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God that schupe both heuen & helle,
To þe, lord, I make my mone,
And gyue me grace þe sothe to telle
Of þe pylgrymeage þat I haue gone!
I toke my leue at Venys toūne,
And bade felous fore me praye,—
Fore it is a cyte of grete renoūne.
And to Jerusaleme I toke þe wey.
Bot of all cytes þat I haue seyne,
Forto rekyne euerychone,
Than may Venys be a (quene),
That stondys in þe greke se alone.
It is so rownd, ryche & stoute:
Off enmys there them not drede.
Fore seyntys lyes in þe towne aboute—
Who-so wyll seke þem, he schall haue mede.
Seynt Marke & seynte Nycholas,
Thes two seyntys þei lyne in syȝht;
Seynte Elyne, þat fonde þe cros,
And seynt Jeorge, oure lady knyȝht,
Amonge them berys grete voys
And lyes in gold & syluer wele dyȝht.
Seynte Paule þe fyrst hermyte þat was,
And seynte Symeone Justus þat hyȝht,
And þe fader of seynt Johne baptyst
Lyes thens a lytell þer-fro.
And seynt Lucy, þat vergyne blyste,
Þat stedfast was in all here wo,
And a thousand Innocentys mene may se,
Lyȝet þer closyd in þat towne;
Seynte Cristofe lege & hys the—
At ons I may not rekyne ne soune—
Fore þer is þe whyrlbone of hys kne
And his toth closyd in crystall to se.
Twyse in þe ȝere, who þedure come
To vyset þis corseyntys in þat plas,
He schall haue plene remyssyone,
Als wele as In þe ȝere of grace.
Than passe (we) in-to þe Iles of þe se:
Curfe, Modyne, & Candy.
Some of þe Iles, with-outene doute
Be VII C. myle abowte,
And all langys to Venys towne,
That is a cyte of grete renowne.
In þe Ile of Rodys as we gan gone,
We founde relykes many one:
A crosse, made of þe basyne fuete
That oure lord wessch in hys postyllus fete;
And þer þe plate we se
Where-in he made hys mande;
And a thorne of þe crowne
That styked in hys hede aboune,
That blomys euery godefrydey—
A feyr merakyll it is to sey!
And þer is seynt Loy & Blasy,
And oþer, mo þan twenty;
There is þe arme & hond of seynt Cateryne,
That blyssyd holy vergyne,
And euer-more, who-so þeder come,
A thousand ȝeres of pardone.
And in Sypres as we schuld go,
We fond relykys one or two:
The cros of þe gode thefe
That cryed mersy & found gode preue.
We saw a chapelle onne a hylle;
Bot we myȝht not come þertylle.
Beȝond þat in a coste
A lytell besyde is Famagoste;
We fond a chapell beforne,
Where seynte Kateryne was borne;
There is many ȝeres of pardone
Fore euery man þat þeder wyll come.
Thane came we to a-noþer place,
There þat þe whalle sualowyde Jonas
And bare hym in-to Ninyue—
A feyre merakyll it ys to se!
Than come we to porte Jaffe—
I schall ȝow telle who þat name ȝaffe:
Japhet, þat was Noeys sone,
Was þer fyrst, or þat was begonne;
And when he leyd þe fyrst stone,
He callyd it Jaffe after hys name.
This is þe breyd of þe grekys se:
Twenty hundreth myle & thre.—
Than passyd we to þat same stede
There seynte Johne was quyke & dede.
The nexte thinge after, as I ȝow telle,
Is þe graue of Samuelle,
That is besyde þe castell of Emaus
Theere Jhesu spake to Cleophas.
Fyrst Joy after þat to vs come
When we sey þe wawle of Jerusaleme.
And þe fyrst fote þat we sette þer-Ine
We were deliuerde of all oure synne
And reseyued indulgens “a pena & culpa”,
And at oþer many places mo also.
And after þis with gode intente
To þe hospytall sone we wente.

And onne þe morne, when it was dey,
To þe temple we wente oure wey.
And þer lyes þe same stone
That oure lorde restyd hym onne;
The Jues dyde hym so mekyll wo:
The manhed myȝht no ferthere go.
And after þis a ȝarysene come
And callyd vs In, be a treyne;
When he hade done, he wente hys weye
And lokyd þe dore with a keye.
