Thou art the why I scle hym so sone,
Therfore xal I kylle the here, thou skapyst nowght.
Hic Lameth cum arcu sua verberat adolescentem ad mortem, dicente adolescente,
Adolescens. Out, out, I deye here! my deth is now sought !
This theffe with his bowe hath broke my brayn !
Ther may non helpe be, my dethe is me brought,
Ded here I synke down as man that is sclayn !
Lameth. Alas! what xal I do? wrecche,wykkydon woolde,
God wyl be vengyd ful sadly on me;
for deth of Caym I xal have vij. folde
More peyn than he had that Abelle dede sle.
These to mennys deth fulle sore bought xal be,
Upon alle my blood God wylle venge this dede,
Wherefore sore wepyng hens wyl I fle,
And loke where I may best my hede sone heyde.
Hic recedat Lameth et statim intrat Noe cum navi cantantes,
Noe. With doolful hert syenge sad and sore,
Grett mornyng I make for this dredful flood |
Of man and of best is dreynte many a skore,
Alle this werd to spylle these flodys be ful wood.
And alle is for synne of mannys wylde mood,
That God hath ordeyned this dredfulle vengeaunce;
In this flood spylt is many a mannys blood,
for synfulle levynge of man we have gret grevauns. |
Alle this hundryd 3ere ryght here have I wrought,
This schypp for to make, as God dede byd me;
Of alle maner bestes a copylle is in brought,
Within my shypp borde on lyve for to be.
Ryght longe God hath soferydamendyng to se ;
Alle this hundryd 3ere God hath shewyd grace.
Alas! frogret syn man wyl not fle,
God doth this vengeauns for oure gret trespase.
Uror Noe. Alas! for gret ruthe of this gret vengeaunce,
Gret doyl it is to se this watyr so wyde
But 3it thankyd be God of this ordenaunce,
That we be now savyd on lyve to abyde.
Seem. for grett synne of lechory alle this doth betyde,
Alas ! that evyr suche synne xulde be wrought !
This flood is so gret on every a syde,
That alle this wyde werd to care is now brought.
Wror Seem. Becawse of chylderyn of God that weryn good,
Dede forfeteryght sore what tyme that thei were,
Synfully compellyd to Caymys blood,
Therfore be we now cast in ryght grett care.
Cham. for synful levynge this werde doth for-fare;
So grevous vengeauns myght nevyr man se ;
Ovyr alle this werd wyde ther is no plot bare,
With watyr and with flood God vengyd wylle be.
Uror Cham. Rustynes of synne is cawse of these wawys,
Alas! in this flood this werd xal be lorn;
for offens to God brekyng his lawys,
On rokkys ryght sharp is many a man torn.
Japhet. So grevous flodys were nevyr 3ett beforne,
Alas! that lechory this vengeauns doth gynne :
It were welle bettyr ever to be unborn,
Than for to forfetyn evyr more in that synne.
Uror Japhet. Oure lord God I thanke of his gret grace,
That he doth us save from this dredful payn !
Hym for to wurchipe in every stede and place,
We beth gretly bownde with myght and with mayn.
Noe. Xl." days and nyghtes hath lasted this rayn,
And xl." days this grett flood begynnyth to slake;
This crowe xal I sende out to seke sum playn,
Good tydynges to brynge, this massage I make.
Hic emittat corvum, et parum expectans iterum dicat,
This crowe on sum careyn is falle for to ete,
Therfore a newe masangere I wyllefforthe now sende ; fly forth, thou fayr dove, ovyr these waterys wete,
And aspye afftere sum dry lond, oure mornyng to amend.
Hic evolet columba ; qua redeunte cum ramo viride olivae,
Joye now may we make of myrth that that were frende,
A grett olyve bushe this dowe doth us brynge;
for joye of this tokyn ryght hertyly we tende
Our lord God to worchep, a songe let us synge.
Hic decantent hos versus.
Mare vidit et fugit,
Jordanis conversus est retrorsum.
Non nobis, Domine, non nobis,
Sed nomini tuo da gloriam.
~7. v. Q Et sic recedant cum navi.
Introitus Abrahe, etc.
Most myghty makere of sunne and of mone,
Kyng of kynges, and Lord over alle,
Allemyghty God in hevyn trone,
I the honowre and evyr more xal!
My Lord, my God! to the I kalle,
With herty wylle, Lord, I the pray,
In synfulle lyff lete me nevyr falle,
Butlete me leve evyr to thi pay.
Abraham my name is kydde,
And patryarke of age ful olde;
And 3it be the grace of God is bredde,
In myn olde age, a chylde fulle bolde.
Ysaac, lo! here his name is tolde,
My swete sone that stondyth me by,
Amonges alle chylderyn that walkyn on wolde,
A lovelyer chylde is non trewly.
I thanke God with hert welle mylde,
Of his gret mercy and of his hey grace,
And pryncepaly for my suete chylde,
That xal to me do gret solace.
Now, suete sone, fayre fare thi face,
ful hertyly do I love the,
for trewe herty love now in this place,
My swete childe, com, kysse now me.
E
Ysaac. At 30ure byddynge 3our mouthe I kys,
With lowly hert I 3ow pray,
3oure fadyrly love lete me nevyr mysse,
But blysse me, 30ur chylde, bothe nyght and day.
Abraham. Almyghty God, that best may,
His dere blyssyng he graunt the,
And my blyssyng thou have alle way,
In what place that evyr thou be.
Now, Ysaac, my some so suete,
Almyghty God loke thou honoure,
Wiche that made bothe drye and wete,
Shynyng sunne and scharpe schoure.
Thu art my suete childe, and par amoure
ful wele in herte do I the love,
Loke that thin herte, in hevyn toure
Be sett to serve oure Lord God above.
In thi 3onge lerne God to plese,
And God xal quyte the weyl thimede :
Now, suete sone, of wordys these
With alle thin hert thou take good hede.
Now fare weyl, sone, God be thin spede
Evyn here at hom thou me abyde,
I must go walkyn, for I have nede,
I come agen withinne a tyde.
Ysaac. I pray to God, fadyr of myght,
That he 3ow spede in alle 3our waye,
From shame and shenshipp, day and nyht,
God mote 3ow kepe in 3our jornay.
Abraham. Now fare weylle, sone ! I the pray
Evyr in thin hert loke God thou wynde,
Hym to serve, bothe nyght and day,+
I pray to God sende the good mynde.
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