Þe holiest child þat euere was born?
Line 88
¶ Ȝe haue him woundid, ye haue him pyned;
Spere & nail his bodi haþ schorn!
Þou spere! whi suffridist þou þe smyth þe grynde
So scharpe, þat al his herte þou hast to-torn?
Line 92
¶ I may crie out on þee boþe euen & morn;
A wemlees maydens sone þou sleest!
I wringe & wepe as þing for-lorn!
Filius regis mortuus est.
Line 96
(9)
Thou scourgë maad of ful touȝ skyn,
Knottid & gnaggid, y crie on þee!
Þou [page 79] beet my barn þat neuere dide synne:
Whi beet þou him, & fórbare me?
Line 100
¶ Made he þee nouȝt? myȝte þou not blynne?
For ouermyche þou fraiedist þat free;
Þoruȝ-out his bodi no place was inne,
Boþe fleisch & blood þou pullidist with þee:
Line 104
¶ Þou madist ful blac þat was briȝt of blee,
Þou schalt oonis come to oure conquest.
O fadir of heuene! now haue pitee
Þat 'filius regis mortuus est.'
Line 108
(10)
Also þou beest must bere þe galle
Þat he schulde drinke; þou pynest him more!
Vpon my knees here dowun y falle,
And axe iuggement of heuen þerfore;
Line 112
¶ And moost y crie on ȝou iewis alle,
For ȝit myȝte noon of hem so him haue to-tore,
Of alle þese þe instrumentis þat y on calle,
But ȝe hem made to greue him so sore.
Line 116
¶ He made ȝou iewis: ȝou to restore
He come to ȝe erþe; & now ȝe encreest
His pyne: [page 80] alas, þat euere ȝe were bore!
For 'filius regis mortuus est.'
Line 120
