Purpose I have fometime for to enquere
Wherefore and why the Holy Ghoft the fought;
When Gabriel'is voice come to thine ere
He not to werre us swich a wondir wrought,
But for to fave us that he fithin bought;
Then nedith us no wepon us to fave,
But onely there we did not as us ought
Do penitence, and mercy afke and have.
Quene of comfort! right when I me bethinke
That I agiltid have both him and the,
And that mine foule is worthy for to finke,
Alas! I caitife, whedir fhall I fle?
Who fhall unto thine fonne mine menè be?
Who but thine felfe, that art of pitie well?
Thou haft more routh on our adverfite
Than in this world might any tonguè tell.
Redreffe me, modir! and eke me chastise,
For certainly my Fadir's chastising
Ne dare I not abidin in no wife,
So hideous is his full reckining.
Modir! of whom our joy began to spring,
ye mine judge and eke my foul'is lech, For ay in you is pitie abounding To each that will of pity you besech.
Soth is that he ne grauntith no pite
Withoutin the, for God of his godeneffe
Forgivith none but it like unto the:
He hath the made vicaire and maistèresse
Of all this world, and eke govirnereffé
Of hevin, and repreffith his juftife
Aftir thine will, and therefore in witnesse
He hath the crownid in fo royall wife.
Temple devout! ther God chefe his wonning,
Fro which these misbeleved deprivid ben,
To you mine foulè penitent I bring;
Receve me, for I can no ferthir fleen.
With thornis venemous, o hevin Quene!
For which the erth accurfid was full yore,
I am fo woundid, as ye may well fene,
That I am loft almost, it smert fo fore.
Virgine! that art so noble' of apparaile,
That ledift us into the highè toure
Of Paradise, thou me wife and counfaile
How I may have thy grace and thy fuccour,
All have I ben in filth and in errour:
Lady! on that countrey thou me adjourne
That clepid is thine bench of freshè flour,
There as that mercy evir fhall fojourne.
Xpen thine fonne, that in this world alight
Upon a croffe to fuffir his paffioun,
And fuffred eke that Longeus his hert pight,
And made his hert'is blodè renne adoun,
And all this was for my falvatioun;
And I to him am fals and eke unkind,
And yet he will not mine dampnatioun;
This thanke I you, fuccour of all mankind!..
Yfaac was figure of his deth certaine,
That fo ferreforth his fadir would obey
That him ne rought nothing for to be slaine;
Right so thy fonnè list a lambe to dey:
Now Lady full of mercy! I you prey, ›
Sith he his mercy furid me fo large,>
ye not fcant, for all we fing or fay,
That ye ben fro vengeaunce alway our targe.
Zacharie you clepith the opin well
That wifht his finfull foule out of his guilt,
Therefore this leffoun out I will to tell,
That n'ere thine tendir hert we werin spilt.
Now Lady bright! fith that thou canst and wilt,
Ben to the fede of Adam merciable;
Bring us unto that paleis that is built
To penitents, that ben to mercie able.
Explicit.
The Affemble of Foules,
The Cuckowe and the Nightingale,
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