BALLAD by CHARLES D'ORLEANS

O PRAYE for peace, sweet mayde Marie
High Queene of Heaven and world's mistrésse,
Make praye your holy companie
By gentle favour, and addresse
Your Sonne that from his loftinesse
He maye his wayward people heede
For whom in ransom he did bleede,
Nowe prone for warre that wasteth all;
O praye and never cease to plead
That peace, joy's treasure, maye befall.

Praye priests and who live holilie;
Sleeke friars leave your slothfulnesse;
Praye learnéd men lest warre should be
That setteth studie in sore stresse;
The ruined shrine you shall not blesse
Who there nor missal write nor read,
Nor followe where Lord Godde doth lead.
Then loudly nowe upon Hym call,
For soe ordaineth church and creed)
That peace, joy's treasure, maye befall.

Praye Princes who hold landes in fee,
Kynges, Dukes, Earls, all of knightly fesse,
And gentlemen of chivalrie,
Lest churls o'ercome your gentlenesse;
In graspynge hands your wealth growes lesse,
From hot dispute and evil greede,
As you maye see. O intercede,
(For they growe proude and rich with all
Wherwith your people you should feede)
That peace, joy's treasure, maye befall.

Praye folk that bear hard tyrannie,
For sore is your lords' feeblenesse
Who cannot holde their masterie
Nor help you in your evil stresse;
Praye merchant in sore paine noe lesse,
Too long a-straddle on your steede,
(For you noe more afar maye speede
To barter in the baron's hall,
Such peril doth the highwaye breede)
That peace, joy's treasure, maye befall.

Lord Godde Almightie doth us heede.
From Earth, Sky, Ocean, in our neede
Let prayer rise unto Him from all,
Who onlye can amend ill deede,
That peace, joy's treasure, maye befall.

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