 | Religious Lyrics of the XVth Century |  |
9. Who cannot Weep come Learn of me
Sodenly afraide, half waking, half slepyng
and gretly dismayde, A wooman sate weepyng,
and gretly dismayde, A wooman sate weepyng,
With fauoure in hir face ferr passyng my Reason,
And of hir sore weepyng this was the enchesone:
Hir soon in hir lap lay, she seid, slayne by treason.
Yif wepyng myght ripe bee it seemyd þan in season.
Ihesu, so she sobbid,
So hir soone was bobbid
and of his lif robbid,
Saying þies wordis as I say þee,
‘Who cannot wepe come lerne at me.’
And of hir sore weepyng this was the enchesone:
Hir soon in hir lap lay, she seid, slayne by treason.
Yif wepyng myght ripe bee it seemyd þan in season.
Ihesu, so she sobbid,
So hir soone was bobbid
and of his lif robbid,
Saying þies wordis as I say þee,
‘Who cannot wepe come lerne at me.’
I said I cowd not wepe I was so harde hartid:
Shee answerd me with wordys shortly þat smarted,
‘Lo! nature shall move þee thou must be converted
Thyne owne fadder þis nyght is deed’,—lo þus she Thwarted—
‘So my soon is bobbid
& of his lif robbid.’
forsooth þan I sobbid,
Veryfying þe wordis she seid to me.
Who cannot wepe may lerne at þee.
Shee answerd me with wordys shortly þat smarted,
‘Lo! nature shall move þee thou must be converted
Thyne owne fadder þis nyght is deed’,—lo þus she Thwarted—
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& of his lif robbid.’
forsooth þan I sobbid,
Veryfying þe wordis she seid to me.
Who cannot wepe may lerne at þee.
‘Now breke hert, I the pray, this cors lith so rulye,
So betyn, so wowndid, entreted so Iewlye,
What wiȝt may me behold & wepe nat? noon truly!
To see my deed dere soone lygh bleedyng lo! this newlye.’
Ay stil she sobbid
so hir soone was bobbed
& of his lif robbid,
Newyng þe wordis as I say thee,
‘Who cannot wepe com lerne at me.’
So betyn, so wowndid, entreted so Iewlye,
What wiȝt may me behold & wepe nat? noon truly!
To see my deed dere soone lygh bleedyng lo! this newlye.’
Ay stil she sobbid
so hir soone was bobbed
& of his lif robbid,
Newyng þe wordis as I say thee,
‘Who cannot wepe com lerne at me.’
On me she caste hire ey, said ‘see, mane, thy brothir!’
She kissid hym & said, ‘swete, am I not thy modir?’
In sownyng she fill there, it wolde be non othir;
I not which more deedly, the toone or the tothir.
Yit she revived & sobbid,
so hire soon was bobbid
& of his lif robbid.
‘Who cannot wepe,’ this was the laye,
& with þat word she vanysht Away.
She kissid hym & said, ‘swete, am I not thy modir?’
In sownyng she fill there, it wolde be non othir;
I not which more deedly, the toone or the tothir.
Yit she revived & sobbid,
so hire soon was bobbid
& of his lif robbid.
‘Who cannot wepe,’ this was the laye,
& with þat word she vanysht Away.
| Religious Lyrics of the XVth Century | |