Saint Alban and Saint Amphabel

Lydgate, John (1370?-1451?)

Here begynnethe the glorious lyfe and passion of seint Albon prothomartyr of Englande / and also the lyfe and passion of saint Amphabel / whiche conuerted saint Albon to the fayth of Christe.

II.

Here begynneth the prologue of the secunde boke / treatynge of the conuersion of the blessed prothomartyr of Englande called Sainct Albon.

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III.

(Buch III.)

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Here begynnethe the glorious lyfe and passion of seint Albon prothomartyr of Englande / and also the lyfe and passion of saint Amphabel / whiche conuerted saint Albon to the fayth of Christe.

(Buch I.)

To call Clio, my dulnesse to redresse,
With all systers dwellyng at Elicon,
What myght auayle, to wryte the perfytenes
Of the holy martyr slayne full yore a-gone
For Christis fayth, the holy man Albon,
Called of ryght through euery regyon
Prothomartyr of Brutis Albion,—

I not acqueynted with muses of Maro,
Nor with metris of Lucan nor Virgile,
Nor sugred deties of Tullius Cicero,
Nor of Homerus to folowe the fresshe style,
Croked to clymbe ouer so high a style,
Or for to folowe the steppes aureate
Of Fraunces Petrake, the poete laureate?

The golden trompet of the house of fame
With full swyfte wynges of the pegasee
Hath (blowe) full farre the knyghtly mannes name,
Borne in Uerolame, a famous olde citie;
Knyghthode in Rome, the cronycle who lyst se,
And, as I fynde, this yonge lusty man
Toke fyrst order by Dyoclesyan.

Whose lyfe to wryte / of wyt I am barayne,
His high perfection curyously to tell,
Dredyng my labour shulde be in vayne
That neuer dranke of Pegaseus well;
But for his goodnes so hyghly doth excell,
I stande in hope, his influence shall shyne
My tremblyng penne by grace to enlumyne.

In tender age this goodly yonge Albon,
Borne, as is sayde, in Brutis Albion,
A lordes sonne; more lykely was there none
To marciall prowes by disposition:
Whiche for his persone, as made is mention,
For conditions and hygh byrthe of blode
In great fauour of all the lande he stode;

And for that he in vertue dyd excell,
Beloued and cherysshed of euery maner man,
By kynge Seuerus, myn auctor can well tell,
Sent vnto Rome to Dyoclesyan
With a yonge prince, called Bassian:
They bothe tweyne, as the statute bonde,
To be made knyghtis of his owne honde.

With them also went Amphybalus,
There baptised by pope zepheryne,
Lefte all the worlde and becam vertuous,
Of wylfull power folowed the doctryne:
By whose teachyng and vertuous discipline
Blessed Albon, as myn auctor sayth,
Was afterwarde conuerted to our fayth.

All his processe in order for to sette
My purpose is, if I haue tyme and space,
If ignorance not my style let,
By influence only of goddes grace,
The troubly mystes from me to enchace
Of rude langage, / so that I may in dede
To write his lyfe and ceryously procede,

Under supporte of this martyr benygne
My penne directe by meane of his prayer,
The gracious stremes sent downe for a signe
Of his celestyall goodly eien clere
To forther my labour and teache me the maner.
Of his name to write and specifie,
So as I can, the ethymologie:

This name Albanus by enterpretation
Compowned is of plente and of whytnes;
Plente he had in great perfection,
Made whyte also with lylyes of clennesse,
With whyte roses ment, stable in theyr rudenesse,—
It was well sene that he stable stode,
For Christis fayth / whan paynyms shed his blode.

Whiche two colours dyd neuer fade,
Of these lylyes nor of these roses rede,
In blessed Albon, but euer ylyche glad:
Within his bapteme the lylyes dyd sprede,
The roses splayed whan he dyd shede
His purpurate bloude, spared for no deth,
The storme abydyng tyll he yafe vp the breth.

Thus was the chapelet made of red and whyte:
Whyte for his clennes, I haue so tolde aforne;
To chese the red he dyd also delyte
Whan from the chaffe was tryed whete-corne
In the holy martyr, that hath the bront borne.
Grayne of this frument was this man Albon
In the gospell remembred of seynt John̄.

This chose greyne for Christ was mortified,
To get encrease of his eternall glorye;
The frute grewe vp by fayth multipliplied (!);
Through meke sufferance he gate the victorie,
A palme of conquest, to be put in memorie,
A lauret crowne by tryumphes manyfolde
For his merites set on his hede of golde.—

Now to this martyr crowned hygh in heuen
Deuoutly knelyng with humble and meke visage,
Whiche syt so high aboue the sterres seuen:
O blessed Albon, fro that celestiall stage
Cast downe thy lyght, to enlumyne my langage,
Whiche of my-selfe am naked and bareyne;
In this great nede thy fauour may be seyne.

I haue no colours / but only blacke and whyte,
Of longe or shorte wantyng proporcion;

Where ought doth fayle, I must beare the wyte,—
Golde nor asure nor fresshe vermylyon.
But with thy gracious supportation,
In hope thou shalte conueye my penne and lede,
To wryte thy lyfe / thus I wyll procede.

Explicit prologus.

Tyme remembred of olde antiquite:
The same tyme whan Cesar Julius
Was passed out of Rome the cite
Ouer the Alpeys, in knyghthode famous,
By assent of fortune notable and glorious;
This marciall man, armed with plate and mayle,
Had ouer-ryden the boundes of Itayle,

Brought the countres through his hygh renowne
Magre theyr myght to stande in obeysance
And ben subiectes to them of Rome towne:
All Germany conquered in substance;
Downe descendyng in to the realme of Fraunce
Daunted theyr pryde; and after dyd ordeyne
With a great armye to aryue vp in Briteyne.

Twyes put of, by recorde of Lucane,
At his arryuayle, of very force and myght,
By the prowesse of Cassybylan.
Touchyng the title, were it wronge or ryght,
Of the sayd Cesar, deme euery maner wyght
What that hym lust—for, inconclusyon,
Cause of his entre was false deuisyon

Amonge them-selfe, wherby he gat that londe,
Made the Britons to be tributarie
To the Romayns, by statute and by bonde,—
None so hardy to be therto contrarye.
Cause of this conquest, to wryte and not tarye,
Was deuision, the cronycle ye may se,
Betwene Cassybylan and duke Androgee.

Ouer-maistred was Brutus Albion
By Julyus sworde,—remembred in scripture—
Recorde the gospell: where is deuision,
Frowarde discention, of case or auenture,
That region may no whyle endure
In prosperite;—for by discorde and tweyne
To subiection was brought all Bryteyne.

Whan Cesar was put in possessyon,
Rather by force than by tytell or ryght,
Ordent statutes in that regyon.
And this was one: that no maner wyght
Sulde in that londe receyue thorder of knyght,
For worthynes, for mede nor fauour,
But by the handes of the emperour.

And this was done / lest parauenture
Sondry persones enclothed with rudenes,
Not disposed of blode nor of nature,
Shulde not presume, of rurall boystousnes,
Though he had strength and hardynes,
To take vpon hym, / what euer that he be,
The sacrament of knyghtly dignite.

An other cause, in order to deuise,
Was: / none suche shulde haue gouernance
Wherby he myght in many sondry wyse
Catche occasyon to make purueyance,
By force of kynred / or strength of allyance,
Through newe rebellyon, in token, worde or signe,
Agaynst the Romayns proudely to malinge.

And in suche case occasions to eschew,
The prudent Romains, castyng all thyng to-forne,
For comun profite thought it was moost dew,
Of high estate nor low degree borne
No man shulde, but if he were sworne
To the Romains with hert, body and might
Ay to be trew, / that shulde be made a knight;

By a decree concludyng in sentence,
With faith assured, as the statute bonde,
First they shulde appere in the presence
Of themperour, sent thither of eche londe,
Than take theyr othe, / next by touche of honde
To-forne the goddes assurance made of new,
For life or dethe to themperour to be trew.

This statute kept in euery region
Beynge subiect to Rome the citie,
Stretchynge theyr lordshyp and dominion
With theyr Imperiall marciall dignitie
Ouer the boundes of many countree.
So prouided by prudent policy,
To them was subiect all worldly chiualry,

Hauynge all kyngdomes redy to theyr honde,
Voide of rebellion, / whan they had ought a do.
A prince of knighthood they set in euery londe
For gouernaunce, A stewarde eke also,
Euery region to be ruled by hem two
In rightwisnes, / lawes they dyd ordaine
From wilfull surfettes / the comons to restraine;

First prouided of high discretion,
As Argus iyed in theyr inwarde intent,
To se there were no werre nor conspiration
Against the Emperour, neither thought nor ment,
To redresse all thyng by jugement,
These two estates of prudence to attende
At prime face all outrages to amende.

It hath ben sayn and writen here beforne
By olde expert Poesy called doctrine:
“Without (!) prynciples, / Leest aboue the corne
The wede wex ayenst good graine to maligne;
To late amonge is made a medicine
Whan that a sore wexith ded and corrumpable,
For lacke of surgiens is waxen incurable.”

Semblably / in kyngdomes and cities
Stormy troubles for to set aside
Meued sodeinly amonge the comonties,
At the begynnyng, / in all haste to prouide
Them to reforme / no lenger to abide,
For first meuers, / as law and right obserued,
Punysshe them duely / as they haue deserued,

Like theyr desertes, / receiue theyr rewarde,
Cherisshe the trew robbers to redresse:
The prince of knightes / and also the stewarde
Ordeined were / by law of rightwisnesse,
As the statute plainly dyd expresse,
Like true Juges / and kepers of the law
Of high prudence / all riot to withdraw.

And (by) the reporte of Cronicles that ben olde,
Auctorised by great aduisement:
As a Diademe / or a crowne of golde
Is of a kynge called the ornament,
So to a prince doth long a garment

Frengid with golde, / that people high and lowe
By that difference theyr stewarde might knowe;

The prince of knightes vsed a pallion
For a prerogatife in especiall.
He and the Stewarde by election
Of themperour / in party and in all
Toke theyr charge, / priuate and generall; /
No man so hardy / paine of dethe rebell
Against theyr power, to vsurpe no quarell.—

That same tyme was reignyng in Britaine
Kyng Seuerus, / a famouse knightly man;
Who cast hym fully to do his busy paine
To please the Emperour Dioclesian:
Sent his sonne, / named Bassian,
With a thousande and fiue hondred yonge of age,
Lordes sonnes, / fresshe / and lusty of courage;—

Som of this nombre were borne in Britaine,
Some in wales, / & some in Cornewaile. /
And amonge all, / if I shall nat faine,
There was one / of stature and entaile
As ferre as kinde coulde her crafte preuaile,
By her fauour / gaue to his person
A prerogatife to be set aloon;

A goodly man / and but yonge of age, /
A princes sonne of wales, / as I fynde,
Called Amphiball, / gracious of visage,
In whom there was non errour founde in kynde
By disposition, / nought was left behynde, /
In myn Author / as it is compiled,
To all languages his tongue was filed.

And for he was borne of high kynred,
He was sent furth-with notable apparaile
Like his estate, / with many a riche wede,
Not forgettyng harnesse of plate and maile
Curiously forged / after moost fresshe entaile,
As was moost likely in euery mannes sight
To them that shulde receiue the order of knight.

