Twenty-six political and other poems (including 'Petty Job') from the Oxford mss. Digby 102 and Douce 322. Ed., with introduction and glossarial index, by D. J. Kail ...

XXVI. Here begynneth a tretyse of Parce michi, domine.

[Douce 322, leaf 15.] [19 stanzas of 8, 12 or 16, in alternates.] [A picture comes here of a man lying in a field under a tree. A dejected-looking bird stands near, with a scroll coming from its mouth, on which are the words "Parce michi."—A. F. P.]

(1)

By a forest syde, walkyng as I went, Disporte to take, in o mornyng, A place I fonde shadyd with bowes I-bent, Y-set aboute with floures so swete smellyng. Line 4 I leyde me doune apon that grene, And caste myn eyen me aboute; I fonde there byrdys with feders shene, Many oon sittyng apon a rowte. Line 8 Oon byrde there-by sate on a brere: Here federes were pulled, she myght nat fle. She sate and sange with mornyng chere, "Parce michi, domine! Line 12

(2)

Spare me, lorde, kyng of pyte," Thus seyng thys byrde in pore aray; "My myrthe ys go, and my iolyte, I may nat fle as other may. Line 16 My federes shene bene pulled me fro, My youth, my streyngthe, and my beawte. Wher-thorough I take thys songe me to: [folio 15b] Parce michi, domine!" Line 20

(3)

When I herde thys mornyng song, I drewe to thys byrde nere and nere,

And asked who had don thys wrong, And brought her in so drowpyng chere, Line 24 And who had pulled her feders awey, That shuld her bere from tre to tre, And why she sange in her lay Parce michi, domine! Line 28

(4)

The byrde answered, and seyde me tyll, "Man, be in pese, for crystes sake. Yef I shewe the myn hertys wyll, Peynes me sore woll awake. Line 32 Yef thow wolt take my worde in mynde, There shall no sorow be my lettyng, That I nyll holy myne herte vnbynde, And sothely telle the thyne askyng, Line 36 Whyche were my feders that were so clere, And who hath pulled hem all fro me, And why I syt singyng on brere Parce michi, domine! Line 40

(5)

ffeders iiij I had y-wys, The two were set on euery wynge. They bare me breme to my blys, Where me lust be at my lykyng. Line 44 The furst was 'youth,' the ij^de 'beawte,' 'Streyngth' and 'ryches' the other two. And now they been, as thow mayst se, All iiij federes fallen me fro. Line 48 My principall federe, youthe hit was. He bare me ofte to nysete; Wherefore my songe ys now, allas, Parce michi, domine! Line 52

(6)

In youthe I wrought folyes fele, My hert was set so hygh in pryde, To synne I yaue me euerydele, Spared I neyther tyme ne tyde. Line 56 I was redy to make debate. My lyfe stode ofte in mechyll drede;

And my lykyng, to walke late, And haue my luste of sinfull dede. Line 60 I was now here, I was now there, Vnstable I was in all degre. To hym I crye, that Mary bare, Parce michi, domine! Line 64

(7)

ffor Salamon seyth in his poyse, Thre weyes there beth full harde to knowe: Oon ys a shyp that sayleth in the see, An egle an hygh, a worme in lowe. Line 68 And of the fourth, telle he ne can: Hit ys so wonderfull in hys heryng, The weyes of a yonge man, Whyche that ben here at theyre lykyng. Line 72 And now hathe age y-smete me fro My pryncipall feder of Iolyte. ffor all that euer I haue mys-do, Parce michi, domine! Line 76

(8)

My ij^de feder hyght 'bewte.' I helde my selfe so clere of shappe, That all the peple shuld loke on me, And worshyp me with hood and cappe. Line 80 My rudde was rede, my colour clere, Me thought neuer none so fayre as I, In all a contre, ferre ne nerre, In fetewres and shap so comly. Line 84 My forhede large, my browes bent; My eyen clere, and corage bolde. My shappe ne myght no man amende, Me thought my self so fayre to beholde. Line 88 And yet I was begyled in syght. The myrrour, lorde, disceued me. Wherfore I aske, lorde, of thy myght, Parce michi, domine! Line 92

(9)

Thys feder me bare full ofte to synne, And pryncipally to lechery.

Clyppyng and kyssyng cowde I nat blynne, Me thought hit crafte of curtesy. Line 96 A cusse, hit ys the deuylles gynne; Ofte of hit aryseth woo and wrake. The deuyll with cusse many doth wynne. I counseyle the, thow syn forsake. Line 100 Sampson loste hys streyngth therfore, [folio 16a] Dauid hys grace, for bersabee, Tyll he cryed with wordes sore Parce michi, domine! Line 104

(10)

Salamon, that worthy kyng, ffull fayre he was from top to toe, Wherfore in hys age yong He was amabilis domino; Line 108 That after he felle foule and sore ffor luste of wemen that was hym nygh. They fonned hym in hys age hore, That he forsoke hys god on hygh. Line 112 Nat oonly these, but many mo Bewte hath begyled, ywys. I wote well I am oon of tho; I can the better telle thys. Line 116 Nowe hathe age y-smyte me fro My secund feder, that hyght beawte. ffor all that euer I haue mysdo, Parce michi, domine! Line 120

