XXVI.

Torment and shameful death to every one
This Provost doth for those bad Jews prepare
That of this murder wist, and that anon:
Such wickedness his judgments cannot spare;
Who will do evil, evil shall he bear;

Them therefore with wild horses did he draw,
And after that he hung them by the law.

XXVII.

Upon his bier this Innocent doth lie
Before the altar while the Mass doth last :
The Abbot with his convent's company
Then sped themselves to bury him full fast;
And, when they holy water on him cast,

Yet spake this Child when sprinkled was the water,
And sang, O Alma Redemptoris Mater!

XXVIII.

This Abbot, for he was a holy man,

As all Monks are, or surely ought to be,

In supplication to the Child began,

Thus saying: 'O dear Child! I summon thee,

In virtue of the holy Trinity,

Tell me the cause why thou dost sing this hymn, Since that thy throat is cut, as it doth seem.'

6

ΧΧΙΧ.

My throat is cut unto the bone, I trow,'

Said this young Child, and by the law of kind,

I should have died, yea many hours ago,

But Jesus Christ, as in the books ye find,
Will that his glory last, and be in mind;
And, for the worship of his Mother dear,
Yet may I sing, O Alma! loud and clear.

This well of mercy, Jesu's Mother sweet,
After my knowledge I have lived alwày;
And in the hour when I my death did meet,
To me she came, and thus to me did say,
"Thou in thy dying sing this holy lay,"
As ye have heard; and soon as I had sung,
Methought she laid a grain upon my tongue.

XXXI.

Wherefore I sing, nor can from song refrain, In honor of that blissful Maiden free, Till from my tongue off-taken is the grain. And after that thus said she unto me: "My little Child, then will I come for thee Soon as the grain from off thy tongue they take: Be not dismayed, I will not thee forsake!"'

XXXII.

This holy Monk, this Abbot, him mean I,
Touched then his tongue, and took away the grair.
And he gave up the ghost full peacefully;
And, when the Abbot had this wonder seen,
His salt tears trickled down like showers of rain:
And on his face he dropped upon the ground,
And still he lay as if he had been bound.

Eke the whole Convent on the pavement lay,
Weeping and praising Jesu's Mother dear;
and took their way,

And after that they rose,
And lifted up this Martyr from the bier,
And in a tomb of precious marble clear
Inclosed his uncorrupted body sweet.-
Where'er he be, God grant us him to meet!

XXXIV.

Young Hew of Lincoln in like sort laid low
By cursed Jews,- thing well and widely known,
For it was done a little while ago, -

Pray also thou for us, while here we tarry,
Weak, sinful folk, that God, with pitying eye,
In mercy would his mercy multiply

On us, for reverence of his Mother Mary!"

II.

THE CUCKOO AND THE NIGHTINGALE.

I.

THE God of Love, — ah benedicite !

How mighty and how great a Lord is he!
For he of low hearts can make high, of high
He can make low, and unto death bring nigh;
And hard hearts he can make them kind and free.

II.

Within a little time, as hath been found,

He can make sick folk whole and fresh and sound: Them who are whole in body and in mind,

He can make sick, — bind can he and unbind

All that he will have bound, or have unbound.

III.

To tell his might my wit may not suffice;
Foolish men he can make them out of wise;-
For he may do all that he will devise;
Loose livers he can make abate their vice,
And proud hearts can make tremble in a trice.

IV.

In brief, the whole of what he will, he may;
Against him dare not any wight say nay;
To humble or afflict whome'er he will,

To gladden or to grieve, he hath like skill;
But most his might he sheds on the eve of May.

V.

For every true heart, gentle heart and free,
That with him is, or thinketh so to be,

Now against May shall have some stirring,

whether

To joy, or be it to some mourning; never
At other time, methinks, in like degree.

VI.

For now when they may hear the small birds' song, And see the budding leaves the branches throng,

This unto their remembrance doth bring
All kinds of pleasure mixed with sorrowing;
And longing of sweet thoughts that ever long.

VII.

And of that longing heaviness doth come,
Whence oft great sickness grows of heart and home;
Sick are they all for lack of their desire;
And thus in May their hearts are set on fire,
So that they burn forth in great martyrdom.

VIII.

In sooth, I speak from feeling, what though now Old am I, and to genial pleasure slow;

Yet have I felt of sickness through the May, Both hot and cold, and heart-aches every day, How hard, alas! to bear, I only know.

IX.

Such shaking doth the fever in me keep
Through all this May, that I have little sleep;
And also 't is not likely unto me,

That any living heart should sleepy be

In which Love's dart its fiery point doth steep.

X.

But tossing lately on a sleepless bed,

I of a token thought which Lovers heed;
How among them it was a common tale,
That it was good to hear the Nightingale
Ere the vile Cuckoo's note be uttered.