And while they were assembled euerichone,
It was a paradise / vpon hem to se!
Lyke as I fynde, / amonge hem there was one,
A lordes sonne, / excellyng in beautie,
Borne in the citie of Verolamy,
Called Albanus, / right semely of stature,
To all vertue disposed by nature.

The said Albon, / by discent of lyne
Borne to be gentill of condition,
By aspectes of grace, / whiche is diuine,
Predestinate by election
For to be called of his region
Prothomartyr, / whan he the faith hath take
And shed his blood for Jesu Christes sake;

Gracious he was in euery mannes sight,
Well beloued / and a likely man.
With his felowship toke the way aright,
Towarde Rome / rode with Bassian,
Come to the presence of Dioclecian.
And for they weren so likely in shewynge,
He passingly was glad of theyr cummynge.

A chosen people / out piked for the nones,
Right well besene / and manly of theyr chere,

Arayed in golde, / perle / and precious stones,
As princes children / souereigne and intere
Them demeanynge in porte and in maner,
That, if it shall shortly be comprehended
In them was nothynge for to be amended.

This Briton people / likely for the werres
Stode in comparison amyd all nacions
As dothe the sonne amonge heuenly sterres;
Alike to theyr birthe weren theyr condicions—
High blood requireth thrugh all nacions
To resemble in high or low parage
Fully accordynge / like to theyr lignage;

To high kynred longeth high noblesse—
On high mountaines stande Cedrysse grene;
To princes children perteineth high prowesse—
As amonge stones the Ruby is moost shene,
The tarage of trees by the frute is sene:
Semblably nature dyd so ordeine
There to make knowen the blood of Britaine.

Vpon the Emperour this people (as I tolde)
Were a waityng, / as they were of degree.
Beynge pope in those dayes olde
Zepherinus, / whiche kept in Rome his see;
And whan that he behelde the great beaute
Of this people that comen were of newe,
Within hym selfe / sore he gan to rew;

Musynge in his hert / thus he gan complaine
Full secretly / with sighes lamentable:
“Halas (quod he), this people here of Britaine,
In all theyr port and maners moost notable,
So fresshe, / so semely / and so honourable,
Halas full ofte vpon the day, he saith,
Why stant this people in errour from our faith!”

The Pope / of ruthe and compassion
Considerynge with mercifull pitie:
Ganseke wayes, / fyndynge occasion,
To get leyser and oportunitie
How this people / excellyng in beautie
Might by his labour / thrugh spirituall vertue
Receiue baptisme by grace of Christe Jhesu.

The lorde aboue, consideryng thentent
Of zepheryn in especiall,
Suche a grace to hym he hath sent,
By influence very celestiall,
To further his purpose, / that he hath Amphiball
In Christes faith / grounded by his saw
And conuerted vnto Christes law.

Amphibalus, as ye haue herde the case,
A semely man, / god beyng then his guide,
First by the pope / when he baptised was,
Lefte his treasure, / his pompe / and his pride
For Christes sake, / with pouertie chose to abide,
Forsoke the worlde, / kept hym-selfe secree,
Of great perfection / lyued in pouerte.

Other there weren that made no delayes,
Of zepheryn, / herynge his preachynge,
To be baptised deuoutly in thoo dayes.

But whan the rumour and the knowlegyng
Cam to the Emperour, / without more tarienge
Thrugh all the citie commaunded them be sought,
To his presence / by force to be brought.

By londe and see / his ministers left nought
To serche hem out; / but in no manere
They were nat caught: but than cam to þe thought
Of Dioclecian / to worke as ye shall here:
Them of Britaine / to make them to appere
Vpon a morow, / when Phebus shone full bright,
They of his hande to take order of knight.—

Of antiquitie, / as put is in memory,
When themperour shulde knightes make,
They dyd assemble beside an oratory
That reised was / and bylt for martis sake;
In whose worshyp all night they shulde wake;
The next morow / after the maner
At Phebus vprist / they shulde appere—

The oratory in compas rounde and large
Beside a temple of Bellona the goddesse.
Where Dioclecian shulde giue first the charge
Of hole assuraunce, to auoide all doublenes,
First to kepe theyr bodies in clennesse,
For life or death / bothe in peace and werre
The comon profite of thempire to preferre.

Next this charge / themperour anon right
In all his moost imperiall maiestie,
Like theyr rightes, / girt them with swordes bright,
So as they weren of state and of degree;
Obseruaunces kept of authoritie:
First chargynge them that they shulde entende
Chiefly theyr goddes to worship and defende,

Of theyr temples to saue the liberties,
Prestes of that law in right to make stronge,
Wydowes, / maydens, / pore folke in cities
Suffre in no wise no man to do them wronge,
Appease debates that haue endured longe,
For comun profite, / as moost soueraine good,
In theyr defence / redy to spende theyr blood,

Withdraw theyr hande from lucre and couetise,
Specially to eschewen idlenes
Pursue armes for knightly excercise,
In causes knowen / grounded on rightwisnes
Gyue theyr Captaines suche trouthe and stablenes
And in suche case / rather knightly dye
Than theyr statutes to breke or disobey;

Of comon profite deuised an ymage,
Called Knighthood / an arme of theyr defence
To holde vp trouthe, / suffre non outrage,
Cherishe the pore, / do no violence,
After theyr wages / gouerne theyr expence,
Full assuraunce / made with mouth and hande
Susteine trouthe / bothe on see and lande,

Make prouidence that no derision
Fall vnwarely on high or low estate—

Whiche caused hath / great dissolution,
Made many a region to be infortunate—
For where as a strife continueth / or debate,
By experience of many great citie,
The light is eclipsed of theyr felicitie.

Of olde custome / knighthood toke non hede
Vnto theyr owne singuler auaile,
Withdrew theyr hande from guerdon and fro mede,
Wrought nothyng but by wyse counsaile,
The hed of maters peysed with the taile—
This is to saine: / there shulde no Romaine knight
Begyn no quarell / nor ende against right;

For the Romaines in theyr election
Chose to that order / folke iust and stable,
Manly of hert and of condition
Sober, / nat hasty, / feithfull, / honourable,
For comon profite preued profitable,
Benigne of porte, / not proude / but debonaire,
That worde and worke for nothynge be contraire;

Take no quarell grounded on falshed,
Specially the pore not to oppresse,
Flee Tiranny, / eschew blood to shed
Of innocentes by wilfull sturdynesse—
Blood cryeth vengeaunce to god of rightwisnesse,
Fals homicides / contrary to nature
God suffreth them no while for to endure—

All thyng odible to euery gentill knight,
Hatefull murder not support nor mainteine,
Theyr office is, / as they are bounde of right,
Maidens, / widowes / and pore folk to susteine,
Fraude and extorcion anon, while it is grene,
In knightly wise to serche out the offence
And chastice it by marciall violence—

Then tonge and hert by one accorde shall draw—
On theyr promesse stedfastly to abide,
Of antiquitie / Romains set a law
To punisshe periury—/ spare non homicide,
Represse of Tirauntes the vengeable pride,
If nede fall, theyr life and blood to spende
The right of goddes and temples to defende.

In token wherof, / who toke thorder of knight,
This was the vsage of olde antiquitie:
He shulde first be shaue of very right,
Token, to auoide all superfluitie,
Of vicious lyuynge / & all dishonestie
Shauen away by vertuous deligence
All olde outrages out of theyr consciences.

They had of custome also this maner:
Romaine knightes of yeres yonge and grene
To entre a bath of water cristall-clere,
Frō all ordures to wasshe theyr bodies clene:
whiche bath / plainly it dyd mene,
As bokes olde / notably don expresse:
Vnto knighthode longeth all clennesse,

First / specially by attemperaunce
Voide all surfettes, / lyue in sobernesse,
By prudence and vertuouse gouernaunce

Mainteine trouthe, chastise all falsnesse,
Restreine theyr courage from riotous excesse,
Dishonest speche and ribaudry to flee,
Eschew auoutry, liue chaste, like theyr degree.

Clennesse longeth to euery gentill knight,
As theyr bathyng dothe plainly specifie;
Thrugh theyr perfectiō / was made to Mars aright,
Whilom Romains by prudent policie
Had in custome theyr bodies to applie
To serue Diana, / that was the cast goddesse,
That Venus had with them non intraunce.

Venus, / to vertues contrarious,
Causeth in youth flesshely insolence,
Giueth great occasion to folkes couragious,
Of theyr nature loueth riot and exspence,
Withdraweth in knighthode marciall diligence;—
For whiche the bathe was made for a figure
To wasshe away of Venus all ordure;

If they be wedded, / holde them to theyr wyues,
If they be syngle, no woman to opresse—
For in suche case began the blody striues
Betwene Troy & Grekes, the story berith witnesse,
Caused many a knight to dye in distresse:
For by thauoutry of Paris and Eleine
Grekes & Troyans theyr mischiefes dyd cōplaine.

After this bath, / tokened by chastite,
Fully made faire / and voide of vnclennesse,
With a white shirte he shulde clothed be,
To signifie the chefe founderesse
Of all vertues / that called is mekenes,
Clene of entent, / without whom, certaine,
All other vertues stande but bareine;

For, who so lyst in bokes for to rede,
Chaste in vertue / expert for to be,
Moost redy way is, / his purpose for to spede,
Set his foundacion vpon humilitie;
She berith vp all / and hath the souereynte,
Whose buildyng euer, / the grounde if it be sought,
Goeth euer vpwarde / and descendeth nought.

As a shirt the body next doeth touche,
With whose touche the body is nat offended,
So mekenes (on authors I me auouche)
Among vertues is souereinly commended;
She and pacience of one stocke be discendyd,
Yet in som case, / reken nigh & ferre,
Peace hath conqueryd more than hath the werre.

By prudent writyng & humble pacience
Kynge Dindinus was nat recheles
To notifie the surquidrous science (!)
Of Alisaunder / thrugh mekenes, doubtles,
To Brigmannus / mekenes brought in peas;
Meke language appeasyd the rygour
Of this forsayd famous conquerour.

Whiche considered, / the Romains vnderstode
This noble vertue of humilitie
Was in some case nedefull to knighthode,
Moost expedient to euery comontie,
Them to preserue longe in prosperitie.
Very mekenes vsed in prudent wyse
Is nat atwited with no cowardise,

As to knighthode longeth gentilnes,
Thyng appropried to his religion,
Voide of surfettes, / founded on mekenes,
As a lambe in chambre, / in bataile a lion:
Where place and tyme gaue iust occasion
By manly suffraunce / benigne of face & chere,
And play the lyon when tyme dothe require.

By the processe of theyr obseruaunces
Next the shirt of mekenes for more spede
They had a custome, / with sundry circumstaunces,
Of high prowesse, from hem to auoide drede,
In a mantell / for to be clad of rede,
To recompence the white shirt of mekenesse
With Martis colour / by knightly high prowesse.

This rede mantell, / so as the mater stode,
Touchyng the colour / dyd plaiinly specifie
They shulde nat drede for to spende theyr blode
For comon profite vpon any partie
By profession of theyr chiualrie—
For this cause, to auoide all drede,
They vsyd of custome a mantell of fyne rede;

This colour rede / token of high prowesse,
To susteine and holde vp trouthe and right,
Nor entremete of wronges nor falsnesse,
For loue nor hate of no maner wight
To no party / for fauour cast theyr sight,
Indifferent / stande egall as a lyne,
By non occasion to wronge to decline.

A thyng ferre of / fro knightly desires,
Straunge and forein to theyr professions,
For to appere at cessions or at shires
By maintenaunce of fals extorcions
Or to supporte by theyr protections
Causes vnlefull, / by brocage surmitted beforne,
To make Jurrours falsly to be forsworne—

A thynge (god wote) this day to moche abused,
Experience in dede, as it is saine;
They haue no colour of right to be excused
Saue to theyr client / the partie to susteine;
But if they had before ben wasshen clene,
Bathyd, as I said, / in vertues also made faire,
To suche places they shulde haue no repaire.

It is a maner of apostasie
A knight in peace to play the lion,
Nat accordynge vnto chiualrie
To draw his sworde / vsynge extorcion;
The pore compleine for opression,
A thyng contrary by signes manifolde
To them that were spores of golde,

Sporis of golde, / rounde and sharpe to ride.
So as golde is metall moost souereigne,
Right so worshyp to knighthode is chief guide
To high noblesse / by manhode to attaine.
A sworde also Romains dyd ordeyne
In foure causes plainly to be draw,
After the rightes of the paynym law:

As I tolde erste, / the first, for defence
Of theyr goddes / and next for the fraunchise
Of theyr temples, / that no violence
Be done to them in no maner wise,

As ferre as theyr power and might may suffise;
And the seconde, / neuer to be present
Where dome shall passe of fals iugement;

The thirde point, / toforne as I haue tolde:
Widowes, / maidens / to helpe them in theyr might,
Punysshe robbers / and tirauntes that ben bolde
To spoile the people by theyr frowarde might—
This was vsed / when Albon was made knight;
The last charge, for a conclusion,
Neuer to bere armes against Rome towne.

Other articles, / mo than I can tell,
Tolde and remembryd by Dioclecian,
Notable in knighthode / by them that dyd excell,
When themperour to dubbe hem first began.
Among other / the Briton Bassian,
Son of Seuerus, / in Britaine kynge,
Gan thus abraide, / his conceite declarynge:

“My lorde, (quod he), with supporte of your grace,
Sithe it is pleasure to your magnificence,
As ye haue shewed / here present in this place,
Of your imperiall famous excellence
Singuler fauour, / royall diligence,
As greatest lorde / called on see and lande,
To make vs knightes with your owne hande:

Lowly besechynge to condescende and se
Of your notable prudent policie,
Graunt vs goodly of your high maieste
The first fruites of your chiualry—
Mars our patron / knightly to magnifie
In your presence / with Justes or tournay
Or som other famous marciall play;

To haue in armes knightly excercise,
Our grene youthe and courages to amende,
To lerne the maner and the Romain guise
In palestre, / day by day to entende:
So þat ye lyst of grace to condiscende,
Graunt vs fredom / and a place to assigne,
Of your imperiall support moost benigne!”

The Emperour considerynge first theyr cheres,
Coude them great thāke for theyr knightly request
And commended greatly theyr desires;
Set a day / and helde a royall feest,
All nacions to come at the leest,
As themperour freely dyd ordeine,
To haue adoo with knightes of Britaine.

With Romaine knightes / first they had ado
By cōmaundement of Dioclecian,
Durynge þe vtas, / the story telleth so;
Amonge all Albon, that knightly man,
With his Cosyn, called Bassian,
Gree of the felde gyuen to them twaine
Among Romains and knightes of Britaine.

Of Ficulnius cam many a worthy knight,
Of Spaigne, / of Cipre, / and also of Sardine,
And of Almaine, / in stele armed bright.
Mars was present / the felde to enlumine.
But among all / to the Briton line
The souerein price aboue euerichone
Was by heraldes giuen to Albon.

His name worthy to be put in memory—
He quit hym selfe so like a manly knight!
Graunted to hym the price and the victory
Thrugh his desert, / of very trouthe and right;
Called in Rome the lanterne and the light
Of knightly prowes, / and Phebus soueraine
Thrugh all Italie, / and day-sterre of Britaine.

Of blessed Albon / the armes in his shelde
Square on his shulders, by antiquitie:
Of fyne asure, sothely, was the felde,
Therin of golde depicte was a sautree—
In whose story / at Leicester who list se,
After his passion, / as I affirme dare,
In his cote-armour / kyng Offa sothely bare—

Of whose mynster he after was founder,
As the Cronicle maketh mencion,
A manly knight, / a noble gouernour;
In his dayes / thrugh many a region
His name sprad / and his high renowne;
Vnder these armes, / as put is in memory,
In euery felde had alway the victory—

A-forne prouided (I trow of yore agoon)
By grace of god and heuenly influence
And by the merite of the glorious saint Albon—
Had in knighthood marciall excellence;
And for to acquite hym, by vertuouse prouidence
To this martir, / called saint Albon,
Of that minster laid the first stoon,

After whose hande / masons dyd wyrche—
He bare the cost, / of great deuocion;
The said armes he left vnto the chirche,
This kyng Offa, / as made is mencion;
And finally, / by myne opinion,
By these armes / againe all that dothe them wrong
With helpe of Albon they shall be made stronge.

The felde of Asure betokeneth stedfastnes,
The Sautree / lyke a crosse of saint Andrue;
The colour heuenly shall giue them perfitnes,
By the holy crosse / force in our lorde Jesu
From day to day / to encreas all in vertue;
The Prothomartir, / theyr patron saint Albon,
Shall them defende fro theyr mortall foon.—

After these iustes and famous tournement
Fully accomplisshed, / tolde here in sentence,
Bassian / disposed in his entent
To awaite a tyme of intiere diligence
Of the Emperour to aske goodly licence
With the Barons / beyng in Rome towne
Home to retourne to Brutes Albiowne.

His request was graunted anon
By Dioclecian, / made non exception,
Saue onely thus: / he sayd that Albon
Shall not departe by no condicion—
To hym he had so great affection
For high noblesse and semelynes alone—
He shulde abyde / and awaite on his persone—

To Albon / egali in fayrnes
With Dioclecian, / non so great as he,
Of manly force and hardynes,
Famouse in knighthode / like Judas Machabe,
As Scipion / of prudent aduyse was he,
Of chere benigne, / discrete and vertuous,
Gyuyng councell right sad and compendious,

Mars in armes, / with Mercury eloquent
Amonge Romaine knightes / rekened yonge & olde;
For whiche the Emperour by great aduisement
Of prouidence (toforne as I haue tolde)
Before all other / Albon he hath withholde,
On hym to awaite and abide day and night,
Of his empire / as for moost worthy knight.

Whan Bassian had his leue take
Of Dioclecian, / with knightes of Britaine,
The Emperour for Albons sake
At theyr departynge list nat for to faine
To make hem chere. / and after, in certaine,
For his pleasaunce, / as saith the croniclere,
Fully complete / Albon abode seuen yere.

This mean-while (myne author writeth thus)
When this prince was come home in dede
Into his contree: A knight, Carauseus,
Greatly disposed to kyll and blood to shede,
Of the Romains gate licence (as I rede)
And of the Cenate by great auctorite,
To be made keper of the Brittisshe see.

Bassianus by iust succession
At his comyng-home to Britaine, / anon right
Was crowned kynge of that region,
His father dede, / a full notable knight,
Called Seuerus, / whiche in the peoples sightes
Great fauour had. / but Bassian in that Ile
(The story saith) reigned but a while:

By Carauseus (of whome I tolde beforne)
This Bassian was slaine traitrously;
Ceptre and crowne this yonge prince hath lorne,
Carauseus vsurpyng moost falsly
To be crowned kynge of that party,
Hauyng no title to the regally
But a fals traine of murder and tiranny.

On Bassian thus when he was awroke
By intrusion to the kyngdom vsurpynge,
To the Romains had his othe broke
And in Britaine toke vpon hym to be kynge,
The Romaine tribute, the whiche was hangynge
To themperour, / he falsly can deny;
Graunted also within Albany

To the pictes for to haue a dwellynge-place—
The whiche now is called Scotlonde.
And from Rome they bode no longer space,
A Cenatour cam downe with mighty honde,
Called Allectus, / the malice to withstande
Of Carauseus, with Romaine champions—
Brought in nombre fully thre legions.

This Carauseus—in story as I fynde—
Whiche traitrously had murdred Bassian,
Slaine by Allectus, / his name put out of mynde;
Romaine knightes / with many a manly man,
For to accomplisshe theyr purpose they began,
Brought Britons thrugh theyr renowne
Almoost by force vnto subiection.

To theyr socour, / hopynge it shulde auaile
Against Romaines to make resistence,
Asclepeodot, / duke of Cornewaile,
They chose of new / to stande at defence.

Whiche thrugh his manly knightly excellence
Slew Allectus of very force and might
And put his felow Galles to the flight.

The proude Romains he dyd so encombre:
They might afore hym abyde in no maner;
He slew of them at London so great a nombre
Thrugh his knighthode / beside a ryuer—
After whose name, / as saith the Cronicler,
Is called there as Romains did blede
Vnto this day / Walbroke, as I rede,

In memory of that discomfiture.
The noble Britons / after that bataile
Of one assent / did theyr busy cure,
The same day, / armed in plate and maile,
Proudly to chose the duke of Cornewaile,
Asclepeodot, / they(r) purpose to attaine,
To crowne hym kynge / and lorde of all Britaine.

This mighty duke, / knowynge theyr intent,
Agreed well vnto theyr election;
To be crowned, / that wolde he nat assent,
But auctoritie from Rome were sent downe
By themperour to Brutes Albion.
For whiche / caused Dioclecian
To Britaine to sende Maximian (!).

The chefe cause, in sothe, of his cūmynge
(With other maters that were collaterall)
Into that londe, / was, for to crowne hym kynge,
There for to reigne in his estate royall.
And Dioclecian in especiall
Hath a conceite in the meane-while
With hym to sende Albon into that Ile—

Bothe for trust, / plainly to deuise,
And to gouerne notably that londe,
Parcell also to guerdon his seruise,
For trouth in knighthod in Albon that he fonde;
Ordeined hym, / and made hym suraunce in honde,
Prince of knightes / and stewarde soueraine
Vnder Romains / thrugh all Britaine.

He sent hym thither also for that entent,
For his wysdom and high discrecion,
With Maximian for to be present
At this solempne coronacion
Of Asclepeodot, / lorde of that region;
Albon as stewarde in that solempnitie
And prince of knightes receiue his dignitie,

By the byddyng of Dioclecian—
Like custome vsed of antiquitie—
Make his othe to Maximian
As prince and stewarde of moost auctoritie,
To themperour in his imperiall see,
As he was bounde by statutes olde and new,
For life or dethe / euer to be trew.

All thinges accomplished like as I haue tolde,
Maximian retourned is againe
With a tribute, / thre thousande pounde in golde,
Behynde of olde / denied of disdaine,
Whiche was withdraw—/ the story saith, certaine,—
To the Romains / the tyme of Carauseus,
A fals tiraunt, / cruell and furious.

