The thyrde is this / yf this calenge be ryghtfull Neuer no swerde / shall through his harneys perce Nor make hym blody / with woundes rufull For he there strength / may ryghtfully reuerce Yet moreouer / as I do well reherce This ryall shelde / in what place it be borne Shall soone be wonne / and shall not be forlorne
These thynges sene / to the thyrde myroure clere I went anone / and in it loked ryght ofte Where in my syght / dyde wonderly appere The fyrmament / with the sonne all alofte The wynde not grete / but blowynge fayre and softe And besyde the sonne / I sawe a meruaylous sterre With beames twayne / the whiche were cast aferre
The one turnynge towarde the sterre agayne The other stretched ryght towarde Phebus To beholde this sterre / I was somwhat fayne But than I mused with herte full dolorous Whyder it sygnyfyed thynges good or peryllous Thus longe I studyed / tyll at the last I thought What it sholde meane / as in my herte I sought
This sterre it sygnyfyeth the resynge of a knyght The bowynge beame agayne so tournynge Betokened rattonnes of them whiche by myght Wolde hym resyst by theyr wronge resystynge The beame towarde Phebus clerely shynynge Betokened many meruaylous fyres grete On them to lyght that wolde his purpose lete
In the fyre clerest of euery element God hath appered vnto many a one Inspyrynge them / with grete wytte refulgent Who lyst to rede many dayes agone Many one wryteth trouthe / yet cõforte hath he none Wherfore I fere me / lyke a swarme of bees Wylde fyre wyll lyght amonge a thousande pees
¶ Sepe expugnauerunt me a iuuentute mea: et enim non potuerunt michi.
As the cantycles maketh good mencyon They haue oft expugned me / syth my yonge age Yet coude they haue me / in theyr domynyon Though many a one / vnhappely do rage They shall haue sorowe that shytte me in a cage In a grete dyspyte of the holy goost He maye them brenne / theyr calkynge is but loost
¶ Supra dorsum meũ fabricauerũt peccatores: prolongauerũt iniquitatẽ suã.
Vpon my backe synners hath fabrysed They haue prolonged theyr grete inyquyte From daye to daye it is not my mynysshed Wherfore for vengeaunce by grete extremyte It cryeth aboue / now vnto the deyte Whiche that his mynysters haue suffred so longe To lyue in synne and euyll wayes wronge