Now schall ȝe here þe begyninge,
How we worschypped oure heuen kynge.
The warden reysede a crosse full hye
And clerkys songe þe letany;
And lewde men þan þer eyȝene wepe,
That teres fell vndere þer fete,
And thankyde god with all þer myȝht
That gaffe them grace to se þat syght.
Than askyd we a boūne with-all:
That we schuld neuer in synne falle.
And after þat with gode entente
To þe sepulcour forth we wente;
When we hade offerd & kyssed þe stone,
All oure feloys dyde þe same.
Beȝond þat we fond a pleyne
There Jhesu mette with Mary Maudeleyne,
And þer sche wolde haue kyssed his fete,
When he bakwerd fro hyr ȝede
And sche perfyde onne hym so ofte,
And (he) seyd: “Mary, touche me nouȝht.”
Behynd þat is a pylere
Where-to was bond hys body bare;
That stondys in a chapell suete,
There oure lady stode & wepe.
And þus we passyd bye
To þe mydys of þe mundye:
There he wrote with-outene doute
The mydys of þe werld ronde aboute.
Beȝond þat as we schuld gone,
We fond þe holys in þe stone
There-in þei Joddyd hym onne þe gronde
And gafe hym many a blody wonde.
And þer þei spolyd hym of hys clothys
And swore hys deth with grete othes,
And þer at þe dyfe þei gane pleye
Who schuld bere hys clothys aweye.
And whene he sufferd all þis scorne,
On hys hede þei sete a crone of thorne
And after askyd hym of þat thinge
Iff þat he were Jues kynge.
Behynd þat is a pylere also
There þat he sufferd mekyll wo:
They bonde hys hondys & his fete
And rollyd hys body in þe strete,
That erth & grauell onne þe grounde
Hade fylled full ilke a wounde;
And vnder an auter betwene þe stones
They made hym crepe all at-ones.
When he was so sore Ibonde,
With þer fete þei spurned (him) as a hunde—
And he ley as a babe stylle
And sufferd them to do þer wylle.—
All crysten kyngys, with one assente
Fore godys luffe gyffe þis Jugemente:
What cursyde Jue cum to ȝoure ground,
Spurne ȝe his body as a hounde,
And, bote he wylle mersy crye,
Honge hym vp on galow-tre,
Fore-why þei dyde hym all þis wo!
That schall I telle ȝou or I go.—
The crosse was not ordeynde mete
To nayle onne his body suete:
Than kepyd þei hym in presone stylle,
To þe crosse was ordeynd at þer wylle.
That presone is hold a welle of grace
Fore all þat comys in þat place,
And it is callyd off olde & ȝenge
The prisone of oure heuen kynge.
Beȝond þat is a chapell sqware,
Forty gresys depe & more.
Be hym þat schope both heuen & helle!
This tale is trew þat I schall telle:
There is in a orytory
Noys of þe peynes of purgatory—
And what man seys it is not so,
I schall fynd wytnes, or þat I go,
Off prestys þat duellys þer nyȝht & dey:
They schall bere wytnes (of) þat I sey.
And þer synge prestys of cytes thre
In worschype of þe trinyte:
The fyrste prestys are of Inde,
That preuyd þem-selue gode & kynde,
Fore þei care fore none oþer gode
Bot worschipe god þat dyed onne rode.
And þei synge noþer more ne lesse
Bot þe pater noster at þer messe,
Because oure lord bade þem so pray—
They wyll non oþer messe sey;
Off brede & wyne hys body dere
They resayue it with mylde chere.
Bare-fote þei gone & in febulle aray,
And duell in þe chyrche both nyȝt & dey;
Bred & water is most þer fode—
I hold þem holy mene & gode.
In þe north syde of þat mynstere
They worschype god onne þis manere.—
The cyte of Grekys duelle fast by,
That syngys in þe mounte of Caluery;
Bot what þei synge or what þei seye,
Oure prestys wote not what þei praye.
And when þei reyse þe oste onne hye,
The Grekys kastys vp a loude crye;
And when þei breke þe oste in thre,
Iche man is housyld as wele as he(!):
With a spone with-outene doute
They fede þe pepulle all aboute;
And a party of þat body dere
He reseyues on þis manere.
