Pater noster commiserans,
Eos falli considerans,
Tutorum sibi dirigit,
Vitam morte mercatur;
In pena culpam destruit,
Vincit, cum iudicatur.
Filiorum excessibus,
In peccati contractibus,
Qui pro pupillis transigit,
Scelus in nece diluit.

Our merciful Father
sees all transgressors
and by His dire command
gives death for life
and punishment for blame,
triumphant, as He is judge.
The children of corruption,
who wallow in their sins
in brazen wickedness,
He brings to their destruction.

Dic, Christi veritas,
Dic, rara caritas,
Aut in valle visionis,
Aut in alto cum Nerone,
Vel in fiscella scripea
Vel in domo Romulea.
Dic, cara raritas
Ubi nunc habitas?
Aut in throno Pharaonis,
Aut in antro cum Theone,
Cum Moyse plorante,
Cum bulla fulminante?

Say, thou truth of Christ, say, thou charity rare, where thou now dwellest in the valley of vision, or on the heights with Nero, or in the basket among the bulrushes as in the house of Romulus? Say, precious rarity, is it on Pharaoh's throne, or in the cave with Theo, or with Moses weeping, or in the thunderbolt?

Alleluja. Christus resurgens ex mortuis jam non moritur; mors illi ultra non dominabitur.
Alleluja.

Hallelujah. Christ, having risen from the dead, dies now no more; death shall no longer have dominion over Him. Hallelujah.

Alleluja. Nativitas gloriosae virginis Mariae ex semine Abrahae, orta de tribu Juda. Alleluja.

Hallelujah. The birth of the glorious Virgin Mary, from the seed of Abraham, sprung from the tribe of Judah. Hallelujah.

Amor potest conqueri videns senunc de primi, quia cepit mundi fides et constancia que sibi restitui peritum indicii petit cum instancia.

Love may complain and turn to despair when that faith and constancy go on diminishing for whose recovery it so urgently implores the fate.

Countertenor: El mois de mai, che chante la malvis, que flourist la flour de glai, la rose et lilis, lors doit bien joie mener qui d'amours est espris; si m'envoiserai.
Car je sui loiaus amis a la plus belle qui soit en ce pais;
en lié amer ai tout mon cuer mis;
je n'en partirai, tant com serai vis.
La grant biauté de son clervis; sen cors le gai, qui est fait par devis, mi font a lié penser tous dis.

The month of May, when the redwing sings, when the iris, the rose and the lily bloom, is the time of rapture for those in love; I revel in it.
For I am the faithful swain of her who is the fairest in the land.
In loving her I gave her all my heart,
and thus I shall remain while I still live.
The thought of her, the great beauty of her face, her supple body's lovely symmetry, haunt me the livelong day.

Tenor: De se debent bigami non de papa queri qui se privilegio spoliarunt cleri sed de facto proprio.
Nunc possunt doceri et hoc cum Ovidio pro vero fateri: "Non minor est virtus quam quaerere parta tueri."

Bigamists should complain not about the bishop but about themselves for having dispensed with the benefit of clergy.
Now they can learn from their own deeds and thus truly confess with Ovid: "The better part of virtue is to try and protect itself front the start."

Par maintes foys avoy recoillie du rosignol la douce melodic mais ne si veut le cucu acorder.
Airs veult chanter contre ly par envie Cucu cucu cucu toute sa vie.
Car il veult bien a son chant descourder.
Et pourtant dit le reusignol et crie: "Je vos comant qu'on le tue et ocie, Tue tue tue tue oci oci oci oci oci oci oci oci oci fi dc fi li de fi li de li du cucu qu d'amors veuit parler."
"Si vous suppli, mas tres douce alouelle, Que voullés dire vostre chanson:
Lire lire lire lire lirelon Que dit Dieu Dieu, Que te dit Dieu, Que te dit Dieu Dieu, Que te dit Dieu Dieu, Que te dit Dieu Dieu, Il est tamps il est [tamps]. Que le roussinolet die sa chansounette: Oci oci oci oci oci oci oci oci oci seront qui vos guerroyant."

