Hoccleve's Works. III. THE REGEMENT OF PRINCES A.D. 1411-12, FROM THE HARLEIAN MS. 4866, AND FOURTEEN OF HOCCLEVE'S MINOR POEMS FROM THE EGERTON MS. 615.
EDITED BY FREDERICK J. FURNIVALL, FOUNDER AND DIRECTOR OF THE EARLY ENGLISH TEXT SOCIETY.
LONDON: PUBLISHED FOR THE EARLY ENGLISH TEXT SOCIETY
BY KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRÜBNER & Co.,
PATERNOSTER HOUSE, CHARING-CROSS ROAD, W.C. 1897.
Extra Series, LXXII.
R. CLAY & SONS, LIMITED, LONDON & BUNGAY.
APPENDIX.
The XIII Poems in the englisht Be Guilleville's 'Pilgrimage of the Soul.'
Egerton MS. 615, Brit. Mus.
(1) The epistle of grace sent to the seek man. littera.
[26 stanzas of 7 lines each, ababb, cc.]
(1)
I' Gracë quen, and heuenly princesse,—
As depute? MS. deprite. be the souereyn kyng eterne,
In erthe a-lowe to be the gyderesse
ThatThat = of him that. (Tags t r f &c. are not printed.) liste the redy wey[ë]s for to lerne,
In pilgrymagë him selff to gouerne—
Gretyng, with yerde & lore of disciplyne,
To the that hast, and must be, one of myn.
(2)
It is me don to knowe & vnderstonde,
Þat, this dethës seruaunt, malady,
The hath arrest, and holdith now in hande,
And the oppressith, nought knowyng the forwhi.
I wil therfore, as for thi remedy,
Ordeyne[n] in my best[ë] manere wise;
I rede þe that thi self þou wel aduyse.
(3)
I haue be with the whan thu knewe it nought,
Enserchyng, lo, thi poin[t]is of conscïence,
Be wich I knewe the innermost of thought.
Thu hauest, thi self, with veari neclegence,
And also for defawte of diligence,
Noght take heed to thi gouernaunce,
Thi selffë brought in anguysshe & greuaunce.
(4)
Thu hast, with surfeet, leuyng sobirnesse,
fful greuously encombred thi corage,
In lust dispending al thin besynesse,
Syn þat thu were a childe of tender age,
That the now doth ful gret disauauntage;
Wherfore the nature of thi maladye
Wil askë sothly a fleobotomye.
(5)
Also I see, þat ful art thu withinne
of córrupte humour al a-bowt[ë] spred,
That rennyth ay betwyn [þi] flesch and skynne,
That causith þat thu kepist now thi bedde:
Than ydilnesse and slouthë hath this bred;
Thu hast nought swet owt of thin eye one tere;
Wich thing to the ful necessary were.
(6)
For if thu myghtist, dayës two or thre,
With mynde upon thi foulë wrechidnesse
haue suche a sweet, it wolde availë the;
ffor leue it weel,—I sey it the expresse—
but if thu do the rathere thi besynesse,
with suche a swet thi self[ë] to amende,
This malady will of the make an ende.
(7)
Take heed[ë] nowe, and to thi self conuerte,
And see what wrechidnesse is the withinne,
Or dethë take thi liffe out of thin herte;
To be my reed, anon þat thu be-gynne
To make the clenë of thi sory synne,
As ferrë [forth] as þou canst think or spye,
And wasshe hem out with terës of thin eye.
(8)
For if þat deth the sudeynly assaile,
beleue it weel, he sparith no persone;
With him to trete, it may no thing avayle;
On the hath he no piete, thow thu grone;
Complayntis sothly he rewardith none,
But buskith you vnto the pittës brynk:
On this, I rede, thu besely bethink.
(9)
Take heed, and here, how þat to euery wight
With-in[në]-forth he clepith preuely:
"Arayeth you, and be al redi dight,
ffor I wil come—beleve it sikerly—
Or ye be ware, parauenture sudeynly:
And me by-for ther may [no] praiere spede
Ne non ne wele: I sparë for [no] mede."
(10)
"Beholde and see, how þat this messageres,
lo, in awaitë, [now] be leyd for the.
Sest thu noght Agë, with his whightë eres,
hath had[? hid] himselff ful nye,—canst thu not see?—
And maladi[ë] hath arrest par-de.
Herist thu nowt, how thei crie lowde alwey,
'what eilith vs, to tarye so al day?'
(11)
"How oftë haue I warned the be-for,
Som while apert, somtymë preuely,
That redy schuldist thu have be euermor:
Witnesse upon thi self, I say the, whi
Thu might the nought excusë vtterly:
Synderesis, she knowith euery deel;
Sche will be thin appélloure, wete it weel,
(12)
"Aneinptes me, that alway wold thi prowe;
fful folili thu hast thi self mystake:
for thu behetest—this knowist well I-nowe—
Þat alle thin foli woldest thu for-sake,
And woldest thi-self very clenë make,
Puttyng [thi] flesch vnder subieccioun,
To be gouérned after thi reason.
(13)
"But sekerly she euery deel reuerse
vsurped hath hire ownë ladi right,
By here delites and lustës full dyuers
Oppressyng her with alle hir mayn & myght.
A fool is he (as semith in my sight)
That be no lore ne will his freend[is] knowe
Till þat he be in myschief ouerthrowe.
(14)
"But now I rede, take good entent & hepe,
Puttyng awey thi slombre & [thi] slouthe.
A fool he is, that leith him self to slepe,
To whom I springe, the veray sterre of trewthe.
How ofte hast thu refused, for thi yowthe,
To herë me? and sone hast thu for-yete
Myn lusty songës veary hony-swete.
(15)
"Now sey me, be thi feith, whethir þou were he
Alone of woman in this world I-bore,
So clene of wemme, that no thing is in the
To weylë ne to wepe thi synnës sore.
Nay, sekerly—and þat me for-thinke sore—
That thu ne canst [nat] se thi wrechidnesse,
Thi synne, thi surfeet, and thin vnthriftynesse,
(16)
"And hard conflicte of bataile, the withinne.
Thu felë myght (but if thu be vnwys),
How þat þi sowle assailed is with synne,
And vnder-cast þou art of hye malice,
And subiecte, thu madist thi selfe, to vice,
Wich þat of god, the Juge omnipotent,
Condempned is with-owt[en] iugëment.
(17)
"Shamë hath he þat at the cheker pleith,
Whan þat a powne saith to the kyng 'chek mate;'
And shame it is, whan that thi gost obeith
Vnto thi flessh, þat schuld obeye algate
Vnto thi goost. And now, thowe it be late,
Yilte helpe thi self, and cast her vnder fote,
Or elles þou art lost: þere is non other bote.
(18)
"In bataylë, as it hath ofte be-tydde
a myghti man to falle, it is no schame,
The first[ë] tyme, the secunde, and the thridde,
And rysith weel—this holde I but a game;—
But gretly, me thinkith, is he to blame,
And worthi as [a] fool to be reproeved,
That not enforsith him to be releuyd.
(19)
"Now youthë may no lengere the excuse,
for age is come, and calengith his plase.
Yeld thi promyse! þou myght it not refuse.
A fool is he þat desobëyth grace,
And is to meward fallë in trespace,
And castith him nought ámendis to make:
Suche one, what wondir is, though I forsake?
(20)
"Ful long I haue a-beden and susteyned
to haue amendës for thi forfeture;
And or this tyme I haue me not compleyned.
I may no more the wrechidnesse endure:
I rede the doMS. to do. thi besynesse and cure;
Amende thi self; it is anow to me,
That is the amendës þat I askë the.