Come into Rome when Maximian
Returned was with all his chiualry:—
That tyme the pope named Poncian,
That busy was on that other party,
In Cecile and in Lombardy,
By deuout teachynge—/ as myne author saith—
To turne people vnto christes faith;

In that time, / made was non obstacle,
That yere in-dede / there was (as it was sene)
Thrugh christes law / turned by miracle
To the nombre of thousandes fully sixtene;
The chirche of christe / tender & very grene.—
When themperour hath the wonders saine,
Was greatly meued of malice and disdaine;

To christes faith had so great enuie,
When that he saw to his confusion
The nomber of christen encreace and multiplie:
Let call in haste by fals collusion
All the lordes of that region
And all the Cenates, afore hym to apere
At a certaine day, to treat of this matere.

Echone assemblyd in his high presence,
Byd cast theyr wyttes togyther / and take hede
And faythfully do theyr diligence
In this mater theyr purpose for to spede:
What was to done in so strait a nede—
For thynges that toucheth the welthe of the citie,
Must of wyse councell take first authoritie:

For this mater / touched one and all—
A thynge expedient for to be amended.
Whiche to amende, / first they dyd call
The pope in hast / that hath theyr lawe offendyd;
And to this pointe they be all condescended
To dampne hym by hasty iugement,
And all Christens that were of his assent,

Banyssshe all christens out of Rome towne
And punysshe them by mortall crueltie,
Not onely there, / but in eche region,
With diuerse tourmentes / serched euery contree.
This statute made in Rome the citie,
Thrugh all the worlde a decree forthe sent:
They to be slaine / and theyr bodies brent,

Spare no place / where men dyd them know,
But them pursue vpon eche partie,
All theyr Chirches cast downe and ouerthrowe
Plaine with the groūde, / where men coude them espie.
Thus stode our faith in mortall ieopardie
Of miscreauntes, / foes to Christes law,
For drede of dethe that they haue them withdraw—

Against them the painems were so stronge—
Droue them for feare eche man fro his contree.
And Amphiball, that bare non armes of longe
Saue in knighthod of wilfull pouertie,
Constrained was with other for to flee:
Paciently / with trauayle / and with paine
Passynge the see, / came into Britaine.

Conueyed he was by grace and vertue
In his repaire homewarde (as I rede),
His safeconduite stronge in our lorde Jhesu—
Who so trusteth hym, / amys he may nat spede—
The holy goost dyd his brydell lede
To Verolamy, / whiche of antiquitie
Was in Britaine a great famous citie.

Verbi auctores(!).

Of this place here nowe I am aduerted
Of this matier for to stynte a whyle;
And to procede howe Albon was conuerted
To christen fayth, the processe to compyle,
The holy martyr directe shall my style,

To whose worshyp first I vndertoke
The translation of this lyttell boke,

At the request and vertuous byddyng
Of my father, thabbot of that place,
A clerke noble, perfyte of lyuyng,
Hauyng in custome euery houre and space—
To auoyde slouth and vertue to purchace—
Lyke any Ampte all seasons of the yere
To gader grayne and stuffen his garner;

By whose notable compylations
Illumyned is not only his gaye library,
By also full diligent occupations
Agaynst ydlenes, to all vertue contrary,
Hat set in order, in his famous granery
A boke compyled, rycher than golde in coffers:
Lyues of poetes and prudent philosophers.

Of his name the Ethymologie
Is sayd of an home or stede of whete—
Of god prouyded doth clerely signifie
Whete-glenes of the mouthe of tholde poete,
Greyne, / frute / and floure with rhetoriques swete
Of philosophers, callyng to memory
Of his labour the laureat reportory.

And as I sayde, by his cōmaundement
I toke vpon me this translation,
First to compyle it in all my best entent
His famous knyghthode and renowne;
And nowe to tell of his conuersation
To Christis lawe, I cast me for to wryte,
Folowynge the storye his passyon to endite;

To procede, lyke as I am bounde,
For to accomplysshe brefly in substance
This lyttell boke, and call it the seconde,
Of his martyrdome and meke suffraunce,
And put aforne clerely in remembraunce
Howe Amphiball, as the cronycle sayth,
Tourned Albon vnto Christis fayth.

Eche of them (by recorde of writynge)
Was plainely without others remembraunce:
For Albon had lost the knowlegynge
Of Amphabell / and all olde acqueintaunce;
But by the meane of goddes ordynaunce
I wyll declare, / as I am bounde of det,
In Verolamy / to tell how they met,

Plainly procede, / as I vndertoke,
The residue to accomplysshe for his sake,
Make here an ende of the first boke.
But now, forsothe, / my penne I fele quake,
Voide of all colour / saue of letters blake
In this processe my dulnesse to acquite
The martirdome of Albon to endite.

Finis.

Here endeth the first boke / whiche treateth of the lyfe of Albon before he was conuerted to the faythe.

(Buch II.)

Here begynneth the prologue of the secunde boke / treatynge of the conuersion of the blessed prothomartyr of Englande called Sainct Albon.

So as Aurora parteth the derke night
Towarde the tyme of Phebus vprisynge,
And Lucifer with agreable light
Bryngeth kalendes of a glad mornynge:
So by ensample the true lyuynge
Of olde tyme in saint Albon vsed
Caused the lorde, whiche guerdoneth euery thynge,
That the merites of hym were nat refused.

Euery thynge draweth to his nature
Like as kynde gyueth heuenly influence
For to disposen euery creature,
Some to profite, / some to do offence,
Some to encrease by perfite prouidence;
Where vertue hath the dominacion,
Of god ordeined by intere diligence
That sensualitie be bridled with reason.

Amonge painems / Iues haue be saine
That vertue hath many of them gouernèd;
Taught by nature, / wrought nothynge in vaine,
But as kynde / and reason hath vs lerned;
Good graine from chaf was discerned—
Thus hath he proued in many a sondry place—
Good from yuell, / by them truely conserned—
Recorde vpon Cornelly and on saynt Eustace!

Who taughte Troyan whylom to done ryghte
Whan the wydowe complayned her greuaunce?
To her grefe themperour cast his sighte—
Reason taught hym, for all his great puissaunce,
To her request to holde the balaunce
Of ryghtwysenes, to se, though he were stronge,
In her pouerte to perswade (!) her perturbance,
By egall dome he to redresse her wronge.

The storye of olde it put in memorye,
For ryghtwysenes in especiall
Howe that Troyan by prayers of Gregorye
Was preserued from the paynes eternall.
From dampnation and cloyster infernall,
To exemplifie howe god taketh hede
Of his greattest power moste imperiall,
Of ryght and mercy acquiteth eche good dede.—

And to the purpose of my mattiere:
Durynge his lyfe of great power and myght
This blessed Albon, who so lyste to here,
Though lyke a prince his power yafe great lyght,

Fostred trouthe, / dyd wronge to no wyght:
For whiche the lorde his hande hath nat withdrawe
To call and clepe hym his owne chosen knyght
To be conuerted and turned to his lawe;

His trouthe, / his vertue, / his natife gentylnes,
Of custome stable grounded in many wyse,
Caused god of his mercifull goodnes
To the (!) this prince into his seruice,
All fals ydols manly to despise,
This choson chapyon, borne of the breton lyne,
This newe Tytan / whose beames dyd auise
Out of orient to lorde to enlemyne (!).

Nowe hensforth shall be my processe,
With gods helpe, my penne to apply
Howe in his tyme he keped ryghtwysenes
And lyke a prince / howe he dyd hym gye
To set his citie vpon eche partie
In gouernaunce, from ryght they not twynne,
Vnder the reignes of prudent polycye:
Whiche to reherse / thus I wyll begynne.

Here endeth the prologe of the seconde boke.

Here begynneth the seconde boke of the glorious Prothomartyr saynt Albon / howe he was made gouernour of the citie of Verolamye.

Vnder the Romaynes chefe and principall:
With great auise it lyked them to ordayne
By commyssyon and titell imperiall
Prince and stewarde thorughout all Bretayne
To chese Albon: / whiche dyd first his payne,
Lyke a prince not slowe nor recheles,
To auoyde all trouble / and rule the people in peas.

By polecy he hath so prouyded,
Set statutes so myghtye and so stronge,
And his lawes so vertuously deuyded
For com̄on profyte to endure longe,
That no man shulde do other wronge;
And where he sawe innocentes oppressed,
Set a payne inhaste to be redressed.

The ryche he made lyue to theyr estate,
Without extorcion do to the porayle,
Repressed ryot, suffered no debate,
Idell people constrayned to trauayle—
Aforne prouyded for plente of vitayle,
Lyke his office with vertuous diligence,
By suffisaunce there were none indigence.

Beloued and drad with hygh and lowe degre,

For frende nor foo declyned not fro trouth;
The good hym loued for his benignite,
The ryche drad hym, / on the pore he had reuth;
Wronges to redresse there was in hym no slouth;
In his domes stedfast as a wall,
Not singuler founde nor yet parciall;

Nature taught hym all vices for to flee;
Lyke the lawes / to whiche he was bounde,
A chastiser of all dishoneste;
Gafe neuer dome tyll trouthe were out founde;
Nother to heuy / nother to iocounde,
But as tyme and mater gaue hym occasyon,
So was demened his disposition.

He had also of his acqueyntance
Foure vertues called Cardynall:
The reine of his brydell led temperance,
Ryghtwysenes with mercy ruled all,
Trouthe to defende, / and manhod marcyall,
By force also through hygh prowes
Spared not to chastise all falsenes.

He coude appese folke that lyste debate,
Refourme all rancour where he coude it espye,
Lyke a prince knyghtly he dyd hate
Suche as coulde falsely forge and lye,
Stopped his eares from all flaterye,
To foren quarelles lyst yeue no credence
Tyll the partie come vnto audience;

Enuious sclaunder he punyswed rygorously
Cōpassed of malyce, hatred and diffame,
To double tonges euer he was enmye
Whiche to say yuell of custome haue no shame,
And backbyters that haue theyr lyppes lame
To say well, / this prince yonge and olde
Voyded all suche out of his house-holde;

By discrecion he coulde punysshe and spare,
His harte ay voyde of all duplicite:
Large of custome / to naked folke and bare—
His gate ay open for hospitalite.
That, if his vertues shulde rekened be
Here in this boke tolde from yonge age.
I haue therto no connyng nor langage.

Not withstandyng, as I haue behyght,
I wyll procede, and not excuse me,
To declare howe gode sawe to his knyght,—
The tyme rehersed, / the date also parde
Whan Amphibalus entred the citie
Of Verolamy, tolde eke the occasion
Howe he and Albon met in the town.

Amphibalus entred the citie
Of auenture to seke herburgage;
By the stretes vp and downe wente he
Lyke a pylgryme of chere and visage:
Tyll it fell so he met in passage
The noble prince, playnely to conclude.
Blessed Albon, with a great multytude.

This myghty prince by great fortune,
After custome vsed that tyme of olde,
Amyd the citie walked in his estate.
In a garment frenged all with golde.
Amphibalus vertuously made bolde,
with humble chere and meke visage
Besought hym lowly to graunt hym herbergage.

