 | Religious Lyrics of the XVth Century |  |
91. The Story of the Passion
The Passioun of Christ
Compatience persis, reuth & marcy stoundis
In myddis my hert, and thirlis throw þe vanis.
Thy deid, Ihū, þi petuous cruell woundis,
Thy grym passion, gret tormentis, grevous panis,
In-grauit sadlie in my spreit remanis.
Sen me of noucht þou hes boucht with þi blude
My ene, for doloure, wofull teris ranis,
Quhen that I se the nalit on þe rude.
In myddis my hert, and thirlis throw þe vanis.
Thy deid, Ihū, þi petuous cruell woundis,
Thy grym passion, gret tormentis, grevous panis,
In-grauit sadlie in my spreit remanis.
Sen me of noucht þou hes boucht with þi blude
My ene, for doloure, wofull teris ranis,
Quhen that I se the nalit on þe rude.
In Symon lepros hous of bathany,
Thy feit anoyntit mary magdalen,
With precius balme & nardus-specatyve,
Scho passit fra tyme hir synnes wer forgevin.
Thy flesche and blude in breid and wyne betuen
Gaif thy disciplis, & Lawlie wosche þair feit.
Thy manheid dred thy passioun to sustene,
Quhen þat þou prayit on monte oliveit.
Thy feit anoyntit mary magdalen,
With precius balme & nardus-specatyve,
Scho passit fra tyme hir synnes wer forgevin.
Thy flesche and blude in breid and wyne betuen
Gaif thy disciplis, & Lawlie wosche þair feit.
Thy manheid dred thy passioun to sustene,
Quhen þat þou prayit on monte oliveit.
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To gyde the Iowis, come Iudas scariot
And kist þe, christ—all þe disciples fled.
To ane wraichit man Cayphas & Pylot,
Bund as ane theif, so wes þou harlit & led
Till Herod had in purpor habit cled,
ffor hethin halsit, blasphlemit, with mony blaw
Beft at ane pillar, blaiknit and forbled
At Locostratus, quhair þai leid þe law.
And kist þe, christ—all þe disciples fled.
To ane wraichit man Cayphas & Pylot,
Bund as ane theif, so wes þou harlit & led
Till Herod had in purpor habit cled,
ffor hethin halsit, blasphlemit, with mony blaw
Beft at ane pillar, blaiknit and forbled
At Locostratus, quhair þai leid þe law.
Cuttis for þi cot þai keist, was never sewit,
Out-throw þi hernis, þe croun of thorn þai applyit,
Wailland þin ene, into þi visage spittit,
And for derisioun ‘King of Iowis’ þai cryit.
That nycht þi name Sanct peter thris denyit.
Drownit in dule myrk was þi mynd, mary,
To wonder on, throw Ierusalem þou hyit
To se thy awin sone, þat þou fosterrit, de.
Out-throw þi hernis, þe croun of thorn þai applyit,
Wailland þin ene, into þi visage spittit,
And for derisioun ‘King of Iowis’ þai cryit.
That nycht þi name Sanct peter thris denyit.
Drownit in dule myrk was þi mynd, mary,
To wonder on, throw Ierusalem þou hyit
To se thy awin sone, þat þou fosterrit, de.
Ruffit on croce, thir wordis did repeit,
‘Scicio’; richt sone þai seruit þe with gall.
Scharpe wes þe speir, þe nalis Lang & gret.
Thy ribbis rakkit, þi face oure-spittit all,
To golgatha, godis sone celistiall,
Thy croce with force þou bure, with cure & heit.
Thy tender hid and flesche virginall
Werry, forwrecht in watter, blude and sueit.
‘Scicio’; richt sone þai seruit þe with gall.
Scharpe wes þe speir, þe nalis Lang & gret.
Thy ribbis rakkit, þi face oure-spittit all,
To golgatha, godis sone celistiall,
Thy croce with force þou bure, with cure & heit.
Thy tender hid and flesche virginall
Werry, forwrecht in watter, blude and sueit.
Throu maryis saule þe suerd of dolour thrist,
Quhen þat þou said, ‘se þair thy sone, woman’,
Commending hir to Iohnne þe ewangelist:
Scharp bludy teris hir cristell eyne out ran.
Suollit wer thy syddis for scurgis bla and wan;
Naikit and paill, ded on þe croce þou hang—
Thy wanis burssin, þi senouis schorn, þan
Crownit with thorne for scorne,—twa thevis amang.
Quhen þat þou said, ‘se þair thy sone, woman’,
Commending hir to Iohnne þe ewangelist:
Scharp bludy teris hir cristell eyne out ran.
Suollit wer thy syddis for scurgis bla and wan;
Naikit and paill, ded on þe croce þou hang—
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Crownit with thorne for scorne,—twa thevis amang.
My wofull hert is baith reiosit and sade,
Thy corps, lorde Iesu christ, quhen I behalde.
Of my redempcioun I am baith blyth & glaid;
Seand þi panis, sorelie weip I walde.
Cryand ‘hely’, þi gaistlie spreit þou ȝalde;
To longus hande þi blude ran in ane rest;
Thy wofull moder swonit stif and calde,
Quhen þou inclynit with consummatum est.
Thy corps, lorde Iesu christ, quhen I behalde.
Of my redempcioun I am baith blyth & glaid;
Seand þi panis, sorelie weip I walde.
Cryand ‘hely’, þi gaistlie spreit þou ȝalde;
To longus hande þi blude ran in ane rest;
Thy wofull moder swonit stif and calde,
Quhen þou inclynit with consummatum est.
Dyrk wes þe sone fra þe sext hour to nyne;
Montanis trymblit, hillis schuke & rochis claif.
Centurio said, ‘þou art goddis sone dewyne’;
Ioseph de-curio spicit þe in þi graif
With myr and must, most vertuis & suaif—
Thai gert þe de and forgaif berrabas.
My saule with sanctis, saluiour, resaif,
Sen þat þi passioun purgit my trespas.
Montanis trymblit, hillis schuke & rochis claif.
Centurio said, ‘þou art goddis sone dewyne’;
Ioseph de-curio spicit þe in þi graif
With myr and must, most vertuis & suaif—
Thai gert þe de and forgaif berrabas.
My saule with sanctis, saluiour, resaif,
Sen þat þi passioun purgit my trespas.
Explicit.
| Religious Lyrics of the XVth Century | |