He Is Risen

On the Resurrection of Christ by William Dunbar (1460-1513)

Done is the battle against the dragon black.

Our champion, Christ, has confounded his force;

The gates of hell are broken with a crack,

The sign of triumph raised is of the cross,

The devil trembles with hiddeous voice,

The souls are redeemed and to heaven can go,

Christ, with His blood, our ransome does induce:

The Lord is risen from the grave.

Overcome is the deadly dragon Lucifer,

The cruel serpent with the deadly sting;

The old violent tiger with his teeth ajar,

Which lay in wait for us for so long,

Thinking to grip us in his claws strong;

The merciful Lord would not that it were so,

He made him of that fang [devil] to fail:

The Lord is risen from the grave.

He for our sake suffered to be slain,

And like a lamb in sacrifice was made ready,

Is like a lion, raised up again,

And as a giant, raises Him on high;

Arising as the dawn radiant and bright,

Aloft has gone the glorious Sun,

The blissfull day is seperated from the night:

The Lord is risen from the grave.

The great Victor again is risen on high,

That for our sins to the death was wounded;

The Son that was all pale now shines bright,

And darkness cleared, our faith is now restored;

The knell of mercy from heaven is sounded,

The Christians [those who believe] are delivered of their woe.

The Jews [those who doubt] and their errors are confounded:

The Lord is risen from the grave.

The foe is chased, the battles cease,

The prison broken, the jailers are banished;

The war is gone, confirmed is the peace,

The fetters loosened and the dungeon emptied,

The ransom made, the prisoners redemeed;

The field [of battle] is won, overcome is the foe,

Despoiled of the treasure that he guarded:

The Lord has risen from the grave.

He is Risen, indeed!

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For those of you who might be interested, here it is in the original Scots:

Done is a battell on the dragon blak,

Our campioun Chryst confountet hes his force;

The yettis 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 clows strang;

The mercifull 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 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 field is win, ourcumin is the fo,

Dispulit of the tresur that he yemit:

Surrexit Dominus de sepulchro.