For whan that he on Albon cast his loke
And hym behelde with euery circumstance,
By longe auyse of hym good hede he toke;
It fell anone into his remembrance
Full yore agone of his acqueyntance.
Howe they in one of fortune dyd assent
Out of Brytayn / and vnto Rome went.

For gods sake this Amphibalus
Of herborgage can lowly hym require,
To be receyued and take in to his hous.
Albon anone, as the story doth vs lere.

Was in suche case straunge in no manere,
Hauyng a custome to hye and lowe degree
Frely to graunt hospitalite.

In to his house hym goodly hath receyued—
This symple clerke lyst no lenger tary.
His porte, his chere benyngly receyued—
Mynystred to hym all that was necessary;
From Christis lawe though Albon dyd vary,
Lyke a prince benyng and vertuous
Receyued hym full goodly into his hous.

Not after longe, onely by goddes grace,
Of knyghtly fauour sought oportunyte,
To get a tyme, / a leysour / and a space
To auoyde from hym his people and his mayne,
With this pylgryme alone for to be;
And secretely whan they were met in fere,
To hym he sayde anone as ye shall here:

“By many signes and tokens that I can—
Dyuers daungers straunge to recure—
In soth that ye be a christen man;
And of hardynes durst your selfe assure
To put your body and lyfe in auenture,
Amonge paynyms your persone to ieoparte?
Without dethe howe myght ye departe?”

Quod Amphibalus: “Christe Jesus of his grace—
Of his mercy / be it that I haue deserued,—
From all daunger and euery peryllous place
Christe goddes sonne my body hath preserued,
Ben my gyde and my lyfe conserued,
To this citie brought me safe, to preache
His glorious lawe and his faythe to teache.”

Quod Albon than: / “howe may this (be) trewe?
What that he is, I wolde fayne lere,
The sonne of god, / a straunge thynge and a newe!
Had god a sonne? declare this mattiere!”
Quod Amphiball: / “so ye lyst to here
Paciently, / for nothyng wyll I spare
Curiously the trouthe to declare.”

Amphibalus is entreated(!) by reason
On the gospell to grounde his processe,
And to confirme his disputation
Of holy writte he toke iustly wytnesse,
Howe our beleue recordeth in sothnesse
Of god the father and god the sonne also;
“This is our belefe, take good hede therto!

The sonne, moste perfyte & moste good
For mans helthe and saluation
Was incarnate and toke flesshe and blode;
And semblably, for shorte conclusyon,
Of his moste benigne consolation,
Ryght so as he firste made man in dede,
So come he downe to take our manhede;

And as hym lyste of grace and of mercy
By his power, / whiche that is deuine,
Ordayned maydens to lyue here parfytly,
So he agaynwarde, playnly to determyne,
Toke flesshe and bloude of a pure virgine.
The tyme come, there was none obstacle
But that he wroughte his maruaylous myracle.

The tyme approched of grace and gladnes
Towarde sommer, whan the lustye quene,

Called Flora, with motleis of swetenes
Clothed the soyle all in newe grene,
And amerous Veer / agayne the son shyne
By the cherysshynge of Apryll with his shores
Bryngeth Kalendes of May & of his flowres;

So in the season heuenly and deuine
Of wynter stormes was passed all outrage
And in the rayne Phebus gan to shyne:
The same tyme to our great auauntage
Downe from heuen was sent a message,
Whiche concluded: for oure felicite
A braunche shulde sprynge out of iesse.

This newe tydynge to Nasereth was sent,
And Gabriell come on his message,
The trynyte hole beinge in one assent,
For to accomplysshe this gratious viage;
The holy goste holdynge his passage
Downe descendyng ryght as any lyne
In to the breste of a pure virgyne.

Lyke as Luke in his gospell sayth,
As is remembred in the same place:
Whan Gabryell lowly gan abrayde,
Mekely sayde: Hayle mary, full of grace,
Thou chosen of god, euery houre and space,
The tabernacle of the trinyte,
Amonge all women blessed mote thou be!

Whan she had herde the angell thus expresse,
Troubled in his wordes, of femynyte,
Thought in her selfe, of very chast clennesse,
This chosen myrrour of humylyte:
This salutation / what it myght be.
The angell seinge her aferde, of womanhede,
Sayd: O Mary, haue herof no drede!

Afore god thou hast founden grace,
Thou shalt conceyue a chylde in all clennesse,
Of whose byrthe Bedleme shall be the place—
As the gospelll can bere herof wytnesse;
And his name, playnly to expresse,
Thou shalt hym name of moste vertue,
Whan he is borne, and call hym Jesu.

Howe may this be? sayde this glorious mayde,
That knowe no man in wyll, dede nor thought.
Thangell than vnto Mary sayde:
As I toforne haue the tydynges brought,
By the holy goste this myracle shalbe wrought,
The vertue also of hym that syt highest
Shall ouershadowe and lyght into thy brest;

For that lorde that shall of the be borne,
As thynge moste holy, men shall hym call
The son of god, / as prophetes wrote be-forne;
Suche heuenly grace is vpon the fall
By a prerogatyue aboue women all,
With lyght surmountyng aboue the sterres seuen;—
This message I haue brought the from heuen.

Quod Mary: fulfylled be the wyll
After the worde / which thou hast brought vnto me!
Beholde this handmayde / & this humble ancille!—
This was her answere with all humylyte.
Thoo god was pleased with her virginite,
Yet was that lorde—/ doctours beare wytnesse—
Pleased more with her deuoute mekenes.

Thus hath a mayde through her perfytnes
To beare her lorde graciously deserued,
A chosen doughter by her pure clennes
To beare her father, / her chastite concerued;

By her merytes that were to her reserued,
As I sayde erst, by a prerogatyue
She amonge women was mayden, mother, & wyfe;

To god a mayde to fulfyll his wyll,
And to the lorde a seruant by mekenes,
Doughter & mother, / & eke faythfull ancyll;—
Whiche to remembre hath brought gostly gladnes
Of all welfare / our daungers to represse,
Aforne by recorde of prophetes in substaunce,
Vs to defende agayne all mortall greuaunce.

For whiche, dere host, sith it may auayle,
To my doctrine yeueth hartily credence!
God hath me sent to teache you and counsayle.
So that ye lust with humble diligence
Become his knyght and do hym reuerence,
Obeye his lawe & his preceptes all,
Taketh good hede to you what shall befall!

His fayth to you shall gyue so great vertue
That blynde folke ye shall make for to see
By inuocation only of Christe Jesu,
Delyuer the people from all aduersite,
Leprous folke / and tho that lame be
To be made clene / and make them go vpryght,
And euery sykenes recouer thrugh his myght;

Ye shall escape by his prouydence
All myscheues to you that ben contrary,
Lyue longe tyme, / go free from pestilence,
From Christis fayth / if that ye wyll not vary;
To graunt your askynge the lorde shall not tary.
But at last or ye hens wende,
By martyrdome ye shall make an ende;

By martyrdome ye shall ende your lyfe
And blessedly from this worlde shall passe,
Out of all trouble and transitory stryfe
Whiche day by day / doth you here manasse;
Thrugh Christis myght and influence of grace
Ye shall to god / to your great auantage
By meke suffraunce make your passage.

This was chefe cause and grounde of my com̄yng,
Sent by Jesu vnto this towne
As a bedyll to brynge you tydyng
Howe by his myghty visitation
Ye shall endure payne and passyon
For Christis fayth in his moste pacient wyse,
As knyght and martyr chosen to his seruice.

That is his wyll, ye shall fynde in dede,
To recompence the great humanyte
Whiche ye haue vsed of fredome and manhede
To indigent folke and people in pouerte,
And specially for hospitalite,
With other dedes in nombre called seuen
Dedes of mercy, registred nowe in heuen:

To fede the pore / whiche had no vitayle,
And to viset folkes in prison,
Receyue them that herburgh dyd fayle,
Bedred folkes that lay in mischiefe downe,
Comforte the syke, mynystre them foysowne,
Parte with them of that they had nede,
And bury them that laye in myschefe dede;

To his seruantes / & all that ye haue mynystred
Cronycled ben in the heuenly consistory,

In his boke perpetually registred,
Eche good dede the lorde hath in memory,
It to guerdon with a palme of victorie,
Perpetually with hym to reigne in ioye—
Greatter conquest than was the sege of Troye.

Sith ye your handes haue not withdrawe
From hospitalite, pore folkes for to fede,
Whyle ye haue lyued in this paynym lawe,
Causes of the poore to promote and to spede,
God forgetteth not to quite your mede;
If this be done after ye be baptised,
A double palme for you shalbe deuysed.”

Lyke a prince in moste knyghtly wyse
Albon obeyed with entiere diligence,
All these wordes gan wysely aduertise,
Answerynge these wordes in sentence:
“What maner worshyp, / what maner reuerence
Shall I do than, whan I am withdrawe
From ydolatry / and turned to Christis lawe?”

Amphibalus yafe answere to Albon:
“Ye must beleue—& in no doubte be:
There is no god in this worlde but one,
The father, / the sonne, / the holy gost, these thre
Ioyned in one by perfyte vnite,—
The foundation, as I can well preue,
Firste article & grounde of our beleue.

This fayth, in soth, shall clerely you directe,
If that you lyst gyue therto credence,
All olde errours to auoyde & correcte;
If ye so done with humble reuerence,
I dare affirme and conclude in sentence
That your begynnyng to god is acceptable
And to your soule treasure moste profytable.

Of the father the power eternall,
Of the sonne souerain sapience,
Of the holy gost in especiall
Grace dothe procede by vertuous prouidence;
And to descryue the magnificence
Of all the thre, / called thre and one,
Vndeuided, / they neuer asonder gone.

And if ye lyste vnto this lawe tourne,
Of his most digne imperiall maieste
He shall you make with hym to soiourne,
This blessed lorde, / this blessed trinite,
Where ioye is euer and all felicite,
Tofore whose face eternally lastynge
Thre Jerarchies one Osanna synge.

Of this matiere be nothyng in doute!
Set asyde all ambiguyte,
Forsake your mawmettes / and all that false route—
For they be made of metall, / stone / & tree,
Whiche may not helpe nor forther in no degree:
Saturne, / Jubiter, / Mars, / and Appollo,
With the false goddessis Dyana and June;

Though they haue eares, / in trouth they may not here,
With eien great / of lokyng they do fayle;
They be forged in golde & stones clere;
Who calleth to them, they may nothyng auayle.
Nowe, dere host, forsake all this rascayle,
As I haue sayde, / and do in Christ delyte:
And he by grace shall make you perfyte.”

A large space Albon kepte hym close,
Fayned in maner as he had disdayne,
From his place in great hast arose;
Yet, or he went, he gan to sayne:
“Ye be not wyse, your doctrine is in vayne.
If it were wyst ye were in this citie,
Ye shulde endure full great aduersitie;

For your sake there shulde be practysed
Dyuers tourmentes for your destruction,
For your blasphemye cruelly chastised
Without fauour or remyssyon,
At the last, for shorte conclusyon,
Your heed smyten of / without grace,
If ye were knowne or founden in this place.

