The synne, whiche that Adam wrought,
Whan he sigh tyme ayene he bought,
And send his Sonne fro the heuen,
Whiche mans sowle hath set in euen,
And hath his grace reconciled,
Fro whiche the man was first exiled,
And in hym selfe so sore fall,
Upon the poynt whiche is befall,
That he ne might him selfe arise.
Gregorie saith in his aprise
It helpeth nought a man be bore,
If Gods Sonne were vnbore.
For than through the first synne,
Whiche Adam whylom brought vs inne,
There shulden all men be lost:
But Christ restoreth thilke lost,
And bought it with his flesshe and blood.
And if we thynken, howe it stood
Of thilke raunson, whiche he paide,
As saynt Gregorie it wrote and saide,
All was behouely to the man;
For that, wherof his woe began,
Was after cause of all his welth,
Whan he, whiche is the well of helthe, The high creatour of life,
Upon the nede of suche a strife,
So wold he for his creature
Take on him selfe the forfeiture,
And suffer for the mans sake.
Thus maie no reason well forsake, That thilke sinne originall
Ne was the cause in speciall
Of mans worship at last
Whiche shall withouten end last.
For by that cause the godhede
Assembled was with the manhede,
In the virgine, where he nome
Our flesshe, and very man become
Of bodely fraternitee,
Wherof the man in his degree
Stant more worth, as I haue tolde
Than he stode erst by many folde,
Through baptisme of the newe lawe,
Of whiche Christe lorde is and felawe,
Through vertue of his might,
Whiche in Mary was alight
To binde mans soule agayne.
And this beleue is so certayne,
So full of grace and of vertue,
That what man clepeth to Iesu,
In clene life, forth with good dede,
He maie not failen of heuen mede;
So that it stont vpon beleue,
That euery man maie well acheue,
Whiche taken hath the right feith;
For elles, as the gospell seith,
Saluacion there maie be none.
A Ditty of the uncertainty of Life, and the approach of
[Mr. Ellis, in his Specimens of Ancient English Poetry, presumes this to have been written about the year 1250.1
WINTER Wakeneth all my care,
Now these leavès waxeth bare:
Oft I sigh and mournè sare,
When it cometh in my thought
Of this world's joy, how it go'th all to nought.
Now it is, and now it n'is,
All so (a) it ne'er, ne were, I wis;
That so many men saith, sooth. it is,
All goeth (b) but Goddis will,
All we shall die, though us like ill.
(a) As if it never had been.
All that grain ne groweth green;
Now it followeth all-by dene: (a)
Iesu, help that it be seen,
And shield us from hell,
For I n'ot (b) whither I shall, ne how long here dwell.
This production seems to be Scottish.
Now bairnes buird, (c) bold and blithe,
To blessen you here now am I bound:
I thank you all a thousand sithe, (d)
And pray God save you whole and sound:
Where'er you go, on grass or ground,
He you govern withouten grieve, (e)·
For friendship that I here have found,
Again my will I take my leave.
Again my will, although I wend,
I may not allway dwellen here;
For every thing shall have an end,
And friendis are not aye y-fere: (ƒ)
Be we never so lief and dear,
Out of this world all shall we meve, (g)
And when we busk unto our bier,
Again our will we take our leave.
And wend we shall; I wot not when,
Nor whither-ward that we shall fare:
But endless bliss or aye to brenn, (h)
To every man is garked yare: (i)
(a) Fadeth quickly. (b) Ne wot-know not. (c) Gentlemen.
For this I rede (a) each man beware;
And let our work our wordis preve, (b)
So that no sin our soul forfare, (c)
When that our life hath taken his leave.
When that our life his leave hath laucht, (d)
Our bodie lieth bounden by the wowe, (e)
Our riches all from us be reft,
In clothis cold our corse is throw: (ƒ)
Where are our friends?
Who wol thee know?
Let see who wol thy soul relieve:
I rede thee, man, ere thou lie low,
Be ready aye to take thy leave.
Be ready aye whate'er befall,
All suddenly lest thou be kiht, (g)
Thou wost ne'er (h) when thy Lord wol call,
Look that thy lamp be brenning bright:
For 'lieve (i) me well but (k) thou have light,
Right foul thy Lord will thee repreve, (1)
And fleme (m) thee far out of his sight,
For all-too-late thou took thy leave.
Now God, that was in Bethlem bore, (n)
He give us grace to serve Him so,
That we may come his face to-fore, (o)
Out of this world when we shall go;
And for to' amend what we mis-do,
(p) In clay ere that we cling and cleave;
And make us even with friend and foe,
And in good time to take our leave.
(e) Woe, (not intelligible.)
(h) Knowest not. (i) Believe. (k) Unless. (n) Born, (0) Before.
(d) Left. Caught. Reprove.
The age of this Author is unknown. A few Copies of his Poem, "The five Wounds of Christ," were lately printed by R. & W. Dean, Manchester, from a manuscript on parchment, of great antiquity, in possession of William Bateman, Esq. accompanied by rude but exceedingly curious cuts, representing, with a suitable hieroglyphic, each of our Saviour's wounds, as described in the corresponding verses. The following extracts are not wholly unpoetical.
COMETH nere, ye folkes tempted in dreyness
With the drye dust of thys erthly galle,
Resorte anone, wyth alle your vysages,
To the V stremes, flowen over alle
With precious payment for us in generalle;
Make no delaye, who lyst cum nere and drynke,
And fylle alle your hertys up unto the brynke.
The Wound in Christ's side.
HAYLE, Welle and Condyte of everlastyng lyffe,
Thorow launced so ferre wythyn my Lorde's syde;
The flodys out-trayling most aromatyf;
Hayle, precious hert, wounded so large and wyde;
Hayle, trusty trew-love, our joy to provide;
Hayle, porte of glorie, with paynes alle embrued,
On alle y-sprynklyde lyke purple dew enhuede.
My gracious Lorde, I cry with humble hert,
Let it not slyde out of thy remembrans,
That for my loue thou sufferde alle that smert,
With ardent loue and compassyfe greuance,
Which to me, in every perturbance,
Is chyef refuge, when thereon I may thynke;
Now, Iesu, graunt that I therof may drynke.
My Soveryn Tesu, most comfortable,
Receyve to the my poore peticion;
And whereas I of synne am most culpable,
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