The Flight into Egypt

Awake, Ioseph, and take intent!
Thou ryse, and slepe nomare!
If thou Wyll saue thy self vnshent
ffownde the fast to fare;
I am an angell to the sent,
ffor thou shall no harmes hent,
To cach the outt of care.
If thou here longer lent,
ffor rewth thou mon repent,
And rew it wonder sare.
A! myghtfull god,
what euer this ment,
so swete of toyn?
lo, Ioseph, it is I,
An angell send to the.
we! leyf, I pray the why?
what is thy wyll with me?
hens behufys the hy,
And take with the mary,
Also hir chyld so fre;
ffor herode dos to dy
All knaue chyldren, securly,
with in two yere that be
Of eld.
Alas, full wo is me!
where may we beyld,?
Tyll egypp shall thou fare
with all the myght thou may;
And, Ioseph, hold, the thare,
tyll I wyll the at say.
This is a febyll fare,
A seke man and a sare
To here of sich a fray;
My bonys ar bursyd and, bare
ffor to do; I wold, it ware
Comen my last day
Tyll ende;
I ne wote which is the way;
how shall we weynde?
Ther of haue thou no drede;
weynd furth, & leyf thi dyn;
The way he shall you lede,
the kyng of all man-kyn.
That heynd til vs take hede,
ffor I had lytyll nede
Sich bargans to begyn;
No wonder if I wede,
I that may do no dede;
how shuld I theder wyn
ffor eld?
I am full bare and thyn,
And all vnweld;
My fors me falys to fare,
and sight that I shuld, se.
Mary, my darlyng dere,
I am full wo for the!
A, leyf Ioseph, what chere?
youre sorow on this manere
It mekill meruels me.
Oure noyes ar neghand, nere
If we dwell longer here;
ffor-thi behofes vs fle,
And flytt.
Alas! how may this be?
what euer menys it?
It menys of sorow enoghe.
A, dere Ioseph, how so?
As I lay in a swogh,
ffull sad slepand and thro,
An angell to me drogh,
As blossom bright on bogh,
And told betwix vs two,
That herode wroght greatt wogh,
And all knaue children slogh
In land that he myght to,
That feynd!
And he thy son wold, slo
And shamely sheynd.
My son? alas, for care!
who may my doyllys dyll?
wo worth fals herode are!
my son why shuld, he spyll?
Alas! I lurk and dare!
To slo this barne I bare,
what wight in warld, had wyll?
his hart shuld be full sare
Sichon for to fare,
That neuer yit dyd yll,
Ne thoght.
Now leyfe mary, be styll!
This helpys noght;
It is no boytt to grete,
truly withoutten trayn;
Oure bayll it may not boytt
bot well more make oure payn.
Alas! how shuld, I lete?
My son that is so swete
Is soght for to be slayn;
ffull gryle may I grete,
My fomen and I mete;
Tell me, Ioseph, with mayn,
youre red.
Shortly swedyll vs this swayn,
And fle hys dede.
his ded wold I not se,
ffor all this warld, to wyn;
Alas! full wo were me,
In two if we shuld, twyn;
My chyld, so bright of ble,
To slo hym were pyte,
And a full hedus syn.
Dere Ioseph, what red ye?
Tyll egyp weynd shall we;
ffor-thi let be thi dyn
And cry.
how shall we theder wyn?
ffulle well wote I;
The best wyse that we may
hast vs outt of this here.
Ther is noght els to say
bot tytt pak vp oure gere;
ffor ferd of this affray,
lett vs weynd hens away,
Or any do vs dere.
Greatt god, as he well may,
That shope both nyght and day,
ffrom wandreth he vs were,
And shame;
My chyld, how shuld, I bere
So far from hame?
Alas! I am full wo!
was neuer wyght so wyll!
God wote I may say so,
I haue mater ther tyll;
ffor I may vnyth go
To lede of land sich two;
No wonder if I be wyll,
And sythen has many a fo.
A, why wyll no ded me slo?
My lyfe I lyke yll
And sare;
he that all doyls may dyll,
he keyll my care!
So wyll a wyght as I,
In warld, was neuer man;
howsehold, and husbandry
ffull sore I may it ban;
That bargan dere I by.
yong men, bewar, red I:
wedyng makys me all wan.
Take me thi brydyll, mary;
Tent thou to that page grathly
with all the craft thou can;
And may
he that this warld, began,
wysh vs the way!
Alas, full wo is me!
Is none so wyll as I!
My hart wold breke in thre,
My son to se hym dy.
we! leyf mary, lett be,
And nothyng drede thou the,
Bot hard, hens lett vs hy;
To saue thi foode so fre,
ffast furth now lett vs fle,
Dere leyf;
To mete with his enmy,
It were a greatt myschefe,
And that wold, I not wore,
Away if we myght wyn;
My hart wold, be full sore,
In two to se you twyn.
Tyll egypp lett vs fare;
This pak, tyll I com thare,
To bere I shall not blyn:
ffor-thi haue thou no care;
If I may help the mare,
Thou fyndys no fawte me in,
I say.
God blys you more and myn,
And haue now all good day!

2016 Nov 11  15:38:41