The Temple of Glass

by John Lydgate

Wherfore ye muste or els it were wrong
Vnto your grace fully hym receyue
In my presence, by cause he hatħ so long
Hooly ben youris, as ye may conceyue
That from your mercy, yf ye hym weyue
I wyl my silf recorden cruelte
In your persone, and gret lack of pyte

Late hym for his troutħ fynde than agayn
For long seruyse, guerdon hym witħ grace
And late ye pyte weye doun his payn
For tyme is now daunger to arace
Out of your hert, and mercy in to pace
And loue for loue world wel beseme
To yeue agayn and this I plainly deme

And as for hym I wil ben his borowe
Of lowlihede and besy attendance
How he shal be bothe eue and morowe
Ful diligent to doon his obseruance
And euer awaytyng, you to do playsance
Wherfore my sone, listen and take hede
Fully tobeye, as I shal the rede

And first of aƚƚ my wiƚƚ is that thou be
Feithful in hert and constant as a wal
True humble, meke and therwith al secre
Witħ out change in partie or in aƚƚ
And for no torment that the fallen shal
Tempest the not, but euer in stedfastnes
Rote thyn herte, and wyde doublenes

And furthermore haue in reuerence
These women al for thy lady sake
And suffre neuer that men hem do offence
For loue of one, but euermore vndertake
Hem to defende whether they slept or wake
And ay be redy to holden them party
Ayenst aƚƚ tho that to hem haue enuye

Be curtais ay and lowly of thy speche
To riche and poure ay fressħ & wel beseyn
And euer besy weyes for to seche
Alle true louers to relece of her peyn
Sith thou art one, & of no wight haue disdeyn
For loue hath power hertes for to daunte
And neuer for cherising, the to muche auaunte

Be lusty eke voyd of aƚƚ tristesse
And take no thought but euer be iocound
And not to pensif for none heuynes
And witħ thy gladnes, lete sadnes ay be found
Whan woo approched, lete mirtħ most habound
As manhod ayid, and though thou fele smert
Late not to many knowen of thyn hert

And alle vertues besily thou sue
Vices eschewe for the loue of one
And for no tales thyn hert not renewe
Word is but wynd that shal soon ouergoon
What euer thou here be domb as ony stoon
And to answere to sone, not the delyte
For here she standetħ that al this shal the quyte

And wherther thou be absent or in presence
None others beawte lete in thy hert myne
Sitħ I haue yeue hir of beaute excellence
Aboue al other in vertu for to shyne
And thynke hou in fyre men ar wont to fyne
This pured gold to put hit in assaye
So to the proue, thou art put in delaye

But tyme shal come thou shalt for thy suffrance
Be wel apaid and take for thy mede
Thy lyurs ioye and al thy suffisance
So that good hope alway thy bridel lede
Lete no dispeir hyndre the with drede
But ay thy trust vpon her mercy grounde
Sith none but she may thy sorowe sounde