XXXV. CAROL SEQUENCE	[W28–W52]
	INSTRUCTIONS FOR READING 3 I pray yow, syrus, boothe moore and las, Syng these caroles in Cristemas.	[unnumbered in W] sirs; less
5 10 15 20 25 30 35    5 10 15 20 25 30 35    5 10 15 20 25 30 35 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 40 5 10 15 20 25 30 5 10 15 20 25 30 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 40 45 50 55 60 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 5 10 15 20 25 30 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 40 45 50 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 40 45 50 55 60 65 70 75 80 85 90 95 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 40 45 50 55 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 40 45 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 40 45 50 55 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 40 45 50 55 60 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 40 45 50 55 60 65 70 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 40 45 50 5 10 15 20 25 30 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 40 45 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 40 45 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 40 45 50 55 60 65 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 40 45 50 55 60 65 70 75	CAROL 1. TEN COMMANDMENTS Hic incipiunt decem precepta in modum cantalene.1          A, mon! Yif thou wold savyd be,          Foresake thi syn or hit do thee. And love thi God over al thyng, Thi neghbore as thiselfe, I say; Let be your hoth, your false sweryng; In clannes kepe your haleday —                    Leve ye me.          A, mon! Yif thou wold savyd be,          Foresake thi syn or hit do thee. Thi fader, thi moder, thou worchip ay; Scle no mon fore wordlé thyng; Bacbyte no man nyght ne day, Fore this is Godis est and his bidyng —                    Leve ye me.          A, mon! Yif thou wold savyd be,          Foresake thi syn or hit do thee. False witnes loke thou non bere; Dissayte ne theft, loke thou do non; Lechoré thou most foreswere; Here beth comawndmentis, everechon —                    Leve ye me.          A, mon! Yif thou wold savyd be,          Foresake thi syn or hit do thee. Thagh thou be kyng and were the croune, Mon, have mynd of thyn endyng; The wele of Forteune wil tult thee doune, When thou art cald to thi rekenyng —                    Leve thoue me.          A, mon! Yif thou wold savyd be,          Foresake thi syn or hit do thee. Thou schalt acownt, ful sekyrly, Fore al the goodis that God thee send; Howe thou hast geton hom, in wat degré, How thou hast holdyn, hou thou hast spend —                    Leve ye me.          A, mon! Yif thou wold savyd be,          Foresake thi syn or hit do thee. CAROL 2. SEVEN DEADLY SINS De septem peccatis mortalibus.          In wele beware ore thou be woo;          Thenke wens thou come, wheder to goo. Foresake thi Pride and thyn Envy; Thou schalt fynd hit fore the best, Covetyse, Wrath, and Lechory, Yif thou wilt set thi soule in rest —                    I say thee so.          In wele beware ore thou be woo;          Thenke wens thou come, wheder to goo. Glotery, Slouth, al beth acurst; Thai ben the brondis in hel brenyng; Beware betyme or thou be lost; Thai bryng mon soule to evel endyng —                    I sai thee so.          In wele beware ore thou be woo;          Thenke wens thou come, wheder to goo. Agayns Pride, take Buxumnes; Agayns Wrath, take Charité; Agayns Covetys, take Largenes; Agayns Envy, Humeleté —                    I sai thee so.          In wele beware ore thou be woo;          Thenke wens thou come, wheder to goo. Agayns Glotore, take Abstenens; Agayns Lechoré, take Chastité; Agayns Slouthe, take Besenes; Here is a gracious remedé —                    I say thee so.          In wele beware ore thou be woo;          Thenke wens thou come, wheder to goo. Fore his love that youe dere boght, Lerne this lesson, I youe pray; Have this in mynd, foregete hit noght, Fore to heven ther is no nother way —                    I say thee so.          In wele beware ore thou be woo;          Thenke wens thou come, wheder to goo. CAROL 3. SEVEN WORKS OF MERCY De septem opera misericordie.2          Wele is him and wele schal be,          That doth the Seven Werkis of Mercé. Fede the hungeré; the thirsté gif drenke; Clothe the nakid, as Y youe say; Vesid the pore in presun lyyng; Beré the ded, now I thee pray —                    I cownsel thee.          Wele is him and wele schal be,          That doth the Seven Werkis of Mercé. Herber the pore that goth be the way; Teche the unwyse of thi conyng; Do these dedis nyght and day, Thi soule to heven hit wil thee bryng —                    I cownsel thee.          Wele is him and wele schal be,          That doth the Seven Werkis of Mercé. And ever have peté on the pore, And part with him that God thee send; Thou hast no nother tresoure, Agayns the Day of Jugement —                    I cownsel thee.          Wele is him and wele schal be,          That doth the Seven Werkis of Mercé. The pore schul be mad domusmen Opon the ryche at Domysday; Let se houe thai con onsware then, Fore al here reverens, here ryal aray —                    I cownsel thee.          Wele is him and wele schal be,          That doth the Seven Werkis of Mercé. In hongyr, in thurst, in myschif — wellay! — After here almus ay waytyng: “Thay wold noght us vesete nyght ne day.” Thus wil thai playn ham to Heven Kyng —                    I cownsel thee.          Wele is him and wele schal be,          That doth the Seven Werkis of Mercé. CAROL 4. FIVE WITS De quinque sensus.          Thy Fyve Wittis loke that thou wele spende,          And thonke that Lord that ham thee sende. The furst, hit is thi heryng: Loke thou turne away thyne ere Fro ydil wordis, untrew talkyng; The laus of God loke that thou lere —                    Lest thou be chent!          Thy Fyve Wittis loke that thou wele spende,          And thonke that Lord that ham thee sende. The second, hit is thi seyng: Thou hast fre choys and fre wil To behold al wordlé thyng, The good to chese, to leve the ille —                    Lest thou be chent!          Thy Fyve Wittis loke that thou wele spende,          And thonke that Lord that ham thee sende. The third, hit is thi towchyng: Worche no worke unlawfully; Goveren thi fete in thi walkyng Toward heven, and fle foly —                    Lest thou be chent!          Thy Fyve Wittis loke that thou wele spende,          And thonke that Lord that ham thee sende. The forth, hit is thi smellyng: To saver thi sustinans sote of smelle, Let resun thee rewle in thyne etyng; Beware, fore sorfet hit may thee spille —                    Lest thou be chent!          Thy Fyve Wittis loke that thou wele spende,          And thonke that Lord that ham thee sende. The fifth, hit is thi tung tastyng: Thi mete, thi drynke, holsum and clene, Yif hit be lusté to thi lykyng, Then mesuere hit is a mary mene —                    Lest thou be chent!          Thy Fyve Wittis loke that thou wele spende,          And thonke that Lord that ham thee sende. CAROL 5. SEVEN GIFTS OF THE HOLY GHOST De septem dona Spiritus Sancti.          God hath geven of myghtis most          The Seven Giftis of the Holé Gost. Mynd, Resun, Vertu, and Grace, Humeleté, Chast, and Chareté, These seven giftis God geven has, Be the vertu of the Holé Gost to mon onlé —                    Ellis were we lost!          