There is no rose of swych vertu
As is the rose that bar Jesu.
Alleluya.
For in this rose conteyned was
Heven and erthe in lytyl space,
Res miranda°. a marvel
Be that rose we may weel see
That he is God in personys thre
Pari forma.°; like in form
The aungelys sungyn the sheperdes to:
Gloria in excelcis Deo!
Gaudeamus.° let us rejoice
Leve we al this worldly merthe
And folwe we this joyful berthe;
Transeamus.° let us go
forth
At a springe-well under a thorn,
Ther was bote° of bale°, a litel relief; misery
here aforn
Ther biside stant a maide,
Fulle of love ibounde.
Who-so wol seche trewe love,
In hir it schal be founde.
This yonder° night I sawe a sighte: other
A sterre as bright as ony daye;
And ever amonge1 a maidene songe,
"Be, be, lully, lullaye."
This maiden hight Mary, she was full milde,
She knelede bifore here owne dere childe.
She lullede, she lappede° wrapped
She rullede°, she wrapped, turned
She wepped withoutene nay2;
She rullede him, she dressede him,
She lissed° him, she blessed him, comforted
She sange: "Dere sone, lullay."
She saide: "Dere sone, ly still and slepe.
What cause hast thu so sore to wepe,
With sighing, with snobbinge° sobbing
With crying and with scrycchinge,
All this londe-day;° livelong day
And thus wakinge with sore wepinge,
With many salt teres deoppinge?
Ly stille, dere sone, I thee pray."
"Moder," he saide, "for man I wepe so sore
And for his love I shall be tore
With scorging with thretning°, rebuking
With bobbing°, with beting-- mocking
For sothe, moder, I saye--
And on a crosse full hy hanging,
And to my herte foll sore sticking
A spere on Good Fridaye."
This maidene aunswerde owith hevy chere:
"Shalt thu thus sofere, my swete sone dere?
Now I morne, now I muse,
I all gladness refuse--I, ever for this day.
My dere sone, I thee pray,
This paine thu put away,
And if it possibil he may."3
1 "Ever amonge": at the same time.
2 Withoutene nay": assuredly.
3 If it may be possible
I Sing of a Maiden
I sing of a maiden
That is makeles,
King of alle kinges
To here sone she ches.
He cam also stille
Ther his moder was
As dew in Aprille
That falleth on the gras.
He cam also stille
To his moderes bowr
As dew in Aprille
That falleth on the flour.
He cam also stille
Ther his moder lay
As Dew in Aprille
That falleth on the spray.
Moder and maiden
Was never non but she:
Well may swich a lady
Godes moder be.
l''Makeles'': matchless, possibly punning on "mateless."