Also þe prestys hath no ly(u)inge
Bot what þe pylgrymus to þem brynge,
Fore faute of clothys þer sydys goth owte,
And lyues in tribute & in doute;
What lyue-lode þer is to þem leyd,
They gruch not, bote hold þem payd.
And in þat place with drery mode
They wepe fore hym þat dyȝed onne rode,
And þei aske non oþer thynge
Bot heuens blyff at þer endynge.—
The thyrd cyte are prestys off owre,
That syngys messe at þe sepulcoure:
On þe same graue þat oure lord in leye,
Prestys synge in latyne euery deye.
Off oure maner is þer songe—
Saue þer berdys are wele longe:
That is þe vse of þat contre:
That haue longe berdys, are of degre;
The ordour of þem are bare-fote frerys.
Off almus-dedys þei haue no perys,
Fore þei hold none oþer astate
Bot worschype god arly & late,
Both with þe new law & þe olde—
They passe all cytes a M. folde.
When þei make to god þer mone,
They pray fore all as wele as one.
Thys holy (prestys), þer duelle,
Schall wytnes þat I ȝou telle:
Fore þei haue spokyne in þer orytory
With sallys þat are in þe peynes of purgatory.—
Beȝond þer is an auter vnder an hylle
That seynte Elyne louyd full wele,
And an hole in þe groūnde
There þe holy crosse was fonde,
And þe two crossys of þe theuys all-so:
The beter was betwene þem two;
There is “a pena & culpa” in þat place
Fore all men þat comys theder fore grace,
And beforne as we schuld fare,
Many gode syȝhtys as wele as þare.
Seynte Elyne, þe emperyse,
And Constantyne, hyre sone so wyse,
Ordeynd þat place fore grete delyte
Fore euer-more it schuld be replyed(!);
Seynt Syluester, þat holy pope,
Confermyd it vnder hys holy cope,
And what sche wold haue þertylle—
The pope was redy at hyre wylle.
And ȝit it is more stronge þan so,
And þat schall I preue, or I go:
The Jewys askyd Jhesu of þer wylle(!)
And bade hym ansuere to þat skylle;
He seyd in myddys of þe werld with skylle,
Full hyȝe brouȝt vpone an hylle,
And seyd: “who-so be in charyte
And fore my loue hydere wyll wende,
In Ioy & blysse he schall me se
And with me duelle with-outen ende.”
Beȝond þat we may to a pylere go
Where þat he sufferd mekyll wo:
Bonde & betyne þer he stode,
Tyll all hys body ranne onne blode;
So thyke þei spyte on hym by rawe,
That nomane myȝht hys vysage knowe.—
Than turned we vponne a grece in hye
On-to þe mounte of Caluerye.
There was fond a fote of groūnde,
There is none sych in þe werld roūnde:
Fore it was plantyd with þat tre
There Jhesu bouȝht vs & made vs fre,
And it was halowyd with þat blode
That oute of hys body ȝode,
And þat was payd in ransone
Fore all þe synnes þat we hade done.
There turnyd all hys cruelte(!)
To grete mersy, as we may se,
When he foregaffe þe stronge theffe
That cryede mersy, as he was leffe,
And pute hym in no lauȝhynge ley(!)
Bot gaffe hym paradys þat same dey.
Crysten man, if þou be wyse,
Hold þou þis of mekyll price!—
And ȝit dyde he more, to feyne:
He foregaue þem þat brast hys veyne,
And prayde hys fader hyȝe on lofte
Foregyue þe soules þat he hade wrouȝht.
There he betauȝt hys modere dere
To Johne, his cosyne, þat stode hym nere,
And John betoke hys modure also;
And þei forth to-geder gane go.
And þer he soferd grete pouerte,
Neuer man so mekyll as he—
A fox hath hole, a byrd hath neste,
He had not where-onne hys hede to reste—
The drynke he askyd, was grete amours,
Was mans saule, & non oþer lycours.
Than askyd he folke of yche degre
Who sufferd more peyne thane he,
And he cast vppe a loud cryȝe
And seyd lama ȝabatamye.
There is þe roche of stone þat cleft in-two,
When he sufferd al þis wo.
Euer-ilke planet was so kynd:
They hade hym some-dele in þer mynd.
Fore-sothe þei comme of Kaymes kyne,
They sette it fore no dedly synne
To reyse þe crose betwene them alle
And in a mortas þei lete (it) falle;
And when it smote among þe stones,
His wondys brast all at-ones.
They turnyd hys fete donwerde to helle:
His blode on Adams hede gane felle.
He prayd vnto hys fader of blys,
To saue þe pepull þat wolde be hys;
Hys one hond ȝede est, þe oþer ȝede weste;
As þe pylicane fytte on here neste
When sche prykes hyre herte blode
To gyffe here byrdys fore þer fode:
Thus was he strenyd on a tre,
That bouȝht vs all in þis degre:
In euery veyne þei souȝht hys blode—
Thus fulle dere he bouȝt hys brode;
The croūne of thorne wente throuȝt hys breyne—
Hys penans passe þe pelycane;
A spere was pute thorow his rybbys
And with hys blode he fede his brydys,
So fre he was to vs Ichone:
He held oute water, whene blod was gone;
The spere þat thyrled thorow his herte,
Ȝit god foregaffe hym all þat smerte.
What erthly man in synne is bounde,
And he aske mersy in þat groūnde:
Haue he done neuer so meky(l) a mysse,
He schall be saluyd of all synne þat is.
Bot why I neuen here no pardone,
That schall ȝe here, or þat I gone:
Be-cause my wytte may not expond
To knaw þe pardon of þat groūnde:
Fore þer is þe crope & rote
And þer begane all oure bote;
Fore all þe pardone þat is in Rome
There is þe well, & thens it come.
There is more pardone, I telle þe,
Than is all þe water in þe se
Or gresse or grauell onne þe ground
Or sterrys be in þe sky so roūnde
Or motys be in þe sone,
Sen þe werld was fyrst begone;—
For euery contre here hath end of ryȝht,
And he is lord of en(d)les myȝht.
The pardon þat he gaff to hys frend,
Is þe blysse with-outen ende.
And all his grace & mekyll more
Was purchast in a fote of square:
It passyd not a fote in bred,
What mane wyll mete it with a threde.
I haue so mekyll more to telle:
On þe moūnte I may no lenger duelle.—
Than fonde we in Galgatha so:
Beryed worthyly þer lyggys two:
Godfrey of Boleyn & Baudwyne, his broþer—
Jhesu brynge theþer sych two oþer:
Than durst I sey, þat blyssed lond
Schuld duell in crystyne mennys hond!
Beȝond þer is þe same stede
Where Jhesu wondys wer bobbyd rede.—
And þus we woke all þe nyȝht,
Euery man with a candyll-lyȝht.
And when we had gone þe serkyll aboute,
We prayd fore them þat wer in doute.
And at þe myd-nyȝht more & les
Oure prestys disposyd them to messe,
Som at þe mounte of Caluerye
And som at oþer plasys þer-bye,
And at þe sepulcour many one songe,
And housyld pepull euer amonge;
Fore ilke man ches hym a preste
And told hym þat ley on hys breste,
And after resauyd hym in forme of bred
That þer fore vs was offerd quyke & dede.

On þe morne, at vndrene of þe deye,
A saryȝen bad vs gone oure weye.
And þan ranne we ferre & nere
As conys doth to þer couere,
Some to þe mounte of Caluerye,
And some to oþer placys þer-bye,
And some knelyd yn þat stede
That hys wondys wer anoyntyd rede.
And sone a frere was to vs sente
And bade we schuld do hys commandmente;
Than durst we no more sey
Bot toke oure palmes & wente awey,
And in-to þe hospytall we wente
And ete & dranke sych as god vs sente.

When we hade done, we to (ke) þe wey
To þe veyle of Iosphey(!).
That passyd we be a cornere,
The(re) Jhesu (met) and hys modere dere,
And þei felle in a swonyng also,
And þe crosse betwene þem two;
And þer þei constreyned Symone
To bere þe crosse, as he was wone,—
It was so heuy & so square:
His manhede myȝht it no ferthere bere.
And þe womene of Jerusaleme
Wepyd on Cryst, when þat he come,
And he ansuerd on þis degre:
“Wepe onne ȝour-selue, & not fore me!”
Beȝond þat is a chapell smale,
There some-tyme was sette an halle:
There sche(!) brouȝt forth hyre derlynge,
The modere of oure heuen kynge.
Beȝond þat sche was sette to scole,
That euer was wyse & neuer no fole.