God hath geven of myghtis most          The Seven Giftis of the Holé Gost. Mynd makis a mon himselve to know, And Resun him reulis in his werkis alle, And Vertu makis his goodnes yknow, And Grace is grownder of hem alle —                    Ellis were we lost!          God hath geven of myghtis most          The Seven Giftis of the Holé Gost. Humeleté, pride he dothe downe falle; Chast kepis thee clene in thi levyng; Then Chareté is chef of hem alle; Mon soule to blis he dothe hom breng —                    Ellis were we lost!          God hath geven of myghtis most          The Seven Giftis of the Holé Gost. Have Faythe, Hope, and Chareté; These be the grownd of thi beleve, Ellis savyd thou myght not be; Thus Poule in his pistil he doth preve —                    Ellis were we lost!          God hath geven of myghtis most          The Seven Giftis of the Holé Gost. Thi Faythe is thi beleve of Holé Cherche; Soule, in Hope God hathe hordent thee Good werkis that thou schuld werche, And be rewardid in heven on hye —                    Hellis were we lost!          God hath geven of myghtis most          The Seven Giftis of the Holé Gost. Then Chareté chef callid is he; He cownselis uche mon that is levyng To do as thou woldist me did be thee, And kepe Godis est and his bidyng —                    Ellis were we lost!          God hath geven of myghtis most          The Seven Giftis of the Holé Gost. CAROL 6. DAY OF THE NATIVITY In die natalis Domini.          Welcum, Yole, in good aray,          In worchip of the holeday! Welcum be thou, Heven Kyng, Welcum, ibore in hon mornyng, Welcum, to thee now wil we syng —          Welcum, Yole, forever and ay!          Welcum, Yole, in good aray,          In worchip of the holeday! Welcum be thou, Maré myld, Welcum be thou and thi Child, Welcum, fro the Fynd thou us schilde —          Welcum, Yole, foreever and ay!          Welcum, Yole, in good aray,          In worchip of the holeday! Welcum be ye, Steven and Jone, Welcum, childern everechone, Wellcum, Thomas marter, alle on —          Welcum, Yole, forever and ay!          Welcum, Yole, in good aray,          In worchip of the holeday! Welcum be thou, good New Yere, Welcum, the twelve days efere, Welcum be ye alle that bene here —          Welcum, Yole, forever and ay!          Welcum, Yole, in good aray,          In worchip of the holeday! Welcum be ye, lord and lady, Welcum be ye, al this cumpané, Fore Yolis love, now makis meré —          Welcum, Yole, foreever and ay!          Welcum, Yole, in good aray,          In worchip of the holeday! CAROL 7. DAY OF SAINT STEPHEN In die Sancti Stephani.3          In reverens of oure Lord in heven,          Worchip this marter, swete Sent Steven. Saynt Steven, the first martere, He ched his blod in herth here; Fore the love of his Lord so dere, He sofird payn and passion.          In reverens of oure Lord in heven,          Worchip this marter, swete Sent Steven. He was stonyd with stons ful cruellé, And sofird his payn ful pasiently: “Lord, of myn enmes thou have mercé, That wot not what thai done.”          In reverens of oure Lord in heven,          Worchip this marter, swete Sent Steven. He beheld into heven on he, And se Jhesu stonde in his majesté, And sayd: “My soule, Lord, take to thee, And foregif myn enmys everechon.”          In reverens of oure Lord in heven,          Worchip this marter, swete Sent Steven. Then when that word he had sayd, God therof was wel apayd; His hede mekelé to slep he layd; His sowle was takyn to heven anon.          In reverens of oure Lord in heven,          Worchip this marter, swete Sent Steven. Swete Saynt Steven, fore us thou pray To that Lord that best may; When our soule schal wynd away, He grawnt us al remyssion.          In reverens of oure Lord in heven,          Worchip this marter, swete Sent Steven. CAROL 8. DAY OF SAINT JOHN THE EVANGELIST In die Sancti Johannis apopstole et ewangeliste.4          I pray youe, breder everechon,          Worchip this postil, swete Saynt Jon. Synt Jon is Cristis derlyng dere; He lenyd on his brest at his sopere, And ther he mad hym wonderful chere, Tofore his postilis everechon.          I pray youe, breder everechon,          Worchip this postil, swete Saynt Jon. “Saynt Jon,” He said, “my dere derlyng, Take my moder into thi kepyng; Heo is my joy, my hert swetyng — Loke thou leve not here anon.”          I pray youe, breder everechon,          Worchip this postil, swete Saynt Jon. “Jon, I pray thee, make here good chere With al thi hert and thi pouere; Loke ye to part not in fere In wat cuntré that ever ye goon.”          I pray youe, breder everechon,          Worchip this postil, swete Saynt Jon. “I comawnd youe, my postilis alle, When my moder doth on youe calle, Anon on kynes that ye down falle, And do here worchip therwith anon.”          I pray youe, breder everechon,          Worchip this postil, swete Saynt Jon. “I pray youe al, on my blessyng, Kepe ye chareté for oné thyng; Thenke what I said in your waschyng, Knelyng tofore youe on a stone.”          I pray youe, breder everechon,          Worchip this postil, swete Saynt Jon. “Farewel, now I wynd youe fro; To Jerusalem I most goo, To be betrayd of my fo, And sofir payn and passiown.”          I pray youe, breder everechon,          Worchip this postil, swete Saynt Jon.” “A, my Sun! My Heven Kyng!” Oure lady therwith felle downe, sonyng — This was a dolful departyng! Thai toke here up with gret mon.          I pray youe, breder everechon,          Worchip this postil, swete Saynt Jon. “A, my moder! Me dere derlyng! Let be thi wo and thi wepyng, Fore I most do my Fader bidyng, Ellis redempcion were ther non.”          I pray youe, breder everechon,          Worchip this postil, swete Saynt Jon. “Farewel, my Fader! Farewel, my Chelde!” “Farewel, moder and maid mylde; Fro the Fynd I wil thee childe, And crowne thee quene in heven trone.”          I pray youe, breder everechon,          Worchip this postil, swete Saynt Jon. Swete Saynt Jon, to thee we pray, Beseche that Lord, that best may, When our soulis schal wynd away, He grawnt us al remyssion!          I pray youe, breder everechon,          Worchip this postil, swete Saynt Jon. CAROL 9. DAY OF THE HOLY INNOCENTS In die Sanctorum Innocencium.          With al the reverens that we may,          Worchip we Childermasday. Crist crid in cradil, “Moder, ba, ba!” The childer of Isral cridyn, “Wa, wa!” Fore here merth hit was aga When Erod fersly cowth hem fray!          With al the reverens that we may,          Worchip we Childermasday. Al knavechilder with two yere Of age in Bedlem, fere or nere, Thai chedyn here blod with swerd and spere — Alas, ther was a rewful aray!          With al the reverens that we may,          Worchip we Childermasday. An hunderd and fourté thousand ther were; Crist ham cristynd, al in fere, In eor blod, and were martere, Al clene vergyns — hit is no nay!          With al the reverens that we may,          Worchip we Childermasday. The crisum-childer to Crist con cry: “We beth slayne fore gret envy! Lord, venge our blod fore thi mercy, And take our soulis to thee, we pray!”          With al the reverens that we may,          Worchip we Childermasday. An hevenlé voys answerd agayn: “Abyd awyle, and sofer your payn Hent the nowmbir be eslayn Of your breder, as I you say.”          With al the reverens that we may,          Worchip we Childermasday. Fore ye han sofird marterdom For Cristis sake, al and sum, He wil youe crowne in his kyngdam, And folou the Lomb in joy for ay.          