But, Lucifer, what’s that on thee, Hast thou no water in this place? Thou look’st so black, it seems to me Thou ne’er dost wash thy ugly face. If we had water for to drink, We should not care for washing then, Into these flames and filthy stink, We burn with fire unto the doom: Upbraid me then, good wife, no more, For first when I heard of the name, I knew thou hast such names in store, Would make the devil to think shame. Forsooth, Sir thief, thou art to blame, If I had time now for to bide Once you were well, but may think shame, That lost heaven for rebellious pride, Who traitor-like fell with the rest, Because you would not be content, And now of bliss are dispossest, Without all grace for to repent, Thou mad’st poor Eve for to consent To eat of the forbidden tree; (Which we poor daughters may relent And made us almost like to thee;) But God be blest who passed thee by. And did a Saviour provide, For Adam’s whole posterity, All those who do in him confide. Adieu, false fiend, I may not bide, With thee I may no longer stay; My God in death he was my guide, O’er hell I’ll get the victory. Then up the hill the poor wife went, Oppressed with stinking flames and fear. Weeping right sore with great relent, For to go else she wist not where: A narrow way with thorns and briers, And full of mires was her before, She sighed oft with sobs and tears, The poor wife’s heart was wonderous sore, Tired and torn she went on still, Sometimes she sat, and sometimes fell, Aye till she came to a high hill, And then she looked back to hell, When that she had climbed up the hill, Before her was a goodly plain; Where she did rest and weep her fill. Then rose she to her feet again, Her heart was glad the way was good, Up to the hill she hy’d with haste, The flowers were fair, where that she stood The fields were pleasant to her taste. Then she espied Jerusalem, On Sion’s mount where that it stood Shining with gold light as the sun, Her silly soul was then right glad; The ports were pearls shining bright, Glorious it was for to behold, With precious stones give such a light, The walls were of transparent gold. High were the walls, the gates were shut. And long she thought for to be in But then for fear of biding out, She knocked hard and made some din. To knock and cry she did not spare. Till father Adam did her hear; Who is’t that raps so rudely there, Heaven cannot well be won by weir. The wife of Beith that you speer, Hath stood these two hours at the gate. Go back, saith he, you must forbear, Here may no sinners entrance get.