LXXXVIII. ‘Awake, Ioseph, awake, awake,
And to Marie thy way thou take.’
1
Iosephe wolde haue fled fro that mayde,
Not for noo synne ne for offence,
But to abyde he was affrayde
In here so good and pure presence
Extans virgo concipiens,
The mysterie for cause he knew
In her of so full grete vertue.
2
‘With her,’ he seide, ‘why shulde I dwell?
Than I, of degre she is more,
And in vertue she doth excelle:
I wille departe from her therefore.’
But god, that hath alle grace in store,
Sent an aungell, that was full bright,
Vnto Ioseph vpon a nyght.
3
[And vnto hym that aungell seide:]
‘Drede not, Iosephe, sonne of Dauid,
To take Marie, thy wyfe, that mayde,
For why the chielde, that she goth with,
Is goddes sonne: be not afrayde.
Long tyme before scripture hath sayde,
That a pure mayde shulde bere a chield
To save mankyende, that was exield.’
4
Ioseph a-rose and went full right
Vnto Marie, that mayden myelde,
And thurgh vertue of god almyght
He founde that mayden grete with chielde,
And yet she had hym not begielde,
For why Ihesus, the sonne of right,
Fro blis into her wombe did light.
5
Beholde, how Eve, that woman wielde,
Hath borne hir frute in care and woo,
But virgyne Marie, moder myelde,
Hath borne her frute, but nothing soo;
For she hath borne Criste and nomoo
Forto defende vs fro the feende
And geve vs blisse withouten ende.
6
The frute of deth Eve gave to vs,
But that pure mayde and moder dere
Gave vs the frute of lyfe Ihesus,
Wherfore next god she hath no pere
Aboue in blisse ne in erthe here,
For why her sete is next the trone
Of god, that is bothe iij. and one.