How many times are the skies filled with the sweet song of the nightingale!
But the cuckoo never joins in; he prefers to sing enviously "Cuckoo, cuckoo" all his life.
He wants his song to bring discord.
So the nightingale cries out: "I command that you shall be killed. Slain, slain, killed, killed, fie upon you, fie upon you, Cuckoo who wants to speak of love."
"I beg you, dear skylark, Thus to sing your song:
Lire, lire, liron, As God tells you. It is time for the nightingale's little song: killed, killed, they're killed, those who wage war with you."

Assemblés vous; prené la cardinette, faites chanter la calle et le sanson. Tués, batés me cucu bis son. Il est pris pris, Il est pris pris. Or soit mis mort, soit mis a mort mort, soit dist il mort mort, soit mis a mort mort. Or alorns seurement an joli ver vos quer [es] cullir la mosette ami ami ami ami ami ami ami ami Tou dis seray le dieux d'amours priant. Par mamtes fois … veult parler.

Flock together; bring the goldfinch and make him and the starling sing out. Kill the cuckoo and silence him. He is taken, let him be killed. In the lovely springtime praise the hawk,
Our friend, our friend, and praise the God of Love each day. Many a time … who wants to speak of love

Pluseurs gens voy qui leur peusee mettent en vestir bou habis. L'un vest une carte brodee, l'autre un villan fourré de gris. Manteaus portent grant ou petis mais toute leur devise faite, je me tieng a une Jaquete.

I see some folk whose aim it is to dress with elegance. One dons an embroidered tunic, another a cloak lined with grey fur. Others wear coats both short and long. But as for me, with all their fine attire, I'll settle for a petticoat.

Countertenor: S'il estoit nuls que pleindre se deust pour nul meschief que d'amour receust, je me devroie bien pleindre sans retraire, car quant premiers me vint enamourer, onques en moy hardement demourer ne vost laissier de ma dolour retraire; mais ce qui plus me faisoit resjoir et qui espoir me donnoit de joir en regardent, sans plus dire ne faire, fist departir de moy; puis en prison elle me mist, ou j'euc ma livrison de ardans desirs qui si me tient contraire que, se un tout seul plus que droit en eusse, je scay de voir que vivre ne peusse sanz le secours madame de bonnaire qui m'a de ci, sans morir, respité. Et c'est bien drois, car doucour en pité et courtoise ont en li leur repaire.

If any man should complain of the misfortunes he has suffered for past loves, I should complain without restraint, for when first I fell in love, I chafed at the bit, nor would I rein in my violent passion. But she who gave me greatest joydid so by holding out the hope of joy as an alluring prospect, without a word or deed in her aloofness. Then she put me in a cell where I received my dole of ardent passion, which kept me so in check, that if I dared to crave beyond my share, I would learn full well I could not live without the favor of my gracious lady, and would die, without reprieve. And this is best, I feel, for gentility and soft compassion both have in her their seal.

Tenor: S'amours tous amans joir au commancement faisoit, son pris feroit amenrir, car nulz amans ne saroit le grans deduis c'on recoit en dame d'onnour servir. Mais cil qui vit en desir, et bonne Amour l'apercoit, en a plus qu'il ne voudroit, quant joie li vuet merir. Et pour ce nuls repentir de bien amer ne se doit, s'Amours le fait trop languir.

If every lover enjoyed his love at once, its worth would shrink. Such lovers do not learn the high reward that comes from service to a great lady. But he who lives with his desire, and his lady love perceives this, will know a joy beyond compare when love has kept him waiting. And no man should repent his loving well, if his love so makes him languish.

