Classic Poem

In a castel semly sett,
Strenthed wele widuten lett
þis castel es of love and grace.
Both of socure and of solace;
Apon þe marche it standes traist,
Of enmye dredis it na fraist,
It es hy sett apon a cragg,
Gray and hard, widuten hagg.
Dounward es it polischt bright,
þat it may neyhe na warid wiht,
Ne na maner gin of were
May cast þartill it forto dere,
Wid wallis closid four of stan,
þat fayrer in þis world es nan.
Baylis has þis castel thre,
Wid wallis thrinne, semly to se,
As ge sal siþen here divyse,
Bot wel fayrer on many wise
þan tung may tell, or hert thinc,
Or any clerc may write wid ink.
A depe dick þar es aboute
Wele wroght, widuten doute;
Wid kirneles es umset ful wele,
Schroud on ilk a side wid sele;
Seven barbicans er þar dight,
þat er made wid mekil slight,
Ilkan þai have bath gate and toure,
þat never mare may fayle socoure.
Wid mislike sal he never be ledd,
þe man þat-þiþerward es fledd.
þis castel es noght for to hide,
Es payntid on þe uter syde
Wid thre colouris of sundri hewe,
þe grund wal neyst, þat es so trew,
Metand wid þat roche of stan
Of gret suetnes þai wantis nan;
For suete grennes, I dar wele say,
His hew he haldis lastand ay.
þe toþer hew neist to finde,
Es all of blew men cals Ynde,
þe midward heu es þat I mene,
To sight it es ful selcuth schene;
þe thrid colour over mast of all,
þat þe kirnelis er þaynt widall,
It cestis lem over all sua bright,
þat rechis to þe donwar light,
As rose rede es in spring,
And semes als a brinand thing.
Waried wight nan comes þar never,
Bot suetnes es þar lastand ever
Widin þat castel þat sua es tift,
þat queþer es þan snau on drift,
þat castel brightnes so unnede,
Overall þat contre on lenth and brede.
Midward þe hiest tour itelle,
þar springes of clere water a well;
þarfra rennys four stremes suete,
Thoru þat gravel and þat grete,
And þarwid fillis ilk a dicke,
Qua þarbi es, wele may þaim like;
Qua miht þaim wid þat water wass,
He miht have hele of all his fless.
Widin þis tour þat es forsayd
Es sett a trone of yvor graid,
þat es of gretter light and lem
þan someres day es sunnes bem;
Craftyly castin wid compas,
Climband up wid seven pas,
Ilkan es wid þair mesur mett,
Ful semely þar þan er þai sett.
þe lem of light ay lendis new,
þat mengis wid þa coluris hew.
Was never git king ne cayser,
þat ever satt in suilk a chayer.
Bot fayrer was, widuten ende,
þe stede þar God himselven wald lende,
þat was þar never suilk a hald,
Ne nan wylyer in world to wald,
Ne never bes made wid manes witt,
For God himself divysed itt,
To his bihove sundri and sere,
Forþi we awe to hald it dere.
þis castel es of beld and bliss,
þar myrth es never mar to miss,
Castel bath of hope and hald,
Hir grith to have þai may be bald.
þat es þe bodi of þat berde,
Had never womman so blissed werde,
Ne never sua many maners gode,
As Mari mayden, mylde of mode.
It es up sett as in þe marche,
And standis us fore schild and targe,
Agaynes all ur feloun fa,
þat waytis us ay for to sla.
þe roche þat es þolichit so sliht
Es mayden Mari hert ful bright,
þat nehyes never to wic dede;
Bot ever scho lyves in maydenhede,
þat scho hir ches þe first day,
Scho gemed it in mekenes ay.
þe fundement þat first es laid
Nest þe roche, as it es said,
þat paynted es wid grenne hew,
And þat lastes ever elike new,
þat es end of þat mayden clene,
Lyghtand hir haly herte schene.
þe grennes lastand ever and ay,
Bitakins ending of þat may,
For gode ending of al and all,
Of al vertus es grund wal.
þe midward hew þat es of Ynde,
Es na man þat may fayrer fynde,
þat es takening of all sothfaste,
Of tendernes and trouth stedfast;
Scho servid in our Laverd of miht,
In mekenes suete, day and niht.
þe colour overmast of all,
It coverys all aboute þe wall,
And it es rede as any blode,
Of all þir oþer es nan sua gode,
þat es þat haly charite,
Was kindlyd in þat lefdy fre.
