_Primus pastor._ Have ȝe good tydynges, mayster? than we be glad! _Joachym._ Prayse God for me, for I am not wourthy! _Secundus pastor._ In feyth, sere, so we xal with alle oure sowlys sad. _Tertius pastor._ I holde it helpfful that on of us with ȝow be had. _Joachym._ Nay, abyde with ȝour bests, sone, in Goddys blyssynge. _Primus pastor._ We xal make us so mery now this is be-stad, That a myle on ȝour wey ȝe xal here us synge. _Anne._ Alas! ffor myn husbond me is ful wo, I xal go seke hym what so evyr be-falle; I wote not in erth whiche wey is he go, ffadyr of hefne, ffor mercy to your ffete I falle. _Angelus._ Anne, thin husbond ryght now I was with-alle, The aungel of God, that bare hym good tydynge, And as I seyd to hym so to the sey I xal, God hath herd thi preyour and thi wepynge. At the goldyn gate thou xalte mete hym ful mylde, And in grett gladnes returne to ȝour hous; So be proces thou xalt conseyve and bere a childe, Whiche xalt hyght Mary, and Mary xal bere Jhesus, Whiche xal be Savyour of alle the werd and us,— Aftere grett sorwe evyr grett gladnes is had! Now myn inbasset I have seyd to ȝow thus, Gooth in oure Lordys name, and in God beth glad! _Anne._ Now blyssyd be oure Lorde and alle his werkys ay! Alle heffne and erthe mut blysse ȝow for this! I am so joyful I not what I may say! Ther can no tounge telle what joye in me is! I to bere a childe that xal bere alle mannys blyss, And have myn hosbonde ageyn; ho mythe have joys more? No creature in erthe is grauntyd more mercy i-wys! I xal hyȝe me to the ȝate to be ther before. _Here goth the aungel aȝen to hefne._ A! blyssyd be our Lord! myn husbond I se. I xalle on myn knes and to hym-ward crepe. _Joachym._ A! gracyous wyff Anne, now frutefull xal he be! ffor joy of this metyng in my sowle I wepe; Have this kusse of clennesse and with ȝow it kepe, In Goddys name now go we, wyff, hom to our hous. _Anne._ Ther was nevyr joy sank in me so depe, Now may we say, husbond, God is to us gracyous, Verily. _Joachym._ ȝa, and if we have levyd wel here before, I pray the, Lord, thin ore, So mote we levyn evyr more, And be thi grace more holyly. _Anne._ Now hom-ward, husbond, I rede we gon, Ryth hom al to our place, To thank God that sytt in trone, That thus hath sent us his grace. IX. MARY IN THE TEMPLE. _Contemplacio._ Sovereynes, ȝe han sen shewyd ȝow before, Of Joachym and Anne here botheres holy metynge, How our lady was conseyvid, and how she was bore; We passe ovyr that, breffnes of tyme consyderynge. And how our lady, in here tendyr age and ȝyng, Into the temple was offryd, and so forthe proced, This sentens sayd xal be hire begynnyng, Now the Modyr of mercy in this be our sped!