gyuen / by the god of kynde
Alas o nature / why mayst not thou truely
Cause my lady loue / as
thou hast me constrayned
Hath she power to domyne the vtterly
Why mayst not thou / cause her {be} somwhat payned
With natures
moeuynge / for lou{e is} not fayned
Alas for sorowe / why madest
th{ou h}er so fayre
Without to loue / that she lyst soone repayre
Two thynges me conforte / euer in pryncypall
The fyrst be bokes /
made in antyquyte
By Gower and Chauncers / poetes rethorycall
And Lydgate eke / by good auctoryte
Makynge mencyon / of the
felycyte
Of my lady and me / by dame fortunes chaunce
To mete
togyders / by wonderfull ordynaunce
The seconde is / where fortune dooth me brynge
In many placys / I se
by prophecy
As in the storyes / of the olde buyldynge
Letters for
my lady / depeynted wonderly
And letters for me / besyde her
meruayllously
Agreynge well / vnto my bokes all
In dyuers placys /
I se it in generall
O loue moost dere / o loue nere to my harte
O gentyll floure / I wolde
you knewe my wo
Now that your beaute / perst me with the darte
With your vertue / and your mekenes also
Sythens ye so dyde / it is
ryght longe ago
My herte doth se you / it is for you bebledde
Myne
eyen with teeres / ben often made full redde
Where are ye now / the floure of Ioye and grace
Whiche myght me
conforte / in this inwarde sorowe
Myne excellent lady / it is a ryght
pyteous case
Good be my guyde / and saynt George vnto borowe
O
clere Aurora / the sterre of the morowe
Whiche many yeres / with thy
bemes mery
Hath me awaked / to se thyne emyspery
{Th}us as I mourned / I sawe than apper{e}
Thre goodly myrours
dependaunt on the wall
Set in fyne golde bordred with stones clere
The glasses pure / they were of crystall
Made longe ago to be
memoryall
And vnder the fyrst glasse ryght fayre wryten was
Beholde thy selfe / and thy fautes or thou passe
By a sylken threde / small as ony heere
Ouer I sawe hange / a swerde
full ponderous
Without a scauberde / full sharpe for to fere
The
poynt dounwarde / ryght harde and asperous
All this I sawe / with
hert full dolorous
Yet at auenture / to se the mystery
In the myroure
/ I loked than full sodenly
In this glasse I sawe / how I had ledde my lyfe
Sythens the tyme of
my dyscrecyon
As vnto wyldnesse / alwaye affyrmatyfe
Folowynge
the pleasure / of wylfull amonycyon
Not vnto vertue hauynge
intencyon
Ihesu sayd I / thou hast me well preserued
From this
swerdes fall / whiche I haue oft deserued
O ye estates / aloft on fortunes whele
Remembre this swerde / whiche
ouer you dependeth
Beware the fall / before that ye it fele
Se your
one euyll / se what vengeaunce ensueth
Correcte none other / whan
that your fautes renueth
Calke not not goddes power / bryef not [the]
tens future
Beholde this glasse / se how he may endure
Many one {weneth / the future t}ens to {brefe}
By calculacyon
goddes power to withstande
Bathynge theyr swerdes / in blode by
myschefe
Tyll at the last as I do vnderstande
This swerde doth fal
by the myght of goddes hande
Vpon then all / whiche wolde his
power abate
Then they repent but than it is to late
This goodly myrour / I ryght well behelde
Remembrynge well / my
dedes done in tymes past
I toke forwytte / than for to be my shelde
By grace well armed / not to be agast
Thus as I stode / I dyde se at the
last
The seconde myrour / as bryght as phebus
Set rounde about /
with stones precyous
Ouer whiche dyde h[an]ge / a floure of golde ryght fyne
Wherin was
set / an emeraude full bryght
Ryght large and grete / whiche
w[on]derfull dyde shyne
That me thought it was / grete conforte to
my syght
Bordred with dyamondes / cast[yn]ge a meruaylo[us] lyght
This floure dyde hange / by a ryght subtyll gynne
With a chayne of
yron / and many a pryue pynne
Besyde whiche there was / a table of golde
With a goodly scrypture /
enameled of grene
The sentence wherof / I dyde well beholde
The
whiche sayd thus / it is openly sene
That many a one / full pryuely
dooth wene
To blynde an other / by crafte and subtylnes
That ofte
blyndeth hym / for all his doublenes
In this myrour whiche is here besyde
Thou shalt well lerne / they
selfe for to knowe
Passe forth no ferder / but loke and abyde
Se
what shall come / lest that thou ouer throwe
A sodayne rysynge dooth
oft fall alowe
Without the grounde / be ryghe sure and perfyte
Beholde well this glasse / & take thy respyte
Whan thou hast so done / to this floure resorte
Laboure to gete it /
from this harde yren chayne
Unto the gynnes / vnto thy
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