The Canterbury Tales, and Other Poems

Chapter C

Comfort is none, but in you, Lady dear! For lo! my sin and my confusion, Which ought not in thy presence to appear, Have ta’en on me a grievous action,* *control Of very right and desperation! And, as by right, they mighte well sustene That I were worthy my damnation, Ne were it mercy of you, blissful Queen!

D.

Doubt is there none, Queen of misericorde,* *compassion That thou art cause of grace and mercy here; God vouchesaf’d, through thee, with us t’accord;* *to be reconciled For, certes, Christe’s blissful mother dear! Were now the bow y-bent, in such mannere As it was first, of justice and of ire, The rightful God would of no mercy hear; But through thee have we grace as we desire.

E.

Ever hath my hope of refuge in thee be’; For herebefore full oft in many a wise Unto mercy hast thou received me. But mercy, Lady! at the great assize, When we shall come before the high Justice! So little fruit shall then in me be found, That,* thou ere that day correcte me, *unless Of very right my work will me confound.