(21)
"Now chese thin port, at wich thu wilt aryve;
But to there ben, of solace and distresse:
At one, thow myght thi self[en] kepe a lyve,
And euere abide in ioye and lustynesse;
That othir, is but care and wrechidnesse;
here comë deth; and if þat he [schal] smyte
Thi liffe, there is non leche that [may] respite.
(22)
"Se now thi self, that hauest no defence!
A-bove thin heed the swerd is redy drawe;
I redë the to look thi conscïence,
How þou hauest lyved a-geyn thi lorde-is lawe;
And after this, a-nothir wey thu drawe,
Þat alle thi tyme in foly so dispended,
yit at the last[ë], lat it be amendyd.
(23)
"How oftë tyme have I the tolde & taught
The worthynesse of vertue, and the mede!
how ofte haue I the from the clowches caught
Of sathanas! yitte takist thu non heed.
But now be ware, and nought withowt[ë] nede;
ffor sekirly the bowe is bent ful sore
To smytë the: than may I do no more.
(24)
"The birde that syngith on a braunche on hye,
And schewith him self a lusty Jolyvet,
Vnto the deth is sinet sudeingly
Or he be ware, and takë with a net.
I have the said, how deth hath the be-sette;
And almost vnder-myned is thi wall;
But thu be ware, ful grevous is thi fall.
(25)
"Allas! what thinkest thu? what wilt þou sayn,
In þat ilke day of anger and of dreed,
Vn-to the heighë Iugë souereyne?
What dost þou, man? whi takist thu non hede?
If þou wilt be releuyd in thi nede,
What helpith it, thus [for] to preche and teche?
But schewe thi soore, to me þat am thi leche,
(26)
"And [than] I schal a-voyde the of thi fylthe,
receyvyng the anon vnder my cure.
I schal the bringe in redynesse of tylthe,
So that [thu] schalt thi selff[e] weel assure,
Þat whan thi flesch is laid in sepulture,
Thu schalt be haved up in-to heven blisse;
Eternall myrthës schalt þou neuere mysse."
(2) The chartre of pardon.
[14 stanzas of 7 lines each, ababb, cc.]
(1)
Ihesu, kyng of hie heuen a-bove,
Vnto Michael my chief lieu-tenaunt,
And alle thin ássessourës wich I love,
That in my seruice be perséueraunt
have euermore, and to me ful pleasaunt—
My gretyng;—and, upon the peyne of dreed,
Vnto this present chartre take[th] heed.
(2)
Me hath be-sought, this present ladi here,
Misericorde; and at hire gret instaunce,
And also eek myn ownë modier dere—
That alway redi is, at hire pleasaunce,
ffor synful men to makë purueaunce
Above thei have me bede; wich, of my grace,
Graunted hath, hire prayer have his place.
(3)
Ther be pilgrymës (as thei certifie)
That to meward hire weiës had [i]take,
Wich have mysgon, and erred folily
Be steryng of the foulë bestis blake,
That som of hem hire iourney had forsake,
And efte hire iourney have a-geyn be-gunne,
But sudei[n]gly hath failed him the sonne.
(4)
Some have be lettid be foule temptacïoun
And steryng of hire fleschly wrechidnesse;
So, be disease and tribulacïoun
Thei have [i]falle in-to huge hevynesse;
And somme also to this worldes besynesse
So greuously hire hertës ouersette,
So þat thei have of hire iournéy be lette.
(5)
But thei haue[n] repented wondir sore,
Some of hem, but at hirë lyvës ende;
& somme of hem, a litel what be-fore
Be-gan him selfë somwhat to amende,
In wil theraftir neuer to offende,
But schreven hem of alle hire olde trespace,
And put them self[ë] only in my grace.
(6)
At the instaunce of myn owne modier swete—
To whom I may no maner thing denye,
And mercy also may I nought for-gete;
But vnto hir bone I wil myself applie:—
This grace I graunte them of my Regalye,
That I schal hem receyve vnto my peas;
Of hellë peyne I graunte hem ful relees.
(7)
So thei that han me, Ihesu, mercy cried
Or that the breeth out of the body yeed,
And alle hire wrechid lustys have defied
In veray faith (as techith hem the crede)
So þat ye schal not a-geyn hem procede
As to iuge hem to hellë [bittre] peyne,
But that in this, your rygoure ye restreyne.
(8)
And thow þat hir wikked? wikke. workis counterpeise
hire good[ë] dedës whan thei schul be weye,
So þat the beter part hem selfë reyse
As for defawte of weighte, yit thus I seye
And will, þat [to] this chartre ye obeye,
Wich I have graunted for my modier sake:
To mercy also her have I [i-]take.
(9)
Of tresour of my bitter passïoun,
And of the merite of my modier der—
To whom non othir hath comparysoun—
With merite of myn seintës alle in fer,
That to my biddyng ful obeysaunt were,
Of plente and of superhábundaunce
A forcet ful, wich puttith in the balaunce,
(10)
The countirpeis a-geyn the fendis part,
So that he faile of his entencïoun
To bringë hem, so with his subtile art,
To be iuged [vn-]to dampnacïoun
Withowt ony comfort of saluacioun,
With cursidnesse of alle the synnës sevene,
Syn theSince that, since the time. that he was chased owt of hevene.
(11)
And nought for-thi,—this is not myn entent,—
Ne for this cause my blood ne shadde I nought,
That ony wight in mysgouérnëment
A-bidë schulde, and trust[en] in his thought
That this chart[r]e schulde [him] a-vaile[n] ought
As of this pardon to be partenere,
Or of this grace þat I haue graunted her.
(12)
Therfore, owt of this chartre I excepte
To allë which, vnto hir lyvës ende,
Have euermore in cursed synnës slepte,
Purposyng nowt hire lyvës to amende,
Vpon trust here-of, hem selfë to defende
ffrom hellë peynë, be this present grace,
Alle tho þat schal be exiled fro my face;
(13)
And this also, wich that be obstynat,
and never wil [vn]to my lawe obeye;
This also þat be veray desperat,
That wil no gracë ne no mercy pray,
But right so in hire cursed synnës deye:
To them is due the hotë fier of helle,
With Sathanas eternally to dwelle.
(14)
Wherfore, no man so boldë ne so hardy be,
Trustyng upon this present pardonaunce,
To surfeet or to synne in no degre,
Vpon the trust of fynal répentaunce,
Wich is my gifte; and aftir my pleasaunce
I geve it him þat schul myn mercy crave,
withowt[en] wich, no wight [ne] wil I save.MS. crave.
(3) Cantus peregrinorum.
[5 stanzas of 7 lines each, ababb, cc.]
(1)
Honowred be thu, blissed lord on hye,
That of the blisful maydë were I-bore,
That with thi deth us boughtist myght[i]ly:
Thin ownë flesch and blood, þou gaue us fore,
And for us suffred peynës wonder sore,
Bothe foot and hand [i]nayled to the rode,
And bledest alle thin veray hert[es] bloode!
(2)
Honowred be thu, fadir souereigne,
That vowchedsaff suche raunsom [us] to sende
Thin ownë lovëd sone to suffre peyne,
Oure mysease & myschief [for] to amende!
Thu holigost, þat art withowt[en] ende,
With fadier & sone, one god in trinite,
ffor euere honured be thi maieste!
(3)
And thu, [o] blisful maide & modier mylde,
Thu lady, qween of heven, emperice,
Whom Ihesu chees; and as thi ownë childe
Thow bare, his veray modiere & noryce,
Thu floure of vertue, modiere of delice,
Thu toure of trist, and [trew] tresoure of grace,
honowred mote thu be in euery place!
