XVIII. THE PURIFICATION.
Symeon Justus. I have be prest in Jherusalem here,
And tawth Goddys lawe many a ȝere,
Desyrynge in alle my mende,
That the tyme we neyhand nere,
In whiche Goddys son xul apere,
In erthe to take mankende.
Or I deyd that I myght fynde,
My Savyour with myn ey to se;
But that it is so longe behynde,
It is grett dyscomforte onto me.
ffor I waxe olde and wante my myght,
And begynne to fayle my syght,
The more I sorwe this tyde;
Save only, as I telle ȝow ryght,
God of his grace hath me hyght,
That blysful byrth to byde;
Wherfore now here besyde,
To Sancta Sanctorum wyl I go,
To pray God to be my gyde,
To comfort me aftyr my wo.
Here Symeon knelyth and seyth,
A! gode God in Trinité!
Whow longe xal I abyde the,
Tyl that thou son thou doth sende,
That I in erthe myght hym se?
Good Lord, consydyr to me,
I drawe fast to an ende;
That or my strenthis fro me wende,
Gode Lorde, send dow thi son,
That I with my ful mende,
Myght wurcheppe hym, if I con.
Bothe with my fete and hondys to,
To go to hym and handele also,
My eyn to se hym in certayn.
My tonge for to speke hym to,
And alle my lemys to werk and do,
In his servyse to be bayn.
Send forth thi son, my Lord sovereyn,
Hastely anon withowte teryenge;
ffor fro this world I wolde be ffayn,—
It is contrary to my levynge.
Angelus. Symeon, leff thi careful stevene,
ffor thi prayer is herd in hevene;
To Jherusalem ffast now wynne.
And ther xalt se ful evene,
He that is Goddys son ffor to nevene,
In the templ ther thou dwellyst inne.
The darknes of orygynal synne,
He xal make lyght and clarefye;
And now the dede xal begynne,
Whiche hath be spokyn be prophecye.
Symeon. A! I thank the, Lord of grace,
That hath grauntyd me tyme and space,
To lyve and byde thys!
And I wyl walk now to the place,
Where I may se thi sonys face,
Whiche is my joye and blys.
I was nevyr lyghtere i-wys,
To walke nevyr here beforn;
ffor a mery tyme now is,
Whan God my lord is born.
Anna Prophetessa. Al heyl, Symeon! what tydynges with ȝow?
Why make ȝe al this myrth now?
Telle me whedyr ȝe fare.
Symeon. Anne prophetes, and ȝe wyst whou,
So xulde ȝe, I make avow,
And alle maner men that are.
ffor Goddys son, as I declare,
Is born to bye mankende;
Oure Savyour is come to sesyn oure care;
Therfore have I grett merthe to wende.
And that is the cawse I hast me
Onto the temple hym to se;
And therfor lett me not, good frende!
Anna. Now blyssyd be God in Trinyté,
Syn that tyme is come to be,
And with ȝow wyl I wende.
To se my Savyour ende,
And wurcheppe hym also,
With alle my wytt and my ful mende,
As I am bound, now wyl I do.
Et tunc ibunt ambo ad templum et prophetissa,
Symeon. In the temple of God who undyrstod,
This day xal be offeryd with mylde mood,
Whiche that is kynge of alle;
That xal be skorgyd and shedde his blood,
And aftyr dyen on the rood,
Withowtyn cawse to calle.
ffor whos passyon ther xal beffalle,
Swyche a sorwe bothe sharpe and smerte;
That a swerd perce it xalle,
ȝevene thorwe his moderys herte.
Anna. ȝa, that xal be, as I wel fynde,
ffor redempcion of alle mankende,
That blysse ffor to restore.
Whiche hath be lost fro oute of mende,
As be oure fadyr of oure owyn kende,
Adam and Eve beffore.
Maria. Joseph my husbond withowtyn mys,
ȝe wote that ffourty days nere is,
Sythe my sonys byrth fful ryght;
Wherfore we must to the temple i-wys,
Therfor to offre oure sone of blys,
Up to his fadyr in hyght.
And I in Goddys syght,
Puryfyed ffor to be;
In clene sowle with al my myght,
In presence of the Trinyté.
Joseph. To be purefyed have ȝe no nede,
Ne thi son to be offryd, so God me spede;
ffor fyrst thou art ful clene,
Undefowlyd in thought and dede;
And anothyr, thi son withowtyn drede,
Is God and man to mene.
