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The Wheatley Manuscript


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I [AN ORISON ON THE PASSION]
 II. 
II [A PRAYER TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN]
  
III [HYMN TO ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST.]
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IV. [THE SEVEN PENITENTIAL PSALMS]
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1

[_]

Square brackets denote editorial insertions or emendations.

I
[AN ORISON ON THE PASSION]

1

Ihesu þat haste me dere bought,
Write now gostely in my thought,
That I may with deuocion
Thynk apon thy passion.

2

For, if my hert be hard as stoon,
Yhit may thow goostely write þeroon
With nayles and with speer[e] kene,
And so shul the letters wele be sene.

3

Write in my hert thy speches swete
Whan Iudas þe traytour can þe mete;
That traytour was ful of þe feende,
And ȝit thow callyd hym thy freende.

4

Swete Ihesu, how myght thow soo
Calle thi freende so felle a fo?
Bot, sithen þou spaak so louely
To hym þat was þine enemy,

5

How swete shal þi speche be
To them þat hertly louen the
Whan they in heuene with þe shul duelle
Forsothe þer may no tonge telle.
2

6

Write how þow were bounden sore
And drawen forth Pylat byfore,
How swetely þou answerde þoo
To hym þat was thi felle foo.

7

Write how þat fals enquest
Cried ay with-outen rest:
“Hong hym on the roode tree,
For he wil kyng of Iewes be.”

8

Write vpon myne hert[e] booke
Thy fayre and thi rewely looke,
For schame of ther hydouse crye
Þat walden of þe haue no mercy.

9

Write, whanne þe crosse was forth broght,
And þe nayles of yren wroght,
How þow began to chyuer and quake,
Thi hert was woo if þou noght spaak.

10

Write how douneward þou can loke
Whan Iewes to þe þe crosse betook;
Thow bare it forth with rewly chere,
The teres ran doune by thy lere.

11

Ihesu, write in my hert depe
How þat þow began to wepe
Whan þi baak to þe rode was [b]ent,
With rugged nayles thi handes rent.

12

Write þe strokes of hameres stoute,
With þe bloode rennyng al aboute,
How the nayles stynten at the boone
Whan thow were ful woo-bygone.
3

13

Ihesu, write ȝit in myne hert
How bloode oute of þi woundes stert;
And with þi blood write thow so oft
In myne hert to hit be soft.

14

Ihesu, þat art so mykel of myght,
Write in myne hert þat rewful syght,
To loke on thi moder fre
Whan þou were honged on roode tre.

15

Write thi swete modres woo
Whan sche sawe [the] to deeth[e] goo;
I-wys if I write al my lyue
I schuld neuer here woo dyscryue;
In myne hert ay mote hit be,
That harde knotty roode tre,—

16

The nayles and the spere also
That thow were with to deth[e] doo,
The croune and þe scourges grete
That thow was with so sore bete,

17

Thi wepyng and thi woundes wyde,
The bloode þat ran doun by þi syde,
The schame and scorne and grete dispite,
The spatil þat foulid þi face white,

18

The eysell and þe bettir galle,
And other of thi peynes alle;
For, whiles I haue them in my thought,
The deuyl, I hope, sal dere me nought.

19

Ihesu, write þus, þat I may knowe
How mykel loue to the I owe,
For, if þat I wil from the fle,
Thow folowest ay to saue me.
4

20

Ihesu, whan I thenk on the,
How þou was bounden for loue of me,
Wele ought I to wepe þat stounde
Þat þow so sore for me was bounde.

21

Bot thow þat bare vpon thin handes
For my synnes so bytter bandes,
With loue bondes bynde thow so me
Þat I neuer depart from the.

22

Ihesu, þat was with loue so bounde,
Þat suffred for me dedes wounde,
At my dying visite me,
And make the feend away to fle.

23

Ihesu, make me glad to be
Symple and poure for loue of the,
And lat me neuer for more ne lasse
Loue good to mykil þat sone sal passe.

24

Ihesu, þat art kyng of lyfe,
Teche my soule, þat is thi wyfe,
To loue best no thing in londe
Bot the, Ihesu, here dere housebonde.

25

For othir joye and othir blys,
Wo and sorow forsothe it is,
And lastis but a litil while,
Mannes soule for to bygyle.

26

Lat me fele what ioye it be
To suffre woo for loue of the,
How myry it is for the to wepe,
How soft in harde clothes to slepe.
5

27

Lat now loue his bowe bende
And loue-arowes to my hert sende,
That they peers[e] to the rote,
For swilk woundes schuld be my bote.

28

When I am lowe for thi loue,
Than am I moost at myne aboue,
Fastyng is feest, mornyng is blys,
For thi loue pouert is ryches;

29

The hard heyre schuld be more of pryse
Þanne soft sylk or pelour or byse,
Defaute for thy loue is plente,
And fleschely lust ful loth schuld be.

30

Whanne I am with woo bystad,
For thi loue thanne am I glad;
To suffre scornes and greet dispite
For loue of the is my delyte.

31

Ihesu, make me on nyght to wake
And in my thought thi name to take,
And, whethir the nyght be schort or longe,
Of the, Ihesu, ay be my song,

32

And this preyer a cheyn[e] be
To drawe the doun of thi see,
That thow may make þe a duellyng
At myn hert at thi lykyng.

33

Ihesu, I pray, forsake nought me
Gyf I of synne gylty be,
For to þat theef þat honge the by
Redily þow gaue hym þi mercy.
6

34

Ihesu, þat greet curtasye
Maketh me bolde on the to crye,
For wele I woot with-outen drede
Thi mercy is more þanne my mysdede.

35

Ihesu, þat art soo leue and dere,
Here and spede this poure preyer;
For Paule, tha[t] was so fell and woode
To spille Cristen mennes blode,
To the wolde he no preyer make,
And ȝit thow wolde hym nought forsake.

36

Thanne may þow noght forsake me,
Sithen þat I preye thus to the;
At my dying I hoope i-wys
Of thy presence shal I not mys.

37

Ihesu, make me thanne to ryse
Fro deeth to lyue on swiche wyse
Os thow roos on Estre Day,
In joye and blys to lyue for ay.
Amen.

II
[A PRAYER TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN]

Hayle, bote of bale, blissed Qwene!
To sight so semely is noon sene;
Lady of aungels, qwene of heuen,
Emprice of helle is þat I [n]eue[n].
Haile Mary, modir of grete mercy,
To the with hart I calle and cry,
On hast thow here þis wrecched thing
That maketh to the this pure pra[i]yng;
7

For sere thynges me hath vmset,
That prey to the me wille lett;
For in erthe, in welthe and woo,
Thow haue[s] þi freende and I my foo,
Þow art syker and I am in drede;
Too deeth my synnes wil me lede,
And saith me it is no bote
Though I falle the too foote.
If I myne eghen vn-to the cast,
Ther-agayne my synnes er faast,
And saith me þat I doo nought ryght,
For I wrethed the with my sight
Whanne I behelde wantonnes
And sett my thought o[n] wykkednesse.
How schal I thanne be so boolde
The with myne eghen to be-holde,
That haue the wrethed wrangly,—
How schal I of the gete mercy?
A! Lady, what schal I doo
If I dar nought loke the too,
Or how schal I on the eghen caste
That I wote to the haue trespast?
Thus my synnes will me feer
For sight that I may nought for-bere;
But here-agayne I wend to say
That the, Lady, loue I ay;
And, how soo I me mys-bare,
On the my troost was euer-mare.
But sone come it in-to my thought
That this answere avayleth nought,
For Ihesu thi sone hateth al synne
And alle the folyes that men lyf inne.
For-why our synne that we noght leue,
It is no drede that we hym greue.
Lady, who greueth hym and payith the?
How schul his fomen on the see?
For they greue hym so rightwisly,
And thow louyst hym so tenderly.
8

Whenne he is wrothe þou art nought blythe,
Allas, allas, that hard syth!
That may I say, allas, allas,
For now is warre thanne ere was.
Lady, I haue greued yow bothe,
And that vnto myne owen skathe.
Lady, who schal halde me fro peyne
If [ȝ]e too halde me agayne?
If [ȝ]e wil me saue, borowed I be,
And if [ȝ]e wil nought, may non help me.
A! synnes, synnes, wo yow be,
For fouly haue [ȝ]e gyled me;
For soo ye reft me skilwys syght,
Whenne I yow wrought ye semed light,
But whenne I w[eie]de my trespas,
Neuer no leede so heuy was.
Wele I wote I was a fonne
Whenne I troosted yow vpon.
For þat I ere loghe, now I grete;
Allas, I wroght yow euer yette!
First were ye soft, and now ye prik;
A, wist I nought ye were soo wyk!
First were ye stille, now are ye hye;
First ye glo[þer]ed, now ye wrye.
My frendes haue ye made my foon;
To whom for help may I goon?
Me schames to loke vp-on brade,
And haue wrechid synnes made.
Wher-to for syght schuld me schame?
I haue no lym with-outen blame.
I wolde be blynde as any stane,
Soo þat othir synnes hade I nane;
But with my handes I haue done ille,
With mouthe synned agayne skille,
With heryng lyked my wantonnes
And hirked sone to here goodnesse;
In hert haue I halden pryde
Night and day many a tyde;
9