(4)
Honowred be þou, blissed lord Ihesu,
Suche grace and mercy have we found in the;
Suche godlihede, suche myght & suche vertue,
Whil þat we in purgátory haue be!
Of alle oure peynes, relesed now be we,
Wich long[ë] tyme we have a-byden inne,
But wonder schort, in régard of oure synne,
(5)
With whiche we have the souereyn blisfulheed
fful grevously displeasyd & offended,
In word & werk, & with vnthryfty dede;
But thanked be thu, lord, it is amended;
But now is alle oure noyows laboure ended;
To the we come, as fyne of oure labour,
Whom willeth eueri trewë trauayloure.
(4) What tyme þat the pilgrymes had songyne in this wise, hire aungeles wiche þat led them, ansuerid a-nothir song ful swete & ful delicious, as it sewith: Cantus angelorum.
[5 stanzas of 7 lines each, ababb, cc.]
(1)
All-myghti lord, oure blisful lord Ihesu,
Thu myroure of the fadier in maieste,
In whom is seyn his myght and his vertue,
The welle of witte &MS. & of. wisdaum is in the,
To whom-iswhos. presence now retourned we be
With this pylgrymës which to the we bringe;
To thin honoure ful ioyefully we synge.
(2)
Towardës the, ful longe thei haue trauayled;
Thu wost thi selfe, how thei han be distressed.
The falsë feend so sorë hem asseyled,
And greuously diseased & oppressed;
But be thi grace, his malice was repressed,
And thrughe thyMS. his. mercy weel th[e]i be releved,
And hire entent, fully thei han acheved.
(3)
What laboure & what anguysch have we had,
Sithe þat we took them in oure gouernaunce,
Thu wost Ihesu; and now, [lord,] we be gladde
Of alle þat we have don to thi pleasaunce;
Wherfore thu wilt with reward us auaunce
Suche as the list a-bove[n] in thi blisse;
Eternall Ioye, we schul it neuere mysse.
(4)
Lo, we presente in-to thin hand a-geyn,
alle-myghty lord, þat to vs þou hast betake,
honured be thu, Ihesu souereyn,
Of that we have labóurëd for thi sake,
Of this labourë, now an ende thu make!
Thi crëaturës, vnto thi presence,
Receyve hem of thin heighe benevolence!
(5)
For thow [that] theiMS. thine. han erred or myswent,
Thei have it a-bought with woundës hard & sore,
And purgeid with grete peyne & [with] torment,
And duely to hem was Iugëd therfore,
Alle-thow thei hadde deserued muchë more,
The remenaunt is relessed, of thi grace;
In heven is assigned hirë place.
(5) The aungelys song within.
[7 stanzas of 7 lines each, ababb, cc.]
(1)
Al worshippe, wisdam, welthe and worthinesse,
All bounte, beawte, ioye and blisfulheed,
All honure, vertue, and alle myghtynesse,
All grace & thankyng, vnto thin godheede,
ffrom whom alle grace & mercy doth procede!
Ay praised be thu, lord, in Trinite,
And euere honured be thi maieste!
(2)
That be mankynde oure nombre is encreased,
Of this that longe have be in pilgrymage;
And now is alle hire noyows laboure cessed,
That was be-gonne here first[ë] dayës age.
Here is the port of sekire áryuáge
Honured be thu, blissed lord on hye,
And wolcome be ye to owre companye!
(3)
Now passed be youre perilous auentures,
and alle youre Auenture hath an endë take.
Right wolcome be ye, blissed crëatures!
Tyme it is, þat scrippe & burdon ye forsake,
ffor now ye schal no longere iourne make;
and aftir laboure, tyme is of quiete;
Alle hevinesse & Anguysch is for-gete.
(4)
For ye have don a nobill victory,
And youre labourë nobly díspended,
That so ageyn youre treble enemye
Youre selffë myghtely haue défendid;
And þat ye have mysdon, it is amended
Be sustenaunce of purgatory peyne;
Thanked be thu, [o] Ihesu souereyne!
(5)
In heven blisse, here schul ye be with vs
Vnto the day of fynall iugëment,
To wichë day ye schul a-bydë thus,
And preisë god with al youre hool entent,
While þat youre bodi, be assignëment
Of god, is turned to correpcïoun,
And fully schal haue hire purgacioun.
(6)
For Reasoun [sayeth] wele, & god-is lawe,
That he þat hath don alle his besynesse
(ffor god-is will) youre lustës to withdrawe—
Encombryng yow with muche vnthryftynesse,—
That from þat fowle and wofull wrechidnesse
I-clensid be, and alle renewyd clene
That manere weye, youre flesch is, þat I mene.
(7)
So at the last[ë] day thei schal a-ryse,
And come be-fore that Iugë souereyn,
To yow conioyned in a wondere wise
In a good áccorde withowt ony peyne,
And in this ioye eternally remayne.
What ioye is here, ye schul assaye & see,
Honured be the hey[ë] maieste!
(6) [The Angels' Song. Honour to Jesus.]
[5 stanzas of 7 lines each, ababb, cc.]
(1)
Honured be thu, blisful lord Ihesu,
and preysed mote thu be in eueri place,
So full of myght, [of] mercy and vertue,
Of blisse, of bounte, of piete and of grace!
Who is honurë, may no thing deface;
Who is [ther] that withstondë may thi myght?
But servë the, of fors mote eueri wight.
(2)
Honúred be thu, Ihesu, heven kyng,
That hast be-taken to my gouernaunce
Suche one that hath, a-bove al othire thing,
Abowed to the with lowely obeysaunce,
And loued the with sadde perséueraunce,—
Thi counseil and thin hey comaundëment
Obseruyng with his hertely hool entent.
(3)
He hath nought walked be the wey[ë]s large,
That to the worlde so lusty be, & grene;
But he hath be ententif to thi charge,
ffrom dedly synne to kepe him selfë clene,
And gon to the wey of trauayle & of tene,
Of penaunce and of tribulacïoun,
In grevous formës of temptacïoun.
(4)
So hath he had in erthe his purgatórye,
wich þat he hath susteyned wilfully;
Wherforë, now receyve him to thi glorye,
And take him up in[to] thi blisse an hye,
with the to be in ioye eternally,
In what degre that to him is condigne,
Right as thi selffë liketh to assigne.
(5)
Honoured be thu, Ihesu graciows,
That man became thi selfe, for mannës nede;
And man thu taughtist to be vertuows,
To servë the be veray love & dreed,
Rewardyng hem with blisse for hirë mede
That don hire devoire as thei may & kan:
Thanked be thu, [o] Ihesu, god and man!
(7) A lamentacioun of the grene tree, complaynyng of the losyng of hire appill.
[40 stanzas of 7 lines each, ababb, cc.]
(1)
Ofader god, how fers & how cruel,
In whom the list or wilt, canst þou the make!
Whom wilt thu spare? ne wot I neuere a deel,
Sithe thu thi sone hast to the deth be-take,
That the offended neuere, ne dide wrake,
Or mystook him to the, or disobeyde,
Ne to non othere dide he harm, or seide.
(2)
I had ioye éntiere, & also gladnesse,
Whan þou be-took him me to clothe & wrappe
In mannës flesch. I wend, in sothfastnesse,
Have had for euere Ioyë be the lappe;
But now hath sorwe caught me with his trappe;
Mi ioye hath made a permutacioun
With wepyng & eek lamentacioun.
(3)
O holy gost, þat art alle comfortoure
Of woful hertës that wofullë be,
And art hire veray helpe & counceyloure,
That [eke] of hey vertue shadówist me
Whan þat the clernesse of thi diuinite
So shynyng in my feerful gost alight,
Which that me sore agasted & affright,—
(4)
Whi hast thu me not in thi rémembraunce
Now at this tymë, right as thu had tho?
