Vice & Virtue

O Lord, how do my woes increase
How many are my miseries:
My troubles rise and never cease
Men judge Thou wilt not hear my cries

O cohort of the guard
of the thornless
branch’s flower:
You are the sound
of all the world,
surrounding all the places where
the senseless sensuous
are feasting with the swine./

Enforce yourself as God’s own knight,
to strengthen your commons in their right.
~~~
God hath given you of his goodness,
wisdom with strength and sov'reignty,
all misdone things to be redress.
And specially hurts of thy commonalty,
which cry and call unto your majesty,
in your person all their hope is pight,
to have recover of their unright.
~~~
Enforce your self as Goddess knight,
to strengthen your commons in their right.

1) What is the cause that thou, O Lord, art now so far from thine?
And keepest close thy contenance, from us, this troublous time?
2) The poor doe perish by the proud, and wicked mens desire,
 Let them be taken in the craft, that they themselves conspire.
3) For in the Lust of his owne heart, the ungodly doth delight:
 So that the wicked praise himselfe, and doth the Lord despight.
7) His mouth is full of cursednesse, of fraud, deceit, and guile:
 Under his tongue doth mischiefe sit, and travaile all the while.

I was born at one; at two I grew up; at three I took a lover; at four I was wed.
I got married with love, my soul, life, and heart.
Tell me, young lass, where are you from? I long to get to know you.
If you do not have a lover, I will defend you, my  soul, life and heart.
I'm going off to the war,
I've thrown kisses into the air, one is for my mother, the other is for you.

Our King is swift and ready to
receive the blood of innocents.
So sing the angels and with praise resound.
~~~
But yet—the clouds
this blood bewail.

1. The man, the man, the armed man, one must beware the armed man.
The word is that everyone must arm himself with a hauberk [iron chain-mail vest].
The man, the man, the armed man, one must beware the armed man.
2. He will be attacked by you the feared Turk, Master Symon – certainly this will happen –
and put down by hook or by crook
3. In a short time you will have beaten him to God’s pleasure, then it will be said:
“Long live little Symon le Breton who has fallen upon the Turk!”

Hold thy peace! And I pray thee, hold thy peace, or else I will box thee, on thee, Sir!
Peace, thou knave, hold thy peace! THOU KNAVE!

O strength of Wisdom
who, circling, circled,
enclosing all
in one lifegiving path,
three wings you have:
one soars to the heights,
one distils its essence upon the earth,
and the third is everywhere.
Praise to you, as is fitting,
O Wisdom.

I am black but beautiful, O ye daughters of Jerusalem.
Therefore hath the king loved me and led me into his bedchamber.
Do not consider me that I am brown because the sun hath altered my colour;
they have made me the keeper in the vineyards.
Stay me up with flowers, compass me about with apples: because I languish with love.

Can she excuse thy wrongs with virtue’s cloak?
shalt thou call her good when she proves unkind?
Are those clear fires which vanish into smoke?
must thou praise the leaves where no fruit thou find’st?
~~~
No, no: where shadows do for bodies stand,
thou may’st be abused if thy sight be dim.
Cold love is like to words written on sand,
or to bubbles which on the water swim.
~~~
Wilt thou be thus abused still,
seeing that she will right thee never?
if thou canst not overcome her will,
thy love will be thus fruitless ever.

sections!

That tyrant still
was choked by death’s oppressive sleep
in punishment of his grave wickedness..

But yet—the clouds
this blood
bewail.

England be glad, pluck up thy lusty heart!
Help now thy king, thy king, and take his part,
And take his part!
Against the Frenchman in the field to fight
In the quarrel of the Church and in the right.
With spears and shields on goodly horses light,
Bows and arrows to put them all to flight,
To put them all to flight:
Help now thy king, thy king, and take his part,
And take his part!

Glory be to the Father and to the Son
and to the Holy Spirit.

But yet—the clouds
this blood
bewail.

In the air of these days I made so great a
Castle that even Jove cannot raze it, 
Founded upon two flying wheels,
And of dust and of wind are the doors,
~~~
With a thousand moats around, and for a garrison
Vain hopes, of every effect void.
Of desire are the walls, where strike
Not sea nor river, but adversity and fate.
~~~
Of foolish ardor and fear are made
The armaments, against which no other knows how to fight,
And of various thoughts are the munitions,
~~~
Against himself the Castellan spars,
Paying his soldiers only in ambition.
Pray think on my works, which will have end.

(translation by Oliver Doyle)