On flesshly lykyng haue I thought,
Of couatyse qwyt am I nought,
My feete to ille haue gane, I knowe,
And vn-to goodnesse been ful slawe;
Dauid worde haue I vptane,
Þat says, “In my flessh is heel nane.”
A! Marye qwene, of wymen floure,
Cristes modir, Goddes boure,
Neuer noo synne in the was;
What may I praye the for my trespas?
Alle thing þat I knawe in me
Is welatesom to thi sone and to the;
My handes ar lothe, my mouthe is filde,
My wikked hert hath ben to wylde,
Alle thing þat I þere-of [t]elle
Is filed of þat foule welle.
Lady, whethir is better I hald me stille,
Or with my mouthe speke the vn-tille?
Or what wille þow amendes take
For my sinnes grete and blake?
Hert, if thow thi peril wist,
It were no wondir if þou woldist brest.
What goodnesse fyndist þou in synne,
That thow lyked soo ther-inne?
Thow hast fordone thin owen state
And take to helle the euen gate,
Thow hast wrethed Ihesu and swete Mary;
Therfore the aght to be sory,
For to alle in heuene art thow lothe
Whiles thoo too ar with the wrothe,
Dar noon schewe the lightsom mode
Whiles thei be wrothe þat be so good.
Hardely synnes haue sorowful eendes,
Þat maken a man lese swich too frendes,
For more likyng is on hem to se
Than a thousand wynter in synne to be.
Hert of ston, wilt thow nought melt?
For sorow me thynk the aght to swelt;
10

To the blys of heuen ther the neuer aghttil
Bot Ihesu and Mary wil with the saghtil.
Dry hert, thow haues hard telle
How Crist says in his gospell
Ilk a tre þat on rote stode
And brought forth no fruyt gode
Shal be hewen doun at the laste,
And in the fyre to brenne it schal be cast.
A! wrecched hert, fyre bronde,
How longe on rote wenist thow to stonde?
Thi fruyte is roten and baysk for synne,
To the fyre thow moost goo to brenne
Bot Ihesu and Mary schewe ther goodnesse,
That thow wrethed with thi wikkednesse.
A! Ihesu, Ihesu, for thy grete vertu,
Schew to me thow hatte Ihesu;
For that knawes olde and [ȝ]yng,
That Ihesu is saueour of alle thyng.
Saue me therfore fro endles schame,
For of saueour thow berest the name;
How schal thow thin owen name tyne
To put me wrecche to sorow and pyne?
Or whi schul we the Ihesu calle
If thow þare synful dampne alle?
My synnes er gretter than me gode ware,
Bot I wote thy mercy is wel mare.
Warne me not, Ihesu, for my mysdede;
Of thi mercy is me grete nede.
A! Mary, whanne I began my tale
Th[e] I called bote of bale.
To me this synful be thow bute
Whanne I schal to þ[at] aweful mute,
To answere of ilk dede and thought,
On þat dredeful day thow fail me nought.
Lady, Moyses in the olde lawe
Wrote to the folk swich a sawe,
Who-so other mannes gode may fynde,
Thei schul nought leue it hem be-hynde,
11

Bot to syker stede it schal be brought,
And gyuen agayn whan it were sought.
But Lady, byfore Ihesu face,
Sayde the aungel, thow hast founde grace;
And I haue losed grace for my trespas,
Therfore to the I come þat funden it has.
Of thi grete grace geete me a droope,
And thool me neuer falle in wanhope.
Lady, mankynde trowen it wele
That thow was haylsed with Gabriel
And glathed with the Holy Gaste
When thow conceyued God of myghtes maste.
I pray þe hartly for that grete blys
Forgyf me that I haue don amys;
For the aungel taght the al holynes,
And I was egged to wikkednes.
Sithen vmthenk the þat [þou] was fayn
When thow bare Ihesu with-oute payne,
And onely had a child, as clerkes rede,
With-outen losyng of thy maydenhede.
For that ioy and blys þat thow had there,
Haue pite of my rewful fare,
For I brought forth wikkednesse,
And losed al my clennes.
Mary, who myght thy joyes telle
Whanne Ihesu thi sone heryid helle
And rose froo deeth on sonnes morne,
That he tholed for vs beforne?
Lady, what blys had thow thanne,
Whanne thi sone roos bothe God & man,
F[rom] deeth þat he tholed thare,
That thow loked on with sorow & care!
For that grete blys I the beseke
With worde of mouthe and hert meke,
Reyse me fro deeth, þat ille has wrought,
And bryng to Ihesu þat me dere bought.
Lady, who may wete how þou were glad,
Or telle with tong what ioye þow had,
12

When thow sawe with thi bodily sight
Thi sone stegh vp with his bodily myght,
And sett hym on his fader right hand
To be Lorde and God alle weldant?
Of joye, Lady, the vmbethyng,
And thole me neuer to helle doun synk
For my synnes heuy as the leede,
That me wil drawe to sorow steede.
Thow were glad, Lady, as telleth the boke,
Whenne thi sone Ihesu to hym the vptooke;
Glad thow were whanne ȝe two mett,
Abouen aungels kynde there he the sett.
Whanne þow sittist coronde in heuene,
To the I pray with mylde steuen,
Haue pite of me in thi wel-fare,
That left is here in sorow and care.
Vmthynk the, Lady, thi sone me wrought,
And sithen on roode me dere bought,
Thi sone made me to his lyknesse,
Though I fyled me with wykkednesse.
For loue of thi sone visage
Haue rewthe on me, his fyled ymage;
Of synne and filthe thow make me clene,
For mercyful thow art and myghty qwene.
If thow say, Lady, thi sone is wrothe,
And synne to hym hath made me lothe,
I wot wele I haue wrethed hym ille,
But thow may saghtil vs if þow wille.
Schew hym þi eghen þat for hym greete
Whenne he on rode þanne payed oure deet;
Schew hym thi mouthe þat kissed hym swete
Whanne he was ȝonge and litil ȝete;
Schewe hym thi pappes for my trespas,
That he soked whenne he ȝonge was;
Schew hym thi handes þat handild hym soft,
And thi armes þat hym bare oft;
And wele I wote saghtilde I be,
If þese tokynes of loue thow schewe for me.
Lady, ȝit if it be sayde
That the fader of heuene be myspayde
13

For my synnes þat I haue wrought
In wil, in werk, in worde and thought,
Pray thi sone schewe hym for me
What payne he tholed on rode tre,
And sone I hope to gete forgyfnes
Of my synnes more and les.
Lady, ther is no thing þat me may dere,
If thow aboute be me to were.
Alle sary hauen ioy of thi gode fame,
To them is ioye þi blisful name;
For wele is thi name made, swete Lady,
Of M and A, R and I.
M is medycyn to alle seke
Þat it wil pray with hert meke.
Thi medycyn, Lady, to me þow schewe,
For my grete sekenes wele I knowe.
To the I ȝelde me, fayr pray[ande],
Lat me neuer perisshe vndir þi hande.
If thow for sekenes me wil forsake,
Wil noon to hele me vndirtake.
A is autour of holynes,
Where Ihesu goodnesse offyrde is.
To þat auter I wil my offryng make,
If ther were any þat wolde it take;
But the auter is ryche, þe keper is grete,
With my pore offryng wele may th[am] w[l]ete;
But Ihesu in the gospel boke
Þe wedow offring to þe most thank toke,
Two mytes of a ferthing prys,
For þe maner was gode and wys.
But, swete Lady, þow me nought wyte,
I haue now a-nother myte;
Body and soule ar mytes two,
Omange þi offryng thole þam goo,
And, whethir þat I wake or slepe,
On thise two mytes gyf þow kepe.
The thred lettre of thy name, Lady,
R, is ryuer of mercy.
14

My lyf and hele is al in waght
But of þat water I haue a draght.
Lady, wha[m]e wil þow mercy bede,
If thei þat pray þe may not spede;
Or, if þe wille of mercy be any tyme dry,
Who to þe for mercy wil any tyme cry?
Þerfore, Lady, schewe thi godenes,
Lat me not in þis thriste goo dryngles.
I, Lady, is þe ferthe lettre, I wote;
Þat wele acordes vnto þi state;
For als iustice of lyueraunce we þe calle,
Þat God hath sett to help vs alle.
Þi commission is trewe and large,
Þerfore to me be schelde and targe,
And thole neuer dome passe me agayn,
Bot saue me euer fro endles payn.
Lady, I am fayn þat þow fares wele;
Haue reuth of my wo þat I sore fele;
And a thyng, I pray þe, to hert þow take,
Þat Ion þi cosyn in his book spake:
He says, “Who-so haues þe worldes gode,
And to þe nedful noght turnes his mode,
Of hym þat can I not telle
How charite in hym schalle dwelle.”
A, Lady, what blys has þow and wel-fare!
What sorow haue I and whatkyn care!
How schuld charite in the be
Ȝif þow haue no-kyn reuthe of me?
Lady, comly qwene of hey state,
Þis begger mesil crieth at thi ȝate;
Sende to me some almes dede,
Or elles I perische in sorow and nede.
Lady, þow art called my sister in þe book,
Þi sone oure brother þat oure kynde took,
Brothir and sister, I can na mare,
But bryng me oute of my [mys]fare,
And, if ȝe brothirhede wil me warne,
Help me als a godesluf-barne.
15

A, Lady, graunt me my bone,
For his loue þat made bothe sone and mone,
Þat alle þat wil þis lere or rede
Þow be þer help at her moost nede,
And forgyf hem þat haues done mys,
And bryng vs alle to þi sone blys.
Amen.