O whi is it noght [vn-]to thin pleasaunce
Now for to schadwe me as weel also,
That hid from me myght be my sonës woo?
Wherof, if þat I may no counfort haue,
ffrom deth-is strok there may no thing me save.
(5)
O gaubriel, whan þat thu come a place,
And madest vnto me thi salewyng,
And seidist thus: "heil, Mary, ful of grace!"
Whi ne had thu govë [to] me warnyng
Of þat gracë that veyn is and faylyng?
As thu now seest, & sey it weel beforne,
Sith my ioye is me rafte, my grace is lorne.
(6)
O thu elizabeth, my cosyn dere,
The word[ës] þat thu spak in the mountayne
Be ended al in á-nothére manere
Than thu had wened; my blissyng in-to peyne
Retorned is; of ioye am I bareyne;
I song to sone; for I sang be the morwe,
And now at evene I wepe and makë sorwe.
(7)See Minor Poems I, p. 1-8.
O woman, þat among the poepil speke,
how that the wombë blissed was þat bere,
And the tetýs þat gave to sowkë eek
The sone of god, the which þat hongith hire,
What seist þou now? whi comest þou not nere?
Whi art thu not here? a, woman! where art thu,
That noght ne seest my woful body nowe?
(8)
O Symeon, þou seidist me ful sothe,
"the strook þat perchë schal my sones herte,
Myn sowle eek thirle it schal"; & so it doth;
The wonde of deth [ne] may I not astirte;
There may no martirdam me makë smerte
So sore as this martírdam smertith me:
So schuld he sey, þat myght myn hurtë see.
(9)
O Ioachim, a, derë fadir myn,
And thu seint anne, my dere modire also,
To what entent, or to what ende or[MS. of] fyne
Engendred ye, me þat am greved soo?
Mirthe to me is become a veray foo:
Youre fadire dauid, þat an harpowre was,
Conforted men þat stod in hevy cas.
(10)
Me thinkith ye do not to me aright,
that were his súccessoures, sith instrument
Have ye non left, wherwith to hauë light,
And me counfort in my woful turment.
Me to [doon] esë, have ye no talent,
And knowë my counfort[e]les distresse:
Ye aught to wepë for myn hevynesse.
(11)
O blissed sone, on the wil I owt-throwe
My salt[ë] teres; for singulerly on the
My loke is sette. o, thinke how many a throwe
Thu on myn armës lay, and on my knee
Thu sat, & had many a cusse of me;
Also, the to sowke, of my brestis yaf I,
Thé norissching [right] faire & tenderly.
(12)
Now the, from me, withdrawith bitter deth,
And makith a wrong[ful] disseueraunce.
Think þou not, sone, in me þat ony breth
Endurë may, þat fele al this greuaunce.
Mi martirdom, me hath at vtteraunce;
I nedës stervë mot, sith I the see
Shamefully naked, streit upon this tree.
(13)
And this me sleth, that in the open day
Thin hertis wondë schewith him so wide,
That allë men see and be-holde it may,
So largëly, lo, openèd is thi side;
O, wo is me, þat sith I may not hide!
And, among other of my smert[ë] grevës,
Thu art now put also among [the] thevës,
(14)
As thowe, my sone, had be a wiked wight.
And lest þat som men also, perauenture,
No knowleche had of thi persone a-right,
Pilate hath put up thi name in scripture,
That knowë it may eueri crëature,
ffor þat thi penaunce schuld[ë] not be hid.
O, wo is me, þat see alle this beted!
(15)
How may my eynë [þat] be-holde alle this,
Refreynë hem to schewë by wepyng
Myn hert[es] greef? mot I not wepe? o, yis.
Sone, if thu hadist here, fadire lievyng,
Þat woldë wepe and makë weymentyng
ffor cause he had[de] part in thi persone,
That were [a] gret abreggyng of my mone.
(16)
But thu, in erthë, fadir had[dist] neuere;
No wight for the, suche cause hath for to wepe,
As now haue I. schalt thu fro me disseuere,
That art all hooly myn? my sorwes deepe
Have all myn hert-is ioyës leyd to slepe.
No wight with me, in the, my sone, hath part;
Alle holy of my blod, dere child, þou art.
(17)
That dowbleth al my torment & my greef;
Vn-to myn hert it is confusïon,
Thi harme to see, þat art to me so leef.
Myght not this raunsom or redempcïon
Of man, have be withowt effusyon
Of thi blood? Yis, if it had be thi lust;
But what þat it be do, suffre the must.
(18)
O deth, þat so kithest thi bittirnesse,
ffirst on my sone, and afterward on me,
Bittere art thu, and ful of crabydnesse,
That thus my sone hast slayne with cruelte,
And noght me slest! certayn I wil not flee.
Come of, come [of], and slee me here, as blyff;[MS. be lyff]
ffro him departë wil I not a-lyffe.
(19)
O mones, o sterrës, and thou[MS. the] firmament,
how may ye nowe from wepyng yow restreyne,
And see youre crëature in suche torment?
Ye owght, tourbled to be in euery veyne,
And his dispietows deth with me compleyne.
Wepith and crieth as lowde as euere ye may!
Oure crëature with wrong is slayn this day!
(20)
O Sonnë, with thi cleerë bemys bright,
That seest my child nakéd this non-is tyde,
Whi suffrist him [thou] in the open sight
Here of this men, vncovered to abide?
Thu art, as muche or more, holde him to hide,
Than[MS. Tham] Sem þat heled his fadir Noe
Whan he aspyed þat naked so was he.
(21)
If thu his sonë be, do like there-to!
let see with-drawe thi bemës bright[e]nesse:
Þou art to blame, but if þat thu so do.
ffor schame, hide my sones nakidnesse!
Is there in the no droppe of kendënesse?
Remembre, he is thi lord & crëature;
Now covere him for thi worshippe and honoure!
(22)
O erthe, what lust hast thu, so to susteyne
The crosse on which he þat the made, and it,
Is hongëd, and adornëd the with grene
Which þat thu on weredist? how hast thu the qwitte
Vnto thi lord? o, do this for him yitte!
Now qwakë yow for dool, & clevë thu in two,
And alle þat blood, restorë thu me to,
(23)
Which þou hast drunken: it is myn, & not thin.
Or elles thus, with owt[en] tarieng,
Tho bodies deed[ë] which þat in the lyne,
Cast owt: for thei be taste[MS. tasted] of such dewyng
hem owt to clothe[MS. calle hem] a-geyn in hire clothing.
Thu Caluary, art holdë, namëly
So for to do: parde, to the speke I.
(24)
O derë sone, my deth now neighith fast,
Sith to a-nothere thu hast goven me,
Than vnto the; And how may my liffe last,
Þat me gevest to ony othere than to the,
Thow [it] so be that he a virgyne bee?
if thu, be Iuste Balaunce, woldest wey all,
The weight of him & the is not egall.
(25)
He a disciple is; thu art his lord;
Thu alwey art gretterë than he is;
Be-twyn youre myghtis is there gret discorde.
My woful turnement[torment] dowblyd is be this;
I nedës mornë must, & fare a-mysse.
it semith þat thu makist départyng
Of the & me, for ay withowt endyng;
(26)
And,[? MS.] namely, sith thu me but "woman" callest,
As I to the were straunge & al vnknowe;
There-throw, my sone, my Ioyës thu appallest;
Weel fele I thát deth hís vengeábill bowe
hath bent, & me purpósith doun to throwe;
Of sorwe, takë may I not Inowe,
Sith [that] my namë don awey is nowe:
(27)
Wel may men calle or namë me "marra"
FroMS. For. hen[ne]s forth; and so men may me calle.
