whiche is of bestes kynge,
Unto thy subiectes be curteis and benygne.
I pray God sende thé prosperous lyfe and long,
Stable thy mynde constant to be and fast, 170
Ryght to mayntayn, and to resyst all wronge:
All flateryng faytors abhor and from thé cast;
Of foule detraction God kepe thé from the blast!
Let double delyng in thé haue no place,
And be not lyght of credence in no case.
With heuy chere, with dolorous hart and mynd,
Eche man may sorow in his inward thought
This lordes[206] death, whose pere is hard to fynd,
Algife Englond and Fraunce were thorow saught.
Al kynges, all princes, al dukes, well they ought, 180
Both temporall and spiritual, for to complayne
This noble man, that crewelly was slayne:
More specially barons, and those knygtes bold,
And al other gentilmen with him enterteyned
In fee, as menyall men of his housold,
Whom he as lord worshyply mainteyned;
To sorowful weping they ought to be constreined,
As oft as they call to theyr remembraunce
Of ther good lord the fate and dedely chaunce.
O[207] perlese Prince of heuen emperyall! 190
That with one word formed al thing of noughte;
Heuen, hell, and erthe obey unto thy call;
Which to thy resemblaunce wondersly hast wrought
All mankynd, whom thou full dere hast bought,
With thy bloud precious our finaunce thou did pay,
And vs redemed from the fendys pray;
To thé pray we, as Prince incomparable,
As thou art of mercy and pyte the well,
Thou bring unto thy joye eterminable
The soull of this lorde from all daunger of hell, 200
In endles blys with thé to byde and dwell
In thy palace aboue the orient,
Where thou art Lord and God omnipotent.
O quene of mercy, O lady full of grace,
Mayden most pure, and Goddes moder dere,
To sorowful hartes chef comfort and solace,
Of all women O flowre withouten[208] pere!
Pray to thy Son aboue the sterris clere,
He to vouchesaf, by thy mediacion,
To pardon thy seruaunt, and brynge to saluacion. 210
In joy triumphaunt the heuenly yerarchy,[209]
With all the hole sorte of that glorious place,
His soull mot receyue into theyr company,
Thorow bounty of Hym that formed all solace;
Wel of pite, of mercy, and of grace,
The Father, the Sonn, and the Holy Ghost,
In Trinitate one God of myghtes[210] moste!
Non sapit, humanis qui certam ponere rebus
Spem cupit: est hominum raraque ficta fides.
[184] commonn] So MS. Marshe’s ed. “cominion.”
[185] slee] MS. “slo,”—as in v. 35 (yet both Marshe’s ed. and MS. have “sleest” in v. 123).
[186] world] So MS. Marshe’s ed. “wold.”
[187] not] MS. “no.”
[188] o[w]ne] MS. “awne” (yet Percy gives “owne”).
[189] holp] MS. “help” (yet Percy gives “holp”).
[190] you] MS. “ye” (yet Percy gives “you”).
[191] sle] MS. “slo.”
[192] bene] MS. “be.”
[193] one] So MS. Not in Marshe’s ed.
[194] backis] So MS. Marshe’s ed. “backe.”
[195] Of whos [life] they, &c.] So Percy. Marshe’s ed. “Of whome they,” &c. MS. “Of whos they,” &c.
[196] ther] So both Marshe’s ed. and MS. Percy printed the line thus;
“Take up whos wolde for them, they let hym ly.”
[197] Yet] So MS. Marshe’s ed. “Ye.”
