Maid, Mother, Mary††† (Anon. late 15c.)

 

Blessed be that lady bright,

That bare a child of great might,

Withouten peine, as it was right,

Maid, mother, Mary.

 

Goddis sonne is borne:

His moder is a maid,

Both after and beforne,

As the prophecy said,

With ay.

A wonder thing it is to see

How maiden and moder one may be:

Was there never nonne but she,

††††††††††††††† Maid, moder, Mary.

 

The great Lord of Heven

Our servant is become,

Thorow Gabrielís steven,

Our kind have benome,

††††††††††††††† With ay.

A wonder thing it is to see

How lord and servant one may be:

Was there never nonne but he,

††††††††††††††† Born of maid Mary.

 

Two sons together they

Ought to shine bright:

So did that fayer lady,

Whan Jesu in her light,

††††††††††††††† With ay.

A wonder thing is fall,

The Lord that bought free and thrall

Is found in assís stall

By his moder Mary