III
[HYMN TO ST. JOHN THE BAPTIST.]

1

Blissed be thow, Baptist, borne & forth broght
Of a byrde baran, bales to bete.
Gabriel ful godely to thi fader soght,
And seid to þat semely sawes ful swete.
“Þi wyf schal conceyue a child, doute þe nought,”
Thorgh þe grace of grete God þus he gan hym grete,
“His name schal be calde Ion, take it in thoght;
Many men in his birth with myrthe schul mete.”
With myrthe to mete,
To the soule sete,
Nedeful to neuen,
When we awey wende
Þ[er] we schal long lende,
He bring vs to heuen.

2

Blissed be þou, Baptist, most witty in wone.
Was neuer wight in þis worlde more worthi in wede,
Ne neuer body better of blode ne of bone,
But Crist þat for vs his blode wolde blede;
Ne neuer non gretter on ground myght gone,
Ne no man markyd on molde more myghty in mede.
Þow art stalworth in stowre & stedfast als stone;
Stande stifly with vs and neghe vs at nede.
[Þow] neghe vs at nede,
And make vs at spede
16

Of God to gete grace.
He bring vs to þat blys
Þer myrthes non mys,
Before his owen face.

3

Blissed be þow, Baptist; whan þou were borne bare
Of þat buxum body þat þow with-in bredde,
When þou were comen to þis world & combrid with care
For sorow and for synne þat men were in stede,
For [gamen] to-gedir þei busked hem ful ȝare,
Ful many [burnes] aboute þe þare þ[ei] w[ere] sprede,
Cosyns kyde of þi kyn, þat wist of þi fare,
As þe lawe was in land þider were þei lede.
As thei toke to rede
When þei gan hem lede,
Þai fraynd [a] no[m]e
[Þe] child for t[o] calle;
He wrote to þem alle,
“His name is callid Ioon.”

4

Blissed be þou, Baptist, roser of ryght.
When þat me[ns]keful Mary with þi moder mett,
& sche had conceyued Crist þat [maste] is of myght,
Þat swete ful semely here sawes sche sett.
Sche kist here cosyn pertely a-plight,
& thorgh þe grace of here sone ful godely here grett.
Þere sche cawte in clothes þat ilk swete wight,
Þat loutid to Ihesu with-outen any lett.
With-outen any leet,
Men said, or thei mett,
[Þo] f[o]des [vn]-borne.
God kepe vs with wyn
And saue vs fro synne
Þat we be noght lorne.
17

5

Blissed be þou, Baptist, I grete þe with good,
Al holy my hert þow hast in þi ho[l]de,
Þow forgoher of Crist þat restid on rood,
Bothe in wele and in wo þou wroght as he wolde.
Þat messager þat tolde Mary with ful mylde mode
Þat Goddes Sone wolde be bourn of þat body bolde,
Þ[at] aungel schewed þanne in þat stede þer þei bothe stode,
& broght worde of þat bright, & trewly þanne tolde.
Trewly he tolde
To þi fader many folde,
And neuend [a] no[m]e.
For he wolde þe aungel noght leue
Ful sore it gan hym greue,
He stode doumbe as ston.

6

Blissed be þou, Baptist, to many folk a frende,
Oure iewel of ioy iugged be lawe,
Faythful in frestyng, oure foos fro vs fende,
Solace to the sory, s[e]kir in thy sawe;
S[aghtyng] to synful, socour þow sende
At þe dredeful day whenne bemes schul blowe,
Þou þat mylde Mary helde in hir h[e]nde
First whan þou were born, as clerkes wele knowe.
As clerkes wele knowe,
Þi fader in a throwe
[A poyntil] hade he hent;
Thorgh myracle of þi birthe,
In þat tyme of myrth
His speche was hym sent.

7

Blissed be thow, Baptist, so ware & so wys.
In wode and in wildirnesse was þi wonyng;
18

Neythir purpil ne palle ne pelle[s] of price,
But of camel skyn þow toke þi clothyng.
Hawes þow [hente] and rotes of þe ryse
With borion-and bere in the blomyng,
Hony comes [for] ryche mete,—wanted þe þis;
Folk louely þou lerned vn-to þi lykyng.
Vn-to þi lykyng,
Watir drynkyng,
[Þou] toke it in thoght;
Sydir ne wyne,
Were it neuer so fyne,
Þou neghed it noght.

8

Blissed be þow, Baptist, bothe fer and nere,
Dwellyng in deserte with ful gode wille;
Þow baptist Ihesu with-outen any were
In þe flume Iordan, þe faith to fulfille.
F[ro] þe incarnacion the thre[ttethe] ȝere,
As fel on þe twelft day, he peryd [þe tille];
Þe Holy Gost of heuene he come to þe þere,
And as a dowfe on þe he satt þanne ful stille.
He sat on þe ful stille,
As it was his wille;
A voyce sayde in haast,
“Þis is my child
Bothe meke and mylde,
In whom me liketh moost.”

9

Blissed be þou, Baptist, for thi prechyng,
Þow profet apertely þe poyntes of pees;
To Herode and Herodias his dere derlyng
Rosones and right þow rekynde on ryse.
Þou sayd ful scharply in þi saiyng,
And stode stedefastly & thoght not to sese,
19

He led hym not lawfully in his likyng
For Philip his brothir wyf þat he to hym chese.
Þe wyf þat he chese,
Sittyng on deyse,
Gretly gan hy[r] greue.
Sche made hir doghter craue
Þi heued for to haue,
And Herod g[rau]nt hy[r] leue.

10

Blissed be þow, Baptist, þi name is ful worthy,
It betokenith Goddes grace as clerkes vs [c]lere,
And o[n] many moo maners men may it discry,
Who so wil lufly listen and [l]ere.
Baptist for baptim, so saith þe story,
Of þat worthy wight þat hath no pere;
Prophet and aungel [þow] may be callyd holy,
And lantern of light þat scyneth ful clere.
Þow þat schinest so clere,
Goddes darlyng so dere,
As we in bokes rede,
Seint Ion þe Baptist,
Prey for vs to Crist
Þat heuen be oure mede.

IV. [THE SEVEN PENITENTIAL PSALMS]

1

[To Goddis worschipe, þat dere us bouȝte,
To whom we owen to make oure mone
Of alle þe synnes þat we haue wrouȝte
In ȝouþe, in elde, many oone;
In þese psalmys þei ben þoruȝ souȝt,
In schame of alle oure goostli foon,
And in to Englische þei ben brouȝt,
For synne in man to be fordon.]
20

2

Domine, ne in furore tuo arguas me, neque in ira tua corripias me.

Lord, in þi angir vptake me noght,
In thy wreth blame þow not me;
For, if my soule be throgh soght,
In many a synne my-self I see;
And drede rennith in my thoght
Þat thow wil a-wreked be;
But, Lorde, [thow] haast me dere boght,
Spare a while til I be fre.

3

Miserere mei, Domine, quoniam infirmus sum; sana me, Domine, quoniam conturbata sunt omnia ossa mea.

Mercy, Lord, for I am seke;
Heele me, for bresid be my bones;
My fleesch is freel, my soule [hath] eke
Ful grete mister to make mones.
But, when my cors is cast in creke
And depe doluen vndir stones,
Ihesu mercyable and meke,
Lese noght þat thow boghtist ones.

4

Et anima mea turbata est ualde; set tu, Domine, usquequo?

And my soule is disturblid sore;
But, Lord, how longe schal it be so?
If I do synnes more and more,
Thanne me must suffir peynes moo.
[I] lede a lyfe agayn thy lore
So wrecchidly þat me is woo;
But thy mercy may me restore,
Ther is no help whanne it is goo.
21

5

Conuertere, Domine, et eripe animam meam; saluum me fac propter misericordiam [tu]am.

Turne þe, Lord, my soule oute wynne,
Make me saffe for thy mercy;
For fowle with fethir ne fysch with fynne
Is noon vnstedfaster þanne I.
Whan I thenk what is me with-inne,
My consciens maketh a careful cry;
Therfore thy pytee, Lord, vnpynne,
That I may mende me ther-by.

6

Quoniam non est in morte qui memor sit tui. In inferno autem quis confitebitur tibi?

For in deeth is noon þat the thenkith on;
Who schal knowlech to the in helle?
Whan bodyes stynke[n] vnder stone,
Where soules been no man can telle;
Therfore, Ihesu, thow felle oure foon,
That al day on vs [y]elpe and [y]helle,
And graunt vs, or we hennes goon,
Þat we be waschen in mercy welle.

7

Laboraui in gemitu meo; lauabo per singulas noctes lectum meum; lacrimis meis stratum meum rigabo.

I haue trauaylid in my waylyng;
My bedde schal I wasch euery nyght,
And with þe terys of my wepyng
My bedde-straw water, as it is right.
Synne is cause of my mornyng,
I fele me feynt in goostly [f]ight;
Therfore I wepe and water wryngge,
As I wele owe and euery wight.
22

8

Turbatus est a furore oculus meus; inueteraui inter omnes inimicos meos.

