see not how: As strong as ever he was, he is yet now, In him trust I, and in his mother dear; That is to me my sail and eke my stere.”
Her little child lay weeping in her arm, And, kneeling, piteously to him she said, “Peace, little son, I will do thee no harm:” With that her kerchief off her head she braid, And over his little eyen she it laid, And in her arm she lulled it full fast, And unto heav’n her eyen up she cast.
“Mother,” quoth she, “and maiden bright, Marý, Sooth is, that through a woman’s eggement Mankind was lorn, and damned aye to die; For which thy child was on a cross y-rent: Thy blissful eyen saw all his torment, Then is there no comparison between Thy woe, and any woe man may sustene.
“Thou saw’st thy child y-slain before thine eyen, And yet now lives my little child, parfay: Now, lady bright, to whom the woeful cryen, Thou glory of womanhood, thou fairë may, Thou haven of refuge, bright star of day, Rue on my child, that of thy gentleness Ruest on every rueful in distress.