I sawe there trappes / I sawe theyr gynnes all I thanked god than / the swete holy goost Whiche brought me hyder so well in specyall Without whiche myrour / I had been but loost In god aboue / the lorde of myghtes moost I put my trust / for to withstande theyr euyll Whiche dayly wrought / by the myght of the deuyll I sawe theyr maysters blacke and tydyous Made by the craft of many a nacyon For to dystroye me / with strokes peryllous To lette my Iournaye / as I make relacyon Peryllous was the waye / and the cytuacyon Full gladde was I of the vertu of this glasse Whiche shewed me / what daungers I sholde passe O all ye estates / of the hygh renowne Beware these gynnes / beware theyr subtylte The deuyll is grete / {and re}dy to cast downe By calculacyon / of the {cur}sed cruelte Of the subtyll beestes / full of inyquyte In the olde tyme what snares were there sette By fals calkynge / to dystroye lordes grete Than after this to the yron gynne I wente anone my wyte for to proue By lytell and lytell / to vndo euery pynne Thus in and out / I dyde the chayne ofte moue Yet coude I not come / vnto myne aboue Tyll at the last / I dyde the crafte espy Vndoynge the pynnes / & chayne full meruaylously Full gladde was I than / whan I had this floure I kyst it oft / I behelde the coloure grene It swaged ryght well / myn inwarde doloure Myn eyes conforted / with the bryghtnes I wene This ryall floure / this emeraude to shene Whan I had goten it by my prudence Ryght gladde I was / of fortunes premynence O fortune sayd I / thou art ryght fauorable For many a one / hath ben by symylytude To wynne this floure / full gretely tendable But they the subtylnes / myght nothynge exclude Sythnen by wysdome / I dyde this fraude conclude This floure / I sette nere my harte For perfyte loue / of my fayre ladyes darte So this accomplysshed / than incontynent To the thyrde myrour I went dyrectly Beholdynge aboute by good auysement Seynge an ymage made full wonderly Of the holy goost with flambes ardauntly Vnder whiche I sawe with letters fayre and pure In golde well grauen this meruaylous scrypture Frome the fader and the sone my power procedynge And of my selfe I god do ryght ofte inspyre Dyuers creatures with spyrytuall knowynge Inuysyble by dyuyne flambynge fyre The eyes I entre not it is not my desyre & am not coloured of the terrestryall grounde Nor entre the eres for I do not sounde Nor by the nose for I am not myxte With ony maner of the ayry influence Nor by the mouthe for I am not fyxte For to be swalowed by erthly experyence Nor yet by felynge or touchynge exystence My power dyuyne can not be palpable For I myselfe am no thynge manyable Yet vysyble I may be by good apparaunce As in the lykenesse of a doue vnto chryste Ihesu At his baptysme I dyde it with good countenaunce To shewe our godhed to be hygh and true And at his transfyguracyon our power to ensue In a fayre cloude with clere rayes radyaunt Ouer hym that I was well apparaunt