MARGARET
O mother rich in sorrows, Bend down to hear my cry! O bend thee, gracious mother, To my sore agony! Thy heart with swords is piercèd, And tears are in thine eye, Because they made thy dear Son A cruel death to die. Thou lookest up to heaven, And deeply thou dost sigh; His God and thine beholds thee, And heals thine agony. Oh! who can know What…