Beȝond þat is þe same lake
That þe angell styred fore mens sake;
Some comme þeder with gode entente;
When þe angell was fro þens wente,
Thoff he(!) had neuer so mekyll care,
He schuld be couerde of all hys sore.
Than passyd we to þe duellynge
Off corsyd Herode, þe fals kynge:
There oure lorde was clothyd in whyte,
They bette hym sore with grete delyte.
Beȝond þat is an oþer stede,
There Pylate dampned oure lord to dede.
Besyde þat þer is anoþer place,
There Mary Maudeleyne had feyre grace;
Men callyd it Symone leperus halle:
There Cryst foregaue hyre synne alle.
Be an oþer place we comme
Þer wyles duelle(d) in þat rych mane
Qhych bette þe pore man with hys hond
And now lyes brynand in helle groūnde.
At þe ende of þe toune as we schuld gone,
We fond þe temple of Salamone.
Be þe gyldyne ȝates as we gon pas,
There Jhesu rode vpone hys asse;
The Jues spred clothes vnder his fete,
When þei mette hym in þe strete.
There seynte Anne mett with hyre fere,
When sche conseyued oure lady dere.
With-outen þat ȝate is þe sep(u)lkyre
Of many cursyd cr(e)atore:
Fore saryȝyns of grete astate
Are beryed before þat ȝate.
Be þat there is an odour stede,
There seynt Steuyne was stonyd to dede.

To þe veyle of Josaphat with gode e(n)tente,
There oure lady (was) beryed, we wente.
And þer is a caue vnder þe erth by,
Wer-in was Cryst sykerly
When he suete blode & watere
And prayd vp to hys fadere:
“Fader, he seyd, if it may so be,
Late þis deth passe fro me!
And if þou wyll not þat it so be,
Fader, do thy wyll with me!”
There is a place, þer þe apostyllus slepe
When Jhesu knelyd onne Olyuete
And þe Jues souȝht hym infere;
There Malcus lost hys ryȝht ere.
And þer is a stone—we kyssyd it alle—
Wer oure lady lete hyre gyrdell falle
When sche was borne vp to hyre sone,
Euer in blys with hym to wone.
Beȝond þat as we schuld go,
Oure lord wepyd vpone þe cyte all-so.
And an oþer place we souȝht
There þe palme was to oure lady brouȝht.
Than passyd we to an oþer styȝe,
To þe mounte of Calueryȝe(!):
There Jhesu and hys apostyllus dere
There þei mete all-infere
After þe tyme þat he was dede:
He schewyd them hys wondys rede.
Than turnyd we to þat same strete
That goth to þe monte of Olyuete:
There Jhesu styȝed vp in þer syght
To hys fader full of myȝht.
And þer lyes þe stone ȝite
Where-on he wrote þis holy bede:
The pater noster, as we calle;
The stone lyes muryd in þe walle.
And þer þe apostellus made þe crede,
That help crystene mene at nede.
Furthe we went to a stone,
There oure lady rest hyre vpone.
There is a caue vnder a stone,
There James wepyd & made hys mone:
Fro þat tyme þat hys lord was dede,
He thouȝt neuer to ete brede
Bot he had sene hym ryse ageyne,
With hungour hym-selue he wold h(aue) sleyne;
And þer oure lord in þat place
Aperyd to James, when he vp rase,
And seyd: “I ame resyn now here:
Ete þi mete & make god chere!”—
This was James þe mynoure,
The apostyll of oure sauyoure.
And þer is þe graue of Absolone,
Of kynge Josaphat & of Ysayone;
All, saue þe graue of Absolone,
Is transtorrentem Sedrone,
And vnder þat ley þe same tre
That þe crosse was made of, sykyrlye.
There is a welle a lytell thens,
There oure lady gane oure lordys clothys clens.
Be-syde þat a lytell þer-fro
Was Jsay þe prophet sawyne in-two.
And þer stondys a well alone
There god releuyd þe blynd mane.—

Now haue we bot a myle to gone
Vnto þe mounte of Syone.
The fyrst thinge þat we þer fond,
Was þe roste of þe holy lambe þat stond;
And þer the water stode to hete
That oure lord wessch with his postyllus fete.
And þer lyȝes ȝit XII stons,
That þe apostyllus sate on all at-ons
And oure lady amonge þem alle,
Whyll Jhesu prechyd onne a walle.
With-in a chyrch at an autere
He fede hys postyllus all-infere:
Of bred & wyne he made his fode
And callyd it hys flessch & blode;
When þei wer seruyd with þe lambe,
He bade þem ete & drynke & make þem stronge:
“Fore þis þat I afore ȝou ley,
Is my flessch & blod, as I ȝou sey.
What man so be in charyte,
(He) reseyue þis in þe mynd of me;
And what man þat be fals in thouȝht,
I werne hym rescyue it nouȝt”.
On þe oþer syde he wessch þer fete
And dryȝed them with a towelle suete.
Be-nethe þer is a hous of stone,
There þe apostyllus wer hyde euer-ychone
When Jhesu come throuȝe a walle
And bade: “pesse be to ȝou alle!”
And than he askyd Thomas of Ynde
What skyll he hade to be vnkynde,
And schewyd hym hys wondys wyde
And bad hym pute his hond in his ryȝht syde;
When Thomas hade rowyd in his wonde,
He wepe full sore & fell to groūnde
And lyft vp hys hondys on hyȝht
And cryed mersy with all hys myȝht.
To any of þis IIII þat ȝe gone,
Is “a pena & cu(l)pa”, euerychone.
With-outen þe dore a place we sey,
There oure lady duellyd many a dey,
XIIII ȝere after þat Cryst was dede,
And prayd þer many a holy bede;
And þer seynt Johne þe ewangelyste
Songe messe to hyre, when sche lyste.
And þer was seynt Mathey
Chosyne in-to þe co(m)peney.
Beȝond þat in þe same coste
Oure lady dyȝed & ȝeld þe goste,
And sche toke Johne þer þe palme-tre
That was brouȝ(t) hyre in-to Galyle.
On þe oþer syde is Cayfas halle,
And þeder wente we pylgryms alle;
And þer we fonde a pylere pyȝht
That Jhesu was bound to in þe nyȝht;
And þer þei sette hym on a stole
And blyndfeld hym as a fole,
And when þei boffyd hym faste,
They askyd hym who smote hym laste;
Than Cayfas seyd in hys Jugemente:
“Bot he be dede, þe pepull is schente”.
There is a stone both longe & brode,
Mekyll more þan a carte lode,
That on þe sepulcour of oure lord ley
When Cryst rose & wente hys wey;
And onne þat stone was blode rede,
That Cryst bled onne, sen he was dede.
That ston þe Grekys hath in kepynge
In wy(r)schype of oure heuen kynge.
On þe oþer syde we fond a stone
That Dauyd made þe satere vpone,
And þer lyes beryd also,
And oþer prelatys many mo.
Than wente we to þe “feld of blode”,
There Peter to hys penans ȝode
Be-cause he hade hys god foresake:
He toke on hys body mekyll wrake,
He wronge hys hondys & drew hys here
And cryed mersy, “lord, thy nore!”
And euer when he askyd grace,
The water ranne doune by hys face.
Than wente we forth onne oure weye
To þe well, þat oure lord dronke of euery deye;
Two herymetys þat there duelle
Calle it “oure lordys welle”.
And þer þe apostylles all-infere
Bare oure lady on a bere,
And when þe Jues come in gret deray
And wold haue drawyne þe body awey,
And fore þei wold haue done here schame:
Some wex wode & some wex lame;
Than couth þei no more sey
Bot cryed mersy & welowey;
Than Peter held stylle þe bere
And ansuerd þem on þis manere:
He þat askys mersy with herte & thouȝt,
He schall haue foregyffnes (of) þat he has wroȝht.
In godys name all-infere
Spyte no more on Jhesu moder dere!”
Fast-be (is) a tempulle feyre & fre;
There mete Jhesu with meydens thre:
The(re) is a crosse made in a stone,
There pylgrymes knelys & kys Ichone.
Beȝond þat is anoþer stede,
There seynte Jame was quyke & dede.
There is þe serkyll of þe toūne aboute,
Sex myle with-outen doute.—

And sex myle we wente on þe morne
To Bethlem, where oure lord was borne.
Bot þer-of we muste a whyll dwelle,
Iff I schall of þe wey telle.
As Jhesus by þe wey ȝede,
He fond a Jew sawynge hys sede;
He askyd “what sawys þou onys?”
And he seyd “I saw stonys”.
