Dailie of light, very ground of comfort!
The Sunn'is doughtir ye hight, as I rede,
For when he weftrith far well your disport;:
By your nature anone right for pure drede:
Of the rude Night, that with his boiftous wede
Of derkeneffe fhadowith our hemifphere,

Then clofin ye, my liv'is ladie dere!

Daunyng the daie unto his kinde refort,
And Phobus your fathir with his firemes rede
Adorneth the morowe, confuming the fort
Of miftie cloudes, that wouldin ovirlede.
True humble hertis with ther miftie hede,
Nere comfort adaies, when your eyin clere
Disclose and fprede, my liv'is ladie dere!

Je vouldray, but the grete God difpofeth
And makith cafuell by his providence
Soche thing as mann'is frele wit purpofeth,
All for the best, if that your confcience
Not grutche it, but in humble pacience

It receve, for God faith withoutin à fable

A faithfull herte evir is acceptable.

Cautelis whofo ufith gladlie glofeth;

To efchewe foche it is right high prudence;
What ye faied onis mine herte oppofeth,
That my writyng japis in your abfence
Plefid you moche bettir than my prefence,
Yet can I more, ye be not excufable;
A faithfull herte evir is acceptable.

Volume XIII.

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Quakith my penne, my spirite fuppofeth That in my writing ye find woll offence;

Min hert welknith thus fone, anon it riseth,

Now hotte, now colde, and eft in grete fervence;
That miffe is is caufid of negligence,

And not of malice, therefore beth merciable;

A faithfull herte evir is acceptable.

L'envoye.

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Forthe complaint, forthe thou lacking eloquence, Forthe litil lettir, of enditing lame,

I have befought my ladie's fapience
Of thy behalfe for to accept in game
Thine inabilite, doe thou the fame :
Abide, have more yet; Je ferve Fovesse:
Now forth, I close the' in holy Venus name,
The shall unclofe my hert'is govirnesse.

Thus endeth this ballade.

A ballade in commendacion of our Ladie.

A Thousande ftories coud I mo reherce
Of olde poetis touching this matere,

How that Cupide the hertis gan fo

perce

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Of his fervauntis, fettyng 'hem in fere.
Lo here the fine of th' errour and the fere,
Lo here of love the guerdone and grevaunce,
That er what wo her fervauntes do avaunce!

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Wherfore now plainly I woll my ftile dreffe
Of one to fpeke at nede that woll not faile;
Alas! for dole I ne can ne maie' expreffe
Her paffyng prife, and that is no mervaile.
O winde of grace! now blowe unto my faile,
O auriate licour of Clio! to write

My penne enfpire of that I woll endite.

Alas! unworthie I am and unable

To love foche one, all women furmountyng,
But she be benigne to me and merciable,
That is of pitie the welle and the fpryng;
Wherfore of her in laude and in praifyng,
So as I can, fupportid by her grace,
Right thus I faie, knelyng before her face:

O ftere of fterris, with thy ftremis clere,
Sterre of the fe, to shipmen light and gide!
O luftie livyng, moste plesaunt to' appere,
Whose bright bemis the cloudis maie not hide!
O waie of life to 'hem that go or ride,
Haven aftir tempeft, furist up to rive,
On me have mercie for thy joyis five!

O rightfull rule! o bote of holineffe!
And lightsome line of pitie for to plain,
Originall of grace and all godeneffe,

And cleneft conduct of vertue mofte foverain!
Mothir of mercie', our trouble to restrain,

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Chambir and clofit cleneft of chaftitie,

And namid herbrough of the deitie!

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O clofit, gardin, voide of wedis wicke, Criftallin welle, of clereneffe clere configned, Fructified olive of foiles faire and thicke, And redo'lent cedre moft dere worthy digned! Remember on finnirs that to the be' affined Or wickid fendis ther wrathe on 'hem wreche; Lanterne of light! thou art ther livis leche. Paradife of plefaunce, gladfome to all gode, O benigne braunchilet of the pine tre, Vinarie' envermailed, refreshir of bode, Licour ayen langour that palled maie not be, Blisful blomic blofme, bidyng in bounte! Thy mantell of mercie on our miferie fprede, And er we' awaie wrappe us undir thy wede. O rodie rofier, flouring without spine," Fountain filthleffe, as birill currant clere! Sum drop of gracefull dewe to us propine; Light without nebule fhinyng in thy sphere, Medecine to mifcheves, pucell without pere! Plan be doun the full light of thin influence, Remembring thy fervantes for thy magnificence. 56. Of all Chriftin protectrice and tutele, Retourne of exiled put in the profcripcion, To 'hem that erren in the' pathe of ther fequele, To werie forwandrid tent and pavilion, To faint and to freshe the paufacion,

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To unreflie bothe reft and remedie,

Frp full to all tho that in her affiet

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To 'hem that rennin thon art itinerarie,
O blisfull bravie to knightes of thy werre!
To werie werkmen fhe 'is diourne denarie,
Mede unto mariners that have failed ferre,
Laureate coroune ftremyng as a sterre,
To 'hem put in palastre for thy fake
Tours of ther conqueft white as any lake.

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O mirthe of martyrs! fwetir than fitole,

Of confeffours alfo riche donatife,

Unto virgines eternall lauriole,

'Fore all woman havyng prerogatife,

Mothir and maide, bothe widowe and eke wife!

Of all the worlde is none but thou alone,

Now fith thou maie be fuccour to my mone.
Truftie turtle, truefaftift of all true,
Curteife columbe, replete of all mekeneffe,
O nightingale with thy notis newe!
O popinjaie! purid with all clennesse,
O laveroke of love! fingyng with fwetnesse,
Phoebus waityng till on thy breft he light,
Undir thy wing at domifdaie us dight.

O rubie! rubified in the paffion
Of thy fonne, us have emongis in minde,
Oftedfaft diametre of duracion!

That fewe feris any time might thou finde,
For none to hym was foundin halfe fo kinde;
O hardie hefte! o lovyng creäture!

What was 'it but love that made the so endure?

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