CXIII. ‘Heyle, Mary, meyden meke and mylde:
Thou shalte conceyue and bere a chylde.’
1
An angelle, thatte was fayre and bryght,
Came to Mary with fulle grete lyght,
And vnto here he seyde fulle ryght:
‘Thou shalt conceyue and bere a chyld.’
2
When she hurde this, that blessid meyde,
Sore in here mynde she was a-freyde
Of theys wordys, thatte he hadde seyde:
‘Thou schalt conceyue and bere a chyld.’
3
‘Drede notte,’ he seide, thatt angelle bright;
‘Thou hast founde grace in goddys sight:
Withyn thy wombe by his grete myght
Thou schalt conceyue and bere a chyld.’
4
She seide vnto the angell than:
‘Hou shall this be (telle, if thou can),
Sith I purpose to knowe no man,
Thus to conceue and bere a chyld?’
5
He seyde: ‘God, thatt is withowte ende,
The holigost to the shall sende,
And by grace, thatt he shall extende,
Thou shalt conceyue and bere a chyld.
6
Thou shalte calle hym Ihesus by name,
A chyld of grete vertu and fame;
The sonne of god shalbe the same.
Thou shalte conceyue and bere a chyld.
7
In the highe sete of mageste
Of his fadere ay reigne shalle he;
Of whoys kyngdome none end shall be.
Thou shalt conceyue and bere a chylde.’
8
Sche answerde hym, thatt meyden fre:
‘As thou hast seide, be done to me.
The wille of god fulfyllyd be
Thus to conceyue and bere a chylde.’
9
He toke his leve, thatte angelle bright,
Of here and went to blysse full right,
And by the grace of god almyght
She conceyuyd and bore a chylde.