How schuld I longere be called 'Mária,'
Sith 'I,' which is Ihesus,MS. Sith he the which is called Ihc. is fro me falle
This day, and my swetnesse [is] in-to galle
Turned, sith 'I'MS. he. which was the bëawte,
Lo, of my name, this day beraft is me.
(28)
O Iohn, my derë frende, thu hast receyved
A woful modier; & an hevi sone
have I of the. deth hath myn other veyued:
How may we two the deth eschewe or schone?
We drery wightës two, where may we wone?
Thu art of counfort destitute, I se,
And so am I! o, carefull now be we!
(29)
Un-to oure hertës, deth hath sent his wonde;
Non of vs may allegen othir-is peyne;
So many sorwis in vs two abounde,
We haue no myght fro[MS. for] sorwe vs to restreyne.
I se non othir, but deyë mot we tweyne;
Now let vs stervë here be companye:
Stervë thu there, & right here I wil dye.
(30)
O Aungeles, theï[though] ye mornë, wayle & wepe,
Ye do no wrong; for slayn is youre créatoure,
Be the poepil þat ye were wont to kepe,
To gide & lede: thei to the dedës[death's] schowre
have put him. thow ye have wo & langoure,
No wonder is it: who may blamë yowe?
And most chier he had, of hem þat him slowe.
(31)
O special love, which þat me ioyned hast
Vnto my sone, ful strong is thi knettyng!
This day, there-inne fynde I a bitter tast;
ffor now I tast & felë the streynyng
Of deth, be thi deth: deth fele I me styng.
O purë modier, what schalt thu now seye?
Pore Maryë! thi witte is now awey.
(32)
Maria, nay, but 'marred' I the call;
So may I weel; for þou art, weel I wot,
Vessel of care & woo, & sorwes alle.
Now þou art frosty coold; now fery hoot;
And right as þat a schippe, or barge or boot,
Among the wawës dryveth sternëles,
So dost thu, woful woman counfortles.
(33)
And also of modier hast þou lost the style;
No more may thu be called by that name.
O sones of Adam, al to long[ë] while
Ye tarie hens! hastith hedir for schame!
See how my sonë, for youre gilt and blame,
lo, hangith here, bibléd upon the crosse!
Bymeneth him in hert, in chiere & voysse!
(34)
His blody stremës, se now, & be-holde!
if ye to him have [any] affeccïoun,
Now, for his woo, youre hertës owt[en] colde;
Schewyth youre kendnesse & youre dileccioun,
ffor youre gilt makith he correccioun,
And ámendith right be his ownë deth:
That ye noght rewe on him, myn hert it sleth.
(35)
A, modier, þat so sone hire cotë tare
Or rentë! say ye neuere none or this,
ffor child [the] which [she] of hire body bare,
To yeve hire tete. and my child þat here is,
his cote hath torne, for youre gilt, not for his,
[&] hath of his blood spilt in gret foysoun;
And alle his, lo, for youre redempcïoun!
(36)
My derë childe, my fruyt þat on [me] growed,
Myn lusty appil, blisful faire and sweet,
Now deth hath him be-clapped with his clowde,
That him perced [vn]to the hertë rote.
Go to, thow man, þere thu myght haue thi bote!
Go suke the Iuce! the is no thing so sweet;
Go take thin part! I rede the not for-gete.
(37)
Go nere, & see how þat he is for-bete,
And alle for-persed sore and pietously!
See how there rennë fyvë stremës grete,
That yelde[n] owt the Iuce habundauntly!
Go sowke therof! I say you faithfully,
In good tyme was he bore, þat hath þat grace,
In tho woundes to make his duellyng place.
(38)
O Aduersari, [t]how cruel dryë tree,
To the speke I! nowe hast þou thi entent;
My sweet[ë] fruyt þou hast be-reved me
A-geyn my will, nothing of myne assent.
I se how al to-Raced and to-rent
On the he hongith: is this weel I-doo?
I bare him monethis nyne, but no thing so.
(39)
O cruel tree, sith thu hast thi desire,
Whi wilt þou not, to my fruytScan "to my fruyt" as one measure. be fauorábill,
To saue it hool? but feruentere than the fiere
he fyndeth, & nothing [in thee] agrëáble.
It is to me but alle discountfortáble
To se myn herte attached the vpon,
ffor he & I, oure hert[ë] is but one.
(40)
Now with my fruyt art þou here openly,
That alle the world it may be-holde & see
Restored, which (I sey the sekerly)
Is more of vertue and of dignyte
Than was the fruyt þat spoyled was from the.
Thu hast thi will; thin honoure schal suffise
To the: yelde me my fruyt in goodly wise!
(8) The recordyng of aungeles song of the Natiuite of oure lady.
[7 stanzas of 7 lines each, ababb, cc.]
(1)
HOnured be thu, blisseful lord benigne,
That now vntó man wil be merciáble
As he may se apertly be a signe,
A braunche, þat sprongen is ful profitable,
fful fresch & faire, & heily commendable
Of Iesse-is Rote, þat called is marie,
That schal the blisseful appil fructifie.
(2)
A blisful flour, owt of this spray schal springe;
The fruyt þer-of schal be ful precïous;
A causë haue [we] for to ioye & synge,
In honure of þat maidë gracïous,
That gret comfort schal cause[n] vnto vs;
ffor now schal faste oure company encrees,
And god with man schal makë smallë pees.
(3)
Now be we glad, in honure of this maide,
That schal be modier of the kyng eterne,
Be whom the raunsom fully schal be paid
ffor man, þat loken is in hellë herne.
Now schal we haue no power for to warne
Man for [to] entre in-to paradise;
The lord wil sette him at so highe a price.
(4)
Thu, lucifer, þat list in helle I-bounde,
That whylom were one of oure companye,
This maidë schal the vtterly confounde,
And do the muchë schame & vilanye,
Which Eua hast deceyuëd traytouresly,
And made hire trust[en] on thi fals behest,
Wherby thu hast hire lynage alle arest.
(5)
Thu cursed caitiff! mawgre thi maliceMS. malace.!
fful sone he schal be sette owt of thin hande;
Reseised schal he be with paradise;
Thu schalt not be of powire to with-stande;
But, as an hound þat tied is with a bande,
So schalt thu eternally lyn in thi peyne;
Ne no counfort getist thu, thow þou pleyne.
(6)
To gret distresse & gret desólacioun
A maidë first was déceyvëd be the:
Vnto thi schame and [thi] confusïoun,
A blissed maidë schal thi ladi be.
But weel is him þat schal þat maidë see,
And schal be schent to salue hire, & grete,
And say "heil, mary, maidë faire & sweet!"
(7)
Who euere it be, þat schal do this messáge,
fful weel is him that fyndë may that grace:
It schal him weel suffisë for his wage,
To see þat blissed sweet[ë] lady face.
Now with alle ioyës, myrthë & soláce,
ffor loue of hire honure, we [synge] this day
With alle the songes & myrthës þat we may.
(9) The aungeles song.
[2 stanzas of 7 lines each, ababb, cc.]
(1)
Honured be thu, blisful heuene queene,
And worschepid mot þou be in eueri place,
That modier art, and veari maidë clene!
Of god, oure lord, thu geten hast þat grace.
Thu, cause of Ioyës art, and alle soláce,
Be merite of thi gret humilite,
And by the floure of thi virginite.
(2)
Honured be thu blissed ladi bright!
