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Now Ys The Twelthe Day Cum

Now ys the twelthe day cum,
The fadyr and the son togeder is won,
The holy gost his wyth them num
In fere:
God sent us gud neu ere.

I wold 3ow syng, and I myth,
Of a chyld so fayyr in syth,
A maydyn bar on Cristmes nyth,
So styll,
As it was hys wyll.

Iij. kyngges com fro Galely,
Tho Bedlem, that fayer sety,
For to ofer and se,
Be nyth;
It was a wol fayre syth.

As thei 3edyn with her offeryng,
Thei met Herowd, that mody kyng;
He askyd hem of her comyng,
Tyat tym,
And thus to them gun say.

For wense cum 3e, now, kyngges iij.?
Out of the est of 3e may se,
For sekyng that ever xal be,
Thowre ryth,
Lord, kyng, and knyth.

Qwan 3e have at that chyld be,
Cum ageyn this wey be me,
And tell me as 3e have see,
I pray,
Go not another way.

Of Harowd, that mody kyng,
Thei toke her leve both held and 3yng,
And for thi 3edyn with her offeryng
Be nyth,
The stere 3af them lyth.

Qwan thei com to that blysful place,
Jhesu with hys modyr was;
Ther thei offeryd with gret solas,
In fere,
God, sense, and mere.

Qwan thei had her offeryng mad,
As the holy gost hem bad,
Then wer thei both mery and glad,
And lyth;
It was a wel fayr syth.

Anon as thei awey went,
The fathyr of hevun an aungell sent
To the kyngges that made present,
Or day,
And thys tyl hem he sey.

My lord warnyd 3ow everychon,
That 3e not be Harowd gon;
For yf ye don, he wol 3ow sclon,
And strow,
And do 3ow mekyll woo.

Thei 3edyn all anodyr wey,
Thorow the myth of Goddes lay,
As the angel tyl hem gan say
Fol tyth;
It was a wol fayre syth.

Qwan thei were cum into hyr cuntre,
Mery and glad then wer thei,
For the syth that thei had se,
Be nyth;
For as thei cam be lyth.

Prey we al with gud devocioun,
To that lord of gret renow,
And of owre synnys we ask remyssion,
And grace
In hevne to have a place.

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