Classic Poem

How myschaunce regnythe in Ingeland.

Now God, that syttyst an hyghe in trone,
Help thy peple in here greet nede,
That trowthe and resoun regne may sone,
For thanne schal they leve owt of drede.
In that wyse conscience schal hem lede,
Hem to brynge onto good governaunce;
That yt may sone be doon in dede;
Of alle oure synnys, God, make a delyveraunce.

And men wolde, and take good hede,
This lond ys now full of inyquyte;
And al that causyth the mayde Mede,
The wyche feer bannyd ys from felycyte.
There that sche regnyth ther ys no prosperyte,
To holy cherche sche doth greet grevaunce;
For of here apeyryd ys the hyghe dygnyte,
Of al oure synnys, God, make a delyveraunce.

Mede makyth fele men for to weepe,
Wyth here frendys sche wol abyde,
The wyche cunne here goodys wysely kepe,
Be manye false weyes here wyttys gyde.
Untrowthe regnyth in many a syde,
For agayn here ys a greet distaunce,
That knowen ys ful feer and wyde;
Of al oure synnys, Good, make a delyveraunce.

Meed and falseheed assocyed are;
Trowthe bannyd ys, the blynde may not se;
Manye a man they make fulle bare,
A strange compleynt ther ys of every degre.
The way ys now past of tranquyllyte,
The wyche causyth a full greet varyaunce;
Amange the comunys ther ys no game nor gle;
Of al oure synnys, God, make a delyveraunce.

And men myghte wel the hyghe wey fynde
Of trowthe and resoune, and where they dwelle;
Meede wyth here help stand scholde behynde,
In dyspyte of alle the develys of helle.
Untrowthe wyt many oon scholde no more melle;
Falsehed and sche byn bothe of oon substaunce,
Alle be they not worth an oyster-schelle;
Of alle oure synnys, God, make a delyveraunce.

Murdre medelythe ful ofte, as men say;
Usure and rapyne stefly dothe stande,
Here abydynge ys wythe her that goon ful gay;
For whanne they wele they have hem in hande.
And thus they regne throughe thys lande;
Ful manye they brynge to myschaunce.
Wyse men, beholden, be wayr al afore hande;
Of alle oure synnys, God, make a delyveraunce.

Idylnesse and thefte gyt have they no care,
Thoughe that thys worlde thus endure ever more;
Oftyn tymes here wyde purse is full bare,
And other whyles here schoon be al totore;
The mete that thei ete ys alle forlore;
On the galwys they scholde anhaunse;
They greve the comunys, and that ryghte sore;
Of alle oure synnys, God, make a delyveraunce.

Slowthe and neclygence ful sore empeche
Justise, that scholde regne contenually;
Coveytyse causyth that, for he dothe teche
Of all astatis seme fulle besyly.
The prosperite of thys land thus they gy
Forthewyth togedere al to the daunce;
A wronge way to werke alle they be redy;
Of alle oure synnys, God, make a delyveraunce.

Wyght ys blak, as many men seye,
And blak ys wyght, but summe men sey nay;
Auctoryteys for hem they toleye;
Large conscience causyth they croked way.
In thys reame they make a foul aray.
Whanne the dyse renne, ther lakkythe a chaunce;
Clene conscien bakward goth alway;
Of al oure synnys, God, make a delyveraunce.

Myscheef mengid ys, and that in every syde;
Dyscord medelythe ful fast amonge;
The gatis of glaterye standen up wyde,
Hem semythe that al ys ryghte and no wronge.
Thus endurid they have al to longe;
Crosse and pyle standen in balaunce;
Trowthe and resoun be no thynge stronge;
Of alle oure synnys, God, make a delyveraunce.

Rychesse renewyd causithe the perdicioun
Of trowthe, that scholde stande in prosperyte;
Between here and hope ys mayd a devisioun,
And that ys al for lak of charyte;
Wherfore ther regnethe no tranquillyte;
Thys mateer causithe the fool ignoraunce,
That the peple may not in eese be;
Of alle oure synnys, God, make a delyveraunce.

He that hathe the word at hys owne wylle,
Helthe, rychesse, and contynual tranquillyte,
Ech mannys hestes ys glad to fulfylle,
He thenkyth upon noon deversite.
Ful unsewyr atte the laste may he be
To sette hys herte in swyche abundaunce;
Dampnacioun yt schewythe, as thenkythe me;
Of alle oure senuys, God, make a delyveraunce.

Wyghte is wyghte, gyf yt leyd to blake;
And soote ys swettere aftur bytternesse;
And falsenesse ys evere drevene abake,
Where tho throughte ys rootyd wytheowte dubbilnesse.
Wytheowte preef may not be sykernesse;
Wherfore trowthe and resoun scholde hem avaunce,
For to take to hem stedefastnesse.

Of alle oure synnys, God, make a delyveraunce.
That unhappy insacyable simonia
Now regnethe in Ingeland, and that sore;
He sparithe not for closynge of alleluya;
Woo worthe the tyme that evere was he bore!
Unavysyd clerk soone may be forlore
Unto that theef to donne obeysaunce;
For as afore God they ben forswore;
Of alle oure synnys, God, make a delyveraunce.

Hatrede and praptyk of fals auctorite
Al good consciencie they putten owte;
Of trowthe and resoun lettynge the prosperyte;
Wherfore concord ys put feer abowte.
And gyf men wolde stonden owt of dowte
Drede of God, with a good atemperaunce
From these synnys scholde make hem schowte,
And put hem alle to a pleyne delyveraunce.

Vengeaunce and wrathe in an hastyvyte,
Wyth an unstedefast speryte of indyscrecioun,
Been the cause that men may not yn eese be;
For here consentynge drawith to confusioun.
Al londys putten thys land in derisioun.
For thys usyd ys oonly of acustomaunce,
Gyf that day may come of a good conclusioun,
Of alle oure synnys to make a delyveraunce.

Men of holy cherche, that been ful wyse,
Scholde meekly preye with good devosioun,
That trowthe and resoun myghte sone aryse,
For to bryng away thys false tribulacioun;
And that the heyere herd with good medytacioun
May the pore peple swych wyse avaunce,
In the drede of God to sette here ocupacyoun,
Of al here synnys to make a delyveraunce.

And men wolden weel hem self knowe,
Grace for to aske in here greet nede,
To God here hertis bowyng ful lowe,
Almesse doynge weel to taken heede,
Pylgremage goyng to gete hem mede,
Prayeng and fastynge with good rememoraunce,
Body and sowle so they may hem lede
Into blysse of eternalle purvyaunce.

Now, God, that art ful of al pletevousnesse,
Of al vertuys grace and charyte,
Putte from us al thys unsekyrnesse,
That we stande ynne in grete necessyte,
That agayn trowthe no varyeng be,
Al tymes that art founteyne of al felycite,
Of al oure synnys thou make a delyveraunce.