Be thi persone, embasshëd is natúre;
Of heuene blisse, augmented is the light,
Be presence of so fare a crëature;
Thi worthinessë pasith all mesúre;
ffor vnto thin astate imperiall,
No praisyng is, þat may be peregall.
(10) The aungeles songe in the feste of the Epiphanie of oure lord.
[4 stanzas of 7 lines each, ababb, cc.]
(1)
HOnured be this blissed holy festë day
In worshippe of the sweet[ë] welle of liffe,
With alle the ioyes & mirthë þat we may,
for Crist, the kirke hath chosë to his wiffe;
And fynally abated is þat striffe,
Þat him betwyn, & man, hath longë be;
Honured be this blessed Trinite!
(2)
Owt of this welle, so noble licoure ran,
So faire, so fressh, so lusty, hony-sweet,
That sith this first day þat the world be-gan,
With suche a wellë might[ë] no man mete.
Alle heuynesse & malice is for-gete
As toward man; excused clene is hee;
honured be the blissed Trinite!
(3)
This day, so lowe he wold him self incline,
The thrid[dë] festë with his highe persone
To honure, turnyng watir in-to wynne.
This day was Ihesu baptised of seint Iohn;
The fadir-is voice was herd owt of his trone:
"This is my loued sone, þat liketh me."
honured be the souereyn Trinite!
(4)
And þat he schuld haue recorde Autentyk,
The thrid[dë] persone, on oure lord a-light,
The holy gost, vn-to a dowe I-lyk,
That pleyn[ë]ly was seyn of eueri wight.
Thus blissed hath he watir, god al-myght,
In honure of this [highe] solemnite.
Honured be the blissed Trinite!
(11) the aungeles song on pask day.
[5 stanzas of 7 lines each, ababb, cc.]
(1)
HOnurèd be thu, Ihesu saueour,
Þat for mankendë were do on the rode;
And þerto woldest do vs þat honure,
To fede vs with thi flesche & with thi bloode.
was neuere to vs fleschë halfe so goode;
ffor wonderly oure ioyes it doth renewe.
honured be thu, blissed lord Ihesu!
(2)
Whan thu were died, to hellë þou descended,
And fette hem owt þat [longe] lay there in peyne;
ffor be thi deth, oure mis was alle a-mended.
The thrid day, thu a-roos to lyffe a-geyne
With highe tryumphe, & ioyë souereyn:
As champioun [the chef] of hie vertue,
Honured be þou, blissed lord Ihesu!
(3)
The grevous iourney þat thu took on hande,
hath clerly maad, to eueri wight appere,
In sothfastnesse to see & vnderstonde,—
To þat only was thi talent & thi chiere
So suffisaunt, lo,—that oure raunsoum were
Superhabundaunt over þat was due;
Honured be thu, blisseful lord Ihesu!
(4)
On thursday, a noble soper þou made,
Where thu ordeyned first thi sacrament;
But muchë more it doth oure hertës glade,
The worthi dyner of this day present,
In which þou schewest thi self omnipotent,
Rising from deth to lyve, it is ful trewe:
Honured be thu, blisful lord Ihesu!
(5)
Now for this festë schal we say the graces,
And worthi is, with alle oure diligence,
And thank the here, & [eke] in allë places,
Of thi ful bountevous benevolence,
Thi myght, thi grace, thi souereyn excellence:
Thu art the ground & welle of alle vertue:
Honured be thu, blisfull lord Ihesu!
(12) The song of graces of alle seintes upon Paske day.
[4 stanzas of 7 lines each, ababb, cc.]
(1)
HOnured be thu, blisfull lord a-bove,
That vowchidsaffë this iourny to take,
Man to become, only for man-is love,
And deth to suffre, for my synnës sake;
So hast thu vs owt of the bondë schake,
Of Sathanas, þat held us longe in peyne:
Honured be thu, Ihesu souereyne!
(2)
Full evele I dede, whan I the appil took;
I wend to haue had therbi prosperite;
It satte so ny my sidës, þat thei ooke;
To greet myschief I fill from hey degre,
And alle my issue, for be-cause of me;
Now hast þou, lord, restored all a-geyn:
Honured be thu, Ihesu souereyne!
(3)
So richëly þou hast refresshèd vs,
And vs counfórted with thi feste riall;
So swet a fruyt, & so delicïows,
So faire it is, and so celestiall,
That oure disease now is forgotten all,
This fruyt hath so visíted eueri veyne:
Honured be thu, Ihesu souereyne!
(4)
This may be called weel the fruyt of liff.
The fruyt of deth, was wherof I asaide;
That, be thi Iugëment diffinitiffe,
ffoure thowsande yere I was ful ille araide,
Til þat this fruyt, þat born was of a maide,
haddë reformed: therefor lat vs seyn,
Honured be thu, Ihesu souereyn!
(13) The aungeles song & alle othir seintes in the feste of Pentecost.
[3 stanzas of 7 lines each, ababb, cc.]
(1)
HOnured be thu, holy gost in hie,
That vn-to poeple of so pore astate
hast youe thi grace, to stondë myghtely
Ageyn tyrauntës fiers & obstynate,
ffor to endwe them with thi principate
To leve hire erroure, & hire liffe to amende:
honured be thu, lord, with-owt[en] ende!
(2)
Thu gave hem wete & cunnyng [for] to preche,
And corage for to stand[ë] be the lawe,
Alle maner poepil, to wisshe & to teche,
ffrom vices alle hir lustës to with-drawe,
And of hire lord [&] god to stande in awe,
To his pleasaunce hire hertës to intende:
Honured be thu, lord, with-owt[en] ende!
(3)
This ffischeres alle be ávoyded of slowthe:
ffor blaundisshing, for manasyng, ne for drede,
Thei spared nought, but stodë by the trowthe;
Of peynës & tormént toke thei non heed,
But fayne to see hire heed & hire sides blede,
[aferd] fful myghtly thi lawys to offende:
Honured be thu, lord, with-owt[en] ende!
(14) The pietous complainte of the Soule.
[52 stanzas of 7 lines each, ababb, cc.]
(1)
Blisful lord on heigh, what schall I do,
or in what place may I my selfë hide?
Refute ne wot i non to drawë to.
no doute I must my Iugëment a-byde;
my foo is alwei redy be my side,
me schapyng to appelë and accuse;
I can no worde myn selffë to excuse.
(2)
I am aryved to a perilous port,
ne knowe I nought to whom I may retourne;
I am arrest; now kan I non confort;
mawgre my selfe, right here mot I soiourne;
For my mysshappe, A cause haue I to mourne;
And in my skrippe now fynde I no vetayle,
ne my burdonë doth me nought avayle.
(3)
Burdone ne skrippe may I no lengere bere,
Myne enemy so sore assaileth me;
I holde it best to cast awey this gere,
And shape my selfe preuély for to flee.
O blisful lord, I wis it wele nought be,
And weel þou woot, how þat me hath bywiled
Myne enemy that hath now me defiled.
(4)
Wherfore now I am brought to iugëment,
Sithe I am falle in myschieff and porcert,
Ne I ne may, to myn accusëment,
Ne can nought say but aftir my desert,
And my trespace, that knowë is apert,
If þat I shall myneMS. alle myne réwarde vnderfonge:
Allas! whi have I be synfull so longe.
(5)
But best it is, if reason say me trowthe,
That of some helpe I make me purveaunce;
Parde, some wight on me wil havë rewthe;
Asay I shal; but, for my sustenaunce,
My burdone must I bere for suffisaunce,
For, myght withowt[en] it [ne] haue I none;
I bere it nought; it berith my persone.
