_Isaac._ Father, tell me, or I go, Whether I shall have harm or no. _Abraham._ Ah, dear God, that me is woe! Thou bursts my heart in sunder. _Isaac._ Father, tell me of this case, Why you your drawn sword has, And bare it naked in this place; Thereof I have great wonder. _Abraham._ Isaac, son, peace! I pray thee, Thou breaks my heart even in three. _Isaac._ I pray you, father, leave nothing from me, But tell me what you think. _Abraham._ O Isaac, Isaac, I must thee kill. _Isaac._ Alas! father, is that your will, Your own child here for to spill, Upon this hill's brink? If I have trespassed in any degree, With a rod you may beat me; Put up your sword, if your will be, For I am but a child. _Abraham._ Oh, my son! I am sorry To do to thee this great annoy, God's commandment do must I, His works are aye full mild. _Isaac._ Would God, my mother were here with me! She would kneel upon her knee, Praying you, father, if it might be, For to save my life. _Abraham._ Oh, comely creature, but I thee kill, I grieve my God, and that full ill: I may not work against his will But ever obedient be. O Isaac, son, to thee I say: God has commanded me this day Sacrifice--this is no nay-- To make of thy body. _Isaac._ Is it God's will I should be slain? _Abraham._ Yea, son, it is not for to layne;[75] To his bidding I will be bane,[76] Ever to his pleasing. But that I do this doleful deed, My Lord will not quit[77] me my meed.[78] _Isaac._ Marry! father, God forbid But you do your off'ring. Father, at home your sons you shall find That you must love by course of kind. Be I once out of your mind, Your sorrow may soon cease, But you must do God's bidding. Father, tell my mother of nothing. _Abraham._ For sorrow I may my hands wring, Thy mother I cannot please. O Isaac, blessed may'st thou be! Almost my wit I lose for thee, The blood of thy body so free I feel full loth to shed. _Isaac._ Father, since you must needs do so, Let it pass lightly and overgo; Kneeling on my knees two, Your blessing on me spread! _Abraham._ My blessing, dear son, give I thee And thy mother's with heart so free; The blessing of the Trinity, My dear son, on thee light! _Isaac._ Father, I pray you hide mine een That I see not your sword so keen; Your stroke, father, I would not seen, Lest I against it thrill. _Abraham._ My dear son Isaac, speak no more, Thy words make my heart full sore. _Isaac._ O dear father, wherefore, wherefore? Since I must needs be dead, One thing I would you pray: Since I must die the death this day, As few strokes as you may, When you smite off my head. _Abraham._ Thy meekness, child, makes me afray;[79] My song may be "Well away!" _Isaac._ O, dear father, do away Your making so mickle moan! Now truly, father, this talking Doth but make long tarrying. I pray you come and make ending And let me hence gone! _Abraham._ Come hither, my child, that art so sweet: Thou must be bound now, hand and feet.