XX. There sprunge a yerde of Iesse moore:
There was neuer none suche before,
Ne non shalbe.
This yerde was Marie, virgyne fre.
1
As Aaron yerde withoute moistoure
Hath florisshed and borne a floure,
So hath she borne oure savyoure
Withouten touche of dishonoure
Of mannes sede;
For god his self in her did brede.
2
King Assuere was wrothe, i-wis,
Whenne quene Vasty had done amys,
And of her crowne priuat she is;
But, when Hester his yerde did kis,
By hir mekenes
She chaunged his moode into softnes.
3
King Assuere is god almyght,
And quene Vasty synagoge hight,
But, when Vasty had lost hir lyght,
Quene Hester thanne did shyne full bright,
For she forth brought
The sonne of god, that alle hath wrought.
4
As Moyses yerde, that was so goode,
Turned the waters into bloode,
So did Mary moost myelde of moode
Vnder the cros, where as she stoode
Full sore weping:
Her teres ran with blode bleding.
5
She is that yerde, that yevith vs light
Of Criste, oure king, to haue a sight.
She is redy bothe day and nyght
To yelde oure cause to god almyght
To save oure sore,
That quene of blis for euirmore.
6
Now beseche we that yerde so free
Mediatrix for vs to be
Vnto that king of magestee,
In blis that we his face may see
Withoute ending
Afture this fynalle departing.
