Of a Rose

Listen, lordynges, old and yonge,
How this rose began to sprynge
Such a rose to mine lykynge
In all this world ne knowe I non.
Alleluia.

The aungel came fro hevene tour
To greet Marye with gret honour,
Seyde she should bere the flour
That should breke the fiendes bond.
Alleluia.

The flower sprong in heye Bethlem,
That is both bryht and schen:
The rose is Marye, hevene qwene,
Out of here bosom the blosme sprong.
Alleluia.

The ferste braunche is ful of myht,
That sprong on Chrystemesse nyht,
The sterre schon over Bethlem bryht
That is bothe brod and long.
Alleluia.

The secunde braunche sprong to helle,
The fiendes power doun to felle:
Therein myht non soule dwelle
Blyss'd be the time the rose sprong!
Alleluia.

The thredde braunch is good and swote,
It sprang to hevene, crop and rote,
there to dwell and ben our bote
Ev'ry day it schewit in prystes hond.
Alleluia.