Myne eghe for angir disturblid is,
I eeldid myne enemys amonge;
Wele I wote I haue doo mys
And greuyd God with werkes wrong;
And euer when I thenk on this
I crye on Criste with steuen strong,
And say, “[Lord Ihesu], kyng of blys,
To thy mercy me vndirfonge!”

9

Discedite a me omnes qui operamini iniquitatem, quoniam exaudiuit Dominus uocem fletus mei.

Ye þat doon wrong, gooth fro me alle,
For God my wepyng voys hath herde.
To his fote fayn wil I falle,
And be chastied with his ȝerde.
Now, curteys Kyng, to the I calle,
Be noght vengeable, put vp thy swerde!
In heuen when thow holdist halle,
Lat me noght be ther-oute sperde!

10

Exaudiuit Dominus deprecacionem meam; Dominus oracionem meam suscepit.

Oure Lord hath herkenyd my preyer
And receyuid my oryson;
Therfore I hope to haue here
Some p[rofi]t of his passion.
He sweet[te] blood and water clere,
For betyng was his body broune;
Thow that boghtist man soo dere,
Lat neuer feend drawe vs [a]doun!
23

11

Erubescant, & conturbentur [vehementer] omnes inimici mei; conuertantur, & erubescant ualde uelociter.

Sore a-stonyd and a-schamyd
Worth alle they þat myn enemys be!
Turnyd and with schame a-tamyd
Right sone be they, þat I may see!
The world, the feend, the flesch [be] namyd
Ayens man-kynde enemys three;
That I be noght thorgh hem defamyd,
Derworth Lord, I pray to the.
Amen.

12

Beati quorum remisse sunt iniquitates, & quorum tecta sunt peccata.

Blissed be thei whos werkes wrong
Be forgiuen and synnes hydde,
For [thei] þat God hath vndirfong
In heuen blys ben couth and kydde;
But thei þat ben in lustes long,
And doon no better than beest or bridde,
Thei may be sekir of stormes strong;
Thoo wrecches are ful woo bytidde.

13

Beatus uir cui non imputauit Dominus peccatum, nec est in spiritu eius dolus.

Blissed be he to whom God re[tt]ith
No synne, ne hath in goost no gyle;
For at grete prys [the gode Lord] settith
The man þat meneth neythir wrong ne wyle.
Bot he þat conscience vnknittiht
And yeuith no force it to defyle,
Ayens hym God his wepyn whettith
To wrekyn hym a litel while.
24

14

Quoniam tacui, inueterauerunt ossa mea, dum clamarem tota die.

I heelde my pees, þerfore my bones
Eldyd while I schuld cry al day;
I cry, and yit mooste more þanne ones,
To gete forȝifnes if that I may;
I haue mister to make mones,
That haue doon many a wylde outray;
I cry the mercy, Kyng of Thrones,
I haue trespassed, I say not nay.

15

Quoniam die ac nocte grauata est super me manus tua, conuersus sum in erumpna mea, dum configitur spina.

For [b]othe by day and by nyght also
On me thy honde w[ei]s heuely,
And I am turned i[n] my woo,
Whiles thornes prykke[n] perlously.
Ther prykke[n] me perlously thornes two
Of synne and pyne, þis fele wele I;
And therfore, Lord, sithen it is soo,
I putt me al in thy mercy.

16

Delictum meum cognitum tibi feci, & iniusticiam meam non abscondi.

My gylt haue I made to þe knowen,
I haue noght hydde fro the my wrong;
In shrift shal I be alle a-knowen
Alle my mysdede, and morne among.
For certys, Lord, we trist and trowen
The welle of grace with stremys strong
Oute of thy faire flessh gan flowen,
When blood oute of thy hert[e] sprong.
25

17

Dixi: Confitebor aduersum me in-iusticiam meam Domino; & tu remisisti impietatem peccati mei.

“To God I schal,” I seide, “knowlech
Agayns my-self my wrong with-inne,”
And thow, Lord, as louely lech,
Forg[a]f the trespas of my synne.
Þanne spedith it noght to spare speche,
To cry on Crist wil I not blynne
That he ne take on me no wreche
For wordes ne werkes þat I begynne.

18

Pro hac orabit ad te omnis sanctus in tempore oportuno.

Therfore byseke schal euery seynt
In tyme þat [is þer-to] conable;
For þei be trewe & I am ateynt,
Thei ben stedfast and I am vnstable.
Ther frenschip fonde I neuer feynt;
Thanne wil I pray, as thei ben able,
That thei wille mouthe my compleynt
To God þat is so merciable.

19

Verunptamen in diluuio aquarum multarum, ad eum non approximabunt.

Bot in the floode of waters fele
To hym schal [thei] noght neghe nere,
Them nedith noght þat ben in wele
The water þat [vs wasches] here;
Bot we that alle day fro hym stele,
And wrath[en] hym that hath no pere,
If he wil vs fro harmes hele,
Vs nedith to [w]epe water clere.
26

20

Tu es refugium meum a tribulacione que circumdedit me; exultacio mea, erue me a circumd[antibus me].

Thow art my refute in my wo
That hath envyrounde me aboute;
[Mi ioye, delyvere me of thoo
That me biclippyn al aboute!]
The feendes fleen to and fro
To dampne me, this is no dowte;
But, Lord, when I schal hennys goo,
Kepe me fro that rewly rowte!

21

Intellectum tibi dabo, & instruam te in uia hac qua gradieris; firmabo super te oculos [meos].

Vndirstondyng I shal the sende,
And I schal teche the with-alle,
And, in the way that thou schalt wende,
On the myn eghen festyn I schal.
I am thy God, haue me in mynde,
I made the fre there thow were thralle;
That no dedely synne the schende,
Lat witte and wisdom be thi walle.

22

Nolite fieri sicut equus & mulus, quibus non est intellectus.

Ne farith noght as mule or hoors,
In whiche noon vndirstondyng is;
For so fare thei that ȝyuen no foors
If they doo neuer soo mykil mys.
Thenk that thy coruptible coors
Is noght but wormes mete i-wys;
Therfore in myrth haue thow remoors,
And euer among thenk wele on this.
27

23

In chamo & freno maxillas eorum constringe, qui non approximant ad te.

In bernacle or bridell thow constreyne
[The] chekes of hem þat neghes þe noght!
For certys, Lord, bot thow refreyne,
We schul do synne in euery thoght.
The world is noght but synne and peyne
And wrecchednesse þat men han wroght;
Of this meschief I me compleyne
To Ihesu that hath me dere boght.

24

Multa flagella peccatoris; sperantem autem in Domino misericordia circumdabit.

Manyon is þe sadde betyng
That to the synful schal be-tyde,
Bot he that is in God trostyng
Shal mercy kepe on euery syde;
Whan wrecches schul ther hondes wryng,
That were so ful of pompe and pryde,
Than schul the sauyd soules synge
For blys that they schul in abyde.

25

Letamini in Domino, & exultate, iusti; & gloriamini, omnes recti corde.

In oure Lord be mery and gladde,
Ȝe that of ryghtful hert[e] be,
For he þat was on the rode spradde
Now sitteth in his fadres see.
In sight of hym schul we be [c]ladde
As aungels that bee bright [of] blee;
Ihesu, graunt vs to be ladde
So that we may that sight[e] see!
Amen.
28

26

Domine, ne in furore tuo arguas me, neque in ira tua corripias me.

Lord, blame me noght whan thow art wrothe,
Vptake me noght in thy hastynesse,
If I haue lyued as the is lothe,
Vnkynde aȝeins thy kyndenesse.
For wanton worde and ydel othe
And many a werk of wyckednesse,
I drede thy dome aȝeins me goth
Bot grace go with rightfulnesse.

27

Quoniam sagitte tue infixe sunt michi, et confirmasti super me manum tuam.

For thin arowes ben in me pight,
Thow hast seet fast on me thin honde;
And, as man with-oute myght,
I wexe weyk as is the wonde.
Bot, Lord, meyntyn thow thi right,
Supporte thi man that may not stonde,
And comfort thow thi febil knyght
That fer is flemyd oute of thy lond.

28

Non est sanitas in carne mea, a facie ire tue; non est pax ossibus meis, a fa[cie peccatorum meorum].

For in my flesche ther is no hele
In presence of thi w[re]th[l]i face,
To my bones is pees ne wele
For synnes that me thus deface.
Therfore, when deth schal with me dele,
I se no help, Lorde, bot thi grace;
My wyld[e] will, my wittes frele
Eencombre me when I trespace.
29

29

Quoniam iniquitates mee supergresse sunt caput meum, sicut onus [graue] grauate [sunt super me].

For now aboue my heued ere growen
The werkes of my wykkednesse,
And vp-on me synnes be throwen
As birdeyn of grete heuynesse.
I may me no[whe]r now bestowen
To hyde me fro thy hastynesse;
Neuertheles ȝit, as we trowen,
Thi mercy passeth rightwisnesse.

30

Putruerunt & corrupte sunt cicatrices mee, a facie insipiencie mee.