With al the reverens that we may,          Worchip we Childermasday. CAROL 10. SAINT THOMAS ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY De sancto Thome archiepiscopo Cantuarienci.5          I pra you, seris, al in fere,          Worchip Seynt Thomas, this holé marter. For on a Tewsday, Thomas was borne, And on a Tuysday, he was prest schorne, And on a Tuysday, his lyve was lorne, And sofyrd martyrdam with myld chere.          I pra you, seris, al in fere,          Worchip Seynt Thomas, this holé marter. Fore Holé Cherche ryght ale hit was — Ellis we had then songyn “alas!” — And the child that unborne was Schul have boght his lyve ful dere.          I pra you, seris, al in fere,          Worchip Seynt Thomas, this holé marter. Ther prestis were thral, he mad hem fre, That no clerke hongid schuld be, Bot eretyk, or fore traytré, Yif oné seche case fal ther were.          I pra you, seris, al in fere,          Worchip Seynt Thomas, this holé marter. Then no child criston schuld be, Ne clerke take ordere in no degré, Ne mayde mared in no cuntré, Without trebeut in the kyng dangere.          I pra you, seris, al in fere,          Worchip Seynt Thomas, this holé marter. Thus Holé Cherche he mad fre; Fore fyfté poyntis he dyed, treuly; In heven worchipt mot he be, And fader and moder him gete and bere!          I pra you, seris, al in fere,          Worchip Seynt Thomas, this holé marter. CAROL 11. DAY OF THE LORD'S CIRCUMCISION In die circumcicionis Domini.          What tythyngis bryngst us, messangere,          Of Cristis borth this New Eris Day? A Babe is borne of hye natewre, A Prynce of Pese that ever schal be; Off heven and erthe he hath the cewre; Hys lordchip is eterneté!          Seche wonder tythyngis ye may here —          What tythyngis bryngis thee, messangere? —                    That God and Mon is hon in fere;                    Hour syn had mad bot Fyndis pray!          What tythyngis bryngst us, messangere,          Of Cristis borth this New Eris Day? A semlé selcouth hit is to se — The burd that had this Barne iborne, This Child conseyvyd in he degré, And maydyn is as was beforne!          Seche wonder tydyngus ye mow here          Of Cristis borth this New Eris Day,                    That maydon and modur ys won yfere,                    And lady ys of hye aray!          What tythyngis bryngst us, messangere,          Of Cristis borth this New Eris Day? A wonder thyng is now befall — That Lord that mad both se and sun, Heven and erth, and angelis ale, In monkynde ys now becumme!          Whatt tydyngus bryngis us, messangere,          Of Cristis borth this New Eris Day?                    A faunt that is bot of on yere,                    Ever as ben and schal be ay!          What tythyngis bryngis thou, messangere,          Of Cristis borth this New Eris Day? Thise lovelé ladé con grete here Chylde: “Hayle, Sun! Haile, Broder! Haile, Fader dere!” “Haile, doghter! Haile, suster! Haile, moder myld!” — This haylsyng was on coynt manere!          Seche wonder tythyngis ye may here          Of Cristis borth this New Eris Day —                    This gretyng was of so he chere                    That mans pyne, hit turnyd to play!          What tythyngis bryngst us, messangere,          Of Cristis borth this New Eris Day? That Lord, that al thyng mad of noght, Is Mon becum fore mons love; Fore with his blood, he schul be boght From bale to blys that is above!          Seche wonder tythyngis ye may here          Of Cristis borth this New Eris Day!                    That Lord us grawnt now our prayoure                    To twel in heven that we may;          Seche wonder tythyngis ye may here          Of Cristis borth this New Eris Day! CAROL 12. KING HENRY VI De rege nostro Henrico Sexto.          A, perles Pryns, to thee we pray,          Save our kyng both nyght and day! Fore he is ful yong, tender of age, Semelé to se, o bold corage, Lovelé and lofté of his lenage, Both perles prince and kyng veray!          A, perles Pryns, to thee we pray,          Save our kyng both nyght and day! His gracious granseres and his grawndame, His fader and moder, of kyngis thay came; Was never a worthear prynce of name, So exelent in al our day.          A, perles Pryns, to thee we pray,          Save our kyng both nyght and day! His fader fore love of mayd Kateryn, In Fraunce he wroght turment and tene; His love, hee sayd, hit schuld not ben, And send him ballis him with to play.          A, perles Pryns, to thee we pray,          Save our kyng both nyght and day! Then was he wyse in wars withalle, And taght Franchemen to plai at the balle — With tenés hold, he ferd ham halle! — To castelles and setis thi floyn away.          A, perles Pryns, to thee we pray,          Save our kyng both nyght and day! To Harflete a sege he layd anon, And cast a bal unto the towne; The Frenchemen swere be se and sun, Hit was the Fynd that mad that fray.          A, perles Pryns, to thee we pray,          Save our kyng both nyght and day! Anon thai toke ham to cownsele; Oure gracious kyng thai wold asayle; At Agyncowrt, at that patayle, The floure of Frawnce he fel that day.          A, perles Pryns, to thee we pray,          Save our kyng both nyght and day! The Kyng of Frawns then was agast — Mesagers to him send in hast — Fore wele he west hit was bot wast Hem to witstond in honé way.          A, perles Pryns, to thee we pray,          Save our kyng both nyght and day! And prayd hym to sese of his outrage, And take Kateryn to mareage; Al Frawnce to him schuld do homage, And croune him kyng afftyr his day.          A, perles Pryns, to thee we pray,          Save our kyng both nyght and day! Of Frawnce he mad him anon regent, And wedid Kateren in his present; Into Englond anon he went, And cround our quene in ryal aray.          A, perles Pryns, to thee we pray,          Save our kyng both nyght and day! Of Quen Kateryn our kyng was borne, To save our ryght that was forelorne, Oure faders in Frawns had won beforne; Thai han hit hold moné a day.          A, perles Pryns, to thee we pray,          Save our kyng both nyght and day! Thus was his fader a conqueroure, And wan his moder with gret onoure; Now may the kyng bere the floure Of kyngis and kyngdams in uche cuntré.          A, perles Pryns, to thee we pray,          Save our kyng both nyght and day! On him schal fal the prophecé, That hath ben sayd of Kyng Herré: The holé cros wyn or he dye, That Crist halud on Good Fryday.          A, perles Pryns, to thee we pray,          Save our kyng both nyght and day! Al wo and werres he schal acese, And set alle reams in rest and pese, And turne to Cristyndam al hethynes — Now grawnt him hit so be may!          A, perles Pryns, to thee we pray,          Save our kyng both nyght and day! Pray we that Lord is Lord of alle To save our kyng his reme ryal, And let never myschip uppon him falle, Ne false traytoure him to betray.          A, perles Pryns, to thee we pray,          Save our kyng both nyght and day! I pray youe, seris, of your gentré, Syng this carol reverently, Fore hit is mad of Kyng Herré — Gret ned fore him we han to pray!          A, perles Pryns, to thee we pray,          Save our kyng both nyght and day! Yif he fare wele, wele schul we be, Or ellis we may be ful soré, Fore him schal wepe moné an e — Thus prophecis the Blynd Awdlay.          