"Sorrow, I wis! I can thee tell!
But it be the pain of hell _except._
More sorrow wot I none."

"Mother, rue of mother-care, _take pity upon._
For now thou wost of mother-fare, _knowest._
Though thou be clean maiden mon."[4]
"Soné, help at alle need
Allé those that to me grede, _cry._
Maiden, wife, and full wymmon." _woman with child._

"Mother, may I no longer dwell;
The time is come I shall to hell;
The third day I rise upon."
"Son, I will with thee founden; _set out, go._
I die, I wis, for thy wounden:
So sorrowful death nes never none." _was not never none._

When he rose, then fell her sorrow;
Her bliss sprung the third morrow:
Blithe mother wert thou tho! _then._
Lady, for that ilké bliss, _same._
Beseech thy son of sunnés lisse: _for sin's release._
Thou be our shield against our foe. _Be thou._

Blessed be thou, full of bliss!
Let us never heaven miss,
Through thy sweeté Sonés might!
Loverd, for that ilké blood, _Lord,_
That thou sheddest on the rood,