On the Resurrection of Christ [Surrexit Dominus de sepulchro]
Done
is
a
battell
on
the
dragon
blak,
Our
campioun
Chryst
confountit
hes
his
force;
The
gettis
of
Hell
ar
brokin
with
a
crak,
The
signe
triumphall
rasit
is
of
the
Croce,
The
divillis
trymmillis
with
hiddous
voce,
The
saulis
ar
borrowit
and
to
the
blis
can
go,
Chryst
with
His
blud
our
ransonis
dois
indoce:
Surrexit
Dominus
de
sepulchro.
Dungin
is
the
deidly
dragon
Lucifer,
The
crewall
serpent
with
the
mortall
stang,
The
auld
kene
tegir
with
his
teith
on
char,
Quhilk
in
a
wait
hes
lyne
for
us
so
lang,
Thinking
to
grip
us
in
his
clowis
strang;
The
merciful
Lord
wald
nocht
that
it
wer
so,
He
maid
him
for
to
felye
of
that
fang:
Surrexit
Dominus
de
sepulchro.
He
for
our
saik
that
sufferit
to
be
slane,
And
lyk
a
lamb
in
sacrifice
wes
dicht,
Is
lyk
a
lyone
rissin
up
agane,
And
as
a
gyane
raxit
Him
on
hicht;
Sprungin
is
Aurora,
radius
and
bricht,
On
loft
is
gone
the
glorius
Appollo,
The
blisfull
day
depairtit
fro
the
nycht:
Surrexit
Dominus
de
sepulchro.
The
grit
Victour
agane
is
rissin
on
hicht
That
for
our
querrell
to
the
deth
wes
woundit;
The
sone
that
wox
all
paill
now
schynis
bricht,
And
dirknes
clerit,
our
fayth
is
now
refoundit.
The
knell
of
mercy
fra
the
hevin
is
soundit,
The
Cristin
ar
deliverit
of
thair
wo,
The
Jowis
and
thair
errour
ar
confoundit:
Surrexit
Dominus
de
sepulchro.
The
fo
is
chasit,
the
battell
is
done
ceis,
The
presone
brokin,
the
jevellouris
fleit
and
flemit;
The
weir
is
gon,
confermit
is
the
peis,
The
fetteris
lowsit
and
the
dungeoun
temit,
The
ransoun
maid,
the
presoneris
redemit,
The
feild
is
win,
ourcumin
is
the
fo,
Dispulit
of
the
tresur
that
he
yemit:
Surrexit
Dominus
de
sepulchro.