Wherefore it nedyd not to bene,
But to kepe the lawe on Moyses wyse;
Wherefore we xal take us betwene
Dowys and turtelys ffor sacrefyce.
Symeon. Alle heyl, my kyndely comfortour!
Anna Prophetissa. Alle heyl, mankyndys creditour!
Symeon. Alle heyl, thou God of myght!
Anna Prophetissa. Alle heyl, mankyndys savyour!
Symeon. Alle heyl, bothe kynge and emperour!
Anna Prophetissa. Alle heyl, as it is ryght!
Symeon. Alle heyl, also, Mary bryght!
Anna Prophetissa. Alle heyl, salver of seknes!
Symeon. Alle heyl, lanterne of lyght!
Anna Prophetissa. Alle heyl, thou modyr of mekenes!
Maria. Symeon, I undyrstand and se,
That bothyn of my sone and me
ȝe have knowynge clere;
And also in ȝour compané
My sone desyryth for to be;—
And therffore have hym here.
Et accipiet Jhesum.
Symeon. Welcome, prynce withowte pere!
Welcome, Goddys owyn sone!
Welcome, my Lord so dere!
Welcome, with me to wone!
Suscepimus, Deus, misericordiam tuam.
Lord God in magesté,
We have receyvyd this day of the,
In myddys of thi temple here,
Thy grett mercy, as we may se.
Therfore thi name of grett degré
Be wurchepyd in alle manere,
Over alle this werde, bothe fere and nere,
ȝevyn onto the unterest ende!
ffor now is man owt of daungere,
And rest and pes to alle mankende.
“Nunc dimittis servum tuum, Domine, et cætera.” The psalme song ther every vers, and ther qwyle Symeon pleyeth with the child, and qwhan the psalme is endyd, he seyth,
Now lete me dye, Lord, and hens pace!
ffor I thi servaunt in this place
Have sen my Savyour dere;
Whiche thou hast ordeyned beforn the face
Of al mankynde, this tyme of grace,
Opynly to appere.
That lyth is shynand clere,
To alle mankyndys savacion;
Mary, take ȝour childe now here,
And kepe wel this manis savacion.
Anna prophetissa. Ne I rowth nere to dye also,
ffor more than ffowre skore ȝere and to
This tyme hath bede to se.
And sythe that it is come therto,
What Goddys wyl is with me to do,
Ryght ȝeven so mot it be.
Joseph. Take here these candelys thre,—
Mary, Symeon, and Anne;
And I xal take the fowrte to me,
To offre oure childe up thanne.
Maria. Hyest ffadyr, God of powere!
ȝour owyn dere son I offre ȝow here,
As I to ȝour lawe am sworn.
Receyve thi childe in glad manere,
For he is the fyrst, this childe so dere,
That of his modyr is born.
But ȝow I offre hym ȝow beforn,
Good Lord, ȝit ȝyf me hym aȝen!
ffor my comforte were fully lorn,
If we xulde longe a-sondyr ben.
Mari leyth the childe on the autere.
Joseph. Sere prest of the temple, now
Have he ffyffe pens unto ȝow,
Oure childe aȝen to take.
Capellanus. It is the lawe, as ȝe woot how,
Joseph, ȝe an do rygh a-now,
As for ȝour childys sake.
But othere offerynge ȝett must ȝe make;
And therfore take ȝour sone, Mary!
In meche joye ȝe may awake,
Whylys he is in ȝour company.
Maria. Therto I am ful glad and fayn,
ffor to receyve my childe agayn,
Ellys were I to blame.
And afterewarde ffor to be bayn,
To offre to God in ful certayn,
As in my sonys name,
With ffowlys bothe wylde and tame,—
ffor in Goddys servyse I xal nevyr irke.
Joseph. Lo! Mary, have here tho same,
To do thi dewtys of holy kyrke.
And ther Mary offeryth ffowlys onto the autere, and seyth,
Maria. Allemyghtyfful fadyr, mercyful kynge!
Receyvyth now this lytyl offrynge,
ffor it is the fyrst in degré,
That ȝour lytyl childe so ȝynge,
Presentyth to day be my shewyng,
To ȝour hyȝ magesté,
Of his sympyl poverté,
Be his devocion and my good wylle;
Upon ȝour awtere receyve of me,
ȝour sonys offrynge, as it is skylle!
Fac Simile from the MS. of the Coventry Mysteries Mus. Brit. Coit. Vesp. D VIII. fol. 100, vᵒ (printed ed. p. 178.)
J. Netherclift fac-sim: Lithog: