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Gret del hit is to speke and say
Of him þat dyed on þe Roode,
How he vppon þe gode ffriday
ffor vs þenne schedde his herte-blode;
Alle hise disciples flowen a-way,
ffor doute of deþ þei were neiȝ wode:
Þer nis no tonge þat telle may
Þe serwe of Marie, his moder gode.
Heo him bar boþe god and Mon,
And siþen him clepede swete Ihesu,

300

And offrede him to Symeon—
fful wel þe prophete him he kneuȝ!
An Angel warnede vre ladi þon
Of kyng Heroude, þat was vntrewȝ,
And bad hire in to Egipte gon
ffor doute of deþ of mony a Iewȝ.
Euer was Marie glad I-nowȝ
Whon heo hire swete sone seȝe;
Whoderward þat Ihesu drouȝ,
He nas neuere out of hire eȝe.
Siþen men duden him gret wouȝ,
Harde peynes heo seiȝ hym dreiȝe,
His honden were nayled to a bouȝ,
Vppon a treo honged wel heiȝe.
Þauȝ heo weore wo no wonder nas:
Heo seiȝ hym blodi, bodi and croun,
Hire sone þat so gultles was,
Wiþ stremes of blod he ron a-doun.
To sen his peynes was gret pres,
Wymmen folewede him þorw þe toun,
Sore wepynge, wiþ-outen lees,
ffor gret deol of his passion.
Ihesu tornde, þat was so meke,
And spac wordes of gret pite
To þe wymmen þat þer speke,

301

And seide: “Wepeþ not for me!
ffor ȝoure children ȝe mowe wepe,
Þat doþ me schome, as ȝe mowe se.”
No wonder þouȝ hire herte breke,
Þat seiȝ hir sone so beten be!
Whon he was beten wiþ scourges sore,
Alle his frendes were from hym gon;
Þreo dayes vre feiþ was lore
Saue in Marie, his moder, al-on.
Bernard bereþ witnesse þerfore,
Also doþ hire Cosyn Ion:
ffor serwe þat heo hedde þore
On swouȝ heo fel sone a-non.
Þe blod out of hire eȝen ron,
Al-most hire herte clef a-two—
Seynt Bernard, þat holy mon,
Witnesseþ wel þat hit is so.
Seint Bernard in to chirche wenden he con,
To witen of þat Ladi wo.
To him wel feire speken heo gon,
What was his wille to asken þo.