A, perles Pryns, to thee we pray,          Save our kyng both nyght and day! CAROL 13. FOUR ESTATES Fac ad quod venisti.          Hit is the best, erelé and late,          Uche mon kepe his oun estate. In wat order or what degré Holé Cherche hath bownd thee to, Kepe hit wele, I cownsel thee; Dissire thou never to go therfro.          I say, allegate,     Hit is the best, erelé and late,     Uche mon kepe his oun estate. A hye worchip hit is to thee To kepe thi state and thi good name, Leud or lered, werehere hit be, Ellis God and mon, thay wol thee blame.          I say, algate,     Hit is the best, erelé and late,     Uche mon kepe his oun estate. Fore four obisions now schul ye here That God hatis hilé in his syght: A hardé prest, a proud frere, An hold mon lechoure, a couard knyght.          I say, algate,     Hit is the best, erelé and late,     Uche mon kepe his oun estate. A prest schuld scheu uche mon mekenes, And leve in love and charité; Throgh his grace and his goodnes, Set al other in unité.          I say, algate,     Hit is the best, erelé and late,     Uche mon kepe his oun estate. A frere schuld love alle holenes, Prayers, penans, and poverté; Relegious men, Crist hem ches To foresake pride and vaynglory.          I say, algate,     Hit is the best, erelé and late,     Uche mon kepe his oun estate. An hold mon schuld kepe him chast, And leve the synne of lechoré; Al wedid men schuld be stedfast, And foresake the syn of avowtré.          I sai, algate,     Hit is the best, erelé and late,     Uche mon kepe his oun estate. A knyght schuld feght agayns falsnes, And schew his monhod and his myght, And mayntene trouth and ryghtwysnes, And Holé Cherche and wedowes ryght.          I say, algate,     Hit is the best, erelé and late,     Uche mon kepe his oun estate. Here be al the foure astatis In Holé Cherche God hath ordent; He bedis you kepe hem wel, alegate — Wosever he chomys, he wyl be schent!          I say, algate,     Hit is the best, erelé and late,     Uche mon kepe his oun estate. CAROL 14. CHILDHOOD Cantalena de puericia.          And God wold graunt me my prayer,          A child agene I wold I were! Fore pride in herte, he hatis alle one; Worchip ne reverens kepis he non; Ne he is wroth with no mon — In chareté is alle his chere!          And God wold graunt me my prayer,          A child agene I wold I were! He wot never wat is envy; He wol uche mon fard wele him by; He covetis noght unlaufully — Fore cheré stons is his tresoure.          And God wold graunt me my prayer,          A child agene I wold I were! In hert he hatis lechori — To here therof he is sory! — He sleth the syn of gloteré, Nother etis ne drynkis bot fore mystere.          And God wold graunt me my prayer,          A child agene I wold I were! Slouth he putis away, algate, And wol be besé erlé and late — Al wyckidnes thus he doth hate, The seven dedlé synus al in fere.          And God wold graunt me my prayer,          A child agene I wold I were! A gracious lyfe, forsothe, he has — To God ne mon doth no trespas — And I in syn fal, alas, Everé day in the yere!          And God wold graunt me my prayer,          A child agene I wold I were! My joy, my myrth is fro me clene — I turne to care, turment, and tene — Ded I wold that I had bene When I was borne, and layd on bere —          And God wold graunt me my prayer,          A child agene I wold I were! Fore better hit were to be unboren, Then fore my synus to be forelorne, Nere grace of God that is beforne, Almysdede, and holé prayere!          And God wold graunt me my prayer,          A child agene I wold I were! Now other cumford se I non Bot schryve me clene with contricion, And make here trew satisfaccion, And do my penans wyle Y am here —          And God wold graunt me my prayer,          A child agene I wold I were! CAROL 15. DAY OF EPIPHANY     In die Epephanis &c.          Nowel! Nowel! Nowel! Ther is a Babe born of a may     In salvacion of us; That he be heryd in this day,     Vene, Creatore Spiritus.          Nowel! Nowel! Nowel! In Bedlem, in that fayre plas,     This blessid Barne, borne He was, Him to serve, God grawnt us grace,     Tu Trinetatis Unitas.          Nowel! Nowel! Nowel! The angelis to chepardis songyn and sayd:     “Pes in erth be mon unto!” — Therwith thai were ful sore afrayd —     “Glorea in exelsis Deo!”          Nowel! Nowel! Nowel! The chepardis hard that angel song;     Thai heredon God in Treneté; Moche merth was ham among,     Iam lucis ortus sidere.          Nowel! Nowel! Nowel! Thre kyngis thai soght him, herefore,     Of dyvers lond and fere cuntré, And askidyn were this Barne was bore,     Hostes Herodes impii.          Nowel! Nowel! Nowel! He bad ham go seche this Barne:     “Anon this way to me he come, That I may do hym worchip beforne,     Deus Creator omnium.”          Nowel! Nowel! Nowel! The stere apered here face beforne —     That gladid here hertes ful graciously! — Over that plase this Babe was born,     Jhesu Salvotor seculi.          Nowel! Nowel! Nowel! Thai knelid adowne with gret reverens;     Gold, sens, and myr, thai offerd him to; He blessid ham ale that were present,     Jhesu nostra Redempcio          Nowel! Nowel! Nowel! The gold betokens he was a Kyng;     The sens, a Prest of dyngneté; The myr betokynth his bereyng,     Magne Deus potencie.          Nowel! Nowel! Nowel! The angel hem wernyd in here slepyng     At Erod the kyng thai schuld not cumme: “That Babe you bade on his blessyng,     Christe Redemptore omnium.”          Nowel! Nowel! Nowel! Thai turnyd then another way     Into kyngdom ful graciously; Then thai begonon to syng and say,     “Salvator mundy Domine.”          Nowel! Nowel! Nowel! CAROL 16. SAINT ANNE MOTHER OF MARY De Sancta Anna matre Marie.          The moder of Mary, that merceful may,          Pray fore us both nyght and day! Swete Saynt Anne, we thee beseche, Thou pray fore us to oure laday, That heo wel be oure soulis leche, That day when we schul dey.          Herefore we say —     The moder of Mary, that merceful may,     Pray fore us both nyght and day! Throgh thee was gladid alle this word When Maré of thee borne was, That bere that Barne, that blisful Lord, That grawntis us al mercé and grace.          Herefore we say —     The moder of Mary, that merceful may,     Pray fore us both nyght and day! Baren thou were ful long before, Then God he se to thi mekenes, That thou schuldist delyver that was forelore, Mon soule that lay in the Fyndis distres.          Herefore we say —     The moder of Mary, that merceful may,     Pray fore us both nyght and day! Fore Joachym, that holé housbond, Prayyd to God ful paciently That he wold send his swete sond, Sum froyte betwene you two to be.          Herefore we say —     The moder of Mary, that merceful may,     Pray fore us both nyght and day! Then God hem grawntid graciously Betwene youe two a floure schul spryng, The rote therof is clepid Jesse, That joye and blis to the word schal beryng.          Herefore I say —     The moder of Mary, that merceful may,     Pray fore us both nyght and day! The blisful branche this floure on greue, Out of Jesse, at my wettyng, Was Maré myld that bere Jhesu, Maydyn and moder to Heven Kyng.          Herefore I say —     The moder of Mary, that merceful may,     Pray fore us both nyght and day! Icallid Jhesus of Nazaret, God Sun of hi degré, As here as Mon that sofyrd deth, And rynyd into Davit dygneté.          