Unto my Lady, the Flower of Womanhood.
[Lambeth MS. 306, leaf 137, back.]
(1)
That pasaunt Goodnes, the Rote of all vertve,
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whiche Rotide is in youre femynete,
whos stepes glade to Ensue.
ys eueri woman in their degre!
And sethe that ye are floure of bewte,
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Constreyned y am, magre myn hede,
hartely to loue youre womanhede.
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(2)
Your sade, Demewre, appert, goueronance
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Of eliquens prengnavnt sauns coloure,
So it Renyth in my Rememberaunce
that dayly, nyghtly, tyde, tyme, and owre,
hit is my will to purches youre fauoure,
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whiche, wilde to Crist I myght atteyn,
As ye of all floures Are my Souerayn.
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(3)
Whan Reste And slepe y shulde haue noxiall,
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As Requereth bothe nature and kynde,
than trobled are my wittes all,
so sodeynly Renyth in my mynde
your grete bewte! me thynketh than y fynde
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you as gripyng in myn armes twey;
Bute whan y wake, ye Are away.
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