Moder, of whom our mercy gan to springe,
Beth ye my Iuge and eek my soules leche;
For ever in you is pitee haboundinge 135
To ech that wol of pitee you biseche.
Beth ye my Iuge and eek my soules leche;
For ever in you is pitee haboundinge 135
To ech that wol of pitee you biseche.
Chaucer - Romuant of the Rose
From his ancille he made thee maistresse
Of hevene and erthe, our bille up for to bede. 110
This world awaiteth ever on thy goodnesse,
For thou ne failest never wight at nede.
Purpos I have sum tyme for tenquere,
Wherfore and why the Holy Gost thee soughte,
Whan Gabrielles vois cam to thyn ere. 115
He not to werre us swich a wonder wroughte,
But for to save us that he sithen boughte.
Than nedeth us no wepen us for to save,
But only ther we did not, as us oughte,
Do penitence, and mercy axe and have. 120
Queen of comfort, yit whan I me bithinke
That I agilt have bothe, him and thee,
And that my soule is worthy for to sinke,
Allas, I, caitif, whider may I flee?
>>
O Lumiere des non voians
Et vrai repos des recreans
Et de tout bien tresoriere,
A toy sont toutez gens beans 160
Qui en la foy sont bien creans
Et en toy ont foy entiere;
A nul onques ne fus fiere,
Ains toy deis chamberiere
Quant en toy vint li grans geans.
Or es de Dieu chanceliere
Et de graces aumosniere
Et confort a tous recreans.
Pris m'est volente d'enquerre
Pour savoir que Diex vint querre 170
Quant en toy se vint enserrer;
En toy devint vers de terre;
Ne cuit pas que fust pour guerre
Ne pour moy jus aterrer.
Vierge, se ne me sens errer,
D'armes ne me faut point ferrer
Fors sans plus de li requerre.
Quant pour moy se vint enterrer,
Se il ne se veut desterrer
Encor puis s'amour acquerre. 180
Quant pourpense apres me sui
Qu'ay offendu et toy et lui,
Et qu'a mal est m'ame duite,
Que, fors pechie, en moi n'estui,
<<
Who shal un-to thy sone my mene be? 125
Who, but thy-self, that art of pitee welle?
Thou hast more reuthe on our adversitee
Than in this world mighte any tunge telle.
Redresse me, moder, and me chastyse,
For, certeynly, my fadres chastisinge 130
That dar I nought abyden in no wyse:
So hidous is his rightful rekeninge.
Moder, of whom our mercy gan to springe,
Beth ye my Iuge and eek my soules leche;
For ever in you is pitee haboundinge 135
To ech that wol of pitee you biseche.
Soth is, that God ne graunteth no pitee
With-oute thee; for God, of his goodnesse,
Foryiveth noon, but it lyke un-to thee.
He hath thee maked vicaire and maistresse 140
>>
Et que mal hyer et pis m'est hui,
Tost apres si me ranvite,
Vierge douce, se pren fuite,
Se je fui a la poursuite,
Ou fuiray, qu'a mon refui?
S'a nul bien je ne m'affruite 190
Et mas sui avant que luite,
Plus grief encore en est l'anuy.
Reprens moy, mere, et chastie
Quar mon pere n'ose mie
Attendre a mon chastiement.
Son chastoy si fiert a hie;
Rien n'ataint que tout n'esmie
Quant il veut prendre vengement.
Mere, bien doi tel batement
Douter, quar en empirement 200
A tous jours este ma vie.
A toy dont soit le jugement,
Car de pitie as l'oingnement,
Mes que merci l'en te prie.
Sans toy nul bien ne foysonne
Et sans toy Diex riens ne donne,
Quar de tout t'a fet maistresse.
Quant tu veus trestout pardonne;
<<
Of al the world, and eek governeresse
Of hevene, and he represseth his Iustyse
After thy wille, and therefore in witnesse
He hath thee crouned in so ryal wyse.
Temple devout, ther god hath his woninge. 145
Fro which these misbileved pryved been,
To you my soule penitent I bringe.
Receyve me! I can no ferther fleen!
With thornes venimous, O hevene queen,
For which the erthe acursed was ful yore, 150
I am so wounded, as ye may wel seen,
That I am lost almost;--it smert so sore.
Virgine, that art so noble of apparaile,
And ledest us in-to the hye tour
Of Paradys, thou me wisse and counsaile, 155
How I may have thy grace and thy socour;
Al have I been in filthe and in errour.