Herefore I say —     The moder of Mary, that merceful may,     Pray fore us both nyght and day! In Bedlem, in that blessid place, Maré myld this Floure hath borne Betwene an ox and an as, To save his pepil that was forelorne.          Herefore I say —     The moder of Mary, that merceful may,     Pray fore us both nyght and day! Mater, ora Filium, That he wyl affter this outleré Nobis donet gaudium Sine fyne, fore his mercé.          Herefore I say —     The moder of Mary, that merceful may,     Pray fore us both nyght and day! CAROL 17. JESUS FLOWER OF JESSE’S TREE Alia cantalena de Sancta Maria.     There is a Floure sprung of a tre,     The rote therof is called Jesse —          A Floure of pryce!     Ther is non seche in paradise! This Flour is fayre and fresche of heue;     Hit fadis never, bot ever is new; The blisful branche this Flour on grew     Was Maré myld that bare Jhesu —             A Flour of grace!     Agayns al sorow hit is solas!          There is a Floure sprung of a tre,          The rote therof is called Jesse —             A Floure of pryce!          Ther is non seche in paradise! The Sede hereof was Godis sond,     That God himselve sew with his hond; In Bedlem, in that Holé Lond,     In medis here herbere ther he hir fond.6             This blisful Floure     Sprang never bot in Maris boure!          There is a Floure sprung of a tre,          The rote therof is called Jesse —             A Floure of pryce!          Ther is non seche in paradise! When Gabrael this mayd met,     With “Ave, Maria,” he here gret; Betwene hem two this Flour was set,     And kept was, no mon schul wit,             Hent on a day     In Bedlem, hit con spred and spray.          There is a Floure sprung of a tre,          The rote therof is called Jesse —             A Floure of pryce!          Ther is non seche in paradise! When that Floure began to sprede,     And his blossum to bede, Ryche and pore of everé sede,     Thai marvelt hou this Flour myght sprede!             Til kyngys thre     That blesful Floure come to se.          There is a Floure sprung of a tre,          The rote therof is called Jesse —             A Floure of pryce!          Ther is non seche in paradise! Angelis ther cam out of here toure     To loke apon this freschelé Floure — Houe fayre he was in his coloure,     And hou sote in his savour! —             And to behold     How soche a Flour myght spryng in golde!          There is a Floure sprung of a tre,          The rote therof is called Jesse —             A Floure of pryce!          Ther is non seche in paradise! Of lillé, of rose of ryse,     Of prymrol, and of flour-de-lyse, Of al the flours at my devyse,     Thet Floure of Jesse yet bers the prys,             As most of hele     To slake oure sorous everedele!          There is a Floure sprung of a tre,          The rote therof is called Jesse —             A Floure of pryce!          Ther is non seche in paradise! I pray youe, flours of this cuntré,     Whereevere ye go, wereever ye be, Hold hup the Flour of good Jesse,     Fore your freschenes and youre beuté,             As fayrist of al,     And ever was and ever schal!          There is a Floure sprung of a tre,          The rote therof is called Jesse —             A Floure of pryce!          Ther is non seche in paradise! CAROL 18. JOYS OF MARY Et alia de Sancta Maria.          “Ave, Maria,” now say we so,          Moder and maydon was never non mo! Gaude, Maria, Cristis moder, Maré, moder of thyn Emne, Thou bare my Lord. Thou bare my Broder. Thou bare a cumlé Child and clene. Thou stodist ful stil, without wene, When in thyn ere this erand was doo. When gracious God thee lyght within,                    Gabrielis nuncio.          “Ave, Maria,” now say we so,          Moder and maydon was never non mo! Gaude, Maria, Y gret with grace. When Jhesu, thi Sun, of thee was bore, Fol nygh thi brest thou con him brace. He secud. He soukid. He wept ful sore. Thou fedist that Flour that never schal fade With maydns melke, and sang therto: “Lolay, my Swete! I bare thee, Babe,                    Cum peudoris lilleo.”          “Ave, Maria,” now say we so,          Moder and maydon was never non mo! Gaude, Maria, thi myght was away, When Crist thi Son on cros con dye, Ful dolfully on Good Fryday, That moné a moder sone hit se. His blod us boght fro care and strive. His wateré wondis us waschid fro wo. The thryd day fro deth to lyve,                    Fulget resureccio!          “Ave, Maria,” now say we so,          Moder and maydon was never non mo! Gaude, Maria, thou burd so bryght, Breghter then the blossum that blomyth on the hill, Ful joyful thou were to se seche a syght, And al the postilis so swet of wil, Fore, al and sum, thai stod ful stil, When, fayrst of chap, he swond youe fro7 — Fro erthe to heven he styud ful stil,                    Motu fertur proprio.          “Ave, Maria,” now say we so,          Moder and maydon was never non mo! Gaude, Maria, that Rose on ryse — Moder and maid, gentil and fre, Precious, perrles, princes of pes, Thi boure is next the Trineté — Thi Sun as Love al knon of kynd, Thi bodé and soule he toke him to. Thou restist with him ther, as we fynd,                    In celi palacio.          “Ave, Maria,” now say we so,          Moder and maydon was never non mo! CAROL 19. MARY FLOWER OF WOMEN Et de Sancta Maria.          Heyle, of wymmen flour of alle,          Thou herst us when we to thee calle! Blessid mot thou be, thou berd so bryght, Moder and maidon most of myght, Thou art the ster of days lyght, And kepust us when we schul falle.          Heyle, of wymmen flour of alle,          Thou herst us when we to thee calle! Of alle berdis that ever was boren, Blessid mot thou be both even and morn; Throgh thee were savyd that were forelorne, Moné on beth gret and smale.          Heyle, of wymmen flour of alle,          Thou herst us when we to thee calle! “Hayle” to thee was swettlé sayd When Jhesu in thee he was consayved, And throgh thee was the Fende afrayd — Thou madist us fre to make him thralle!          Heyle, of wymmen flour of alle,          Thou herst us when we to thee calle! Hayle, chif chosun garbunkul ston, Of thee was borne both God and Mon; When synful mon he makis his mon, To him thou art treu as ston in wal.          Heyle, of wymmen flour of alle,          Thou herst us when we to thee calle! Haile, be thou quene, emperes of hel, Of al peté, thou arte the wel. We prayn thee, dame and damesel, That thou bryng us into thi hal.          Heyle, of wymmen flour of alle,          Thou herst us when we to thee calle! CAROL 20. CHASTITY FOR MARY’S LOVE De virginitate.          For the love of a maydon fre,          I have me choson to chastité! Blessid mot be oure heven quene, Fore vergyn and maydyn sheo was ful cleene. Soche another was never yer sene, That so wel kept here virgynyté.          For the love of a maydon fre,          I have me choson to chastité! In word, in will, in dede, in thoght, Here maydehood defowled sheo noght; Therfore the Lorde that here hade wroght Wolde be boron of hyr body.          For the love of a maydon fre,          I have me choson to chastité! Tofore alle maydenes, to hyr he ches Fore here clannes and here mekenes; Fore mon soule heo schuld reles Ever fro the Fynd and his pousté.          For the love of a maydon fre,          I have me choson to chastité! Seynt Kateryn and Marget and Wynfred, That lovyd ful wel here maydhed, The sofird to smyte of here hede, Fore defouled wold thai not be.          