Art. 57, Marie, mere al Salveour

ART. 57, MARIE, MERE AL SALVEOUR: TEXTUAL NOTES


ABBREVIATIONS: As: Aspin; Bö: Böddeker; Bos: Bossy; Br: Brook; BS: Bennett and Smithers; BZ: Brandl and Zippel; B13: Brown 1932; B14: Brown 1952; DB: Dunn and Byrnes; Deg: Degginger; Do: Dove 1969; Gr: Greene 1977; Ha: Halliwell; Hal: Hall; Hol: Holthausen; Hor1: Horstmann 1878; Hor2: Horstmann 1896; Hu: Hulme; JL: Jeffrey and Levy; Ju: Jubinal; Kel: Keller; Ken: Kennedy; Le: Lerer 2008; Mc: McKnight; Mi: Millett; MR: Michelant and Raynaud; Mo: Morris and Skeat; MS: MS Harley 2253; Mu: H. M. R. Murray; Pa: Patterson; Pr: Pringle 2009; Rei: Reichl 1973; Rev1: Revard 2004; Rev2: Revard 2005b; Ri1: Ritson 1877; Ri2: Ritson 1885; Ro: Robbins 1959; Sa: Saupe; Si: Silverstein; St: Stemmler 1970; Tr: Treharne; Tu: Turville-Petre 1989; Ul: Ulrich; W1: Wright 1839; W2: Wright 1841; W3: Wright 1842; W4: Wright 1844; WH: Wright and Halliwell.

30 quide. So MS (abbreviation mark on d), W3, Do.

 
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Art. 57, Marie, mere al Salveour

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¶ Marie, mere al Salveour,
De totes femmes estes flour.
Vous estes pleyne de grant doçour.
Vous estes refu al peccheour.

Dame, vous estes virgine e mere,
Espouse a le haltisme piere.
Vous estes pleyne de bounté.
Vous estes dame de pieté.

Toun fitz, Dame, est vostre pere,
E vous file e sa mere.
Tres bele, tres noble, e tres chere:
A tous peccheours estes lumere.

De totes femmes estes la flour
De pureté e de douz odour.
Mestresse estes de lel amour,
Marie, mere al Salveour.

Digne ne sui de estre oyé,
Pur mon desert e ma folie,
Mes par vous, qe estes douz e pié,
Espeir je bien aver la vie.

Marie, pleyne de bounté,
Marie, pleyne de charité,
Douce est vostre amysté:
De moi, cheitif, eiez pieté.

Ton fitz, Dame, me ad cher achaté
E grant amour a moi mostré.
Alas, trop poi le ay pensee,
Qe molt ay ver ly meserré.

Quant je regard mes pecchiez,
Bien quide certes estre dampnez.
Mes quant regard je vos grant bountez,     
Grant espoir ay de salvetez.

Dame, pur nous devynt enfaunt
Ly douz Jesu, roi puissaunt.
Pur vous, Dame, nous ama taunt.
Dame, seiez nostre garaunt.

E nous, par vous, averum la vie,
Quar vous li estes si chere amye,
Qe nule rien a vous desdie.
Pensez de nous, douce Marie!

Ave, de totes la plus digne!
Ave, de totes la plus benigne!
Ave, de totes graces signe!
Pur moi priez que su indigne.

Mostrez, Dame, qe tu es mere
A toun fitz e a toun pere.
A ly portez ma priere
Qe je pus vere sa chere,
Tresdouce, Dame debonere.

Dame, moi donez vostre enfaunt,
Qe de vous si fust l’estaunt.
Par vostre douçour fetez taunt,
Autre chose ne vous demaunt.
 
¶ Mary, mother of the Savior,
Of all women you are the flower.
You are full of great compassion.
You are refuge for the sinner.

Lady, you are virgin and mother,
Spouse to the most exalted father.
You are full of goodness.
You are lady of mercy.

Your son, Lady, is your father,
And you, daughter and his mother.
Very lovely, very noble, and very dear:
To all sinners you are the light.

Of all women you are the flower
Of purity and sweet fragrance.
You are mistress of true love,
Mary, mother of the Savior.

I’m not worthy of being heard,
For my deeds and my folly,
But through you, sweet and merciful,
I hope well to attain life.

Mary, full of goodness,
Mary, full of charity,
Sweet is your friendship:
On me, wretched, have mercy.

Your son, Lady, bought me dearly
And showed me a great love.
Alas, too little have I thought of him,
Having grievously sinned against him.

When I consider my misdeeds,
I expect surely to be damned.
But when I consider your utter goodness,     
I have great hope of salvation.

Lady, for us became a child
The sweet Jesus, powerful king.
For you, Lady, he loved us so much.
Lady, be our protector.

And we will, through you, attain life,
Since you're so dear a friend to him,
He who denies you nothing.
Think of us, sweet Mary!

Hail, of all most worthy!
Hail, of all most mild!
Hail, of all graces the sign!
Pray for me who am unworthy.

Show, Lady, that you are mother
To your son and to your father.
To him carry my prayer
That I may see his face,
Very gentle, blessed Lady.

Lady, give to me your child,
Who through you was made to be.
By your compassion do this much,
No other thing do I ask of you.
 




































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Go To Art. 58, Dulcis Jesu memoria, introduction
Go To Art. 58, Dulcis Jesu memoria, text