(6)
Allas, but I haue now experience
Off wis[ë]dam, my selffë to demeane,
To éxcuse me have I none audience,
And alle my witte availeth not a beane;
Thus is myne hope alle discounfórted clene,
I kan nought do but cryë & compleyne,
That charite nought rekkith of my peyne.
(7)
Whi saith Powle, that othere yiftes alle
Schul failë here, but only charite
A-bydyng is, for he kowdë nought falle.
Whethir this be soth? but nay, as it semith me,
He wold[ë] than myne [good] aduócat be,
And somwhat sayMS. say I to helpë in myne cause,
For I kan nother spekë word ne clause.
(8)
I am adred that charite is deed,
And slayne in erthe, of wikked[ë] men there,
Withowt[en] eyre or issue of hire seed,
Left here on highë:—lo, this is my fere;
And if I wiste that sche on lyvë were,
I wold not spare to callë and [to] crie,
If I hire, in oný place myght a-spie.
(9)
O charite, so good & so gracious!
Thu hast be euere to tho þat have nede!
I that am in this brikë perilous,—
That, in myne schippe, my self[ë] for to fede
Haue I no bred now of thin almësdede,—
Somwhat thu helpe, myn hunger to abate,
Havyng reward vnto my pouer astate.
(10)
I meanë thus: if ony part of grace
Reserued be, in tresoure or ellës where,
That thu, for me purveyë and purchase
Wolde vouchësaff, gret wondere but there were
I-nowgh for me: nought ellës I require;
Do somwhat, than, aftir thi propirte,
And schewe whi thu art cleped charite.
(11)
But now, allas, ful weel I may recorde,
Whil I had myght and space of tyme I-nowgh,
Of this mattere, towchid I no word,
Ne, to seint, I tho my self[ë] drowgh,
That in myne nede for me may spekë now,
As for no service that I have to him do:
Wot I not, whom to make my monë to.
(12)
If I, to ony seint in specïal
Had ony thing [i]forsed myne entent
With ony service, othir gret or small,
I wold me have avaylèd in present;
But thus have I be slowe and necligent,
That I no freend have made, ne no seint pleased;
Wherfore, as now, am I [right ill] disseased.
(13)
To hem am I a straunger and vnknowe;
I knowe nought, to whom I shal my selffe dresse
To askë helpe, as I suppose and trowe,
Ther is none that wold done that besynesse;
And nought for this, I be-hotë expresse,
Vnto hem I will [both] compleyne and crye,
To make my causë knowen openly.
(14)
To the, Ihesu, the sone of god above,
That were of mary, verray maidë, borne
In very flesch and blood, for mannës love,
To the, will I now áppelë beforne,
Syn thu art man, and forthermore
Oure brothir, and a part of ourë kynde:
Good is to us that we thi fauoure fynde.
(15)
This dare I say, sithe that thu wilfully
Where done to deth, only for mannës sake,
And of thi selfe whas none encheasoun whi,
This knowe I weel, þou wilt it nought forsake,
To alle that will vnto thi grace him take,
And askë it: as oftë I haue lerned,
Was neuere yitte none, to whom it was warned.
(16)
This woot I weel, I haue ful sore offendid
Thi maiestes; wherof I me repente.
Ful late it was, or I my selfe amended,
But yitte ne come it neuere in myne entente
To disallowë thi gouérnëmente;
That 'lord and kyng' I have callëd the euere;
Thi lawës also ne forsoke I neuere.
(17)
My scrippe of feithë, haue I nought for-lete,
but hool, right as it was [i]takë me,
I have it kepte; but that no thinges gret[e]
(This knowe I weel) susteigned I for the,
Nor do that I was bound of duëte.
Yitte wote I weel, so gret is nought my synne,
as grace & mercy is, Ihesu withinne.MS. the withinne.
(18)
Away, yit nought, eueri deel that grace
Dispendid is, that tho in thi persone
was plentevous whan, with so pale a face,
For me thu hengë on the crosse alone;
But, for we beggyng wrecchis euerychone
Be procuryng alway for our purveaunce,
Thi grace thu woldest hiden now purchaunce.
(19)
Yitte may we, by the persèd holës well,
And be tho also that large be, & wide,
Behalde and see, that certeyn eueridell
Now spended is, though that thu woldest it hide;
For thowe there ran a Rever from thi side,
That alle the world hath fully ouerflowen,
Thi grace is hool, as euery man may knowen.
(20)
Sithe yitte thi grace is nought dispendid all,
With that thu hast me schewid to the tyme present,
And? Now come, and with the thus argue I schall,
"Sithe it alway hath ben [so] affluent,
Discreasyng nought, ne none appeyrëment
Be-fallith it, thoughe neuere so largëly
Thou yeve it where thu list habundauntly,
(21)
Thu owist to defendë me this day,
kepyng my cause, that stondith al in dowte
A-geyn my foo, with all that euere he may.
Thi grace, me to be-revyn is a-bowte,
And, me for to passen al with-out;
Ful ofte he hath grevèd me here-be-fore,
And hopith now that all I haue forlore.
(22)
Though þat my speche be sownyng to foly,
Yitte, blissed Lord, displease it nought to the,
That to haue spokë of aduócacie,
So that thu schuldest myn aduócat be:
Thu Art the souereigne iuge of equite,
And nought for-thi, to hem that to the truste,
Here aduocat thu art, whan that the liste.
(23)
For, sothe it is, where synne and wrechidnesse
A-boundeth most, there nedeth most[ë] grace,
To tho that askë thë for-gevënesse,
It sittith the nought to wrye awey thin face;
Thi charite will cleyme there is a place:
But this were southe, gret peril must redounde.
Al mortal men with mischief to confounde."
(24)
Now maide & modier, of this worlde Princesse,
So ful of gracë fulfilled thu were
Whan gaubriel his massage gan expresse,
And 'Aue' was resownyng in thin ere,
By wich oure lord, blissed saueoure thu bere,
And of thi blood he took his humanite,—
My cause also I áppele vnto the,
(25)
As aduocate for man, & procuresse
Approovid oftë be experience,
So be myne helpe to ávoide and represse
Myne enemy, wich that be violence
Wold schend[ë] me, but if[? for] thi résistence,
Now be myne helpe, o blisful qwene!
So lat somwhat[? some] of thi grace on me be sene!
(26)
Sith that thi sone and thu of one accorde
Be vearili, (as reason is that ye be),
I, that for dreed vnnethe kan speke a worde,
But tremble as doth a leef vpon a tree,
Thu, ladi ful of merci and piete,
Now must thu be myne helpe and myne socoure
Of refute, in this áuentóurës howre!
(27)
For, but thu wilt my causë [now] defende
A-geyn[ës] him wich is thyne enemy,
that redi is, to greve and to offende
Bothe the, and allë that wolde hertely
The servë, and thi blisful sone also,
he will hem castë in-to hellë dike,
And berith me an hande þat I am him like.
(28)
I ám like, now that I haue done a-mys,
Eternal deth deserued with my dede;
But, gracïous queen[ë] of heuene blisse,
Thu be myne helpe and counfort in this nede,
But I recordë—and this is my dreed,—
That wonder sympillë? synfullye I have the served,
So that I haue no thing of the deserved.
(29)
And nought for-thi, thes burdon is my trest,
In wich I have my solace & my disport;
Of? On this pomel will I my self[ë] rest,
That specially to me geuith gret counfort;
My febill gost it helpith to support,
That is, thi selfë, moder, maide and wiffe,
The sustenaunce and solace of my liffe.