(11)

My thryd feder, 'streynght' hyght. My name was knowe on euery syde, ffor I was man of mochell myght, And meny oon spake of me full wyde. Line 124 To pryke and praunce I was full prest, My streyngthe to kepe in euery place; And euermore I had the best: Suche was my hap, suche was my grace. Line 128 My streyngth full ofte me drowe amys, And torned me, lorde, clene fro the. Now, kyng crouned in heuen blys, Parce michi, domine! Line 132

Line 132

(12)

Thys feder bare me beyonde the see, To gete me name in vncouth lande. To robbe and slee, had I deynte, Ne spared I neyther for no bande. Line 136 Of holy churche toke I no yeme, Bokes to take, ne vestement. There myght nothyng so moche me queme As robbe, or se an abbey brente. Line 140 With streyngth I gate me grete aray, Precious clothes, golde, and fee. I thought full lytell on that day, Parce michi, domine! Line 144

(13)

When Nabugodonozor, ferse in fyght, Ierusalem had thought to wynne, And so he dyd with mayne and myght, And brent the temples that were theryn, Line 148 And all the golde that he there founde, He toke with hym, and home gan ryde, Hym thought there shuld nothyng withstonde; Hys hert was sette so hygh in pryde, Line 152 Tyll the kyng of myghtes moste Brought hym there that lowest was, And caught hym from hys ryall hoste, And drofe hym to a wyldernesse. Line 156 And there he lyuyd with herbe and rote, Walkyng euer on foot and on honde, Tyll cryste of mercy dede hym bote, And hys pryson oute of bonde. Line 160 Than sayde thys kyng these wordys y-wys: 'All thyng be, lorde, at thy pouste; Mercy I crye, I haue do mys; Parce michi, domine!' Line 164

(14)

Whyle I had my streyngth at wyll, ffull many a man I dyd vnreste. They that wold nat myne heste fulfyll, My knyfe was redy to hys breste. Line 168

Line 168 And nowe I syt here blynde and lame, And croked ben my lymes all. I was full wylde, I am now tame. Thys feder of streyngth ys fro me fall. Line 172 And now hathe age smetyn me fro My thryd feder of iolyte. ffor all that euer I haue mysdo, Parce michi, domine! Line 176

(15)

My fourth feder, 'Ryches' was. To make hit shyne, I trauayled sore. I wente in many a perylous place, Well ofte my lyfe was nygh for-lore. [folio 16b] Line 180 By dale, by doune, by wodes syde, I boode many a bytter shoure; In salt see I sayled well wyde ffor to multiply my tresoure. Line 184 With false sleyghtes I gate my good, In Couetyse I grounded me. Ihesu, for thy precious blood, Parce michi, domine! Line 188

(16)

When I was seker of golde y-nowgh, I gan to ryde abowte well faste. I purchased moche, and god wote howgh. I wende thys lyfe wolde euer haue laste. Line 192 I lete me bylde castelles and toures, Withoute y-warded with stronge dyches, Withyn y-bylde halles and bowres; There was no toure my castell lyche. Line 196 In thys was set all my lykyng, And torned me, lorde, holy from the. To the I crye now, heuen kyng, Parce michi, domine! Line 200

(17)

When I was most in all my flowres, And had aboute me wyfe and chylde, I lost my catell and my toures. Then wexed myn hert in party mylde. Line 204

Line 204 Catell felle fro me sodeynly; Ryght as hit came, hit went awey. Men seyen 'good geten vntrewly, The iij^de eyre browke hit ne may.' Line 208 I was full wylde, I am now tame. ffortune hath pulled ryches fro me. Your wreche, lorde, I cannat blame. Parce michi, domine! Line 212

(18)

Iob was rycher then euer was I, Of golde, syluer, and oþer good; Hit felle hym fro, and that sharply, As dyd the water out of the flood. Line 216 Hym was nat lefte so mekyll a clothe Hys naked body for to hele. Hym lacked crostys of a lofe, When hym lyste ete in tyme of mele. Line 220 And yet he helde vp then hys hande, And seyde, 'hygh god in mageste, [Line 222 is repeated after line 223.] I thanke the of thy swete sande. Parce michi, domine!' Line 224

(19)

Now Parce michi, domine! My ioy, my myrthe, ys all agone. Youthe, streyngth, and my beawte, My federes fayre, be fall me fro. Line 228 Wherto ys a man more lyke, Then to a floure that spryngeth in may? All that lyuen, bothe pore and ryche, Shall dye, vnknowyng of her day." Line 232 I set me doune apon my kne, And thanked thys byrde of here good lore. I bethought me well, of thys worde parce, Was bale and bote of gostly sore. Line 236 Now parce, lorde, and spare thow me, Thys ys a worde that sone geteth grace. And parce geteth goddys pyte, And sheweth to vs hys blessed face. Line 240

Amen.