Full rather would I die again

Than one drop of my mercy be found dry
Full lief were I to suffer pain,

To save a soul e'erlastingly.
Great power have I, and mastery:

And a King's word shall stand in stead.
O man, why fly in thy folly?

Mistrust thou never, man, for thy misdeed!
Look upward to the cross, and see a thief:
He asked for mercy, and that boon he got;
And also Paul, that did me great repreef [reproof],
Worthy apostle was anon, I wot.

The Magd'len mercy asked for her trespass;
And Peter thrice forsook me in his dread;
Yet who more worthy now in my paláce?

Mistrust thee never, man, for thy misdeed!1

A great number of carols, and verses of a kindred character, have been preserved in two manuscripts of the fifteenth century, both of which have been edited by Dr. T. Wright in two separate volumes. One of these poems is shown by internal evidence to have been composed about 1362, and many of them may have been preserved in memory a number of years before they were copied out in the collections referred to. It is well known how very ancient some of the carols are which are even to this day traditionally repeated in country places. A great number of those in this collection pass from the Nativity to the Crucifixion; and some, although headed by the Christmas greeting 'Nowel,' are entirely of the Passion. For example:

'Mary mother, come and see!
Thy Son is nailed on a tree;
Hand and feet He may not go,

His body's wounden all in woe.
'Thy sweet Son that thou hast bor'n,
To save mankind that was forlorn,
His head is wreathen in a thorn,
His bliss-ful body all-to torn.'

1 Pieces of Ancient Poetry from Unpublished Manuscripts and Scarce Books, Bristol, 1814, p. 41:

I bade the seche and I walde save. The MS. is in parts imperfect and illegible.

When he this tale began to tell,
Mary would no longer dwell,

But fast she hied her to that hill

Where Jesus 'gan His blood to spill.

Ah, my sweet Son, that art so dear,
Say wherefore have men hang'd Thee here?
Thy head is wreathen in a brere [briar]:
My lovely Son, how is Thy cheer?

Sweet limbs to which I gave their rest,
That comely mouth that I have kissed-
Now on the rood is made thy nest:

Dear Son of mine, say what is best?'

‘Woman, to John I thee betake;
John, keep this woman for my sake;
For sinful souls my death I take.

On rood I hang for many's sake.

'This part alone I needs must play ;
For sinful souls I die to-day.

There is no wight that go'th his way,

Who of my pains the tale can say.'1

Among the carols of Henry the Sixth's time at latest, is the following curious legend for St. Stephen's Day :

1

Saint Stephen was a clerk in King Herod's hall,

And served him of bread and cloth, as every king befall.
Stephen out of kitchen came, with boar's head in hand :
He saw a star was fair and bright over Bethlehem stand.
He cast adown the boar's head, and went into the hall :
'I forsake thee, King Herod, and thy works all.

'I forsake thee, King Herod, and thy works all,
There is a child in Bethlehem born is better than we all.'

'What aileth thee, Stephen? what is thee befall?
Lacketh thee either meat or drink in King Herod's hall?'

Songs and Carols from a MS. in the British Museum of the Fifteenth Century, ed. by T. Wright, No. xlv. :

Mary moder, cum and se,
Thi sone is naylyd on a tre.

'Lacketh me neither meat nor drink in King Herod's hall; There is a child in Bethlehem born is better than we all.'

'What aileth thee, Stephen? art thou wode [mad], or 'ginnest to brede [brood]?

Lacketh thee either gold or fee, or any rich weed?'

'Lacketh me neither gold nor fee, or any rich weed;

There is a child in Bethlehem born, shall help us at our need.'

'That is all so sooth, Stephen, all so sooth, I wis,
As this capon crow shall, that lieth here in my dish.'

That word was not so soon said, that word in that hall,
The capon crew 'Christus natus est' among the lords all.

'Rise up, my tormentors, by two, and all by one,

And lead ye Stephen out of town, and stone him with stone.'

Tooken they Stephen, and stoned him in the way;

And therefore is his even on Christés own day.1

Of other carols of this century, I can only find room for a few extracts:

As they came forth with their offering,

They met with Herod, that moody king.
He asked them of their coming

1 Songs and Carols, ed. by T. Wright, xliv.: 'Seynt Stevene was a clerk in kyng Herowdes halle.'

When they camen into the place
Where Jesu with His mother was,
They made offering with great solace,
Not fear,

With gold, incense, and myrrh.1

In this time rose a star clear,
Over Bethlehem, bright as fer [fire],
In token that He had no peer,

Lord, and King and Emperoúr

In this time, it is befall,

He that died for us all,

Born He was in asses stall

Of Mary, that sweet flower.

In this time camen three kings;
They camen from far, with rich things,
For to maken their offerings

On their knees with great honoúr.

In this time, pray we

To Him that died on the tree,

On us have mercy and pity,

And bring us all to His tower.2

'Nowel-el!' both old and ying,
'Nowel-el!' now may we sing,
In worship of our heavenly king,
Almighty God in Trinity.

Listen, lordings, kind and dear,
Listen, ladies, with glad cheer;

A song of mirth now may ye hear,

How Christ our brother He would be.

An angel from heaven was sent full snel [quick].
His name is clepéd Gabriel;

His errand he did do full snel;

He set on knee, and said 'Ave.'

And said he, ‘Mary, full of grace,
Heaven and earth in every place,
Within the time of little space,
Reconciled it shall be.'3

1 Songs and Carols, ed. by T. Wright, xxxix. : 'As they keme foryt with here offeryng.'

2 Id. xlvii. In this tyme ros a sterre cler.' 3 Id. lx.: 'Nowel, el, bothe eld and ying.'

Welcome be thou, Heavenly King,
Welcome, born in one morning ;
Welcome, for whom we shall sing,
Welcome Yule.1

Sweet Jesus is come to us,

This good time of Christmas ;
Wherefore with praise sing we always,
Welcome our Messias !

Hey now, now, now.

The God almight and King of light,
Whose power is over all,

Give us of grace for to purchase
His realm celestial.

Hey, etc.

Where His angels and archangels
Do sing incessantly,
His principates and potentates
Do make great harmony.
Hey, etc.

With one accord serve we that Lord,
With lauds and orison,

The which hath sent by good assent,
To us His only Son.
Hey, etc.

Lo, what kindness in our distress
The Lord did show us then,
The death to take all for our sake,
And bring us from Satan.
Hey, etc.2

One of the most distinguished men among the many who were proud to call Chaucer Master,' was James I. of Scotland, the greatest of the ill-starred Stewart line -the best king who was ever a poet, and the best poet who was ever a king. . . He was by nature a soldier and statesman, and equally by nature a man of letters.

1 Songs and Carols, ed. by T. Wright, lxvii :

Wolcum be thou, hevene kyng,
Wolcum, born in on morwenyng,
Wolcum, for hom we xal syng,
Wolcum, yol.

2 Id. Ix. 'Swet Jhesus is cum to us.'