Classic Poem

(Ballade que feit Villon a la requeste de sa mere)

Lady of Heaven, earthly Queen,
Who hath all hell in empiry,
Receive a humble Christian
Whose prayer it is to dwell with thee.
Though I am worthless, as you see,
Thy boundless grace, that I would win,
Is greater far than my great sin.
None sans that grace, unless I lie,
The gates of heaven may enter in.
And in this faith I live and die.

Say to thy Son, on Him I lean,
His grace shall wash my sins from me,
He who forgave t' Egyptian;
Theophilus, also, though he
Long time was held in Satan's fee.

Preserve me that my soul within
Finds joy where sorrow long hath bin,
Virgin, through whose grace even I
May touch, God through the wafer thin.
And in this faith I live and die.

A poor old woman — old and lean —
Am I, who know not letters three,
Yet in the cloister have I seen
Heaven in those pictures heavenly.
Where saints and angels ever be
With harps and lutes, and, 'neath their din,
A hell with sinners scorched of skin.
'Twixt joy and fear to thee I fly
Who savest sinners from hell's gin.
And in this faith I live and die.

ENVOI

Thou didst conceive, Princess Virgin,
Jesus, for whom no years begin
Nor end, and who from heaven did spin,
His robe from out our frailty.
Offering to death His youth — I ween
He is our Lord, to us akin,
And in this faith I live and die.