For the love of a maydon fre,          I have me choson to chastité! Therfore thai be in heven blis, Where murth and melodé ever ther ys, And soo shal all maydons, ywys, That kepon heore worder and here degré.          For the love of a maydon fre,          I have me choson to chastité! Thai foloun our lady with gret reverens, And don here servys in here presens, Fore agayns the Fynd thai made defense With the swerd of chastité.          For the love of a maydon fre,          I have me choson to chastité! CAROL 21. VIRGINITY OF MAIDS Cantalena de virginibus.          I pray youe, maydys that here be,          Kepe your state and your degré. In word, in dede, in wyl, in thoght, Your maydynhede defoule ye noght, Lest to blame that ye ben broght, And lese your state, your honesté.          I pray youe, maydys that here be,          Kepe your state and your degré. An undurmarke Crist con you lene To marc with — kepe hit clene! Yif ye hit tame, hit wil be sene, Do ye never soo prevely.          I pray youe, maydys that here be,          Kepe your state and your degré. Of that tresour men ben ful fayne, And al here love on youe thai layne, And moné a pené fore hit thai payne, Both selver and gold, lond and fe.          I pray youe, maydys that here be,          Kepe your state and your degré. Yif that tresoure ye don hit tame, When hit is knowyn, ye wil have chame — Oft therfore ye berne gret blame, Never on be other ware wil be.          I pray youe, maydys that here be,          Kepe your state and your degré. Nad that tresoure bene ewroght, To blis we had not bene ebroght; Hit faylis never, ne fadis noght; Ever to mon, hit is redy.          I pray youe, maydys that here be,          Kepe your state and your degré. Yif ye kepyn wele that tresoure, Hit schal you bryng to hie honoure; Thagh ye be fayre, of freche coloure, Beuté is noght without bonté.          I pray youe, maydys that here be,          Kepe your state and your degré. Trewly, nyer that tresoure were, Of men ye schuld have febul chere; Avyse you whom ye lene hit here, Yif ye ben begild, that blame not me.          I pray youe, maydys that here be,          Kepe your state and your degré. Fore other cownsel nedis youe non, Then doth therafter, everechon, Fore this tresoure has holpyn moné hone; Hit marys maydis uche cuntré.          I pray youe, maydys that here be,          Kepe your state and your degré. CAROL 22. CHASTITY OF WIVES De matrimonio mulierum.          Avyse youe, wemen, wom ye trust,          And beware of “had-I-wyst.” Hit is ful hevé, chastité, With moné maydyns nowoday, That lovyn to have gam and gle — That turnes to sorowe, sothly to say! —                    Alle day thou sist!          Avyse youe, wemen, wom ye trust,          And beware of “had-I-wyst.” Now yif a womon mared schal be, Anon heo schal be boght and solde, Fore no love of hert, truly, Bot fore covetyse of lond ore gold —                    Al day thou seest!          Avyse youe, wemen, wom ye trust,          And beware of “had-I-wyst.” Bot thus Godis low and his wil wolde Even of blod, of good, of ache, Fore love togeder thus com thai schuld, Fore this makis metlé mareache —                    Ale day thou seest!          Avyse youe, wemen, wom ye trust,          And beware of “had-I-wyst.” And the froyt that coms hom betwene, Hit schal have grace to thryve and the; Ther other schal have turment and tene, Fore covetyse unlaufully —                    Al day thou seest!          Avyse youe, wemen, wom ye trust,          And beware of “had-I-wyst.” Ther is no creatuere, as wretyn I fynd, Save onelé mon that doth outtrache, Bot chesyn hom makys of here oune kynd, And so thai makyn treu mareache —                    Alle day thou seest!          Avyse youe, wemen, wom ye trust,          And beware of “had-I-wyst.” Bot now a lady wil take a page Fore no love bot fleschelé lust, And so here blod is disparage — Thus lordus and lordchip al day ben lost —                    Al day thou seest!          Avyse youe, wemen, wom ye trust,          And beware of “had-I-wyst.” Lordis and lorchip thus wastyn away In Englond in moné a place (That makis false ayrs — hit is no nay!) And lese worchip, honowre, and grace —                    Al day thou seest!          Avyse youe, wemen, wom ye trust,          And beware of “had-I-wyst.” CAROL 23. LOVE OF GOD De amore Dei.          I have a Love, is Heven Kyng;          I love his love foreevermore! Fore Love is Love and ever schal be, And Love has bene ore we were bore; Fore Love, he askys no nother fe Bot love agayn; he kepis no more.                    I say, herefore,          I have a Love, is Heven Kyng;          I love his love foreevermore! Trew love is tresoure, trust is store, To a love to Godis plesyng; Bot leude love makis men elore, To love here lust and here lykyng.                    I say, herefore,          I have a Love, is Heven Kyng;          I love his love foreevermore! In good love ther is no syn; Withot love is hevenes; Herefore, to love I nyl not blyn To love my God and his goodnes.                    I say, herefore,          I have a Love, is Heven Kyng;          I love his love foreevermore! Fore he me lovyd or I him knew; Therfore, I love him altherbest, Ellis my love I myght hit rew; I love with him to take my rest.                    I say, herefore,          I have a Love, is Heven Kyng;          I love his love foreevermore! Of al loveres that ever was borne, His love hit passid everechon; Nad he us lovyd, we were forelorne; Without is love, trew love is non.                    I say, herefore,          I have a Love, is Heven Kyng;          I love his love foreevermore! CAROL 24. DREAD OF DEATH Timor mortis conturbat me.8          Ladé, helpe! Jhesu, mercé!          Timor mortis conturbat me. Dred of deth, sorow of syn, Trobils my hert ful grevysly; My soule hit nyth with my lust then — Passio Christi conforta me.9          Ladé, helpe! Jhesu, mercé!          Timor mortis conturbat me. Fore blyndnes is a hevé thyng, And to be def therwith only, To lese my lyght and my herying — Passio Christi conforta me.          Ladé, helpe! Jhesu, mercé!          Timor mortis conturbat me. And to lese my tast and my smellyng, And to be seke in my body, Here have I lost al my lykyng — Passio Christi conforta me.          Ladé, helpe! Jhesu, mercé!          Timor mortis conturbat me. Thus God he geves and takys away, And, as he wil, so mot hit be; His name be blessid both nyght and daye — Passio Christi conforta me.          Ladé, helpe! Jhesu, mercé!          Timor mortis conturbat me. Here is a cause of gret mornyng — Of myselfe nothyng I se, Save filth, unclennes, vile stynkyng — Passio Christi conforta me.          Ladé, helpe! Jhesu, mercé!          Timor mortis conturbat me. Into this word no more I broght, No more I gete with me, trewly, Save good ded, word, wil, and thoght — Passio Christi conforta me.          Ladé, helpe! Jhesu, mercé!          Timor mortis conturbat me. The fyve wondis of Jhesu Crist, My midsyne now mot thai be, The Fyndis pouere downe to cast — Passio Christi conforta me.          Ladé, helpe! Jhesu, mercé!          Timor mortis conturbat me. As I lay seke in my langure, With sorow of hert and teere of ye, This caral I made with gret doloure — Passio Christi conforta me.          Ladé, helpe! Jhesu, mercé!          Timor mortis conturbat me. Oft with these prayere I me blest, In manus tuas, Domine,10 Thou take my soule into thi rest — Passio Christi conforta me.          