Now be my woundes roten and rank
Before the face of my foly,
And, sithen I [fir]st in synne sank,
Can I noght bot mercy cry.
Now, Crist þat reysed hym þat stank,
The brothir of Marthe and [of] Mary,
So bryng me fro this brery bank
To heuen blys aboue the sky.

31

Miser factus sum & curuatus sum usque in finem; tota die contristatus ingrediebar.

I wexe a wrecche in-to the last ende,
Croked and careful yede al day;
Myrth may noon come in my mynde
When I thenk on my longe way.
I wote wele I mote hennys wende,
Bot whedir and when I can not say;
Therfore my boxom bakke I bende
That Crist me kepe, for he best may.
30

32

Quoniam lumbi mei impleti sunt illusionibus, & non est sanitas in carne mea.

For ful of fayry be my reynes,
And in [my] flesch ther is noon helth;
Therfore of grace sende me greynes,
That I may fle all fleschly felth.
Let neuer the feende with [al] his traynes
Stert vpon me with his stelthe,
To sett on me his firy ch[e]ynes,
For weldyng of this worldes welthe.

33

Afflictus sum, & humiliatus nimis; rugiebam a gemitu cordis mei.

I was torment and made ful meke,
I rorid for waylyng of my hert;
Oure foorme fadres a [for]warde breke;
Therfore alle we be woo-bygert;
And I ther-to my synnes eke;
What wonder if my hert[e] smert?
Therfore thy mercy, Lord, I seke,
For I may noght thy hand astert.

34

Domine, ante te omne desiderium meum, & gemitus meus a te non [est] absconditus.

Lorde, alle my desire is the byforne,
My sorow is noght fro the hydde;
For, if my soule schuld be forlorne,
What were I better than beest or brydde?
Therfore, Ihesu, of Iewis boorne,
God and man in erthe kydde,
Lat neuer that tresoure be to-toorne,
That thow were fore soo sore betydde.
31

35

Cor meum conturbatum est in me; dereliquit me uirtus mea; & lumen oculorum meorum, & ipsum [non est mecum].

My hert in me disturblyd is,
My vertu hath forsaken me,
Myn eghen sight with me now nys,
My Saueour may I noght see;
I erre al day and do amys,
I stomble as thei that blynde be,
And synne ywys is cause of this;
Mercy, Ihesu, for thy pitee!

36

Amici mei & proximi mei aduersum me appropinquauerunt & steterunt.

My neighbors and thei that frendes were
Neyghden and a ȝeinst me stode;
In welth a man may wysdom lere,
Bot wele were hym that vnderstode.
[N]ow frendes flokken euery-where,
As fowlys doon aftir ther fode;
Bot, be a man dede and broght on bere,
Many be feynt and fewe be gode.

37

[Et qui iuxta me erant, de longe steterunt; et vim faciebant qui querebant animam meam.

Thei stode afer that where me nygh,
Thei strenghed hem that my sowle sought,
The world was fals, the fend was slygh,
The flesch dide so that me forthought.
Therfor to Godde than y fleygh
With lowly herte, and him besought
To yeve confort fro hevene an heegh
Of werkis that i hadde myswrought.]
32

38

Et qui inquirebant mala michi, locuti sunt uanitates, & dolos tota die med[itabantur].

And thei that thoght to do me skathe
Spekyn wordes al in vayn,
And alle the day, bothe late and rathe,
Thei thoght on gyle and vpon trayn.
Bot when thei fede moght and mathe,
And breres growen aboue her brayn,
Thanne schal the sothe hym-self vnswathe,
How synne hath many a soule slayn.

39

Ego autem, tanquam surdus, non audiebam; & sicut mutus non aperiens os suum.

Bot I as deef man no-[þing] herde,
And, as doumbe that [no mouth vndoth],
So sp[a]ryd I, and speche sperde;
Bot whan I spake I seyde soth;
For [he] that Iewes so foule with ferde,
That wote how euery gyl[e] goth,
Ful sore wil smyte with his ȝerde,
Bot men [a]mende hem þat mys-doth.

40

Et factus sum sicut homo non audiens, & non habens in ore suo [redarguciones].

I be-cam as man [that] myght noght here,
Ne hadde in mouth noon opynnyng;
I saugh the synful gladde of chere,
And went[e] forth ful sore syghyng.
Bot, Lord, þat boghtest man so dere,
Let hym no blys in balys bryng,
But sende hym myght to amende hym here,
And graunt hym grace of vprysyng.
33

41

Quoniam in te, Domine, speraui, tu exaudies me, Domine Deus meus.

Lorde, for I haue trest in the,
My Lord, my God, thow schalt me here,
For reuerence of that Lady fre
That ȝaf the soke and hath no pere.
To that Lady betake I me,
That woneth aboue the clowdes clere;
For, while sche sitte[th] neghe th[i] see,
I hope to spede of my preyer.

42

Quia dixi: Nequando supergaud[e]ant michi inimici mei; et dum commouentur pedes [mei, super me magna locuti sunt].

For I haue seyd, “Lord mercyable,
Let noght [vp me] my foos be gladde!”
For, while I stere my feet vnstable,
Vpon me thei grete wordes made.
Bot Crist, that art so comfortable,
Make her floures falle and fade,
And the to plese make me able:
In synne wil I no more waade.

43

Quoniam ego in flagella paratus sum, & dolor meus in conspectu meo semper.

For I am redy to be betyn,
My sorow is euer in my sight,
To do [h]is wille wil I gode letyn,
Aȝeins my God wil I noght fight.
Now, Lord, ȝat woldest blode [out] sweten
For hem þat to deeth were dight,
So sende me grace for to gretyn
Water þat may my hert[e] light!
34

44

Quoniam iniquitatem meam annunciabo, & cogitabo pro peccato meo.

For I my wrong schal tellen oute,
And for my synne thenk I schal
How it is perilous to be prow[t]e,
And lecherie may lesyn alle.
Enuye and wrath of hert[e] stoute
Shal stand a man in litel stalle,
When he is clothed in a clowte,
To wonne [with]-in a wormys walle.

45

Inimici autem mei uiuunt, & confirmati sunt super me; & multiplicati sunt qui [oderunt me inique].

But myn enemyes ben quyk and bolde,
And strenghed on me myghtily;
Thei be encresyd many folde
That haue me hatyd wrongfully;
But Goddys Lombe, þat Iudas solde
For thritty pens vnrightfully,
[I] will pray to be in his folde,
To do his byddyng boxomly.

46

Qui retribuunt mala pro bonis detrahebant michi, qui sequeba[r] bonitatem.

Thei þat for good euel quyten,
For I good folowed, bakbytid me;
Bot thei þat thus falsly bakbyten,
Ful dredeful may ther hertes be;
For God schal alle ther wordes writen,
And schewe, þat alle the world schal see,
How scharply he schal [al] them smyten,
That wolde noght that vice fle.
35

47

Ne derelinquas me, Domine Deus meus; ne discesseris a me.

My Lord, my God, forsake me noght,
Depart thow me neuer the fro,
Hold vp thi hous þat thow hast wroght,
Forsake noght, Lord, my soule so!
This is thi woorde, thow hast it boght;
Elynges it were if thow were goo;
Therfore, Ihesu, lett neuer thoght
Ne worde ne dede part vs a-two.

48

Intende in adiutorium meum, Domine, Deus salutis mee.

To my helpyng take thow hede,
My Lord, my God, and al my helth!
Be neghe me, Lord, whan I haue nede,
And wysse me whan I am in welth.
With gostely food[e] thow me fede,
And kepe me from al flesshly felth,
And graunt me grace for some gode dede
To so the fruyt of goostly telth.

49

Miserere mei, Deus, secundum magnam misericordiam tuam.

Mercy, God, of my mysdede,
For thi mercy that mykil is;
Let thi pite spryng and sprede,
Of thi mercy that I noght mys.
After goostly grace I grede;
Gode God, thow graunt me this,
That I mote here my lyfe lede
So that I doo no more amys.
36

50

Et secundum multitudinem miseracionum tuarum, dele iniquitatem meam.

And, aftir thi mercyes þat ben fele,
Lord, for-do my wykkednesse;
Help [me] for to hyde and hele
The blames of my bre[c]helnes.
Ȝif any strengh[e] wil me stele
Out of the close of thi clennes,
Wys me, Lorde, in wo and wele,
And kepe me for thi kyndenes.

51

Amplius laua me ab iniquitate mea, & a peccato me munda me.

More-ouere wassche me of my synne,
And fro my gyltes clense me;
Enserche my soule bothe oute & ynne,
That it no more defoulyd bee;
And, as thyn hert[e] cleef a-twynne
With doolful deth on the rode tre,
So let me neuer werke begynne
Lorde, bot if it lyke the.

52

Quoniam iniquitatem meam ego cognosco, & peccatum meum contra me est semper.

For alle my wykkednes I knowe,
And my synne is euer my sight agayne;
And therfore let thi pite growe,
Ihesu, þat were of Iewis slayne;
For ryche and pore, hygh and lowe,
And euer[y] wight, I am certayne,
On domesday, whan thow schal blowe,
Of thi mercy wil be fayne.
37

53

Tibi soli peccaui, malum coram te feci; ut iustificeris in sermonibus [tuis, et vincas cum iudicaris].