Sua umlayd wid love so clene,
Scho was gevyn to serve God bidene.
þe foure trettis on hy er sett,
þe castel with fra saght to gett,
þat er four vertus principalys,
þe quilk men callis cardinalys;
All oþer vertus of þaim has hald,
Forþi er þay hefd vertus tald:
þat es rightwisnes, and meth,
Forsiht, and strenth, to tell er eth.
At þe gatis foure er four porteris,
þat nathing may cum in þat deris.
þe baylis thre of þat castell,
þat es sua wele wroght cernel,
þat es in cumpas wroght aboute,
And weris all þat werk fra doute;
þat on þe overmast stage es sett,
Hir maydenhede es graythly gett,
þat never was wemmyd, was a dele,
For scho was filde wid þe grace so wele.
þe bayle midilmast of þe thre,
Betakins wele hir chastite.
þe overmast, widuten fayle,
May wele bitakin hir sposayle,
Name of bayli it hatt forþi,
For it hir held as in bayly,
þat makles es hir self, I say,
Spousid, and moder, and clene may;
He most wend thoru an of þir thre,
þat in þis world wil saved be.
þe barbicans seven þat es aboute,
þer standis thre baylis widute,
þat wele kepis þat castel,
For arw, schott, and quarel,
þat er þe seven vertus to tell,
þe sevyn sinnes er sett to quell.
Ge sal þaim here, widuten bide.
þe first of þaim men clepis pride,
þat es overcomin and mad ful mate
þer buxumnes may hald hir state;
Charite ever fordos envye;
Abstinence fordos glutrie;
þe chastite of þis levedy
Overcumes all lust of lichery;
Al gredines of everilkan,
Hir fredam all fordos it þan;
Miht never in hir be wreth ne hete;
Hir tholemodnes it was so grete;
Gastly gladnes was hir emydd,
þat al ille hevynes it fordidd.
þe welle of grace springes þarin,
þat fynis never mare to rine.
God gaf his grace to al his dere,
And delt it all wid mesur sere;
Bot scho þat was his aun to wale,
To hir he gaf his grace al hale.
Bot of þe grace þat of hir brestis,
Over all þis world þat grace it kestis
Forþi scho es cald in ilka place
Moder of pyte and als of grace.
And quat may we call þa dikes
Bot wilful povert þat man in likes?
Ne may na gynne in erde be wroght,
May cast to dere þis castel aght,
Quarthoru þe feind, þe warid wiht,
Overcomen es and has tint his miht,
þat had sua mekil miht biforn,
þat was na man of moder born
Miht were him fra þat fend sua fell,
þat he ne him putt to þe pine of hell.
For þis ilk levedi forsoth es scho,
þat Godd said of þe nedder unto,
þat suilk a womman git suld spring,
þat suld ful sare his hevid thring.
Now blissid be þat blisful berde,
þe worthiest an of all in werlde,
þat King of all þat ay has bene,
His sete made in hir saule clene,
To gestyn in hir lele body,
To save his folk fra sinne and foly,
And bring þaim ute of presun strang
þat þai had liggen in sua lang.
Ful lef was us, þis levedy lele,
þat bountes in hir bat sua fele,
Mare þan any schaft þat es;
Bot þe Sone of hir rightwisnes,
þat in hir lovely bodi light
Made hir a thousand sith so bright.
He cam in at þe gate sperd,
And sua it was quen he forth ferd,
As þe sune gas thoru þe gias,
He miht do quat his willis was.
" Mi saule es cumyn, levdi, þe to,
And callis at þe gate þe unto,
Knockand it fynis noght to crie,
Levdy suete, þu have mercy!
Undo, undo, levdy, þin are
To þis caytif, castin in care.
Widuten þi castel I am umsett,
Hard wid thre famen thrett:
þis world, mi fless, þe fend als,
þat fylus me wid fandyng fals,
To ger me fall in fylthes fele,
All agaynes mi saule hele.
A gadring held þai gret togider,
þe fend formast he cam thider
Wid thre werkis bunden bi his side,
þat es slawnes, envie, and pride;
þe world has tuynne to his ascyse,
þat es avaris, and covaytise;
þe fless has ful redily him by
Lechury, and eke glutry
Thoru þis þan am I driven dun,
And lijs forcastin as crachun.
I crede me sare lang for to ly,
Bot if þi grace me helpe, levdy.
þat þu þe wayke es wont to cover,
Do me to passe þa dykes over,
þat þe castel standis so stabil,
And charite es so comunabil."