Comment qu'a moy lonteinne soies, dame d'onnour, si m'estes vous procheinne par penser nuit et jour.
Car Souvenir me meinne, si qu'a des sans sejour vo biaute souvereinne, vo gracieus atour, vo maniere certainne et vo fresche coulour qui n'est pale ne veinne, voy tou dis sans sejour. Comment qu'a moy …

No matter how far you are from me, my lady love, you are still near me in my thoughs both night and day. For memory brings me costantly your sovereign beauty, your graceful attire, your lofty bearing and the fresh hue of your skin, without pallor or blemish. These I see before me endlessly.

Or sus vous dormez trop, Madame joliete.
Yl est jour, levez sus. Escoutez l’aloecte: "Que dit Dieu, que te dis Dieu."
Yl est jour, yl est jour, yl est jour, jour est, si est.
Dame sur toutes en biauté souveraine, par vous, jolis et gay, ou gentil moys de may, suy et seray.
Et veule mectre paine.
Or tost nacquaires, cornemuses sonés: "Lire, lire, lire, Lyliron, Lylinon, tytinton, tytinton, tytinton."
Companion, or dansons, or lalons liement. Tytinton … ton.
Chest pour vous, dame, a qui Dieu croi se honour.
Si vous suplie, amours,joueerr venés: Lire … tytinton.
Or sonon en baton et tornon gaiement. Tytinton … honour.
Car je vif en expoir d'avolir, joliette, per fair chianter merle, mauvis avec la cardonette: "Chireley, chireley," faint chiant, fay chil ciant Robin dort, endormi est.
Consors, dansons seurement; quoquin, a su, or su de Paris, cadulet dulcet, de vous que j'am sur creature en fait.
Chest virelay, dame, le recevés. Car en cuer vray vous serviray d'amour certayne. Or sus vous dormez trop … Et veule mectre paine.

Now you sleep too long, my pretty lady.
It is day, arise and listen to the lark: "Que dit Dieu ... que te dis Dieu."
It is day, it is day, it is day, again I say, it is day.
O lady of sovereign beauty above all, so graceful and so fair, near you in the tender month of May I stay and will remain.
It is worth the while.
And now is without delay sound up the bagpipes: "Lire, lire, lire, lyliron, lyliron, tyntinton, tyntinton … "
Partner, let us dance, let us step together. Tyntinton … ton.
It is to you, my lady, that God himself pays homage.
And I do beg you, love, come out and play: Lire … tyntinton.
Now let us sing and keep the time and gaily turn about. Tvntinton … homage.
For I live in hopes of rousing you, my pretty one, by making the blackbird sing, and the redwing and the goldfinch:
"Chireley, chireley," they sing; they sing while Robin sleeps, so fast asleep.
Sweetheart, let us dance our dance. You roguish, sweet little lady from Paris, this ballad tells of you, whom I love above all creatures. I offer it to you.
For I will always serve you in true heart with a steadfast love.
Now you sleep too long … It is worth the while.

Alarme, alarme, sans sejour et sans demour, car mon las cuer si est en plour.
Alarme, tost, doulce figure, Alarme, car navrés suy de tel pointure.
Que mors suy sans nul retour: Diez en ait l'ame.
Si vous supplie, necte et pure, pour qui tant de mal endure, que armer vous voeilliés pour moy.
Quar je suy en aventure, se ne me prenés en cure, dont souvent ploure en requoy, Wacarme, wacarme, quel dolour et quel langour suefre, dame, pour votre amour.
Wacarme, douce creature. Wacarme, ne me lacez en tel aventure de mourir en grief tristour sans d'ame. Alarme, alarme, sans sejour … Diez en ait l'ame.

Help, help. No more waiting or delay, for my heart is drowned in tears.
Help soon, sweet face, help, for I am deeply wounded by these barbs.
I am dead beyond recall and God now has my soul.
So I beseech you, with frank simplicity, as one who has endured such grief, to plead my cause for me.
Grant me the answer to my tearful prayers and save my soul from jeopardy.
Rescue, sweet creature, rescue me. Do not leave me in such plight to die of harrowing grief, without the comfort of my soul. Help, help. No more waiting … God now has my soul.