This boke is compyled by Dan Iohn Lydgate monke of Burye, at the excitacion [and] styrynge of the noble and victorious prynce, Kynge Henry the fyfthe, i[n] the honoure glorie [and] reuerence of the byrthe of our moste blessed Lady, mayde, wyfe, [and] mother of our lorde Iesu Christe, chapitred as foloweth by this table

O Thoughtfull herte / plonged in distresse With slōbre of slouth / this long wynters night Out of y^e slepe of mortal heuynesse Awake anoue / and loke vpon the lyght Of thylke sterre / that with her bemys bryght And with the shynynge / of his stremes merye Is wonte to glade / all our emisperye.

¶ And to oppresse the derknes / and the doole Of heuy hertes / that sorowen and sighen ofte I mene the sterre / of the bright poole That with her bemys / whan she is alofte May al the trouble asswage / and assofte Of worldly wawes / whiche in this mortall see Hath vs bysette with grete aduersite.

¶ The rage of whiche / is so tempestyous That whan the calme / is moste blandisshynge Then is the storme / of deth moste perilous If that he want / the light of her shynynge And but the sight: alas of her lokynge From dethes brynke / vs to escape The hauen of lyfe / of vs may not betake.

¶ This streme in beaute / passith Plyades Bothe of shynynge / and of stremes clere Boetes and Artur / and also Iades And Esperus / whan it doth appere For this is Spice / with her bright spere That towarde euyn / at midnyght & at morowe Downe from heuyn adawith all out sorowe.

¶ Whose bryght beames shynyng fro so ferre That clowdes blake may the lyght not steyne For this of Iacob / is the fayre sterre That vnder wawes / neuer doth declyne Whose course: is not vnder the ecliplyke lyne But euery lyche of beaute may be sene Amyd the arke / of our meridyne.

¶ And dryeth vp the bytter terys wete Of Aurora after the morowe graye That she in wepynge bothe on floures flete In lusty Apryll / and in fresshe Maye: And causeth Phebus the bryght somers daye With his way•••• golde borned bryght and 〈◊〉〈◊〉 To enchase the mys•••••• of our cloudy ayre.

¶ For this is the sterre / that bare y^• bryght sonne Whiche holdeth the spere / of Iuda in his hande Whole stremes ben / out of Iesse co••••e To 〈…〉〈…〉 lyght bothe in see and lande Whose glade bemys / without eclipsynge stande Estwarde to vs in the Oryent full shene With lyght of grace to voyde all our tene.

¶ Nowe fayre sterre / o sterre of stetrys all Whose lyght to se / Angels delyte So let the golde dewe of thy grace fall In to my breste / lyke scalys fayre and whyte Me to enspyre / of that I wyll endyte With thylke bawme sent downe by myracle Whan the holy ghost / the made his tabernacle.

¶ And the lycoure / of thy grace shede In to my penne / to enlumyne this dyte Thorowe thy supporte / that I may procede Somwhat to say in laude & praysynge of the And fyrst I thynke / of the natiuyte So that thyne helpe / fro me not twynne Benygne lady / anone to begynne.

¶ Here endeth the prologe.