In this mater I can none other fele
For your persone somwhat I stande in doute;
You ben here / yet I shall counsayle,
And you preserue, that no man shall take hede
Of your consayte / nor what ye mene in dede.”
And with that worde / out of the place he goth,
Sheweth a chere lyke as he had bene wroth.

By grace of god and fauour of fortune
All that he sayde was done with reuerence,
Of gentylnes he was not importune,
Suffered all thynge with humble pacience;
Albeit so / he gafe no full credence
To his doctrine of thynges whiche he tolde,
Stode in doute / what partie he shulde holde.

Albon in hast thought for the best,
whan Lucyna shone full shene and bryght,
with slepe oppressed, for to take his rest.
Amphibalus satte all that longe nyght
Vpon his knees, as gods owne knyght,
For loue of Albon with great deuotion
Makyng full mekely his orison.

To whose prayer of grace god toke kepe
And lyste to consydre his affection.
And in this whyle as Albon lay and slepe,
The same nyght he had a vision,
Straunge and dyuers by manyfolde reason,
And wonder fer from his intelligence
What it ment or what was the sentence.

Towarde morowe, whan Albon dyd abrayde
Out of his slepe / and Phebus shone full shene,
Gan to maruayle / and no worde he sayde
Touchyng his dreame / newe, fresshe and grene,
Vnderstode not what it shulde mene;
Rose vp in haste / and to the pylgryme went,
Besechyng hym to declare what it ment:

“My frende, quod he, / if all thynge be trewe
Whiche ye haue preached of Christ & of his lawe,
Dyuers maruayles vnknowne, straunge & newe
Shewed to me this nyght or it can dawe,
I you beseche, your witte ye nat withdrawe
For to declare the exposition,
Whan I haue tolde you myn auision.

The whiche truly as I reherce can:
Lokyng vp to the heuenly mansion,
Me thought sothly that I sawe a man
From that place to this worlde come down,
Of whose beautie was no comparysown;
Eke me thought of boystous folke & rude
He was beset with a great multitude.

This people enuious & frowarde of entent,
As it semed, of malyce and hatered
With many a sondry fell turment,
With sharpe scourges made his sydes blede,
Bounde his handes—/ I toke therof good hede—

And on a crosse they hynge hym vp full blyue,
With spere and nayles they yafe him woundes fyue.

Naked he was; / body, / fote / and hondes
On length and brede drawen with great peyne,
By the constreynt of myghty stronge bondes
Drawen a-sonder was euery narfe and veyne;
With a sharpe spere his herte clouen in twene,
Persed he was so depe and profounde
That bloude and water ranne out of that wounde;

With a reede spere they raught—I toke hede—
To gyue hym drynke: / eysell, mengled with gall;
A crowne of thorne set vpon his heed,
And amonge his cruell paynes all
Kynge of iewes in scorne they hym call,
And in despite malycyously cryenge
Of Jewery saluted hym as kynge—

As me thought, they greately dyd offende
To make all his body so for to blede;
And from the crosse downe bad hym discende
If that he were gods sonne in dede;
His skynne to-rent, / all blody was his wede;
Lyke a meke lambe, / myne herte dyd agryse
To se hym turment in so cruell wyse.

After these paynes greuous and intollerable
And all his hydous mortall tourmentry,
With a great voyce pitous and lamentable,
Vpon the poynte / whan he shulde die,
To his father thus he gan to crye:
In to thyne handes, father, I commende
My goste, / my spirite /—and thus he made an ende.

And with that crye as he yafe vp the gost,
From the crosse his body they toke downe,—
Lyke well-stremes vpon euery coost
His grene woundes shed out great foyson
Of blody droppes; / and, for a conclusyon
Of all his paynes, / his body was anone
Closed and ensealed vnder a great stone.

And whyle that he with stronge honde was kept close,
Maruayll of maruayles most I can maruayle:
The deed body / to lyfe agayne rose—
Maugre the knyghtes with all plate and mayle:
A soden slombre theyr hedes dyd assayle,
An angell moste souerayne of delyte
I sawe appere, / and he was clothed in whyte.

Amonge other maruayles there was one
Whiche I behelde in myne auision:
Out of his graue closed with a stone
He rose vp, lyke a stronge champyon,—
With open eien I had aspection
Of all this thyng, no parte lefte behynde,
From poynt to poynt all marked in my mynde.

Bad nor songen amonge the Brytons layes
Was neuer herde so soote an heuenly sowne,
After the nombre full of forty dayes,
Folowed after the resurrection
To the tyme of his assention,
What multytude of angels all in fere
Conueyde hym aboue the sterres clere—

I sawe this thyng and knewe it well ynowe
By a maner vncouth apparence—
The garmentes whytter than mylke or snowe
Of all thangels that dyd hym reuerence.
This was theyr songe and refret in sentence:
Blessed be the father, / blessed mote he be,
The sonne eke blessed in his humanyte!

These vncouth tydynges I sawe them in my slepe,
And many other thynges mo withall,
Secrete thynges—I toke of them good kepe—
Not to be shewed to no man mortall”—
And he tolde vnto Amphibell all,
Whan he a woke, in full humble entent
Besechyng hym to declare what it ment.

Whiche thynges to here greatly was delyted
Within hym-selfe, of spirituall gladnes,
Saw that his herte was of god visited;
And full deuoutly a crosse he gan forth dresse,
“Lo here, quod he, / this token beareth wytnesse
Of all the signes, clere as the sonne beame,
That were vnto you shewed in your dreame!

The man whiche to you dyd appere,
Sent from heuen, so fayre and glorious,
He was the same, as I shall you lere,
My blessed lorde, / myn owne lorde Christ Jesus,
Most benyng, / moste meke / and most vertuous:
Whiche on a crosse suffred passion—
As ye sawe clerely in your auision—

Only by mercy by his gratious aduise
Of the trespas to make redemption
Touchyng the aple / whiche in paradise
Adam ate of, by false suggestion
Of a serpent, to great confusion
Fyrst of hym-selfe, / nexte of all his lyne,
Tyll Christis passyon / that was our medycyne.

Agayne Adam the serpent was so wode;
To staunche his venym was founde none obstacle,
Tyll on the crosse Christ Jesu spende his blode,
A medycyne, / bawme / and chyefe triacle,
Lycour of lycours, / dystyllyng by myracle
From the cundytes of Christis woundes fyue
Man to restore ayen from deth to lyue.

Whose blessed passyon is our restauratyfe,
Helth and diffence of moste excellence,
To asswage the bolynge of our mortall stryfe,
Bawme imperyall agaynst fendes violence,
The phylosophre celestiall queynt essence
To all welfare mankynde to restore,
Helpeth all sykenesses / whan leches can no more,

Our leche, / our ypocras, / our gostely galyene,
Our samson called that venquisshed the lyon,
Our myghty chapyon, the famous strōge Achilles(!)
That bare vp heuen for our saluation,
Hye on the crosse makyng our raunson;
He that ye sawe, was the same man,
In your auision, that ouercame Sathan.

The multytude that abou(t)e hym stoode
Were false iewes, / his deth immagynyng,
Of cursed malyce, / nayled hym to the roode;
Lyst not receyue his gratious comyng,
Of theyr prophetes refused the wrytyng,

Knewe not theyr lorde, / but as folke aduersary
For his goodnes / were to hym contrary.

Mercyfull Jesu, gayn deth to stynte our stryfe,
Lyst suffre deth, / from deth to make vs free,
Venquisshed deth / with deth to brynge in lyfe,
Whan lyfe was slayne an high vpon a tree;
Forbode frute / brought immortalyte(!),
By a rounde aple was caused all this losse,
By frute refourmed / that henge vpon the crosse.”

“Let me, I praye you, haue veray knowlegyng
By your discrete faythfull diligence,
As ye that ben experte in many a thyng,
What obseruaunce, / what due reuerence
Vnto the father and his magnificence,
To the holy goost, / tell on fyrste of those two,
And to the sonne / what seruice shall I do?”

Whan Amphabell gan playnely to aduertise
His faythfull as kyng with all humylyte,
Gan reioyse in many sondry wyse:
This Albon, where as he stode free,
Was godly moued to aske of these thre;
By god enspired, conceyued of reason,
Only of grace came this question.

Thanked god / and goodly gan hym dresse
To comforte the trewe affection
Of blessed Albon / and, truely to expresse,

Hym to quite; for shorte conclusyon.
Of his demaunde made a solution,
His conceytes discretely to appese
Thus he sayde, to set his herte in ease:

“These thre persones / whiche ye haue named here,
The father, the sonne, the holy goste, these thre
Ben sothfastly lyke, as ye shall here—
Truste me ryght well, on god in trinite,
Joyned in one by perfyte vnite;
Beleue this iustly / and your wyttes dresse
For lyfe or deth / this article to confesse!”

“This is my fayth / and I beleue thus,
Quod blessed Albon with all humylyte,
There is no god but my lorde Jesus;
Whiche that come downe from his fathers see
Mekely to take our humanyte,
For our helth and our saluation
Lyst of his mercy to suffre passyon.”

“He with the father, the holy goste, these thre—
Amphibalus rehersyng vnto Albon—
They be all one god by perfyte vnite,
And other god in all the worlde is none;
And this belefe loke ye not forgone!”
This worde ofte rehersed in sentence,
Albon fell downe with deuoute reuerence

Toforne the crosse, / and with great repentance,
And sayde: “O lorde Jesu, on my mys-dede,
O Jesu, mercy! / receyue my penaunce,
Whiche on the crosse lyst for my sake to blede”
And on his knees fast he gan hym spede,
With contryte herte / great to god a lofte,
With wepyng teares the crosse he kyssed ofte;

With all his membres, hath hym applyed,
As on the crosse Christ had be present
And he with hym whan he was crucyfyed—
So of hole herte Albon was dilygent,
His face, his eien with teares all besprent,
This penitent, his langour for to lysse,
Was euer busye Christis fote to kysse.

His bytter teares from his eyen tweyne
Lyke a christall-well encreasyng at a floode:
Albon ay busy to make the water reyne,
To myngle his wepyng with Christis owne blode—
I mene the wounde grauen in the roode
Vpon the crosse that was to hym shewed,
Of drery sobbyng the carectes all bedewed.—

By grace enspired this Albon gan hym drawe
To take the order of religion
Of Christis fayth and bynde hym to that lawe
With wyll and herte and hole affection,
And secretely made his professyon
To Christe Jesu, tyme and houre deuysed
By Amphibalus whan he was baptysed.

With humble herte this was the langage
Of holy Albon: quod he “I here forsake
The pompe of Sathan / and all his baronage
And all the power of the vggely fendes blake,
My soule and body to Jesus I betake
Whiche for mankynde dyed—it is no nay,
Thus I beleue—/ and rose the thyrde day.”

Quod Amphibalus with a glad visage:

“Be stronge of fayth! our lorde is holde with the,
He wyll not fayle to confyrme your corage—
By tokens shewed of his beningnyte;
In especiall reporteth this of me:
To other aforne you, as I reherse can,
That they were taught, / they lerned it of man;

But your langage excellyng in vertue,
Experience hath yeue you knowlegyng
By reuelation of our lorde Jesu,
Whiche to you hath declared euery thyng,
His byrth, / his passyon, / his vprysyng,
Of all this thyng lyke as ye had in syght
To call you to hym to be his chosen knyght.

