Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, FILIUS REGIS MORTUUS EST, by ANONYMOUS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

FILIUS REGIS MORTUUS EST, by                    
First Line: As reason ruled my reckless mind / and on wild ways as forth I went
Last Line: My son for that will grant ye grace - / filius regis mortuus est!'
Subject(s): Jesus Christ


As reason ruled my reckless mind,
And on wild ways as forth I went,
A city grave I chanced to find,
To turn thereto was mine intent;
I met a Maid, a Mother kind,
With sobs and sighing well nigh spent,
She wept, she wailed, so sore she pined,
Her hair and face with hands she rent.
Herself she did full sore torment,
Body, and bosom, without rest
She tare, and cried aye as she went:
"Filius Regis mortuus est!"

"The King's Son" so she cried: "is dead,
The joy on which my life was stayed,
To see my Son, how sore He bled,
It cuts my heart as knife's sharp blade!
My Son, Whom at my breast I fed,
Soft lapped, with songs to sleep hath laid,
To see Him thus His life-blood shed
Makes me, His mother, sore dismayed; --
I am both mother, wife, and maid,
Have no more sons to suck my breast,
Thus my grief's debt may ne'er be paid --
Filius Regis mortuus est!

"Thus Filius Regis, mine own Child,
Hangs on the Cross, I needs must see
How He was wounded, and defiled
With spear and spitting, piteouslie!
I cried on Him as I were wild:
'My dear sweet Son, say see'st Thou me
Thy mother dear?' With looks so mild
He spake: 'Mourn not, let sorrow be,
I shall be thine, and come to thee --'
He spake, I swooned, by grief opprest,
Son mine! Son mine! On rough Rood Tree
Filius Regis mortuus est!

"He died! He died! Who was my bliss --
I seeing, swooned, and cried, 'Alas!'
Small wonder if I mourn like this,
My Father, Brother, Spouse, He was!
My Mother, Succour, all that is,
All orphaned on my way I pass,
Of Spouse and Brother robbed, I wis,
A thing forlorn, that nothing has --
Gabriel hailed me 'full of Grace,'
Nay, 'full of Sorrow' had been best,
The tears, they trickle down my face --
Filius Regis mortuus est!"

She said: "I looked up to my Child,
Cried on the Jews to hang, ere long,
Mother by Son, the Undefiled --
Oh Death! Oh Death! Dost do me wrong,
My Babe dost slay, Who ne'er was wild,
My slaying tarries over long,
Thou Murderer, why art thou mild
To me, who would to Death belong?
Dost pain my Son with torment strong,
The mother pain, at her behest,
Alas! I sing a sorry song --
Filius Regis mortuus est!

"Oh Earth! 'gainst thee complaint, I make
That thou didst drink His guiltless Blood;
Stone, why didst thou thy hardness slake
To Mortar, that the Cross firm stood?
The earth, the stone, Himself did make --
Ye yield ye servants to the Rood
To slay your Lord -- an truth ye spake
He did ye never harm, but good!
Meek was He ever, mild of mood,
Ye pierce Him as He were a beast,
Alas! my Babe, my life's true Food --
Filius Regis mortuus est!

"Thou Tree, thou Cross, how durst thou be
Gallows, to hang thy Maker so?
His Sire, to Him I cry 'gainst thee
Who on His Son hast worked this woe!
Not cause, but help, that slain is He!
Mercy ye trees! Ye be my foe,
Had ye but made a Rood for me
To hang by Him, 't were fitting so --
What may I say? Where shall I go?
The Tree hath hanged a King, a Priest!
Of all kings none His peer I know,
Filius Regis mortuus est!

"Ye creatures cruel, Iron, Steel, sharp Thorn,
How dare ye thus your best Friend slay?
The Holiest Child that e'er was born
Did wounds and torment on Him lay!
With spear and nails His Flesh have torn;
Spear! the smith's hand why didst not stay,
That ground thy blade so sharp this morn
That to His Heart didst cleave a way?
I cry on thee both night and day,
A Maiden's Son to death didst wrest,
Forlorn, I wring my hands alway,
Filius Regis mortuus est!

"Thou Scourge, thus made of toughest skin,
Knotted and jagged, I cry on thee,
Didst beat my Babe, Who ne'er knew sin,
Why smotest Him, and spared'st me?
Did He not make thee? Wherefore then
His flesh should thus so mangled be
That ne'er a spot should mercy win
But Flesh and Blood must follow thee?
Didst mar what was so fair to see --
Yet o'er thee shall He win conquest --
Father of Heaven in pity see,
Filius Regis mortuus est!

"Thou Wretch, who proffered Him the gall
For drink, thou didst torment Him more;
Here down upon my knees I fall
God's judgment on thee now implore!
Upon ye Jews, the first of all,
Ye would Him not, His Flesh ye tore
With these, the tools on which I call,
Ye made them thus to grieve Him sore!
Ye Jews He made, and to restore
Was born as Man, but ye have drest
His Cross! Unhappy who ye bore!
Filius Regis mortuus est!

"O ye false Jews! why did ye thus?
Why did ye slay your Saviour so?
When He in judgment sits o'er us
To shun His Wrath where will ye go?
All creatures else were piteous,
The Sun, the Clouds, for this, His Woe
Their mourning made, discourteous
Ye mocking words did 'gainst Him throw!
Temple, and tower, 'neath earthquake's throe
They shook, to bear ye on earth's breast,
The sun no light to ye would show --
Filius Regis mortuus est!

"Now mortuus est mine own fair Lord,
Death doth mine own dear Child deface;
Now thro' this world I walk abroad
E'en as a wretch that wanteth grace;
My grief I fain would thus record,
No more may I behold His Face!
The weary way from Calvary-ward
Weeping, and wailing, thus I trace.
If any love me, lend a place
Where I may weep my fill, and rest,
My Son for that will grant ye Grace --
Filius Regis mortuus est!"





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