(30)
And I schal neuere trowë ne suppose,
Sithe he, the wich of merci is the welle,
Within thi sidës wold him selfë close,
Right as thi childe, in veari flesch & falle,
That he schuld lete the foulë feend of helle
To execute malice, or elles vengeaunce,
On hem þat the besekë with instaunce.
(31)
There is no lyon, ne cruel lyonesse,
So fiers ne so dispietous of corage,
That hire malice attempren? nil tempren and oppresse
Ne will cessyn of hirë felle corage
To the, that lowëly hem selfe will wage
With mekë hertë to the ground obeye:
Such is the nature, as this clerkës say.
(32)
I am the same that heighli hath mys-wrought
A-geyn thi childe Ihesu, and also the;
Yit knowe I wel that "lyon" is he nought,
Nor thu no "lyonessë" [fiers] may be.
In you there is no malice ne cruelte;
But mercie, pite, goodnessë & grace,
In you thei have hire veray propir place.
(33)
Wherfore I schal the pray[ë] and be-seke,
That thu, a-geyn me, nothing be amoeved,
With lowely hertë sith I my-self meke.
Though þat I have thi sone and the agreved,
Be the is alle my trust to be releuyd,
And that thu schalt my quarell take an hande,
This foulë wightës malicë withstande.
(34)
For weel I wottë, thu wold[est] renome,
As for myne causë, wilt thu nought refuse,
Ne that thi grace thu wilt nought warnë me,
But that thu wilt thin ownë maner vse,
My quarell now to helpë and excuse,
And be my socour in this perilows day,
Chasyng this foulë gost from me a-way.
(35)
For alwey hath he be myn enemy
Sith I was child, and [eke] tendre in yowthe.
Me think thu schuldest let[të] him for-thi
To prócede in his accïon as nowthe,
Or suffre him accusë, thow he cowthe;
Thu schuldest[? He scholdë] nought berë no fals witnesse,
That is him-self conuicte of cursidnesse.
(36)
For sekirly this is the comon lawe,
That he ne schulde non accion procede,
That onës owt of courte hath be with-drawe
Convicte as fals,—now here-to takith hede!
This knoweth wel euery wight (it is no dreed),
Thi sone him banysshed from heuen blisse,
as for enfamed; he and allë his.
(37)
Michael, prouost, on the I take recorde!
Thi selffe dedist this execucïon.
Thow I my selff wolde lyen ony worde,
Yit am I nought of this oppinïon,
To couere so be excusacïon
Of this infame, the malise of my synne:
This were a folës purpoce to be-gynne.
(38)
But this put I in thi discreacïon,
That suche a fals deformèd one as he,
I may refusë be excepcïon,
That this quarel schal nought receyued be
Here in this courte; ne to accusë me
He schuld not be admitted, as be right,
But I-put away, this foulë fals[ë] wight.
(39)
For whi, sere prouost Michael gracïows,
And alle the Aungeles of thi company
That him enfamed, hath foriuged thus,
And fals convictë cleere and openly,
And him [sente] into peyne eternally,
In hellë to be [kepte] without[en] ende,
With tho that so be déformed in kende.
(40)
Ful mek[ë]ly at onës I reclayme
you alle to do your devere in this case:
This cursed gost, whom malice doth enflame,
Here in this court, his malice haue no place:
This aske I you of right, and also of grace,
That ye, his cry & [eke] his bost abate,
Þat he neuére more bere aftir estate.
(41)
Seint Michael, if þou rekkest nought at alle,
Ne nought rewardest [on] myne heuynesse,
Alle manere of hope awey from me is falle,
So am I than encombred with distresse;
For Danyell the prophete seith expresse,
That in his myschief and suche aduersite
He fonde none othir helpe but only the.Dan. x. 13: but lo, Michael, one of the chief princes [angels], came to help me. x. 21: And there is none that holdeth with me in these things, but Michael your prince. xii. 1: And at that time shall Michael stand up, the great prince which standeth for the children of thy people.
(42)
Wherfore, if I haue the displeased ought,
So that of me thu takest now none heed,
Aftir this oure, I mote with alle my thought
The done pleasaunce, for betere I schal spede;
For who þat well be holpen at his nede,
Ful sekere, Placebo mvst go before,
As doth the Crosse in the litel childes lore.
(43)
Baptist, an holy man, martir, seint Iohn,
and alle prophetës of oure lord on heighe,
And ye euaungelistës euerichon,
And also aposteles, alle the company,
With alle myne herte I pray you humb[le]ly,
Of youre meritës superhábundaunce,
As grauntith me of almesse some pietaunce.
(44)
In youre tresoure suche plente is bestowe,
Of wich you nedith nought a deel I-wis,
And lorne it may not be—this weel I knowe,—
Discreasyn may it nought—the sothe it is—
For whi, of almesse-dede (I pray you this)
That I some manere of porcïon may haue,
Where-with I may my self[ë] helpe and saue.
(45)
Ye that haue suffird hard and grevous peyne
Of martirdam, for ihesu crist-is love,
Wich, weel I wottë, was not done in veyne,
Yit merite is youre medë muche a-bove;
I that am pore, and gret[e]ly be-hove,
Of helpe I pray you, and [of] almës-dede,
Of youre meriteis, helpith at this nede!
(46)
And sithë thei schul endëles endure,
Thei wastë nought be dymynucïon:
To me, that am so pore a crëature,
Of almesse grauntith now a porcïon,
I you require, with hool affeccïon,
That blisful that sittith an highe in trone,
Appelith him as töward my persone.
(47)
Ye cónfessourës, and ye othir seintes,
And uirginës þat to Crist be so dere,
Entendith to my pietous complayntes,
Be moevid [now] with rewthe vpon my chiere;
For woman none, the wich that is ful nere
To childe-beryng, so of her peynës dredeth,
As I woot that my iugëment procedeth.
(48)
And if that ye, of youre meriteis grete,
Somwhat departen to so pouere a wight,
ye wil vouchesaff such gracë me to gete,
This foulë gost to putte owt of my sight,
Yitte wolde I hope to Ihesu ful of myght,
Of malice wich he hath a-geyn me spoke,
He schuld beScan "He schuld be" as one measure. atteynt, & alle his barrës broke.
(49)
I have not whom, my selff to turnë to,
In specïal to speke, or elles compleyne,
That may me ony helpe and socoure do,
My symple cause to forthere or susteyne:
That doth me sorë[MS. me sore doth] grevë and constreyne.
The holy Court of Seintës I appele,
Betakyng you my quarell eueridell.
(50)
Ye knowë weel [right] now what is my nede
Ageyn the malice of myne enemy,
Þat is a-bowte to noyë and mysbede
Me, nedi wrecchë: help[ë] me forththi!
Geve audience vnto my pietows cry,
And to my Kyng now reconsilë me,
Schewyng the feruoure of youre charite!
(51)
The relieff of youre excellent merites,
Ye preciows seintës chosen euerichon,
A-geyn the malice of this perilous wites
Wich þat the feend [now] puttith me upon,
Þat whil I was levyng in flesch and bon,
With his disceiptës and his fraudës fele
He drowe me to, & now me doth appele.
(52)
Seint Poule him-selff[ë] writith in this wise,
And saith that "veray parfight charite
Is a thing þat may to muche poepil suffice";
Sche aboundith nought in propirte.
Sithe it behouith, than, in communalte
Among the nedi to be díspended,
Let myne estate somwhat be ámendid!Minor Poems, I, 38/417. Le Sire de Fournivall Tresourer, was appointed of Henry IV's Council on 27 Nov., 8 Hen. IV, 1406.—Proc. Privy Council, i. 295 (ed. Nicolas, 1834). See also Rot. Parl. iii. 572 b.