Corpus of Electronic Texts Edition

Anglo-Irish poems of the Middle Ages (Author: [unknown])

Poem 9

Christ on the Cross

1] Look at your Lord, man, where He hangs on the cross, and weep, if you can, tears entirely of blood. And look at His head completely wreathed with thorns and at His skin so defiled,
5] and at the spear's wound.
Behold His naked breast and His bloody side, His arms that are spread so wide become stiff. His fair cheek turns pale and His sight grows dim, in that His noble body is so stretched upon the cross. His loins thus hang
10] as cold as marble-stone, because there was never any lust of lechery there.
Look at His nails, in hand and also in foot, and how the streams of His precious blood flow. Begin at His head and look all the way to His toes. You will find in His body only excruciating suffering and affliction.
15] Turn Him up, turn Him down, your dear lover; you will find Him either bloody or pale in every part.
‘Beloved, for you my naked breast shines, glistening, my side deeply pierced, my hands bleeding sorely.’
‘Man, you have brought yourself to ruin, and are carried very
20] close to hell. Turn back and come to me, and I will receive you in friendship. For first, I made you from nothing, and then redeemed you at great cost, when I gave my life for you and was hung upon a tree.’
‘Man, behold what I suffered for you upon the rood tree. No kind of suffering can be greater than mine was when I hung
25] there.’
‘Hear me, man, crying out to you, dying cruelly for love of you. Look at my torments, cruel and arduous, when I was nailed through foot and hand.’
‘For you I had severe pains, great blows and grievous wounds. For you I drank a bitter drink and you are not able to thank me. I was sorely tortured without, within I was tortured much more.
30] For you will not thank me for the love that I showed you’.