Altenglische legenden.

                                
                                  Than askyd he folke of yche degre
                                
                                  Who sufferd more peyne thane he,
                                
                                  And he cast vppe a loud cryȝe
                                  Line 315 
                                
                                  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.
                                  Line 320 
                                
                                  Fore-sothe þei comme of Kaymes kyne,
                                
                                  They sette it fore no dedly synne [they st. that.] 
                                
                                  To reyse þe crose betwene them alle [mortas, mortise.] 
                                
                                  And in a mortas þei lete (it) falle;
                                
                                  And when it smote among þe stones,
                                  Line 325 
                                
                                  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;
                                  Line 330 
                                
                                  Hys one hond ȝede est, þe oþer ȝede weste;
                                
                                  As þe pylicane sytte on here neste
                                
                                  When sche prykes hyre herte blode [Ms. pryked st. prykes.] 
                                
                                  To gyffe here byrdys fore þer fode:
                                
                                  Thus was he strenyd on a tre,
                                  Line 335 
                                
                                  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;
                                  Line 340 
                                
                                  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,
                                  Line 345 
                                
                                  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, [Ms. meky.] 
                                
                                  He schall be saluyd of all synne þat is.
                                  Line 350 
                                
                                  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
                                  Line 355 
                                
                                  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
                                  Line 360 
                                
                                  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,
                                  Line 365 
                                
                                  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 [his st. þis.] 
                                
                                  Was purchast in a fote of square:
                                  Line 370 
                                
                                  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:
                                  Line 375 
                                
                                  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!
                                  Line 380 
                                
                                  Beȝond þer is þe same stede
                                
                                  Where Jhesu wondys wer bobbyd rede. — [Ms. babbyd st. bobbyd.] 
                                
                                  And þus we woke all þe nyȝht, [þus st. þer? Ms. toke st. woke.] 
                                
                                  Euery man with a candyll-lyȝht.
                                
                                  And when we had gone þe serkyll aboute,
                                  Line 385 
                                
                                  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,
                                  Line 390 
                                
                                  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
                                  Line 395 
                                
                                  That þer fore vs was offerd quyke & dede.

About this Item

Title: Altenglische legenden.
Author: Horstmann, Carl, ed. b. 1851.
Canvas: Page 360
Publication: Heilbronn,: Gebr. Henninger,; 1881.
Subject terms: Saints -- Legends; English poetry; Legends

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Collection: Corpus of Middle English Prose and Verse
Link to this Item: https://name.umdl.umich.edu/afw1383.0001.001
Link to this scan: https://quod.lib.umich.edu/c/cme/afw1383.0001.001/531:4

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Manifest: https://quod.lib.umich.edu/cgi/t/text/api/manifest/cme:afw1383.0001.001

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Full citation: "Altenglische legenden." In the digital collection Corpus of Middle English Prose and Verse. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/afw1383.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 18, 2025.

Altenglische legenden.

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