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

¶ Howe we sholde do this offerynge ghostely. Capitulo. lxxvi.

NOwe Christe Iesu y^• knowest euery herte And nothynge may be hyde fro thy p̄sence Ne from thyne eye declyne ne asterte Graunte vs this daye of thy magnificence The Golde of loue / the Franke of innocence And the chaste Myrre of clene entencion So to presente in our oblacion.

¶ To thyne hyghnes / that it be acceptable Whyle that we lyue euer from yere to yere As was the offrynge in Bethleem in a stable Made vnto the / and to thy mother dere Of the kynges / that with the streames clere Of a Sterre conueyed were by grace Where thou laye / to come to the place.

¶ And vnto the this day / we clepe and call Thou blessed quene of kynges emperesse That gaue thy sone souke in a stall That chaste mylke of virginall clennes That thou this feste / o Sterre of holynes Conueye our offrynge / to that Sterre se Where next thy sone / thou haste the souer aynte.

¶ And good lady in this sorowfull vale Of trouble and wo / and of heuines Sithen thou of Iacob arte the right scale The waye of lyfe / the Ladder of holinesse Towarde that contre / the euen waye dresse And make thy men thyder to assende Where euer blesse / and ioye hath no ende.

¶ For cer••es lady / in this lyfe we lacke Of sothfaste ioye / all the suffisaunce Saue amonge we knele afore the racke Wherwith thy sone was somtyme thy plesaunce And vs reioysynge / as by remembraunce Onely by likenes to loke on thyne ymage And on thy sone / with his fayre vysage.

¶ But o alas there is but a likenes Of portrature / that dothe greate offence For we maye nat haue / full the blessidnes Of thy vysage neyther of thy presence And so to vs greate harme dothe apparence Whan that we se / of our desyre we fayle We maye playne / but it maye nat auayle.

¶ yet day by day / of true affeccion We gone of newe / thy likenes for to s•• Where of one thynge / we haue compassion To se the bestes that so humble be To stande so nere betwene thy sone and the The rude Asse / and the Oxe also And than we saye complaynynge in our wo.

¶ With all our herte / o what thynge maye this be To se that lorde in a racke lye That hath the heuen in his postye And all this worlde / power hath to gye O howe it is that the regallie Of heuen & erthe is brought downe so lowe That no man liste vnnethe his power knowe.

¶ And sodeynly our hertes gynneth colde For astonynge / & is for wonygh mate So greate a quene / whan that we beholde Alone sittynge all disconsolate So fayre / so good / and so hygh estate Moste womanly / and so benigne of chere Thy sone / and the togyder sutynge in fere.

¶ In the bandes of so narowe a dongeon Wherof all erthe tremble shall and quake And euery wight by lamentacion Wepe & playne / syghe and sorowe make O blissed quene / onely for thy sake To se on the / none other waytynge But bestes with hey hym selfe fedynge.

¶ But in one thynge / comforte yet we fele O good lady / sothely yf we se Thre worthy kynges / afore thy face knele Bryngen her giftes with all humilite And hem gouerne / lyke to thy degre With meke attendaunce / & full besy cure But all this thynge / we se but in picture.

¶ Alas the whyle / & yet it dothe vs ease And in party as wageth our greuaunce For nothynge maye our sorowe so appease As euer of the / to haue a remembraunce For in the lady / is hoole our sustenaunce Though we lyue in langour for thyne absence yet good lady for thy magnificeuce.

¶ To thy seruauntes of thy grace se And to thy sone / be for vs a mene This hygh feste / whiche longeth vnto the In whiche thou were honoured lyke a quene With Myrre / & Frāke / & Golde / that shone so clene Nowe for the honoure / this day was to the And for the loue of the kynges thre.

¶ Whan we shall parte out of this wofull lyfe And make an ende of this captiuite Or Herodes through his mortall stryfe The fende by trappe vs thorowe his cruelte Nowe that tyme lady of thy benignite Agaynste the snares / of this dredfull werre To lyfe eterne / be thou our loode Sterre.