And Crist seyd “stone mot þei be”:
And truly þer lyes grete plente.—
The nex(t) thinge after, þat I cane ȝou telle,
There is þe graue of Rachelle,
And oþer prophetys graues, one or two,
There lyȝet in þe wey, as we schuld go.
Off Bedlem I wyll not lyȝe,
Bot þat I saw þer with myne eye.
Fore, þer þat the asse & þe ox stode,
Is now a feyre chyrch & gode;
And þer owre lady in child-bede ley,
There (is) a feyre chyrch, I dere wele sey;
Beȝond þat is þe same stone
That oure lord was cyrcumsy(se)d vpone,
And þer he blede hys fyrst blode
That euer he bled fore mannys fode.
Bot why he(!) layd hym in þe stalle,
That schall I tell amonge ȝou alle:
Fore þer was no thinge so redy
That schuld longe to sych a lady,
Feyre clothys & werme fyre,
That women in trauell schuld desyre;
Than chese þei þe wermyst place of all
And leyd hym in an asse-stalle.
The ox and þe asse dyde curtasly
And gaue hym place, onne to ly,
And euer-more with eyn gray
Oure (lord) beheld how he ley.
And whe(n) þe bed was dyȝht aboute,
Sche prayd þat sche myȝht gyff hym souke.
And now ȝe schall here þe metynge
Betwyx oure lady & hyre derlynge:
Sche sey(d): “welcome heuen kynge,
Welcum makere of all thynge,
Welcome prince in trinyte,
That is & was & euer schall be!
Welcum both god & man,
Welcum my lord, welcum my sone,
Welcum my Joy, welcum my blys,
With all my hert þat I may þe kys!
In heuen blyssed be þi name,
That wold chese me to be þi dame!
So rych a emperour & a kynge
To be borne of so vnworthy a thinge!”
And than sche praysyd hym all aboute
And with hyre pappys gaue hym sowke.
At Iche of þis, þer pylgryme be,
There is “a pena & a culpa”, at all thre.
Then passyd we in-to a valey,
The(re) C & XLIIII M. ley
Of chylder þat dyȝed fore godys sake,
When cursyd Herod of hem toke wrake.
And in þat place, with-outene doute,
Seynt Jerom wrote þe bybull aboute.
Then wente we arly onne þe morne
There seynt Johne baptyst was borne.
Than wente we in-to a grete valey
There Adam duellyd many a dey,
And he is beryd a lytell þer-fro—
Bot no crystyne mane may come þer-to.
And þer is mekyll of þe story
Of þe hous of Ȝakary.
There me(tte) two ladys feyre & bryȝht—
Truly, it was a wele feyre syght!
The ōne was past chyld-byrth be kynd,
The oþer was vergyne feyre & hend
And neuer dyde synne, in boure ne in halle,
And bore þat chyld þat schall saue vs alle.
When Elyȝabeth of Mary hade syght,
Sche prophesyd anone ryȝht
And askyd: “what may þis meruylle be
That godys modere commys to me?
The chyld þat is in my wome so ȝonge,
Reioset, Mary, at ȝoure comynge.
All þat I haue is at ȝoure wylle,
And I ȝoure seruant, loud & stylle.”
When Mary herd þis wordys dere,
Sche ansuerde on þis manere:
All hyre herte to god sche hyȝht
And thankyd god off all hys myȝht;
Sche knely(d) after onne a stone,
Magnificat sche made anone.
And when Elyȝabeth with hyre eȝene graye
Had sene þe wysdome of þat maye
And þe feyrnes of hyre face,
Anon sche callyd hyre quene of grace;
Doūne sone on hyre kneys sche felle
And prayd þat sche myȝht with hyre duelle.
Before þe wey as we come
Fro seynte Johne in-to Jerusalem,
Standys þe compas of þe rote
Where-on grew þe tre of owre bote.—

And at þe morne, when it was dey,
To flome Jordeyne we toke þe wey.
At Jeryco as we schuld gone,
We fond a hond of seynte Johne,
And þat is callyd þe Grekys law(!);
The(re) we offerd, when we it saw.
And þer Ȝachee, þe lytell mane,
Abod oure lord, tylle þat he came,
And clame in-to þe tre on hyȝht,
That he myȝht wysly se þat syȝht.
