XLI. A meyden myelde a chielde hath bore
Mankyende to blis forto restore.
1
As longe before prophesy seyde,
With vs to dwelle now Criste is come
Borne of Mary, moder and meyde,
To make vs free bothe alle and sume.
2
As the sonne beame goth thurgh the glas,
And as a floure berith his odoure,
So Criste Ihesus conceyved was
And borne of her withoute doloure.
3
‘Haille, full of grace: Criste is with the,’
To her seide aungell Gabriell.
‘Of alle women blessed thou be!
Thou shalt conceyve Emanuell.’
4
This meyden myelde to hym seyde than:
‘How shall this be, that thou doest telle,
Sith I purpose to know noo man
And shall conceyve Emanuell?’
5
‘The holy goost shall light in the,
And god shall shadew the eche dele
And worke right so, that thou shalt be
The moder of Emanuele.’
6
‘The handemayde of oure lorde beholde,’
She aunswerd hym, that mayden myelde.
‘To me be done, as thou hast tolde;’
And furthwithall she was with chielde.
7
And withoute maternall doloure
She hathe borne Criste, that heuenly king,
That virginall floure moost of honoure,
Out of thraldom mankyende to bringe.
8
Glorie mote be, good lorde, to the
With the fader and holy goost,
That art born of a virgyn free,
Bothe god and man, of myghtis moost.
