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26. In festo exaltacionis sancte crucis.
Diese Leg. ist abgedruckt in Morris "Legends of the holy Rood", p. 122.
A king sum-tyme in cuntre was [folio 177]
Þat had to name king Chodroas;
A sun he had, þat was his ayre,
And oþer menze many and faire;
Of þe cuntre of Pers was he king
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And all þe land at his dedeing. [l. ledeing?]
He gert ilk cete and ilk toune
Vnto his biding be so boune,
Þat in a trone up he him sett
And cumand þam with-owten lett
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Þat king of kinges þai suld him call
And allso god grettest of all
And lord of lordes, both loud and still,
And none on molde mete him untill. [H melde, T molde.]
Zit was noght þis in þat sesowne
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Inogh till his confusione; [T confusioune.]
Bot to Jerusalem he went
And said: all suld be schamely schent
Þat trowed on Crist or on his lay.
Þar-to he dose all þat he may:
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In Jerusalem þaire kirkes he stroyde
And cristen men ful gretly noyed.
He toke his wai þan to þe graue
Whare Crist was layd, þat vs sall saue, [T sal.]
It to destroy with all his mayn.
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Bot for ferdnes he turned ogayne
And durst do no-thing at þe kyrk.
Bot wikkedly þus gan he wirk: —
Saint Eline, þe nobill quene,
Þat lang bifore his tyme had bene,
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Fand þe cors þat men cald þe rode, [H cors, T cros, wie 284.]
Þat Jhesus died on for oure gude,
And to Jerusalem scho it broght [T Jherusalem.]
And graithed it þare, als hir gude thoght,
In siluer and go(l)d al bidene, [H god, T gold.]
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For þat it suld be kepid clene;
And þat same kirk gert scho make
Coriosly for þat cros sake:
For men suld hald þat haly tre
In honore als it aw to be —:
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Bot þis ilk king Chosdroass [H chosoroass.]
When he wist whare þis ilk cros was,
He gert his men with grete maystry
Haue it forth with him in hy
Out of Jerusalem cete,
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And broght it whare him liked to be.
When he was þus cumen hame ogayn,
Of his iorne he was ful fayne.
And hastili þan gert he dight [H þant.]
A faire toure all off siluer bright:
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He made it nobilly for þe nanes,
Within all ful of precius stanes;
A trone of gold þarin he sett
With precius stanes all ouer-plett,
And þarein gert he gayly dyght
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Like son and mone and sternes bright
Also zit gert he mak þarin
Propirtese by preue gyn,
Þat it was like untill a heuyn,
And rayn þarfro cumand ful euyn,
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And preue whistils war omang
Made euyn like to angels sang.
Þare in þat toure, als him gude thoght,
A sege untill him-self he wroght,
And þare he gert with mekill pride
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Set þe haly cros him biside.
Þar als a god he sat in stall,
And so he bad men suld him call.
His kingdom and all his riallte
Vntill his sun haly gaf he,
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And on þis wise þat curst caytiue
In maumetry wald lede his liue.
And so he did full many a day,
Ledeand þe folk in fendes lay.
Þus with þe deuil we lat him dwell,
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