Text
|
Of one that is so fair and bright,
Velut maris stella,
Brighter than the dayes light,
Parens et puella,
I cry to thee; thou see to me!
Lady, pray thy son for me,
Tam pia,
That I mote come to thee
Maria.
Lady, flower of alle thing,
Rosa sine spina,
Thou bore Jesu, heavenes king,
Gratia divina.
Of alle thou bearst the prize,
Lady, queen of Paradise
Electa.
Maide milde mother is
Effecta.
Of care conseil thou art best,
Felix fecundata,
Of alle weary thou art rest,
Mater honorata.
Beseech him with milde mood
That for us alle shed his blood
In cruce
That we moten come to him
In luce.
All this woreld were forlore
Eva peccatrice,
Till our Loverd was y-bore
De te genetrice.
With ’Ave’ it went away
Thuster night, and com’th the day
Salutis.
The welle springeth out of thee
Virtutis.
Well he wot he is thy son
Ventre quem portasti;
He will not werne thee thy boon,
Parvum quem lactasti.
So hende and so good he is,
He haveth brought us to bliss
Superni,
That hath y-dit the foule pit
Inferni.
|
