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 | Religious Lyrics of the XVth Century |  |
93. The Hours of the Cross
I hard a maydyn wepe
ffor here sonnys passyon;
yt enterd into my hart full deipe,
wyth grete contricion.
ffor here sonnys passyon;
yt enterd into my hart full deipe,
wyth grete contricion.
137
Patris sapiencia,
The sonne off god almyght,
off fals judas be-trayd he was,
The maker off all lyghte.
The sonne off god almyght,
off fals judas be-trayd he was,
The maker off all lyghte.
Hys discipulis fled a-waye,
And fast from hym they went.
Hys body bare was scorgyd ther,
Hys flesche was all to-rent.
And fast from hym they went.
Hys body bare was scorgyd ther,
Hys flesche was all to-rent.
Hora prima, dominus
be-fore pylate was browthe,
Wyth fals wytnes hym to dystres
A-gaynst hym ther was sowht.
be-fore pylate was browthe,
Wyth fals wytnes hym to dystres
A-gaynst hym ther was sowht.
In the neke they smote hyme sore,
And bownde hys handdis fast,
And at the last—þat grevyd hym worst—
They spyt in-to hys facys.
And bownde hys handdis fast,
And at the last—þat grevyd hym worst—
They spyt in-to hys facys.
‘Creuce-figi!’ clamytant
The Ives, in the thyrde owre;
Hym for to scorne, wyth purpull clothyng
They cledyd owre savyowre.
The Ives, in the thyrde owre;
Hym for to scorne, wyth purpull clothyng
They cledyd owre savyowre.
Vppon hys hede a crowne of thorne
To set they wolde not spare.
Ryght pytyusly to caluery
The crosse hym-selfe he bare.
To set they wolde not spare.
Ryght pytyusly to caluery
The crosse hym-selfe he bare.
Hora sexta, dominus
Vppon the crosse was naylyde,
And as a theffe, for manys greffe,
To dethe he was be-trayd.
Vppon the crosse was naylyde,
And as a theffe, for manys greffe,
To dethe he was be-trayd.
They gaue hym to drenke
Aesell myngelyd wyth gall.
Owre sowllis to þe blysse to bryng—
In heven he ys a king.
Aesell myngelyd wyth gall.
Owre sowllis to þe blysse to bryng—
In heven he ys a king.
138
Ora nona, dominus
Hys spryt he dyd vp-yelde,
Into hys fathers holey handis,
the vyctory of the felde.
Hys spryt he dyd vp-yelde,
Into hys fathers holey handis,
the vyctory of the felde.
Lungius, þat blynd knythe, wyth a sharpe spere
He smote owre sauyor into the harte;
and than be-gan the yerth to quake,
the sun dyd lese hys lythe.
He smote owre sauyor into the harte;
and than be-gan the yerth to quake,
the sun dyd lese hys lythe.
Hys mother wepte water & blode,
Standyng here dere sone by;
I can not tell wheder of them
More Rufull was to see.
Standyng here dere sone by;
I can not tell wheder of them
More Rufull was to see.
De cruce de-ponitur
Was takyn from the crosse,
And in-to the sepullture
Hys body beryd it was.
Was takyn from the crosse,
And in-to the sepullture
Hys body beryd it was.
Wyth spices swete in-bracyd,
the scrypter to fulfyll—
Hys passion kynd to haue in mynde,
As yt was euermore hys wylle.
the scrypter to fulfyll—
Hys passion kynd to haue in mynde,
As yt was euermore hys wylle.
| Religious Lyrics of the XVth Century | |