 | The Harley Lyrics |  |
22 I SYKE WHEN Y SINGE
I syke when y singe
for sorewe þat y se
when y wiþ wypinge
biholde vpon þe tre
ant se Iesu þe suete
is herte blod forlete
for þe loue of me;
ys woundes waxen wete,
þei wepen stille ant mete.
Marie, reweþ þe.
for sorewe þat y se
when y wiþ wypinge
biholde vpon þe tre
ant se Iesu þe suete
is herte blod forlete
for þe loue of me;
ys woundes waxen wete,
þei wepen stille ant mete.
Marie, reweþ þe.
Heȝe vpon a doune,
þer al folk hit se may,
a mile from vch toune,
aboute þe midday,
þe rode is vp arered,
his frendes aren afered,
ant clyngeþ so þe clay.
Þe rode stond in stone;
Marie stont hire one,
ant seiþ ‘Weylaway!’
þer al folk hit se may,
a mile from vch toune,
aboute þe midday,
þe rode is vp arered,
his frendes aren afered,
ant clyngeþ so þe clay.
Þe rode stond in stone;
Marie stont hire one,
ant seiþ ‘Weylaway!’
When y þe biholde
wiþ eyȝen bryhte bo
ant þi bodi colde—
þi ble waxeþ blo,
þou hengest al of blode
so heȝe vpon þe rode,
bituene þeues tuo—
who may syke more?
Marie wepeþ sore
ant siht al þis wo.
wiþ eyȝen bryhte bo
ant þi bodi colde—
þi ble waxeþ blo,
þou hengest al of blode
so heȝe vpon þe rode,
bituene þeues tuo—
who may syke more?
Marie wepeþ sore
ant siht al þis wo.
Þe naylles beþ to stronge,
þe smyþes are to sleye,
þou bledest al to longe,
þe tre is al to heyȝe,
þe stones beoþ al wete.
Alas! Iesu, þe suete,
for nou frend hast þou non
bote seint Iohan mournynde
ant Marie wepynde
for pyne þat þe ys on.
þe smyþes are to sleye,
þou bledest al to longe,
þe tre is al to heyȝe,
þe stones beoþ al wete.
60
for nou frend hast þou non
bote seint Iohan mournynde
ant Marie wepynde
for pyne þat þe ys on.
Ofte when y sike
ant makie my mon,
wel ille þah me like
wonder is hit non,
when y se honge heȝe
ant bittre pynes dreȝe
Iesu, my lemmon,
his wondes sore smerte,
þe spere al to is herte
ant þourh is sydes gon.
ant makie my mon,
wel ille þah me like
wonder is hit non,
when y se honge heȝe
ant bittre pynes dreȝe
Iesu, my lemmon,
his wondes sore smerte,
þe spere al to is herte
ant þourh is sydes gon.
Ofte when y syke,
wiþ care y am þourhsoht;
when y wake, y wyke,
of serewe is al mi þoht.
Alas! Men beþ wode
þat suereþ by þe rode
ant selleþ him for noht
þat bohte vs out of synne.
He bring vs to wynne
þat haþ vs duere boht.
wiþ care y am þourhsoht;
when y wake, y wyke,
of serewe is al mi þoht.
Alas! Men beþ wode
þat suereþ by þe rode
ant selleþ him for noht
þat bohte vs out of synne.
He bring vs to wynne
þat haþ vs duere boht.
| The Harley Lyrics | |