And þer we saw þe same ston̄ke
The(re) Sodome & Gomore fore synne sonke;
Fyue cytys, as I wene,
Sanke to hell fore vnkyndly synne;
There passyd none awey with lyffe
Bot Lothe & hys childer & wyfe:
An angelle come to Lothe halle
And told of þe sorow þat schuld falle,
He bade hym take hys folke & go,
“Fore ȝe schall here of mykell wo;
Spede ȝou fast with all ȝoure mayne,
And fore no-thinge ȝe turne ageyne!”
The wyfe Lothe was freyll of thouȝt
And sette þe angelle worde at nouȝt
And sche brake hys comandment.
Here now, þer-fore how sche was schente!
Hyre husbond bade hyre forth to gone,
And sche turnyd in-to a salte stone.
And who-so commys to Galile,
Where þat (stone) stondys, ȝe may se.—
There growys noþer corne ne haye,
Bot þat þe water berys awaye;
What fysch or foule commys þere-Ine,
He schall neuer fle ne swyme,
Bot synkys done, as a plombe of lede;
Tharefore it is callyd “þe see of dede.”
It is XL myle longe, & large of brede.
There dare no-mane touche it fore drede;
Fore ȝarysins þat þere duelle
Seys þat it is þe pytte of helle.
Than come we to flome Jordane,
There Jone baptyst both god & man.
There we resauy(d) “a pena & culpa”
And wesch vs in þe water also.
And after we toke a soppe in wȳne,
And turnyd vp to Qu(a)ryntyne,
There Jhesu fastyd XL deys,
When he began oure new lawys.
And þer lyes þe stones rede
That þe deuyll bade Cryst turne in-to brede;
And when he wolde not wyrke hys wylle,
An oþer thinge betwen þem felle:
He bare oure lord in hys armys two
Fro Jerusalem to Jerico
And he sette hym on a pynn(a)cle hye,
Als fere as men myȝht hym se(!),
And schewyd hym there haulys & bourys,
Riche castellus & many toures.
When he hade sch(e)wyd hym þe werld aboute,
He spake wordys þat wer in doute,
He seyd: “all þis I schall gyfe þe,
And (þou) falle doūne & wyrschyp me.”
Off all þat he seyd beforne
Oure lorde toke it to lytell scorne
And ansuerd hym wyth a word:
“Go forth, theff, & tempe not þi lorde!”
Than roulyd þat thefe vpone a hepe
More tha(n) a M. fathome depe,
Fore it was XXti oures & mo
Or of þat mountan he myȝht go.
Doūne at þe fote of þat mountayne
We founde a garthyne of Abrahame.—
Than souȝht we forth, boþe mane & wyfe,
The(re) Laȝare was reysed fro deth to lyue
And had lyȝe stynkynge in þe grond,
A hundreht parte wers þan a hunde.
Besyde þer in a feyre pleyne
Is Martha halle & Mary Madeleyne,
There Jhesu at þe sopere sate
When Mary Maudeleyne kyssed his fete,
And Martha prayd amonge þe(m) alle
That sche myȝht ryse & serue in halle;
Than seyd oure lord fore Marye
That sche hade chosyne þe better partye.
All is befalle þat I des(criue)
In Betany & in Betphage:
I(n) Betphage sate oure lord vpone a stone
And bode hys asse, to it wer come;
There be þe stepys of þe asse fete,
There Jhesu onne hys asse lepe.
Thys wey is to comme & go
Sexty myle & X & mo.—

Now haue we tolde all þat we haue sene,
So god me saue fro sorow & tene!
And all þe cause þat I cane seye,
Is, to teche a man þe weye.
What pylgryme þat theþer wylle go,
I praye god saue hym to & fro
And gyfe þem grace so to do,
That heuens blys þei may come to.
Now, lord god all-myȝtye,
Thou grante vs grace þat it so be,
That we be redy to come to þe
When þat oure saulys schall partyd be!
Jhesu, þat fore vs dyȝed on þe rode-tre,
Saue vs all fore þi pyte!
Be þe vertu of þi holy crosse
Latte vs neuer in synne falle,
So þat we be redy thorow þi grace
To comme to þi Joys eternalle!
When we schall out off þis werld wende,
God, grante vs fore þi holy grace
Off þe, lord, to haue in mynd(!),
Fore to behold þi blyssyd face!