Ladé, helpe! Jhesu, mercé!          Timor mortis conturbat me. Maré moder, merceful may, Fore the joys thou hadist, lady, To thi Sun, fore me thou pray — Passio Christi conforta me.          Ladé, helpe! Jhesu, mercé!          Timor mortis conturbat me. Lerne this lesson of Blynd Awdlay: When bale is hyest, then bot may be, Yif thou be nyd nyght or day, Say “Passio Christi conforta me.”          Ladé, helpe! Jhesu, mercé!          Timor mortis conturbat me. CAROL 25. SAINT FRANCIS De Sancto Fransisco.          Saynt Frances, to thee I say,          Save thi breder both nyght and day! A holé confessoure thou were hone, And levydist in contemplacion, To thyng on Cristis Passioun, That sofyrd deth on Good Fryday.          Saynt Frawnces, to thee I pray,          Save thi breder both nyght and day! His Passion was in thee so fervent That he aperd to thi present; Upon thi body he set his preynt, His fyve wondis — hit is no nay!          Saynt Frances, to thee I say,          Save thi breder both nyght and day! Upon thi body thou hem bere, Affter that tyme, ful thre yere; To al men syght thai did apere — No water myght wasche hem away.          Saynt Frances, to thee I say,          Save thi breder both nyght and day. Weder thou schuldist ete ore drenke, On Cristis Passion thou woldist thynke; In fyve partys wes thi partyng Of his sustinans, sothe to say.          Saynt Frances, to thee I say,          Save thi breder both nyght and day! Crist he grawnt thee, specialy, Fore on his Passion thou hadist peté, To feche thi breder out of purgatori, That ly in ther in rewful aray.          Saynt Frances, to thee I say,          Save thi breder both nyght and day! Thou thongis Crist of his swete sonde, And thoghtist to go to the Holé Londe, Fore dred of deth thou woldist not wond, To teche the pepil thi Cristyn fay.          Saynt Frances, to thee I say,          Save thi breder both nyght and day! Then Crist he knew welle then entent, And turned thee out of that talent, And bede thee make thi testament, And: “Come to me, fore ens and ay.”          Saynt Frances, to thee I say,          Save thi breder both nyght and day! “A, holé Frawnces, now I se, Fore my love that thou woldist dye; Thou schalt have joy perpetualé, Thou hast dyssired moné a day.”          Saynt Frances, to thee I say,          Save thi breder both nyght and day! His holé reule of relegiowne To his breder he wrote anon, And prayd ham, fore Cristis Passiowne, To kepe hit wel both nyght and day.          Saynt Frances, to thee I say,          Save thi breder both nyght and day! A sad ensampil here mow ye se, On Cristis Passioun to have peté, And to leve in love and chareté, Then meré in hert be ye may.          Saynt Frances, to thee I say,          Save thi breder both nyght and day! His last prayer to Crist this was, Fore al that sustens this holé place: “Gracious God, grawnt ham thi grace, Tofore thi Jugement at Domysday.”          Saynt Frances, to thee I say,          Save thi breder both nyght and day! Pray we to Frawnses, that beth present, To save his breder and his covent, That thai be never chamyd ne chent, With wyckid man ne Fyndis fray.          Saynt Frances, to thee I say,          Save thi breder both nyght and day! I pray youe, seris, pur charyté, Redis this caral reverently, Fore I mad hit with wepyng eye, Your broder Jon the Blynd Awdlay.          Saynt Frances, to thee I say,          Save thi breder both nyght and day!	[W28] (see note) [Exodus 20:3–6]; (see note) [Matthew 19:19]; (see note) Forsake; oath [Exodus 20:7] cleanness; sabbath [Exodus 20:8–11] Believe always [Exodus 20:12]; (see note) Slay; worldly [Exodus 20:13]; (t-note) Slander; (see note) behest; bidding bear [Exodus 20:16]; (see note) Deceit nor [Exodus 20:15] [Exodus 20:14]; (t-note) are; every one wear; (see note) wheel; tilt; (t-note) account; certainly; (see note) what; (t-note) (t-note) [W29] Concerning the Seven Deadly Sins (see note) Avarice happiness; before whence; whither Gluttony; accursed brands; firing in time before Obedience Generosity Humility Abstinence; (t-note) Busyness; (t-note) dearly [W30] give; (see note) (t-note) Visit; (t-note) Bury (t-note) Shelter; (see note) wisdom deeds (t-note) compassion; (see note) share; what; (t-note) (t-note) judges; (see note) rich people; (t-note) (see note); (t-note) high office; royal array misery; alas; (see note); (t-note) alms (see note) (t-note) [W31] Concerning the five senses (t-note) hearing ear From idle laws; learn; (t-note) ruined seeing free choice; (see note) worldly; (t-note) touching savor; sustenance (i.e., food) sweet reason; rule surfeit; harm; (t-note) wholesome greatly to your liking moderation; merry mean; (see note); (t-note) (t-note) [W32] Concerning the seven gifts of the Holy Ghost (see note) Reason Chastity God of most might has given (t-note) (t-note) to be known basis; (see note); (t-note) (t-note) pure; living chief him bring; (t-note) (see note) epistle [1 Corinthians 13:13] belief in; (see note) ordained; (see note); (t-note) (see note) each one; by [Matthew 7:12]; (see note) behest; bidding [W33] On the day of the Lord’s birth (December 25) (t-note) born; one; (t-note) (see note) Fiend; protect; (t-note) (t-note) Stephen and John [the Evangelist]; (see note) children (i.e., Holy Innocents); (t-note) Thomas martyr, all together; (t-note) together; (see note) merry [W34] martyr; (see note) shed; earth; (t-note) suffered patiently high; (t-note) saw every one satisfied meekly pass; (t-note) (t-note) [W35] all brethren; (t-note) apostle beloved dear; (see note) leaned; supper [John 13:23] showed; affection Before (see note) [see John 19:26–27] She; heart’s darling her give her good affection power; (t-note) from each other; (t-note) whatever country knees; (t-note) worship her Maintain; any [John 13:14–17] depart from you; (t-note) swooning (t-note) moan (see note) (t-note) shield [W36] On the day of the Holy Innocents (December 28) (t-note) (see note) Israel; (t-note) mirth; gone Herod fiercely did them kill male children; (see note) Bethlehem, far [Matthew 2:16] shed their pitiful spectacle [see Apocalypse 14:3 and note] christened; together their; martyred; (t-note) (t-note) children newly baptized Be patient awhile; suffer; (t-note) Until the [full] number [Apocalypse 14:4]; (see note) [W37] pray; together; (see note); (t-note) holy martyr (see note) tonsured lost composure [at that time] was all in order; (t-note) (i.e., future generations; “us”) Wherever priests were enslaved (oppressed); (see note) hanged Except heretics, or for treason any such; (t-note) may no child be christened; (t-note) married; (t-note) tribute under the king’s jurisdiction free [of secular control] fifty points [of dispute with the king]; (see note) worshipped may [who] begot and bore him; (see note) [W38] On the day of the Lord's circumcision (January 1); (t-note) tidings do you bring; messenger; (t-note) birth; Year's high nature; (t-note) Peace cure; (t-note) He is lord of eternity; (t-note) Such wondrous (see note) one united Our sin has become mere Fiend’s prey; (see note) seemly wonder maiden; Child; (t-note) high virgin (t-note) (t-note) one and the same; (t-note) wondrous sea (t-note) (t-note) infant; one as [has] been and shall be ever her; (t-note) greeting; quaint; (t-note) (t-note) such exalted manner; (t-note) mankind’s pain from nothing (t-note) dwell [W39] Concerning our king Henry VI (t-note) of bold spirit lineage