O lorde god what Ioye was this Vnto his moder so good and gracyous Whan that she sawe her sone I wys Of his ennemys to be so vyctoryous It caused her to be moost Ioyous And yet there of no wonder why For he was ryght longe from her truely A ioyfull metynge than bytwene The moder and the sone so dere A daye of gladnes bryght and shene Fressher than phebus myddaye spere Whan her sone to vs dyd appere He dyd vs lyght with his pure bemys Quenchynge of mars the fyrous lemys O heuenly kynge o eternall emperoure O thre persons and one god equall I praye the to kepe from all doloure This moder with her sone in specyall With all theyr noble buddes in generall And laude be to the that dyd enhaunce Hym to his ryght and propre herytaunce The whyte rose that [with] tempestes troublous Aualed was and eke blowen asyde The reed rose fortyfyed and made delycyous It pleased god for hym so to prouyde That his redolent buddes shall not slyde But euer encrease and be vyctoryous Of fatall brerys whiche be contraryous Thus god by grace dyd well combyne The rede rose and the whyte in maryage Beynge oned ryght clere doth shyne In all clennes and vertuous courage Of whose ryght and royall lynage Prynce Henry is spronge our kynge to be After his fader by ryght good equyte O noble prynce Henry our seconde treasure Surmontynge in vertue & myrour of beaute O geme of gentylnes & lanterne of plasure O rubycound blossome and sterre of humylyte O famous bud full of benygnyte I pray to god well for to encrease Your hyghe estate in rest and pease O thoughfull hert for lack of connynge Now layde to slepe this longe wynters nyght Ryse vp agayne loke on the shynynge Of fayre lucyna clere and bryght Beholde eke mercury with his fayre lyght Castynge a doune his stremys mery It may well glad thyn emyspery O gower fountayne moost aromatyke I the now lake for to depure My rudnes with thy lusty retoryke And also I mys as I am sure My mayster Chaucers to take the cure Of my penne for he was expert In eloquent termes subtyll and couert Where is now lydgate flourynge in sentence That shold my mynde forge to endyte After the termes of famous eloquence And strength my penne well for to wryte With maters fresshe of pure delyte They can not helpe me there is no remedy But for to praye to god almyghty For to dystyll the dewe of influence Vpon my brayn so dull and rude And to enlumyn me with his sapyence That I my rudnes may exclude And in my mater well to conclude Vnto thy pleasure and to the reders all To whome I excuse me now in generall Explicit exemplum virtutis [Illustration: {Printer’s symbol}] * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Errors and Irregularities _Transposed Text_