AT MATYNNIS.
Valk of þi sleip, o man, at matyn hour!
With bitter teris remember, gif þou may,
The cruell panis, quhilk Crist, þi saluitour,
The to redeme sustenis nycht and day.
With hert forthink, syne with gret piete say:
I am gret causs of all þe cruell pane.
I staw þe frute, þocht þou restorit agane.
Annas houss wes first into þe gait;
Thairfor Crist wes first till him present.
Johnne enterit in, Peter stude at þe ȝet;
Off his discipillis and his document
Annas sperit him richt deligent.
Crist said agane: I techit into plane;
The Jowis herd þair of, require at þaim.
Fra on þis wise had said our Saluiour,
Ane seruand of þe bischopis, þat wes by,
Said: To þe bischop makes þou sic ansueir?
Als on þe cheik straik him vncurtasly.
Crist said agane: Gif euer spokin haue I
Off ewill, witness, and gif I haue said,
Quhy strikis þou me, sen I na falt haue maid?
Now euery prince and lord of dignite,
At Crist ȝour king leir to haue pacience;
Coumone meiknes in ȝour nobillite,
Revenge nocht ȝour iniure nor offence.
With pacience vse ȝour mangnificence,
Contemp all prid, gif ȝe will cum to glore.—
To Cayphas þai gart him ga but moire.
Peter for dreid of ded him thris denyit,
Or þe cok thris renewit had his sange.
Syne he ȝeid furth a preva place and spyit,
Quhair he grat and als handis wrange.
To se Crist de the Jowis thoucht full lange;
Thairfor witnes to him condampe þai brocht,
Bot þai fand nane be law, þat him hurt moucht.
Cayphas bad þat he suld ansser make
Till þai witnes, quhilk accusit swa.
Crist held his town and na thing till him spak;
Cayphas said: Gife þou be God werray,
I coumand þe speik and als þe suth to say,
Gif þou be Crist, þe sone of God eterne.
Crist said: I am, thocht þou now me disperne.
Ȝe sall me se sitand on his rycht hand,
Als as Juge cumand in jugement.
Than Cayphas raif his claithis, sayand:
He blasflemes, now quhat is ȝour intent?
Thai him condampnit to de with ane assent,
Sayand he is gilty and be law suld de.
How þai him trettit, is gret piete to se.
Than but delay apoun all þai schot,
Preiffand þair pith, quha fastest couth him sair.
That Nobill Prince þai defoulit vnder fute,
Birsand his breist, rivand his tender haire.
Sum on þe cheik, sum on þe wissage baire
Spat in his face, filit his cristall eyne,
And silit his sicht, as he a fule had bene.
Thai hurt his and all his body þai fret,
Saris his senonis and stoundis all his wanis,
Pullit his berd, his tender heid þai rat,
Drowgis him down, sum persis him with panis;
Thair ire as fire apoun his body ranis,
Thai brist his breist, full wan þai mak his face,
Thir cruell panis þis lord will sla, allace.
O man, mair cruell, þan euer wes wild lioun,
Quhilk with his pith ay purches him his pray,
Ire is þair gid, feid flemes him fra ressoun,
Will is þair law, inwy þai mak sereff ;
Prid is þe prince, quhilk seikis him to sla,
Cupid is king, quhilk him sa mait dois stand,
Falset is faith, quhilk herd hankis his hand.
Man, be thou kind, quhom for this pane he dreis,
Sorrow thy hert and all þi bowellis cerssis,
And now behald, how purelie þat he deis;
Lust birnis thy breist, pane all pertis persis,
His gret trublance with reuth þe mynd regressis
Into þe tyme, as þou had present bene
Off all his passioun, and all his panis sene.