I am in a meditative mood. I have been thinking of Mary Our Mother and her name, popular in Medieval Times, as the Mystical Rose. The title above is from the first of the two carols posted today. I meditate on the lovely words of two ancient carols--- pondering her innocence and beauty on this cold, wet Saturday-- the day of Mary. Earlier this week, I wrote that the Medievals in the East knew of the blue rose. Here are some roses for Mary. One poem, (and both are sung at Christmas), refers to the red rose, but I am sure Mary likes the color blue. Some of you will know the music. She, the Theotokos, brings beauty into our lives.
Of a Rose Synge We 1450
Of a rose synge we: Misterium mirabile.
This rose is railed on a rys; He hath bought the prince of prys, And in this tyme soth hit ys, Viri sine semine.
This rose is reed of colour bryght, Throw whom oure joye gan alyght, Uppon a Cristys masse nyght, Claro David germine.
Of this rose was Cryst y-bore, To save mankynde that was forlore; And us alle from synnes sore, Prophetarum carmine.
This rose, of flourys she is flour, She ne wole fade for no shour, To synful men she sent socour, Mira plenitudine.
This rose is so faire of hywe, In maide Mary that is so trywe, Y-borne was lorde of virtue, Salvator sine crimine.
There is No Rose of Such Virtue 1420
There is no roseof such virtue
As is the rose that bare Jesu; Alleluia.
For in this rose contained was Heaven and earth in little space; Res miranda.
By that rose we may well see
That he is God in persons three, Pari forma.
The angels sungen the shepherds to: Gloria in excelsis deo: Gaudeamus.
Leave we all this worldly mirth, And follow we this joyful birth; Transeamus.
Alleluia, res miranda, Pares forma, gaudeamus, Transeamus.