His noble blode never disteynyd was,
Trew to his prince for to defende his right,
Doublenes hatinge, fals maters to compas,150
Treytory[615] and treson he bannesht out of syght,
With trowth to medle was all his hole delyght,
As all his kuntrey kan testefy the same:
To slo suche a lord, alas, it was grete shame.
If the hole quere[616] of the musis nyne155
In me all onely wer sett and comprisyde,
Enbrethed with the blast of influence dyvyne,
As perfightly as could be thought or devysyd;
To me also allthouche it were promysyde
Of laureat Phebus holy the eloquence,160
All were to litill for his magnyficence.
O yonge lyon, bot tender yet of age,[617]
Grow and encrese, remembre thyn astate,
God the assyst unto thyn herytage,
And geve the grace to be more fortunate,165
Agayne rebellyouns arme to make debate.
And, as the lyoune, whiche is of bestis kinge,
Unto thy subjectis be kurteis and benyngne.
I pray God sende the prosperous lyf and long,
Stabille thy mynde constant to be and fast,170
Right to mayntein, and to resist all wronge:
All flattringe faytors[618] abhor and from the cast,
Of foule detraction God kepe the from the blast:
Let double delinge in the have no place,
And be not light of credence in no case.175
Wythe hevy chere, with dolorous hart and mynd,
Eche man may sorrow in his inward thought,
Thys lords death, whose pere is hard to fynd
Allgyf[619] Englond and Fraunce were thorow saught.
Al kings, all princes, all dukes, well they ought180
Bothe temporall and spirituall for to complayne
This noble man, that crewelly was slayne.
More specially barons, and those knygtes bold,
And all other gentilmen with hym enterteynd
In fee, as menyall men of his housold,185
Whom he as lord worsheply manteynd:
To sorowfull weping they ought to be constreynd,
As oft as thei call to ther remembraunce,
Of ther good lord the fate and dedely chaunce.
O perlese prince of hevyn emperyalle,190
That with one worde formed al thing of noughte;
Hevyn, hell, and erth obey unto thi kall;
Which to thy resemblance wondersly hast wrought
All mankynd, whom thou full dere hast boght,
With thy blode precious our finaunce[620] thou dyd pay,195
And us redemed, from the fendys pray;[621]
To the pray we, as prince incomperable,
As thou art of mercy and pite the well,
Thou bringe unto thy joye etermynable[622]
The sowle of this lorde from all daunger of hell,200
In endles blis with the to byde and dwell
In thy palace above the orient,
Where thou art lorde, and God omnipotent.
O quene of mercy, O lady full of grace,
Maiden moste pure, and goddis moder dere,205
To sorowfull harts chef comfort and solace,
Of all women O floure withouten pere,
Pray to thy son above the starris clere,
He to vouchesaf by thy mediatioun
To pardon thy servant, and bringe to salvacion.210
In joy triumphaunt the hevenly yerarchy,[623]
With all the hole sorte[624] of that glorious place,
His soule mot[625] receyve into ther company
Thorowe bounte of hym that formed all solace:
Well of pite, of mercy, and of grace,215
The father, the son, and the holy goste
In Trinitate one God of myghts moste.