God's Gifts

Good folk, go gain
The gifts, which by the Lord our God Himself are given,
Who in His might this world doth hold.
His hire obtain,
Which for the blessed lies stored up in Heaven
With lasting pleasures manifold.
Gladly for a little bear with suffering sore,
To 'scape from death that lasteth evermore.
God did to you both soul and body give:
Give Him the body's death! So shall the soul for ever live.

Love, release me now!
Free me for a little from thy vassalage!
My reason thou hast robbed from me.
Later on if thou
Come, when I have finished God's high pilgrimage,
Once more welcome shalt thou be.
Yet, if from my heart thou wilt not be removed,
(Like enough, in sooth, it may be proved)
If to the land of God with me thou fare,
I pray He grant my lady half of all I win me there.

"Alas!" a lady cried,
"What sorrow have I won from what was sweet and dear!
Sweet bliss hath brought me bitter smart.
How shall I abide
Bereft of all my joy, when he hath sailed from here,
Who made me ever high of heart?
Can I face the world and bear my sorrow too?
Sore I need good counsel what to do.
Would I could do what's right in either case!
Ne'er was my need so sore. The hour of parting comes apace."

Blessed be her name,
Who by her grace and sweetness brings a man to this,
That he bears her o'er the sea!
He must sing the fame
Of his lady, if he e'er hath won such bliss.
For here she bides in misery,
In silence thinking how he's sore bestead.
"Does my lover live, or is he dead?"
So she speaks, "then may my dear love find
With Him fair comfort, for whose sake this world he hath resigned!"