Delit þe Lombe for to deuise
Wyth much meruayle in mynde went
Best wat3 he blyþest and moste to pryse
Þat euer I herde of speche spent
So worþly whyt wern wede3 hys
His loke3 symple, hymself so gent
Bot a wounde ful wyde and weete con wyse
Anende hys hert þur3 hyde torente
Of his quyte syde his blod outsprent
Alas, þo3t I, who did þat spyt
Ani breste for bale a3t haf forbrent
Er he þerto hade had delyt
To devise such delight the Lamb
went with much marvel in mind.
Best was he, happiest, and most to praise,
that ever I heard of in speech that was spent.
So worthily white were his clothes –
his looks simple, himself so noble.
But a very wide and wet wound could be seen
near his heart, torn through his skin.
From his white side his blood sprayed out.[i]
Alas, I thought, who did that spiteful deed?[ii]
Any breast for sorrow ought to have broken
before he had any delight from that.
(trans. Jane Beal)
[i] This wound has its direct parallel in the piercing of Christ’s side on the cross.
[ii] It is significant that the Dreamer phrases this line as a question. According to the gospels, historically, Christ’s side was pierced by a Roman soldier, but spiritually, according to Church doctrine, Christ’s sufferings on the Cross were caused by the sinful deeds of all humanity.
THE POETRY PLACE 