The Works of William Herebert, OFM

Poem 2: Vexilla regis prodeunt; Fol. 205r-v

Þe kynges baneres beth forth ylad;
Þe rode tokne ys nou tosprad
Whar he, þat wrouth hauet al monkunne,
Anhonged was uor oure sunne.
Þer he was wounded and vurst yswonge,
Wyth sharpe spere to herte ystonge;
To wassȝen ous of sunne clene,
Water and blod þer ronne at ene.
Yvoluuld ys Dauidþes sawe,
Þat soth was prophete of þe olde lawe,
Þat sayde: "Men, ȝe mowen yse
Hou Godes trone ys rode tre."
[folio 205v]
HA trœ, þat art so vayr ykud,
And wyth kynges pourpre yshrud,
Of wourþy stok ykore þou were,
Þat so holy limes opbere;
Blessed be þou, þat hauest ybore
Þe wordles raunsoun, þat was uorlore:
Þou art ymaked Crystes weye;
Þorou þe he tok of helle preye.
Ha croyz, myn hope, onliche my trust,
Þe nouþe ich gréte wyth al my lust.
Þe mylde sped in rithfolnesse,
To sunfole men shéu mylsfolnesse.
A God, þe heyȝe Trinite,
Alle gostes heryȝe þe.
Hoem þat þou bouhtest on rode trœ,
Hœre wyssere euermore þou boe. Amen.