IX.
Nowel el el el, now is wel that evere was woo.
A BABE is born al of a may,
In the savasyoun of us,
To hem we syngyn bothe nyȝht and day,
Veni creator spiritus.
At Bedlem that blyssid pas,
The chylde of blysse born he was,
Hym to serve, go ȝeve us gras,
O lux beata trinitas.
Ther come thre kynges out of the est,
To worchepe the Kyng that is so fre,
With gold and myrre and francincens,
A solis ortus cardine.
The herdes herdyn an aungele cry,
A merye song then sungyn he,
Qwy arn ȝe so sore a-gast?
Jam ortus solis cardine.
The aungele comyn down with on cry,
A fayr song then sungyn he,
In the worchepe of that chyld,
Gloria tibi, Domine.