Whiche me semeth ought ynough suffice,
With the surplus of your auision,
To you expouned the maner and the gyse
Of Christis fayth with full instruction.
Mekely of herte with supportation
At my request your highnes not ye greue
For to departe goodly to yeue me leue;

I am meued of veray conscience
Other contrees to preache Christis lawe;
I hope to you it shall do none offence
For a season though I me withdrawe—
It is a by-worde / and a full olde sawe,
Whiche hath be sayd / syth gone many a yere:
Frendes alway / may not ben in fere.”

“Frendes, quod Albon, neuer depart asonder
Joyned in vertue and knyt by grace;
Though one be here and a nother yonder,
Theyr hertes ben one euery houre and space,
In god combined, / ther parteth them no place,
Of one wyll aye in that they haue to done.
Of whiche I praye / departeth not so sone,

To abyde a weke;—ye may do me great ease,
By your doctryne to haue instruction
My lorde Jesu howe shall I hym please
With ryght hole herte and true affection,
To serue hym duely, lyke my profession,
And in his fayth wherin I moste delyte
With your teachyng that I may be perfyte.”

Amphibalus knowyng his entent,
Lyst in no wyse denye his askyng.
The longe nyght they to-gether spent
Only in prayer and deuoute praysyng;
For out of syght they chose theyr abydyng,
From noyse of folke they gan them selfe withdraw,
And all that whyle they spake of Christis law;

Of Christis fayth and of his religion
Was theyr fayth (!) and theyr dalyance;
Amonge to god they mayde theyr orison
Them to defende from fendes accombrance.
In this whyle god yafe them sory chaunce:
A cursed paynym of malyce and enuie
Where they met the place he dyd espie.

To auoyde them of comforte and refuge,
This paynym aforsayd of malyce lyst not spare
For to accuse them bothe vnto the iudge,
Of theyr metyng the maner to declare;
And moreouer—yuell mote he fare!—

Of malycyous, frowarde cursednes
The iuge he set a-fyre with wodenes.

With enuious sturdy violence
Through the citie they serched were & sought
And comaunded to appere in the presence,
Toforne the iuge both two to be brought.
The towne serched, / but they founde them nought:—
Blessed Albon, meued of corage
To kepe his maister & saue hym from damage,

Vpon a nyght before the dawnyng
This blessed Albon his maister gan conueye
With heuy chere, most pituously wepyng,
Out of the citie, brought hym on the waye.
At the departyng fared as they wolde dye—
So were theyr hertes ioyned in one cheyne,
Not lyke to twynne / tyl deth departe them in twayne.

O faythfull loue standyng in suche a state,
By resemblaunce in comparyson
As whylome dyd Dauyd and Jonathas
Maugre kyng Saules persecution;
Faynyng was none nor dissimulation;
Lyke to endure, playnly to termyne,
Tyll Antropos theyr lyues tryed atwyne.

Theyr loue more sad, stable and vertuous
In comparyson than the poetes made
Of Pyrothe or of Thedeus,
Of Horestes / outher of Pylade,
Fresshe for a season / that wolde sone fade,
As whylome dyd the loue of Achylles
And Patroclus slayne amyd the prees,

Whan that Ector, the Troyan champyon,
Slowe Patroclus for his frowardnes,
Maugre Achylles for all his high renown;—
To exemplifie there is no stablenes
In worldly loue, / but chaunge and doublenes,
Be it of blode, kynne or alye;
Without vertue all standeth in ieoperdye.

Of these tweyne the loue was a nother:
By enterchaungyng / betwene them set a lawe:
Albon to abyde and to dye for his brother,
Amphibalus his presens to withdrawe;
In theyr hertes the feruence dyd adawe
Of perfyte loue to endure longe—
As Salamon writeth / that loue as deth is stronge.

In all suche case the loue maketh hertes bolde;
And by ensample that loue auoydeth drede,
Albon for loue toke his cloth of golde
And lyke a prince lyst to chaunge his wede,
Of entier herte he gan it for to sprede
Ouer the shulders of Amphiball anone,
The houre whan they atwynne shulde gone.

From all his fone he iustly was assured
Who that euer had on this clothe of golde,
Tyll he the place fully haue recured
To stande atlarge, a forne as I haue tolde.
Thus with sobbyng and wepyng manyfolde
God suffered them a-sondry to deuyde,
Forsoke them not but was theyr bothes gyde.

A symple sclauenne fortorne and threde-bare,
Of Amphabals a full olde garment,
This noble prince Albon lyst not spare
To cast vpon hym, though it were all to-rent.
So hole to Christe was set all his entent;
And in his pouert to shewe that he was playne,
To his Tygurry returned home agayne.

Amphibalus northwarde to his passage,
Chere of herte / god to be his gyde,
For a tyme to eschewe the cruell rage
Of paynyms, as fortune lyst prouyde.
But holy Albon dyd the bront abyde,
To lyue and dye as goddis champyon;
Christ bare his standerd, / the crosse was his penon.

His sodayn chaunce he helde it was no losse,
Forsoke ryches, toke hym to pouerte;
His treasure was to knele aforne the crosse,
His hertil ioye and his felicite.
And for a whyle thus I let hym be
In his prayers, / and tel I wyll in dede
Howe his enemyes agaynst hym procede.

There was a statute proclaymed in the towne:
Who that wolde not do no reuerence
Vnto theyr goddes / nor mekely knele downe,
In to theyr fyre for to cast ensence,
He shulde anone by cruell violence
Be take and layde vpon an aulter bounde
To-forne theyr goddes & slayne with many a wounde,

Of his body to make sacrifice.
Superstitious was this oblation,
Whiche of newe paynyms gan practise
Agayne the doctryne and predication
By Amphybalus brought into the towne;
By the iudge set in ordynaunce
On hym and Albon fyrst to do vengeance,

So to punysshe one and one by rowe
Without mercy or longe auisement.
To blessed Albon this statute was well knowe
Bothe of theyr dome and cruell iugement;
And ay this prince, / stable in his entent,
Made stronge in god / for lyfe or deth tendure
The lordes hande / and his auenture.

Whan somer floures blowed whyte and redde
And were in theyr highest lusty, fresshe season,
And fyry Phebus / from the crabbes hedde
Toke his passage towarde the lyon:
At Verolamy / in that royall towne
The same tyme paynyms haue auerted
To Christis fayth / howe Albon was conuerted.

For whiche agaynst hym so obstynate they stode
Lyke wylde boores or tygyrs in theyr rage,
Vengeable of herte, furyous and wode,
Malancoly and pale of theyr visage;
And all the nyght with cursed fell langage
Gan to manace lyke wolfes rauenous
This blessed Albon and Amphibalus.

The darke tydes of the cloudy nyght
With-drough theyr shadowes and their skyes blake,
And Lucyfer gan shewe his beames bryght,
And Aurora hath the bedde forsake
Of fyry Titan and her leue take,
And Phebus Chariot draweth vp with flegonte
And gan illumyne all the Orisonte;

The holsome bawme gan in meddowes flete
Amonge the flowres and holsome leues grene,
The syluer dewe gan the soile to wete
Lyke perles rounde as any christall shene,

Whan nature, of worldly thynges the quene,
Ordeyned a day of fresshenes plentous,
Whan Albon was beseged in his hous.

The paynyms gan make theyr selfe stronge
This noble prince Albon to pursewe.
Vpon that houre whan the larkes songe
In theyr leden and gan the day salewe.
Theyr purpose was specially to sewe
Amphibalus, but that he was gon;
In stede of hym they fyll vpon Albon.

Aforne the crosse they founde hym knelyng
In his prayer, and they vpon hym went.
He rose vp and made no taryeng;
And the great multytude that the iuge sent
Fell vpon hym and lyke wolfes hym rent,
In theyr furyous, mortall, fell deluge
They hym present anon afore the iuge,

Meke as a lambe, of porte and chere benynge,
To done his batayle / lyke Christis owne knyght.
His banner was, his standerde and his signe
The crosse of Jesu / whiche he bare vpryght,
Magre paynyms, in theyr alder syght,
Lyke a champyon agayn them to warrye,
Vnder that penon cast hym to lyue and dye—

God was with hym to susteyn his partie;
Stedfast of herte, / hardy as a lyon,
Put his lyfe for Christ in ieopertye;
Of body naked, / trouthe was his habergon,
His shelde was fayth, / his sworde and his burdon,
His spere, his pollax, / surer than stele to endure,
Was only hope / the victorie to recure;

His sabbatons set on grounde of trouthe,
And his greues forged with stabilnes.
And his polayns plyant without slouthe,
And his quisshews borne vp with high prowesse,
A payre of curesse / closed with ryghtwysenesse,
And his vauntbrace was truste that went beforne,
Rerebrace of charyte / which myght not be forlorne;

Gloues of plate to beare of and defende
Was true affection medled with the dede,
A large pauice greatly to commende
Of trewe meanyng to auoyde al way all drede;
And thus in trouthe, who so lyst take hede,
All in vertues enarmed for defence
With a cote-armour aboue of pacience.

Charyte was chefe of his counsayle,
Taught hym the maner / agayn his cruell fone
Howe that he shulde do to his great auayle,
Enter in to the felde / and knyghly to gone.
All that it so were / that he was but alone,
His banner splayed / full erly on the morowe,
Grace was his guyde, with saynt John to borowe.

Fyrst he was led by mortall violence,
Drawe and torne in moste cruell wyse,
The holy crosse vp borne for his defence,
And brought he was to do sacrifice
Vnto theyr ydols. / but he them dyd dispise,
Asclypiodot the iuge there present,
And all the citie gathered of entent.

This goddes knyght holdyng the crosse in honde,
Inui(n)sible by vertue of that signe;
And paynyms that aboute hym stonde
Cruell and cursed agayn hym gan malygne,
Though they were there borne of one lyne;
The iuge troubled whan that he toke hede
Of Christis crosse / & had in maner drede.

Albon alway, this prince full notable,
Stode ay vpryght with loke moste coragious,
Euer of one herte, / as any centre stable,
The crosse afforne, banner most gloryous,
Moste agreable and moste victorious.
And fyrste of all, the story doth vs lere,
Of his maister / the iudge of hym dyd enquere,

And asked of hym to what partie he was gone,
By his sleyght and his vncouth wyle
Whiche dispysed theyr goddes euery chone,
Come of nowe theyr citie to begyle.
At whose wordes Albon stynt a whyle
And sayde at last with sobre countenaunce:
He was departed by goddes ordynaunce.

Quod the iuge: “where euer that he be
Either embesyled orels set a syde—
Touchyng the fayth that he hath taughte to the
And therin ben thy maister and thy guyde,
And is nowe fledde / and durst not abyde
By his doctryne: a reason full notable
His preachyng is nought orheis not stable.

I trowe he wolde haue come to presence
If in his fayth had he no varyance;
Other some remors of his conscience
Hath cast his herte in newe repentance;
If he had had in his fayth constance,
Lyke a maister he shulde nat haue gone
And his disciple in myschefe leaue alone.