true; (t-note) grandsires; grandmother (t-note) worthier; (t-note) (see note) trouble he (the Dauphin) said; (see note) sent; [tennis] balls therewith; (see note); (t-note) (t-note) tennis old; frightened them all; (t-note) At castles and cities they [the balls] flew; (t-note) Harfleur; (see note) swore by sea attack assail Agincourt; battle; (see note); (t-note) flower (i.e., nobility); defeated (t-note) knew; wasteful withstand; any cease; ferocity; (t-note) presence royal territorial right [What] our; (t-note) flower (i.e., prize for excellence); (see note) each country (t-note) [That he should] the holy cross win before dragged; (t-note) cease; (see note) realms; (t-note) all heathens to Christianity; (t-note) (t-note) royal realm mishap; (t-note) courtesy (t-note) many an eye (t-note) [W40] Do that for which you have come (t-note) whatever [religious] order; rank; (see note) in any case; (t-note) Ignorant or learned, whatever perversions; (t-note) hates entirely bold old; coward show each; meekness Set everything in unity holiness (t-note) (t-note) forsake wedded adultery manhood widows’ ordained bids; (t-note) Whosoever he (i.e., God) shames; doomed; (t-note) [W41] A song concerning childhood If wish he (i.e., a child); entirely; (see note); (t-note) regard for high rank manner knows not what wishes each man to fare well covets cherry pits are; (see note) (t-note) hear; perturbed slays necessity; (see note) in every case active together; (t-note) life of grace [gone] from me entirely; (t-note) trouble Dead bier unborn damned (utterly lost); (t-note) Were [it] not [for]; came before Almsdeed (see note) confess [W42] On the day of Epiphany, etc. (January 6) Noel praised Come, Creator Spirit; (see note) place Child You the Unity of the Trinity; (see note); (t-note) shepherds sang; (t-note) “Glory to God in the highest!” (see note); (t-note) heard; (t-note) praised; (t-note) Much gladness; among; (t-note) Now the star of light having risen; (see note) therefore diverse; far asked where Herod, wicked enemy; (see note) He (i.e., Herod) bade; seek; (t-note) they God Creator of all things; (see note) before their faces Jesus Savior of the world; (see note) kneeled; reverence; (t-note) incense; myrrh (t-note) Jesus our Redemption; (see note) dignity; (see note) burial Great God of power; (see note) (t-note) To Christ, Redeemer of everyone; (see note) (t-note) Savior of the world, Lord; (see note) [W43] Concerning Saint Anne, mother of Mary maid full of mercy [may] pray (t-note) lady (Mary) she; physician; (see note) gladdened; world; (t-note) (t-note) Barren; (see note) determined because of what was forlorn gift; (see note) fruit (t-note) flower should grow root; called [see Isaias 11:1] world; bring on which this flower grew; (see note) by my understanding who bore Named; (see note) God’s; high Was reigned; David’s dignity; (t-note) Mother, pray to the Son outlawry (i.e., exile in sin); (see note) [That] he give us joy Without end [W44] Another song concerning Blessed Mary Flower; (see note); (t-note) root; [see Isaias 11:1] splendor (beauty) such fresh of hue on [which] this Flower grew; (see note) solace Seed; gift sowed Bethlehem (see note); (t-note) bower (t-note) implanted conceived; [as] no man shall understand Until; (t-note) did spread and sprout (t-note) its; bud (i.e., form a bead); (t-note) seed (i.e., kind); (see note); (t-note) marveled (t-note) their tower fresh; (see note) sweet; savor cold; (see note) lily; on branch; (t-note) primrose I can think of is supreme; (t-note) best remedy relieve; sorrows entirely flowers (i.e., souls) up Before; freshness; beauty fairest (t-note) [W45] And another [song] concerning Blessed Mary any other [like you] Rejoice, Mary Mate (see note); (t-note) comely quietly; doubt ear; done alighted At Gabriel’s announcement; (see note); (t-note) more [than you] greet; (see note) Very near; embrace sighed; sucked fed maiden’s milk bore With the lily of chastity strength was gone many a mother’s son it saw strife watery wounds; (t-note) (t-note) The resurrection shines woman blooms see such; (t-note) apostles all together climbed; steadily; (t-note) He moves with his own motion branch (with a pun on arising) peerless princess of peace bower; next [to] Thy Son known everywhere as Love by nature; (see note); (t-note) In heaven’s palace [W46] And concerning Blessed Mary (t-note) hear woman star support; (t-note) women; (t-note) evening Many a one [who] are (i.e., by Gabriel) [Luke 1:28]; (see note) (t-note) Fiend [made] afraid enslaved; (t-note) choicest carbuncle stone; (t-note) (see note) empress of hell fountain (see note); (t-note) [W47] Concerning virginity; (t-note) (t-note) (t-note) (t-note) before; (t-note) (t-note) (see note); (t-note) virginity; (t-note) that had created her born chose; (t-note) release power; (t-note) Margaret; Winifred; (see note); (t-note) They suffered the smiting [off] of their heads; (t-note) (t-note) (t-note) vow; (see note); (t-note) follow serve her [W 48] A song concerning viginity (see note); (t-note) (see note) lose your condition hidden mark; loan injure privately treasure (i.e., virginity); eager their; lay; (t-note) many a penny for it they [would] pay; (t-note) property shame [would] bear; (t-note) [If you] never will beware of another Had not; made; (t-note) brought (i.e., through Mary) fades Always preserve high fresh Beauty; goodness were it not that; were [intact] feeble favor to whom you let have; (t-note) are beguiled (i.e., seduced) So follow [this advice], every one [of you] helped many [a] one It allow maids to marry in every land [W49] Concerning the matrimony of women whom; (see note) the regret of “had I known” heavy; (see note) nowadays sport and mirth Which turns to sorrow see [that this is true] if; married; (see note) heart coveting law; ordains; (see note); (t-note) Equality of birth, of wealth, of age (t-note) suitable marriage; (t-note) (t-note) fruit (i.e., offspring); (see note) thrive and prosper trouble avarice; (t-note) (t-note) (see note) only; outrage (i.e., unnatural mating); (see note); (t-note) choose for themselves mates; own; (see note); (t-note) marriage; (t-note) (t-note) servant; (see note) fleshly misallied in rank; (t-note) lords and lordships (t-note) (see note); (t-note) heirs [W50] Concerning the love of God (t-note) before; born reward wealth pleasing to God licentious; lost; (t-note) fleshly pleasure Without; distress; (t-note) cease; (t-note) before best of all regret; (t-note) Had he not; (t-note) his; (t-note) [W51] (see note) Troubles; grievously harms (see note); (t-note) The fear of death troubles me burdensome deaf lose Passion of Christ, fortify me pleasure wills; may (t-note) mourning; (see note) world (see note) medicine Fiend’s power sick; languishing; (see note) tear of eye; (t-note) sadness prayers (see note) (see note) (t-note) misery; highest; remedy may occur; (see note) troubled [W52] Concerning Saint Francis; (t-note) brethren; (see note) one lived think; (see note) (see note); (t-note) appeared in your presence stigmata; (see note); (t-note) you bore them (the wounds) (see note); (t-note) Whether dividing; (see note); (t-note) pitiful state; (t-note) thanked; gift; (see note) hesitate faith your intent purpose (see note) once and always; (see note); (t-note) (see note) (t-note) [As] you have desired (see note) may live merry (t-note) [you] who are present; (see note) convent shamed or disgraced Fiend’s attack for; (see note); (t-note)