To the onely trespassyd haue I,
Wroght wikkedly and the not qwemed;
Þo werkys askys rightfully
Thow hast þe victory when þou art demed.
Demyd thow were wrongfully
For me þat haue [thi] f[eit]h for[y]emed;
Bot, Lord, let me neuer doo why
That I be fro thi face flemed.

54

Ecce enim in iniquitatibus conceptus sum, & in peccatis concepit me mater mea.

Byholde, in synne I was conceyued
Of my moder, as men ere [a]lle;
Of my fadir noght I receyued
Bot boon and flesch freel to falle;
Bot sithen thi flesch, Lorde, was perceyued,
Where it was leyd ful streyt in stall,
Was ther noon synful man deceyued,
That wolde on[to] thi mercy calle.

55

Ecce enim ueritatem dilexisti; incerta & occulta sapiencie tue manifestasti michi.

Byholde, thow hast louyd the right,
And schewed me conseil of thi witte,
How thorow mercy and thorow myght
Two kyndes been to-gedir knytte:
[Thral is fre and knave is knyght],
God is man, as gospel writte,
And, if my soule in perell is pyght,
Mercy, God, and help thow itt!
38

56

Asperges me, Domine, ysopo, & mundabor; lauabis me, & super niuem dealbabor.

With holy water thow schalt me spryng,
And as the snowe I schal be quyte;
For, if my soule in synne synk,
With wepying water it may be qwyte.
Deedly draghtes if I drynk,
Of repentaunce gyf me respyte;
For, on the trestly who-so thynk,
In worldes welth is no delyte.

57

Auditui meo dabis gaudium & leticiam, & exultabunt ossa humiliata.

To my herying thow schal yeue
Gladnes, to glade my boones meke;
In lowenes lerne me to leue;
Be noght to fer when I the seke;
And let me noght to deeth be dreue,
Derworth Lorde, I the beseke,
Til my synnes be foryeue
Of thoght and worde and dede[s] eke.

58

Auerte faciem tuam a peccatis meis, & omnes iniquitates meas dele.

Fro my synnes turne thi face,
Put al my wykkednes awey;
Greet is my gilt, gretter thi grace,
And elles fayleth oure f[ey].
Defautes many þat me deface
Makes me syng welaway
And crye mercy when I trespasse;
I woot ther is noon othir [wey].
39

59

Cor mundum crea in me, Deus, & spiritum rectum innoua in uisceribus meis.

God, make my hert[e] clene,
A rightful goost in me renewe,
Fro seuen synnes make me schene,
Where-so thow goo þat I may sewe.
Allas! thi t[our]ment and thi tene
Made thi brest and bak al blewe;
Now g[rau]nt[e], Crist, it may be sene
With-inne my hert, thy hydouse hewe!

60

Ne proicias me a faci[e] tua, & spiritum sanctum tuum ne auferas a me.

Cast me noght fro thi visage;
Take noght awey thi holy goost;
For in the sight of that ymage
Is fulsomnesse and myrth[e] moost.
I haue ben wylde & doon outrage,
Vnwisely wroght, as thow wele woost;
Therfore sende me some corage
To fight agaynes the fendes oost.

61

Redde michi leticiam salutaris tui, et spiritu principali confirma me.

Of thyn hele ȝelde me blisse,
And strenght me with thi spirit cheef;
Alle my fyue wittes thow wysse,
That I may lyf as the is leef;
And, as thow may my langour lysse,
That broghtest man to grete bonchef,
So lat me neuer mercy mysse
When I am greuyd with goostly greef.
40

62

Docebo iniquos uias tuas; & impij ad te conuertentur.

The wycked I schal th[i] weyes teche;
Th[e] synful schal to the conuert;
Synful man, beware of wreche,
And thenk on Crist with al thin hert,
How he become thi louely leche,
And for thi sake ful sore smert;
Ther was no scorne ne spytouse speche,
Dispite ne strook þat hym astert.

63

Libera me de sanguinibus, Deus, Deus salutis [mee, et exultabit lingua mea iusticiam tuam].

Delyuer me fro blameful bloode,
Almyghty God of alle my helth;
Than schal my tonge be myry of moode
To telle[n] of thi ryghtful telth.
Thi ryghtful bloode ran doun on rode,
That wasshe vs fro oure flesshly felth,
And many a storme agayne [thow] stoode,
To wys vs fro the worldes welth.

64

Domine, labia mea aperies; & os meum annun[ciabit laudem tuam].

My lyppes, Lorde, thow schal vndoo,
And my mouthe schal thi preysyng spelle;
Thi mercy and þi myght alsoo
Parfitely can no man telle;
For, whanne we dedely synnes doo,
Thei vs demen to goo to helle;
Bot, whanne we sees & can sey ‘hoo!’,
Thi mercy is oure wasshyng welle.
41

65

Quoniam si voluisses sacrificium, dedissem utique; [holocaustis non delectaberis].

For, yif thow woldist haue had offryng,
I had it ȝeuen with hert[e] fre;
Bot thow schal haue noon lykyng
In sacrifyce of that degree;
For thow were offrid vp hongyng
For mannes sake on rode tree,
And of thin hert gan bloode oute sprynge,
Wherfore my hert I offre the.

66

Sacrificium Deo spiritus contribulatus; cor c[ontritum et humiliatum, Deus, non despicies].

To God it is a sacrifyce,
The goost þat is [a]greuyd sore;
Meke hert schal thow noght despice,
Whiles repentaunce may it restore.
I haue forslowthid, Lorde, thi seruice,
And litel leuyd aftir thi lore,
Bot now I repent and aryse;
Mercy, Ihesu, I wil no more.

67

Benigne fac, Domine, in bona uoluntate tua [Sion, ut edificentur muri Ierusalem].

With benigne wil do to Syon
Þat Ierusalem walles were vp wroght;
Ierusalem, as saith seint Ion,
Is Holy Chirche, þat errith noght.
Too testamentes cordyng in oon,
Thise were walles to-gedir broght,
When Crist hym-self was corner stoon,
That mannes soule had dere boght.
42

68

Tunc acceptabis sacrificium iusticie, [oblaciones et holocausta; tunc imponent super altarem tuum vitulos].

Thanne shalt thow sacrifyce accepte
Of ryghtwysnesse and treuthe entier,
And calueren aftir thy precepte
Sall men leyn on thine autier.
On Caluarie a calf there crepte,
Crist on crosse both clene and clere;
For teris that his modir wepte,
He schild vs fro the fendes fere!
Amen.

69

Domine, exaudi oracionem, & cla[mor meus ad te uehiat].

Lord, thow herken my preyer,
And to the lat come my cry;
Wouchesauf to lysten and here
The moon that I make mekely.
To cry on the with careful chere
There [nedith] noon so mykil as I;
Therfore my steuen strenght and stere,
That I noght speke vnspedely.

70

Non auertas faciem tuam a me; in quacunque [die tribulor, inclina ad me aurem tuam].

Turne noght, Lord, fro me thi face,
Bowe doun thin ere when me is wo,
Lat growe greynes of thi grace
That quencheth synnes and peynes also;
In wey of charite thow me chace,
[Thi] feyth lat me noght falle fro,
And help me þat I noght trespace
Vp hope of mercy neuer moo.
43

71

In quacunque die inuocauero te, uelociter [exaudi me].

Euery day when I the calle,
Redely thow listen me,
For ryghtful ere thi werkes alle,
Bot mercy is thy propyrte;
Therfore if I frely falle
In-to synnes that I schuld fle,
Putt me noght oute of thy halle,
But help me turne agayn to the.

72

Quia defecerunt sicut fumus die[s] mei, [et ossa mea sicut cremium aruerunt].

For my lijf-dayes are liyk smoke
That faylide and a-weyward hyȝede;
My boones [ben] dryede and forsoke,
Ryȝt as a þing þat is forfryede:
Of Crist may wele þese wordis be spoke,
That on the crois was doon and driede;
Whanne his blysful brest was broke,
For drouthe and þriste lowde he cryede.

73

Percussus sum ut fenum, & aruit cor meum, quia oblitus sum comedere panem meum.

Smyten I was lijk gras or hay,
Myn herte waxide drye and deed,
For I forgate what maner of way
That I schulde ete myn owne breed.
To peyne me was al þeir play,
They þraste þornes þoru myn heed,
Dispitously þanne spedden they
With blood to make my body reed.
44

74

A uoce gemitus mei adhesit os meum carni mee.

For the voys of my weylyng
Vn-to my fleisch my boones can schrynke;
[Y say my cosyn Jon mornynge],
I say my modir in swownynge synk;
I herde a theef me scoornynge;
Galle and eisel was my drynk;
I wepte as a child of ȝeris ȝing,
On þis myscheef whenne I can þink.

75

Similis factus sum pellicano solitudinis; factus sum sicut nicticorax in domicilio.

I was maad liyk the pellycan,
That vpon wylde[r]nesse hym-silf sleeþ,
So redily to the roode I ran,
For mannys soule to suffre deeþ;
And, as þe nyȝt-crowe in hir hous can
By nyȝt[e] se to holte and heeþ,
So purposide I to saue man,
For hym I ȝaf my goost and breeþ.

76

Vigilaui, et factus sum sicut passer solitarius in tecto.

