The poems of William of Shoreham ... Re-edited from the unique manuscript in the British Museum by M. Konrath |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. | VI. [On the Virgin Mary.] |
VII. |
The poems of William of Shoreham | ||
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VI. [On the Virgin Mary.]
1
Marye, mayde mylde and fre,Chambre of þe trynyte,
One wyle lest to me,
Ase ich þe grete wyþ songe;
Þaȝ my fet on-clene be,
My mes þou onder-fonge.
2
Þou art quene of paradys,Of heuene, of erthe, of al þat hys;
Þou bere þane kyng of blys,
Wyþ-oute senne and sore;
Þou hast y-ryȝt þat was amys,
Ywonne þat was y-lore.
3
Þou ert þe coluere of noe,Þat broute þe braunche of olyue tre,
In tokne þat pays scholde be
By-tuexte god and manne;
Suete leuedy, help þou me,
Wanne ich schal wende hanne.
4
Þou art þe bosche of synay,Þou art þe rytte sarray,
Þou hast ybrouȝt ous out of cry
Of caleng of þe fende;
Þou art crystes oȝene drury,
And of dauyes kende.
128
5
Þou ert þe slinge, þy sone þe stonÞat dauy slange golye op-on;
Þou ert þe ȝerd al of aaron
Me dreye iseȝ spryngynde:
Wytnesse at ham euerechon
Þat wyste of þyne chyldynge.
6
Þou ert þe temple salomon,In þe wondrede gedeon,
Þou hest ygladed symeon
Wyþ þyne swete offrynge
In þe temple atte auter ston,
Wyþ ihesus, heuene kynge.
7
Þou ert judith, þat fayre wyf,Þou hast abated al þat stryf,
Olofernes wyþ hys knyf
Hys heuede þou hym by-nome;
Þou hest ysaued here lyf
Þat to þe wylle come.
8
Þou ert hester, þat swete þyng,And asseuer, þe ryche kyng,
Þey heþ ychose to hys weddyng,
And quene he heþ a-uonge;
For mardocheus, þy derlyng,
Syre aman was y-honge.
9
Þe prophete ezechyelIn hys boke hyt wytnesseþ wel,
Þou ert þe gate so stronge so stel,
Ac euere y-schet fram manne;
Þou erte þe ryȝte uayre rachel,
Fayrest of alle wymman[ne].
129
10
By ryȝte toknynge þou ert þe helOf wan spellede danyel;
Þou ert emaus, þe ryche castel,
Þar resteþ alle werye:
Ine þe restede emanuel,
Of wan y-spekeþ ysaye.
11
Ine þe hys god by-come a chyld;Ine þe hys wreche by-come myld,
Þat vnicorn þat was so wyld
Aleyd hys of a cheaste:
Þou hast y-tamed [hyt], and i-styld,
Wyþ melke of þy breste.
12
Ine þe apocalyps sent IohnIseȝ ane wymman, wyþ sonne by-gon,
Þane mow[n]e al onder hyre ton,
I-crouned wyþ tuel sterre;
Swych a leuedy nas neuere non,
Wyþ þane fend to werre.
13
Ase þe sonne takeþ hyre pasWyþ-oute breche þorȝ-out þat glas,
Þy maydenhod, on-wemmed hyt was
For bere of þyne chylde;
Nou, swete leuedy of solas,
To ous senfolle be þou mylde.
14
Haue, leuedy, þys lytel songe,Þat out of senfol herte sprong;
Aȝens þe feend þou make me strong,
And ȝyf me þy wyssynge;
And þaȝ ich habbe y-do þe wrang,
Þou graunte me amendynge.
Oretis pro anima domini Roberti Grosseteyte, quondam Episcopi Lincolniae.
The poems of William of Shoreham | ||