"A, my lord god, Crist Jhesus!"
Whanne þe gewes hire herde crye þus,
Skolde þeȝ gonne hire calle
And, for she cride Jhesu Crist in soun,
Anon wiþ stones wiþoute þe toun
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To deþe þeȝ stanede hire alle —
Sche was þe ferste wiþoute blame
Þat martrid was for Cristis name.
Þe gewes þo token þat tre
And beren it out wiþoute þe toun
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And in a dep dich adoun
Þerynne þrewe it he.
Bote god, þat wot of alle dede,
Honurede þat tre for mannes nede:
Betwixe ondren & non
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God sente eche day an angel briȝt,
And to þat tre he wente riȝt,
Þe water þanne sterede ful son.
And who so myȝte in þat water tiht
Bathen him after þat angelis fliht,
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What siknesse þat he had,
Sone he wax hol ywis.
Whanne þe gewes wisten þis,
Anon þeȝ token here rad
And drowen op þat tre riche,
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And sone after ouer a diche
Þat tre þeȝ deden leye,
And þerouer leten it ligge
For to ben a fot-brigge
To men þat ȝeden þat weye,
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And þouȝten þus, y telle þe,
Þe holynesse of þat tre
Sholde be fordo
Þorghe þe stappes of synful men
Þat þeron sholde gon and ren —
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Bote ȝut was it noȝt so.
Sone after þat, verrayment,
Þo Sibile sage to Jer(usa)lem went,
To heren of Salamones wit,
And kam by þat ilche tre:
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Anon she fel doun on þat tre
And faire worschipede hit,
And þeron wolde she noȝt go
Bote in þe water wente þo,
And so honurede she þat tre,
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And seide: "þe tyme is comynge riȝt
Þat it shel beren þe kyng of myȝt"
Þus þerof propheciede she.
Stille þer lay þis tre of gode,
Til god were dampned to deye on rode
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Among þe gewes felle.
Ȝif þow wilt wite what tyme it is
Fro tyme þat god made paradys
And man, þerynne to dwelle:
Til þat Nowelis flod were
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Two þousand two hondred & twelf ȝere —
Þus we fynden vs selue;
And fro þe flod to Abraham,
As oure bok witnesseþ ham,
Neghene hondred ȝer & twelue;
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And fro Abraham to Moysen,
As clerkes don vs to ken,
Foure hondred ȝer & þretty;
And fro Moyses to Dauid kyng
Fyue hondred & two, wiþoute lesyng,
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To kounten riȝt trewely;
And forþ fro Dauid þe kyng
To Babiloyne þe delyuering
Fyue hondred ȝer were þo;
And fro þat deliuerynge, we sayn ȝow,
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To þe incarnacioun of Jhesu
Fyue hondred ȝer & mo.
And fro þe incarnacioun of Jhesu
Til þis rym y telle ȝow
Were turned in to englisch,
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A þousand þre hondred & seuenty
And fyue ȝere witterly.
Þus in bok founden it is.
Ferst þis was mad in Ebrew,
And sethen turned to latyn new,
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And now to englisch speche.
Praye we for him þat haþ it wroȝt,
Þat god, as he him dere abouȝt,
Be his soule leche;
And to mede of his makyng,
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And vs alle, for oure heryng,
Praye we wiþ one steuene
Þat Jhesu Crist, oure sauyour,
And his moder, þat swete flour,
Grante vs þe blesse of heuene.
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