I wook, and was maad lijk a sparowe
That in þe roof restiþ solitarye;
Vpon þe tre my neest was narowe,
There-on myȝte I no briddis carye.
As erþe is hurlyd vndir harowe,
So was þe fleisch þat sprang of Marye;
In þis world [is] noon so scharp arowe
As was þe turment that [me gan tarie].
45

77

Tota die exprobrabant michi inimici mei, et qui laudabant me aduersum me iurabant.

For al the day they [hadde] me [in] scoorne,
Men that myn enemyes were,
And þo that preysiden me biforne
Aftirward aȝeyns me swere.
Thanne was I to-tuggid and to-torne,
Foot and hond, iȝen and eere,
To ech a lyme lijf [hadde] lorne;
Myn heed þei corownyd wiþ þorn of brere.

78

Quia cinerem tanquam panem manducabam, et potum meum cum fletu miscebam.

For askis as it were breed I ete,
Wiþ wepyng I mengide my drink among,
For loue of man me þouȝte it swete
To suffre scoorn and sorowe strong;
For, siþen Adam the lawe lete
Thoru hir þat of his rib[be] sprong,
Was neuere man to mercy meete
Til I hadde suffrid wo and wrong.

79

A facie ire [et] indignacionis tue, quia eleuans allisisti me.

A-fer fro þe face of þi greuaunce
Thow droue me down wiþ vprisyng,
Fadir, I was to thi plesaunce
Lyfte up as God in God dwellyng;
But, for to stynte al disturbaunce
Of man þat synnede not ceessyng,
Thow droue me adoun to chese a chaunce,
As man for man the deeþ takyng.
46

80

Dies mei sicut vmbra declinauerunt, & ego sicut fenum arui.

My dayes passiden as schadow of liȝt,
And I wexide drye as dooþ the gras;
I wente as man with-outen myȝt,
Where-so I trad was blody tras.
Whanne I þus deolfully was diȝt,
That neuere dyde ony trespas,
Centurio seyde, “We doon vnriȝt,
For truly Goddis Sone this was.”

81

Tu autem, Domine, in eternum permanes, & memoriale tuum in generacionem et generacionem.

For ceertis, Lord, þou dwellist euere,
Thy mynde abidiþ in euery kynde;
For thi Godheed was noyed neuere,
There was no þing þat þee myȝte scheende.
Th[i] manheed myȝte men wel disseuere,
Therof þei made a ruful eende,
Therfore ech man is þee the leuere,
That þis mater haþ wel in mynde.

82

Tu exurgens, Domine, misereberis Syon, quia tempus miserendi eius, quia venit tempus.

Thow schalt vprise & Syon ruwe,
For tyme is come of hir mercy;
Syon is Holy Chirche trewe
Of men þat lyuen Cristenly.
A stidefast seed in hir þou sewe,
And tauȝtist hir so tendirly
How þat sche schulde synne eschewe
And loue thee moost hertily.
47

83

Quoniam placuerunt seruis tuis lapides eius, & terre eius miserebuntur.

For þi seruauntis [hir] stoonys lykide,
And on hir þei schulen haue pyte;
Crist, corner stoon, xij stoones pykide,
[His] xij apostlys for to be.
They haue hem-silf a dongeoun dikide
In Syon, as men may se,
That whoso be with synne entrikide
May sauely to þat strengþe fle.

84

Et timebunt gentes nomen tuum, Domine, & omnes [reges] terre gloriam tuam.

[And folkus schul thi name drede,
Alle erthely kynges doute thi blisse,
That privest princes of here pryde,
That wantounly here wittes wisse.
Right as the lust thu maist men lede,
Save and sle and langour lisse,
But wo is hym that doth that dede
Wherfor he mot thi mercy mysse.

85

Quia edificavit Dominus Syon, et videbitur in gloria sua.

For God hath housed Syon,
And yn his blisse hit schal be sowen
Wan holi chirche be maad on
Yn hevene as we triste and trowen;
And we schulle to gladnesse goon,
That in grace on grounde now growen;
Graunte God that y be on
That be noght out of hevene throwen!
48

86

Respexit in oracionem humilium, et non sprevit precem eorum.]

The orisoun of þe meke he siȝ,
And not dispiside her preyer;
But hem þat are of herte hiȝ
Ne be not to him so leef and dere
As tho þat alle vices fliȝ.
Of Ihesu Crist a man may lere,
For he to noon estaat ne stiȝ,
But euere was low in word & chere.

87

Scribantur hec in generacione altera, populus qui creabitur laudabit Dominum.

In anoþer kynrede lete þese be writen,
Thanne schal preise God þe peple vnbore,
For who-so may þese wondris wyten
Ouȝte to þanke God þerfore;
And þat is for we falsly flyten,
Hys fair[e] flesch was al to-tore;
For mannys sake so sore smyten
Was neuere noon siþen ne bifore.

88

Quia prospexit de excelso sancto suo; Dominus de celo in terram aspexit.

For he say fro his holy heiȝt,
To erþe oure Lord say out of heuene,
He say man walke vndir þe weiȝt
Of alle þe deedly synnes seuene;
He say man þoru þe feendis sleiȝt
Lygge slepynge in [a] synful sweuene;
Therfore he vouchide saaf to fiȝt
To God and man were oonyd euene.
49

89

Ut audiret gemitus compeditorum, ut solueret filios interemptorum.

To heere the weilynge and þe wo
Of hem that were in care bounde,
And to vnbynde the kynde of þo
That were killid wiþ deedly wounde,
For þese causis and for mo
Was God maad man to go on grounde;
Therfore men schulden not falle him fro,
For he suffride for hem many a stounde.

90

Ut annuncient in Syon nomen Domini, & lauden eius in Iherusalem.

For they schulden in Syon teche
Oure Lordis name þat holy is,
And in Ierusalem hys preisyng preche,
Hym-silf he cam and tauȝte þis.
Þere may no wiȝt wiþstonde his wreche,
There is no nay þere he seith ȝhis;
Therfore preise we hym wiþ speche,
And drede we him to doon amys.

91

In con[u]eniendo populos in vnum, et reges ut seruiant Domino.

In gaderynge of peplis in oon,
And of kyngis God to serue,
To be stidefast as is the stoon,
In his seruice þat we not s[w]erue,
The wey of truthe we schulde goon,
To trecchery we schulde not [t]erue,
And, if we dide þus euerichoon,
There schulde no care oure cumfort kerue.
50

92

Respondit ei in via virtutis sue: Paucitatem dierum meorum nuncia michi.

He answeride in þe wey of myȝt,
“Telle me þe lytilheed of my dayes.”
Þus answeriþ ech a Cristen knyȝt
That ȝeueþ no force of riche arayes;
For he þinkiþ how deeþ is diȝt,
To a-saye ech a man with scharpe asayes;
He haldiþ to God his herte vpriȝt,
And feri[þ] him not of siche afrayes.

93

Ne reuoces me in dimidio dierum meorum; in generacione[m] et generacionem anni tui.

Ne calle me not in þe [halfundele]
Of my dayes þoru-out þe ȝheer,
For þei slyden as mydday meel,
And passen as þe cloudis cleer.
There ys no surete [ne] no seel
Of mannys lijf while he is heer;
Therfore, Ihesu, þat knowist me freel,
Wisse me whanne I am in weer.

94

Inicio tu, Domine, terram fundasti; & opera manuum tuarum sunt celi.

For, Lord, þou bigunne þe grounde;
Thin handwerkis ben heuenes alle,
Al þis world, þat is so rounde,
Of creaturis grete and smalle.
Thou hast hem pynned in a pounde,
Wiþ-oute warde of wouȝ or walle,
And, while þou list, þou sauest hem sounde
And, whanne þou wilt, þei schulen doun falle.
51

95

Ipsi peribunt, tu autem permanes; et omnes sicut vestimentum veterascent.

Thei schulen peresche, but þou schalt dwelle,
Alle schulen eelde liyk a clooþ,
Al vanyte þou schalt down felle,
And make it leef þat now is looþ;
For þere is no tunge that can telle
What peyne it is to se þee wrooþ,
Whanne þou schalt close þe gates [of] helle,
And curse[n] alle þat þidir gooþ.

96

Et sicut oportorium mutabis eos, et mutabuntur; tu autem idem ipse es, & anni tui non deficient.

And þou shalt as a couerlyte
Hem chaunge, and þei schulen chaungid be;
But alwey þou art riȝt parfiȝte,
Thi ȝeeris schulen not fayle þee;
Þerfore whanne þou hast maad us qwyte
Thoru myȝt of inmortalyte,
Þanne schalt þou be al oure delyte
To se þi myȝtful magiste.

97

Filij seruorum tuorum habitabunt; & semen eorum in seculum dirigetur.

Thi seruauntis sones schulen dwelle & dure,
And in al þe world her seed schal sprede;
For ceertis þei ben not [v]nsure,
That þee wil serue in word & deede.
Þerfore now, Ihesu, do þi cure,
Ne dampne us not whanne we ben dede,
But, eer we passe, make us pure,
To þe lond of lijf [þat] þou us lede.
52

98

De profundis clamaui ad te, Domine; Domine, exaudi vocem meam.

