Maria, Jesus coronans eam, cum turba ANGELorum cantans.
¶Mine ANGELs that are bright of sheen,
On my message take ye the way
Unto Mary, my mother clean,
That lady brighter than the day.
Greet her all well, even as I mean.
And to that seemly shall ye say,
Of heaven I have her chosen queen,
In joy and bliss that last shall aye.
I will you tell what I have thought,
And why that you shall to her wend.
I will her body to me be brought,
To be in bliss without an end.
My flesh of her on earth was ta'en;
Unkindly thing it were, I wis,
That she should bide by her alone,
And I dwell here so high in bliss.
Therefore to her forth shall ye fare,
Full friendly for to fetch her hither.
There is no thing that I love more;
In bliss then shall we be together.
¶O blissful lord, now most of might,
We are ready with speed of flight
Thy bidding to fulfil,
To thy mother, that maiden free,
Chosen chief of chastity,
As it is thy will.
¶Of thy message we are full fain;
We are ready with might and main,
Both by day and by night.
Heaven and earth now glad may be