my mater
To god the maker of all thynge
Deuoutely now I make my prayer
To saufe kynge Henry our ryghtfull kynge
From all treason and dolefull mornynge
And for to maynteyn the grete honour
Of this swete rede rose so fayre a colour

This floure was kepte ryght longe in close
Amonge the leuys holsom and sote
And regally sprange and arose
Out of the noble stoke and rote
Of the rede rose tre to be our bote
After our bale sente by grete grace
On vs to reygne by ryght longe space

O lorde god what Ioye was this
Vnto his moder so good and gracyous
Whan that she sawe her sone I wys
Of his ennemys to be so vyctoryous
It caused her to be moost Ioyous
And yet there of no wonder why
For he was ryght longe from her truely

A ioyfull metynge than bytwene
The moder and the sone so dere
A daye of gladnes bryght and shene
Fressher than phebus myddaye spere
Whan her sone to vs dyd appere
He dyd vs lyght with his pure bemys
Quenchynge of mars the fyrous lemys

O heuenly kynge o eternall emperoure
O thre persons and one god equall
I praye the to kepe from all doloure
This moder with her sone in specyall
With all theyr noble buddes in generall
And laude be to the that dyd enhaunce
Hym to his ryght and propre herytaunce

The whyte rose that [with] tempestes troublous
Aualed was and eke blowen asyde
The reed rose fortyfyed and made delycyous
It pleased god for hym so to prouyde
That his redolent buddes shall not slyde
But euer encrease and be vyctoryous
Of fatall brerys whiche be contraryous

Thus god by grace dyd well combyne
The rede rose and the whyte in maryage
Beynge oned ryght clere doth shyne
In all clennes and vertuous courage
Of whose ryght and royall lynage
Prynce Henry is spronge our kynge to be
After his fader by ryght good equyte

O noble prynce Henry our seconde treasure
Surmontynge in vertue & myrour of beaute
O geme of gentylnes & lanterne of plasure
O rubycound blossome and sterre of humylyte
O famous bud full of benygnyte
I pray to god well for to encrease
Your hyghe estate in rest and pease

O thoughfull hert for lack of connynge
Now layde to slepe this longe wynters nyght
Ryse vp agayne loke on the shynynge
Of fayre lucyna clere and bryght
Beholde eke mercury with his fayre lyght
Castynge a doune his stremys mery
It may well glad thyn emyspery

O gower fountayne moost aromatyke
I the now lake for to depure
My rudnes with thy lusty retoryke
And also I mys as I am sure
My mayster Chaucer