Fro dalis depe to thee I criede;
Lord, Lord, listne þe voys of me!
This depe prisoun þat I in abyde,
Breke it up, Lord, for thy pyte!
Be þou my socour and my gyde,
My goostely Lord, to whom I fle,
And lete oute of þin herte ryde
That I haue doon aȝeyn[e]s þee.

99

Fiant aures tue intendentes in uocem deprecacionis mee.

Late þin eeris be maad listnynge
Vnto þe vois of my preyere,
For wel I woot þou hast likynge
In man [þat] þou hast bouȝt so dere;
Therfore, what euere I rede or synge,
Listen it, Lord, wiþ louely chere,
And vouche saaf at myn askynge
My conscience to clense and clere.

100

Si iniquitates obseruaueris, Domine, Domine, quis sustinebit?

If þou rewarde al wickidnesse,
Lord, Lord, who schal susteyne?
For, by þe lawe of riȝtwijsnesse,
Eendelees þanne were oure peyne.
But euere we hope to þi goodnesse,
Whanne þou schalt al þis world affreyne,
With mercy and wiþ myldenesse
Thi riȝtful doom þou wilt restreyne.
53

101

Quia apud te propiciacio est; & propter legem tuam sustinui te, Domine.

For wiþ þee is forȝifnesse,
I haue þee suffrid, Lord, for þi lawe,
Thi lawe schal al vnriȝt redresse,
Was neuere seyd no soþir sawe;
Therfore, whanne thou schalt bodies blesse,
And deede men out of her dennys drawe,
Ihesu, þat sauerist al swetnesse,
Lete no feend oure goostis gnawe.

102

Sustinuit anima mea in uerbo eius; sperauit anima mea in Domino.

My soule haþ suffrid in his word,
In God my goost haþ had his trist;
For synne is scharp as knyues oord,
And makiþ hem lame þat liggiþ in lust;
Therfore, Ihesu, thou louely lord,
Þere I am roten, rubbe of þe rust,
Or I be brouȝt to schippis bord,
To sayle in-to þe sale of dust.

103

A custodia matutina usque ad noctem, speret Israel in Domino.

Fro þe morn ward into þe nyȝt
Lete Israel triste in God and trowen.
Israel bitokeneþ ech a wiȝt
That God schal se and goostly knowen.
To þis ech Cristen man haþ riȝt,
Þat wole his strengþe wel bistowen;
He may be sikir, as God haþ hiȝt,
That heuene blisse schal be his owne.
54

104

Quia apud Dominum misericordia, & copiosa apud eum redempcio.

For at oure Lord is greet mercy,
And plenteuous raunsum is hym wiþ;
He payede for us his owne body,
In foorme of breed boþe lyme and lith;
Ceertis for oure sake oonly
He was feynt as fowen in frith,
So þat synful may sikirly
At hym gete grace and grith.

105

Et ipse redimet Israel ex omnibus iniquitatibus eius.

And he schal bye[n] Israel
Fro hise mysdeedis euerilkone,
Whanne we schal rise in flesch & felle,
And efte be cloþid in blood and boone.
Thanne schal þe feend, þat is so felle,
Fer be flemyd & alle oure foone,
And gode men schulen in heuene dwelle;
God ȝeue us grace þat we so doone!

106

Domine, exaudi oracionem meam. Auribus percipe obsecracionem meam in ueritate tua, & exaudi me in tua iusticia.

Lord, listne þou myn orisoun,
Wiþ eeris my preyer þou perseyue,
In soþfastnes þou heere my soun,
And in þi riȝt þou it resseyue!
Ihesu, þat regnest in þi regyoun,
For hir loue þat þee can [con]seyue,
Late neuere þe feend us drawe doun,
Ne dreedful deuel us disseyue!
55

107

Et non intres in iudicium cum seruo tuo, quia non iustificabitur in conspectu tuo [omnis uiuens].

Come not in doom with þi seruaunt,
For no lijf schal be iustifyed
In þi siȝt, ne nouȝt [þ]e faunt
That þis day first in cradil cried.
For us schal plete no seriaunt,
Al sotilte schal ben a-spyed;
So wel is hym þat kepiþ couena[un]t,
For word and werk al schal be tryed.

108

Quia persecutus est inimicus meus animam meam, humiliauit in terra [uitam meam].

For-whi myn enemy haþ pursued
My soule, and lowide my lijf in lond,
For, [when] I myȝte synne haue eschewid,
My wil to wi[r]k[e] wolde I not wond.
But, Lord Ihesu, þat art endewid
Wiþ grace, þou brynge me out of boond,
And sende me grace to be vertued,
So þat I may þe feend wiþstoond.

109

Collocauit me in obscuris, sicut mortuos seculi. Et anxiatus est super [me spiritus meus; in me turbatum est cor meum].

He put me in [placis derk] to be,
As þei þat in þis world ben dede;
My goost was greeuyd vpon me,
Astonyed was myn herte for drede.
This ilke sorowe anoon I se,
Whanne I haue doon a deedly deede;
Therfore, Ihesu ful of pytee,
In þis myscheef me rule and rede!
56

110

Memor fui dierum antiquorum; meditatus sum in omnibus operibus tuis; in factis manuum tuarum meditabar.

I hadde mynde of dayes oolde,
Of alle þi werkis I me biþouȝte,
How synfully þat Iudas soolde
Hym þat [þis world with hondis] wrouȝt.
With greet penaunce gaderide his foolde
That scheparde þat oure soulis bouȝt;
Þe cumfort of oure cares coolde,
Of [C]rist it cam, for he it brouȝt.

111

Expandi manus meas ad te; anima mea sicut terra sine aqua tibi.

To þee myn hondis, Lord, I spradde;
My soule is lijk lond watirlees;
I may not wepe, I am so badde,
So bareyn and so sorowlees.
Synne constreyneþ me ful sadde;
Therfore I preye þe, prince of pees,
Helpe me þat I summe teris hadde,
That goostly fruyte [myȝte haue] encrees.

112

Uelociter exaudi me, Domine; defecit spiritus meus.

Listne, Lord, and heere me ȝerne;
The goost of me forsoþe haþ failid,
For I haue ben ful looþ to lerne
Þing þat myȝte me haue avayled;
But, Lord, þat openest þi posterne
For hem þat for þee han trauaylid,
I hope þou wilt no bonde sperne,
Þat is wiþ sorowe of synne assayled.
57

113

Ne auertas faciem tuam a me, & similis ero descendentibus in lacum.

Thi face turne not me fro!
I schal be lijk hem þat fallen in lake.
Þe dampnyd men may wel sey so,
That are bitauȝt þe feendis blake.
But lete me, Lord, be noon of þo;
Thinke how þou diedist for my sake,
And graunte me grace, eer þat I go,
Of my trespas amendis make.

114

Auditam fac michi mane misericordiam tuam, quia in te speraui.

Thi mercy make me heere a-morowe,
For I haue had on þee myn hope.
Helpe þat I were out of [h]orowe,
And alle þat þere-ynne are lope.
Lord, þou suffridist schame & sorowe,
And bled[dist] manye a blody drope;
Fro goostli bondis þou me borowe,
That I were out of synne crope.

115

Notam fac michi uiam in qua ambulem, quia ad te leuaui animam meam.

Teche me þe way þat I schal weende,
For I my soule to þee haue lift;
Þis worldis welþe haþ [soone] an eende,
And takiþ a-wey [a] mannys þrift.
Þerfore, Ihesu curteys and kynde,
Whos herte was on cros [y]-clift,
Late neuere feend oure paþis blende,
Ne us bitraye neuere eft!
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116

Eripe me de inimicis meis, Domine, ad te confugi; doce me facere voluntatem [tuam, quia Deus meus es tu].

Delyuere me, Lord, fro my foos felle!
For strengþe to þee fled am I;
Teche me þi wille to fulfille,
For-whi þou art my God oonli.
Down myn enemyes þou felle;
Resseyue me, Lord, to þi mercy,
That I may dreedlees in þee dwelle,
And þou, Lord, in me eendeleesly.

117

Spiritus tuus bonus deducet me in terram rectam. Propter nomen tu[um, Domine, uiuificabis me, in equitate tua].

Thi good goost, [Lord], schal me lede
Streiȝt in-to þe lond of riȝt,
And, for þi name in riȝtfulheede,
Thou schalt me make qwike & liȝt.
Þanne schal I dwelle[n] out of dreede
Where euere is day and neuere nyȝt,
For grisly goost schal þere noon grede
O[n] hem þat ben in blis[se] briȝt.

118

Educes de tribulacione animam meam; & in misericordia tua disperdes omnes inimicos meos.

My soule þou schalt brynge out of care,
Wiþ mercy my foo-men disp[arpl]ye,
And make þe deuel droupe & dare,
That he drawe me to no folye;
And, God, þat I be not [maad] bare
Of alle goodnes þat I can aspie,
[Ȝit], ȝit, Lord, abyde and spare,
Þat I be amendid or I dye.
59

119

Et perdes omnes qui tribulant animam meam, quoniam ego seruus tuus sum.

And þou schalt lese hem that dissesen
My soule, for I serue thee;
Late no more vppon me resen
Þe goostes þat han greeued me;
Sende me grace thee to plesen,
And vouche saaf, whanne doom schal be,
In-to þe kingdom of heuene me sey[s]en;
Þus graunte me, God in Persoonys þre!
Amen.
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