Ladye of heaven that o'er earth hath swaye And of Hell's marshes art most Royal Reeve,Grant toe thy humble Christian that doth praye. To be of those thy virtue doth retrieve. Though all unworthye of thy great reprieve,Ladye and mistresse whom I worship well,Yet can thy virtues save my soul from Hell Despite my sinfulnesse, and purge the offenceSoe that I win to heaven. Truth I tell: And in this faith I live and will goe hence.
Tell toe thy Sonne that I am his; my shame I bear untoe him to be purged of sinne.Forgive me even as the Egyptian dame Or as the clerk Theophilus who did win Thy pardon and a new life did begin,Though he hadde given his soul in bond to Hell.Guard me, O Virgin, from foul Satan's spell Soe that the holye bread I taste, nor thenceBe driven, till Tyme sounde my passynge bell: And in this faith I live and will goe hence.
I am but a poor old woman whose dim eyes That lack book-learning, do with joy beholdWithin the church a painted Paradyse With harps and eke with lutë's manifold; Therunder a huge cauldron wherin roll'dThe damnéd seethe for ever in deep Hell,The which I fear. O Goddesse, let me dwell Where joy is. Thou, the sinner's sure defence,Fill me with faith, and all my sloth dispell: And in this faith I live and will goe hence.
Thou barest, Virgin Princesse, without stain, Jesus the Kynge that doth for ever reign.The Almightye, seeinge us in thrall to Hell, Didde give his deare sonne for our soul's offenceTo die, and from the heavens where he doth dwell,Our Lord did brynge salvation as I tell: And in this faith I live and will goe hence.
