Here is another medieval poetic meditation on Mary’s grief at the foot of the cross, this her appeal to mothers playing with their children to look at her Son across her knees in the beloved image, long before Michelangelo’s, of the Pietá. Here are the first two stanzas

O all women that ever were born
That bear children, stay and see
How my son lies me before
Upon my knee, taken from the tree.
Your children you dance upon your knee
With laughing, kissing, and merry cheer:
Behold my child, behold now me,
For now lies dead my dear son, dear.

O woman, woman, well is thee,
Your child's cap you put on;
You comb his hair, behold his ble; [face]
And know not when you will have done;.
But ever, alas, I make my moan
To see my son's head as it is here:
I pick out thorns by one and one
For now lies dead my dear son, dear.

    You can find the rest of it and the Middle English at a wonderful blog .

Rev. Joseph A. Komonchak, professor emeritus of the School of Theology and Religious Studies at the Catholic University of America, is a retired priest of the Archdiocese of New York.

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