Poetry. John Skelton. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: John Skelton
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      In me all onely wer set and comprysed,

      Enbrethed with the blast of influence deuyne,

      As perfytly as could be thought or deuised;

      To me also allthough it were promised

      Of laureat Phebus holy the eloquence, 160

      All were to lytell for his magnificence.

      O yonge lyon, but tender yet of age,

      Grow and encrese, remembre thyn estate;

      God thé assyst unto thyn herytage,

      And geue thé grace to be more fortunate!

      And, as the lyone, whiche is of bestes kynge,

      Unto thy subiectes be curteis and benygne.

      I pray God sende thé prosperous lyfe and long,

      Stable thy mynde constant to be and fast, 170

      Ryght to mayntayn, and to resyst all wronge:

      All flateryng faytors abhor and from thé cast;

      Of foule detraction God kepe thé from the blast!

      Let double delyng in thé haue no place,

      And be not lyght of credence in no case.

      With heuy chere, with dolorous hart and mynd,

      Eche man may sorow in his inward thought

      Algife Englond and Fraunce were thorow saught.

      Al kynges, all princes, al dukes, well they ought, 180

      Both temporall and spiritual, for to complayne

      This noble man, that crewelly was slayne:

      More specially barons, and those knygtes bold,

      And al other gentilmen with him enterteyned

      In fee, as menyall men of his housold,

      Whom he as lord worshyply mainteyned;

      To sorowful weping they ought to be constreined,

      As oft as they call to theyr remembraunce

      Of ther good lord the fate and dedely chaunce.

      That with one word formed al thing of noughte;

      Heuen, hell, and erthe obey unto thy call;

      Which to thy resemblaunce wondersly hast wrought

      All mankynd, whom thou full dere hast bought,

      With thy bloud precious our finaunce thou did pay,

      And vs redemed from the fendys pray;

      To thé pray we, as Prince incomparable,

      As thou art of mercy and pyte the well,

      Thou bring unto thy joye eterminable

      The soull of this lorde from all daunger of hell, 200

      In endles blys with thé to byde and dwell

      In thy palace aboue the orient,

      Where thou art Lord and God omnipotent.

      O quene of mercy, O lady full of grace,

      Mayden most pure, and Goddes moder dere,

      To sorowful hartes chef comfort and solace,

      Pray to thy Son aboue the sterris clere,

      He to vouchesaf, by thy mediacion,

      To pardon thy seruaunt, and brynge to saluacion. 210

      With all the hole sorte of that glorious place,

      His soull mot receyue into theyr company,

      Thorow bounty of Hym that formed all solace;

      Wel of pite, of mercy, and of grace,

      The Father, the Sonn, and the Holy Ghost,

       Non sapit, humanis qui certam ponere rebus

       Spem cupit: est hominum raraque ficta fides.

      [184] commonn] So MS. Marshe’s ed. “cominion.”

      [185] slee] MS. “slo,”—as in v. 35 (yet both Marshe’s ed. and MS. have “sleest” in v. 123).

      “Take up whos wolde for them, they let hym ly.”