannus sowle was made þralle.
In þy place þat ys princypall
I playde pryuely wyth-owte mysse.
My herytage, modur, haue þu shall,
Veni coronaberis.
Columba mea, I þe calle,
And se þy sone, in seruage
ffor mannus sowle was made þralle.
In þy place þat ys princypall
I playde pryuely wyth-owte mysse.
My herytage, modur, haue þu shall,
Veni coronaberis.
ffor macula, modur, was neuur in þe,
ffilia syon, þu arte þe flowre!
ffull swetely shalte þu sytte by me,
And were a crowne wyth me in towre;
And all myn angelles to þyn honowre
Shall þe worshyppe in heuen blysse.
Thow, blessed body þat bare in bowre,
Veni coronaberis.
ffilia syon, þu arte þe flowre!
ffull swetely shalte þu sytte by me,
And were a crowne wyth me in towre;
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Shall þe worshyppe in heuen blysse.
Thow, blessed body þat bare in bowre,
Veni coronaberis.
Tota pulcra es to my plesynge,
My modur, princes of paradys!
A watur full swete of þe shall sprynge,
Thow shalte aȝeyn my ryȝtes ryse.
The welle of mercy, modur, in þe lyys
To brynge þy blessed body to blysse.
And all my sayntes shall do þe seruysse,
Veni [coronaberis].
My modur, princes of paradys!
A watur full swete of þe shall sprynge,
Thow shalte aȝeyn my ryȝtes ryse.
The welle of mercy, modur, in þe lyys
To brynge þy blessed body to blysse.
And all my sayntes shall do þe seruysse,
Veni [coronaberis].
Veni, electa mea, to myn an hyȝe,
Holy modur & mayden mylde,
On sege to sytte me bye,
That am þy kynge & þy chylde,
Holy modur, with me to bylde,
Wyth þy blessed babe þat ys in blysse—
That virgyn þat was neuur defylde,
Veni [coronaberis].
Holy modur & mayden mylde,
On sege to sytte me bye,
That am þy kynge & þy chylde,
Holy modur, with me to bylde,
Wyth þy blessed babe þat ys in blysse—
That virgyn þat was neuur defylde,
Veni [coronaberis].
Vox tua to me was full swete
Whene þu me badde, ‘babe be stylle’.
ffull goodly gone oure lyppes mete,
Wyth bryȝte braunches, as blosme on hyll.
ffauus distillans þat wente wyth wylle
Oute of þy lyppes whene we dede kysse.
Therfore, modure, þys ys my skyll,
Veni [coronaberis].
Whene þu me badde, ‘babe be stylle’.
ffull goodly gone oure lyppes mete,
Wyth bryȝte braunches, as blosme on hyll.
ffauus distillans þat wente wyth wylle
Oute of þy lyppes whene we dede kysse.
Therfore, modure, þys ys my skyll,
Veni [coronaberis].
Veni de libano, þu lylye in launche,
That lappes me louely wyth loulynge songe!
Thow shalte a-byde wyth þy blessed braunche
That so solemply of þe spronge.
Ego, flos campy, þy flowre, was fonge,
That on Calverye cryede to þe ywysse.
Moder, ȝe knowe hyt ys no wronge,
Veni [coronaberis].
That lappes me louely wyth loulynge songe!
Thow shalte a-byde wyth þy blessed braunche
That so solemply of þe spronge.
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That on Calverye cryede to þe ywysse.
Moder, ȝe knowe hyt ys no wronge,
Veni [coronaberis].
Pulcra ut luna, þu bere þe lambe,
As soone þat shyneth moste clere.
Veni in ortum meum, þowȝty damme,
To smelle my spyces & erbes in fere.
My place ys pyȝte for þe plenere,
ffull of bryȝte braunches & blomes of blysse.
Cum now, modur, to þy derlynge dere,
Veni [coronaberis].
As soone þat shyneth moste clere.
Veni in ortum meum, þowȝty damme,
To smelle my spyces & erbes in fere.
My place ys pyȝte for þe plenere,
ffull of bryȝte braunches & blomes of blysse.
Cum now, modur, to þy derlynge dere,
Veni [coronaberis].
Que est ista so vertuus,
That is celestyall for oure mekenesse,
Aurora consurgens gracyous,
So benygne a lady of fyne bryȝtnesse,
That ys þe colour of kynde clennesse.
Regina celi, þat neuur shall mysse
Thus enþeth þys songe of gret swettenesse,
Veni coronaberis.
That is celestyall for oure mekenesse,
Aurora consurgens gracyous,
So benygne a lady of fyne bryȝtnesse,
That ys þe colour of kynde clennesse.
Regina celi, þat neuur shall mysse
Thus enþeth þys songe of gret swettenesse,
Veni coronaberis.
| Religious Lyrics of the XVth Century | |