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IACOPONE DA TODI, 1230-1306

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Run, Lady, run and see,
Dead He must surely be,
Virgin

Nay, how can this be so,
Christ, my hope here below,
Herald

Madonna, now behold,
For thirty pieces told
Virgin

Christ Jesus blest! they smite Him cruelly,

they scourge Him without rest!

Who doth not evil know,

by mortals sore-distressed?

betrayed He is and sold ; Judas hath lined his nest.

O Magdalene, speed, speed,
Christ mine own son they lead
Herald

Madonna, speed for grace,
And torture Him apace;
Virgin

O Pilate, not by thee,
He shall be proved by me
Crowd

Crucify Him, crucify!
The senate doth defy;
Virgin

Nay lend your ears again
Haply you may be fain
Herald

grief burdeneth me indeed, as 'twas to me confessed!

they spit upon His face to Pilate He is pressed.

tormented let Him be;

most wrongfully oppressed.

Who raised Himself on high
so is our law confessed!

and muse upon my pain,
to change what you professed.

The thieves dragged hither see

to bear Him company!

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Crowd

Crowned with thorns let be who made a royal quest !

Virgin

O son, O son of mine,
O son, whence shall a sign
O son, O happy-eyed,
And why Thyself disguise

Herald

O lily-flower divine,

come to my heart distressed? why hush Thee in such wise? before Thy mother's breast?

the people bear it by,

Lady, the cross is nigh,
Where the true light doth lie,

Virgin

O cross, what doest, say?
Who then with us shall stay,

Herald

O mournful one, run where
To nail Him they would dare

Virgin

Despoiling Him, ah me,
From His wounds cruelly

Herald

there shall it rear its crest.

my son would'st steal away?
like Him so wholly blest?

thy son hath been stripped bare, unto the cross to rest.

His body let me see,
His blood hath been outpressed.

upon the cross and stayed;

Woman, one hand is laid
With a great nail fast-made,
The other hand they hold
While anguish all untold
Woman, see even now
His limbs are wrenched, I trow

for they did strike their best; upon the cross unrolled, is kindled in His breast. His feet are nailed; ah, how to meet the awful test!

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voglio teco partire, fin che mo m' esce 'l fiato.

Ch' una aggiam sepultura,

trovarse en affrantura

Cristo

Mamma, col core affletto, de Ioanne mio eletto ; Ioanne, esta mia mate, aggine pietate,

Vergine

figlio de mamma scura,

matre e figlio affogato !

entro a le man te metto sia el tuo figlio appellato. tollela en caritate :

ch' ha lo core forato.

figlio de la smarrita, figlio mio attossicato!

Figlio, l' alma t'è uscita, figlio de la sparita,

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