In this doctryne, as to myne entent,
There is disceyte vnder some falsenes,
Or in his teachyng he is fraudolent,
Whiche the brought in so great wodenes
To forsake thy treasure and ryches,
Of all our goddes in so frowarde wyse,
Of wylfulnes / and malyce them to dispise.

Thou standist nowe in a full perlous poynt,
The clerke hath brought the in so great a snare
And set thy reason so farre out of ioynt
And made thy wyt so naked and so bare,
That thou arte, pleynly to declare,
In Christis cause / and so from our fayth to erre
Agayne all our goddes to begyn mortall warre.

Whiche thynge consydered, / as it is skylle & ryght,
And egally paysed in balaunce:
Wronge to do them by any maner wyght,
Nother by fauour, / frendshyp / nor suffraunce
May not passe without great vengeaunce;
Vpon blasphemy the lawe doth ordeyne
Agayn the goddes: / deth to be theyr peyne.

Vnto a foole thou gafe hasty credence
And by his foly he hath the begyled;
Fyrst to the goddes / thou dost no reuerence,
Of despite wylte not be reconsyled;
Thou farest as a man whiche is vnabyled,
Stondyng as nowe from grace desolate,
Vyle and abiecte out of thyne olde estate.

In suche case eche man may be disceyued
By suche false foren information;
But nowe thyne errour is cler(l)y apperceyued:
So by counsell, / for thy saluation,
Or thou incurre the indignation
And or iugement by rygour the manace,
Forsake that secte, / fall downe and axe grace—

To thyne estate thou mayst thus be restored;
With humble herte / do them sacrifyce,
And thy treasure & thy ryches shalbe mored
And encreased in many a sondry wyse,
To great worshyp / and sodeynly aryse,
Of townes, / castels / lorde we shall the make,
So thou wylte the fayth of Christe forsake”.

Of herte and thought very indiuisybel
Albone stode hole and kept his grounde & place,
The iuges promysse, flateryng and fallybel
Boystous threatnynges, / with whiche he gan manace,
Voyde of drede, / of one chere / and one face
This manly prince, / this hardy knyght Albon
Stode betwene bothe / stable as any stone.

To the iuge sayde, as ye shall here:
“Thy manaces nor promys of pleasance
In frowarde speche nor thy frownyng chere
Shall me not meue on poynt from my constaunce,
In Christ Jesu / is hole my suffisance;
For me lyst not here longe processe to deuise,
Thy golde, thy treasure, thy goddes I despise.

And where thou hast my maister eke accused
Of inconstance / and duplicite,
Be ryght well sure god hath hym excused;
That he dyd, / the counsell come of me;
He fled not, god wote, for feare of the—
I was assented to kepe hym absence,
And elles he had come to audience.

From the trouthe me lyst not to declyne,
All thy wordes be sayde but in vayne;
Of my mayster / I confesse the doctryne,
For lyfe nor deth / neuer to turne agayne
From Christis fayth / whiche standeth in certeyne,
For it causeth folkes lame / to go vpryght,
And folkes blynde to recure theyr syght.

This fayth so hole infyxed is in my mynde,
Vnto me more precious and more dere
Than all the stones / that comen out of Inde
Or all the ryches that thou rehersyst here,
Golde or treasure / rekened all in feare;
Worldly worshyps, / pompe or veynglorye,
To fayth compared be thynges transytorye.

This faythe in god maketh me so ryche and strōge,
All worldely good for it I do despise.
What shulde lenger drawe the alonge?
To false goddes in no maner of wyse
I wyll not do worshyp nor sacrifise;
Echon ben false and haue nother wit nor mynde—
Ye that serue them be very mad or blynde.

Most deceyuable whan a man hath nede,
Ben your goddes with all your mawmetrye—

It hath ben proued aforne in my kynred
And many other borne of myn allye:
All suche rascayle of purpose I defye,
False and faylyng of olde tyme and newe
To all theyr seruauntes, of custome most vntrewe.

I cast neuer with them to haue a do
Nor make fyre vpon theyr aulteris—
This is myn answere—take good hede therto!—
Nor none ensence cast in theyr senseres
Nor knele aforne them this C. M. yeres—
This is in somme, for one worde and all,
My last wyll and answere fynall.”

With this answere ther rose vp a sodeyn crye,
Noyse of the people, clamour and wepyng;
Aboute the martyr they wente busylye
Lyke wodemen vpon hym gauryng.
He herde all theyr speche, spake agayn nothyng;
The iuges manace, / the peoples violence
He suffred all / and kept his pacience.

The people, agayne hym vengeable and cruell,
Vnto theyr temples brought hym anone ryght;
By violence they gan hym to compell
To theyr goddes to offre and to set vp lyght.
Blessed Albon, as goddes owne knyght,
Stable of herte / and hole in his entent,
To sacrifice wolde neuer assent.

The people then in theyr furyous hete,
By the iewes cruell commaundement,
They strypte hym fyrst, / and with scourges bete,
Tyll his body and skynne was all to-rent.
But he with glad chere sufferde his torment,
His eien vplyfte / to god began abrayde
And to the lorde deuoutly thus he sayde:

“Lorde god, quod he, kepe myn inwarde thought,
Graunt of thy grace in my greuous payne
Pacience, that I ne grudge nought;
Of thy mercy, O Jesu, not disdeyne
My freyle flesshe / from murmour to restreyne,
Syth that my wyll stant hole without stryfe
To the to offre my soule and eke my lyfe.

Remembre the, lorde, on thy seruant Albone!—
For nother flody stormes, / wynde / nor reyne
May hurte that house bylte on stable stone:
And semblably it is full selde seyne,
Who byldeth in Christe / byldeth not in veyne;—
Syth my byldyng stant holy in thy grace,
Suffre not my wyll remeue from this place!

My voyce, / my tonge, / my wyll, fully record,
All of assent without excepcion,
For lyfe, for dethe they neuer shall discord.
But thou, Jesu, madest our redemption:
Nowe by the vertue of thy passyon,
O blessed lorde, graunt me constance
Amonge the paynes, hole wyll and meke suffrance!”

Whyles the martyr was scourged and bete,
This was his voyce, / on Christ Jesu to cry;
To call his helpe wolde neuer lete
Nother for smerte / nor paynfull tormentrye;

Vnto paynyms lawe / he wolde neuer applye
Nother for manace, rebuke norrygour,
For fayre speche, / for promysse nor fauour.

Lyke a dyamande, he wolde not be broke
Nor restreyned from his olde constance,
From Christis fayth they myght not (him) reuoke
With all theyr fayned wordes of pleasance.—
Than was he put vnder gouernance
Of the iuge, / as a lambe amonge houndes,
Full syxe wekes not to passe his boundes.

Duryng this tyme—the boke maketh mention—
He streytly kept of moo than one or twayne,
Lyke a martyr holde in streyte pryson,
Myght not reche further than his cheyne.
The elementes his wronges gan to compleyne
In theyr maner, agaynst natures lawe
Theyr benefytes of kynde to withdrawe:

Vpon the erthe, / on herbe, / grasse, / nor floure,
On all these thre was no dewe sene;
The grounde to cherysshe come nother rayne nor shoure,
For no moisture fell vpon the grene;
Flora slepte, / that is the floures quene,
Eolus the smothe wyndes softe
All this whyle enspired not alofte.

The erthe scaldeth with the feruence of the sonne,
Hete on nyghtes was intollerable;
There grewe no frute, / the skyes were so donne,
Greynes come none, / vplande was not erable. /
Thus by a maner complaynt lamentable
Heuen and erthe complayned them of ryght
The iniurie done vnto goddes knyght.

The people playned for lackyng of vitayle,
Demed it cause of some sorsery
That Thelementis lyst to holde a batayle
For Christis knyght, to holde vp his partye
Agayne myscreantes with theyr tormentrye,
Magre theyr malyce to make the martyr stronge,
To shewe by signes the paynyms dyd him wronge.

Asclepeodet syttyng as iuge than,
Though he to Albon had great hatered,
Yet bicause of Dioclesyan
To slee the martyr durst not procede
Tyll he had sent letters, as I rede,
To themperour, rehersyng howe Albon
Forsaken had theyr goddes euery chone,

Enformyng hym of his obstinacy,
Howe all theyr goddes he set also at nought
And howe theyr power pleynly he doth defye,
And was made christen of herte, wyll and thought,
And hath also subtylly wayes thought,
The peoples hertes from our goddes withdrawe,
In theyr despyte to folowe a newe lawe.

But the great and kynde famylyaryte
Whiche Albon had with the emperour,
Bycause also of his great dignite
And of his kynne, had so great fauour,
That the iudge drad for to do rygour
Vpon this prince of deth or cruelte
Tyll from the emperour he had auctorite—

And but there (be) done great execution,
By hygh aduise of all the hole empire,
To punysshe all tho, from false rebellyon
Whiche to destroye your goddes so desyre.
With whiche letters the emperour set a fyre,
Abode no lenger, / but hastyly gan ordeyne
To sende his felowe downe into Brytayne,

And in great hast—the story telleth expresse—
Dioclesyan hath sent a great power
With Maxymyan, called Herculesse,
Into Braytayne, to serche out the mattier;
Wher that any were founde farre or nere
Of Christ is fayth, to sleyne euery chone
Without mercy, / except only Albon;

His lyfe to saue by a condition:
If to theyr sectes he wolde agayne restore (!),
From Christis loore / turne his opinion,
Of theyr goddes / the sta(t)utes to support,
To Dioclesyan that they may report
Howe that Albon doth hym sore repent
To Christis fayth / that he dyd assent.

Made hym promyse / so that he wolde turnen
To theyr idols, / with fayned fayre langage;
Amonge with thretninges they dayly him adiuren,
To peruerte his herte and his corage.
But euer ylyche of chere and of visage
Betwen fyre & water, / now harde now blādysshyng,
From his constance they myght hym neuer bryng.

Lyke a stronge towre bylte on a hygh mountayne,
Toke none hede of theyr monitions,
Stode in our fayth so stable and so certayne;
Theyr ryche promysse of castels and of towns
With many lordshyps in dyuers regyons
He set at nought, / by grace and by vertue
His grounde to stable he abode in Christ Jesue.

Than by precepte of Dioclesyan—
If he not chaunge for fayrenes nor for drede,
The charge was yeuen to Maxymyan
By iugement and dome to taken hede,
To assigne a knyght to smyten of his hede;
Suche one as had in knyghthode hygh renoune,
Shulde on this prince done executioune.

This was so commaunded by sentence
Of the emperour that Amphibalus,
If he were take, by notable violence
Without mercy shulde be serued thus,
By iugement cruell and furyous:
Made naked fyrst and to a stake bounde,
At his nauyll made a large wounde—

He compelled amonge the cruell route—
At the nauyll his bowels to be take
And his guttes serched rounde aboute,
Lyke a longe rope tyed to a stake,
And of his lyfe so an ende (to) make,
And at laste voyde of all pytye
Smyte of his heed, by furyous cruelty.

This was the dome touchyng the tormentes
Of blessed Albon and Amphibalus,
Falsely concluded in the iugementes

Of Maxymyan, my auctor telleth thus,
With Asclepeodet wode and contraryus,
In that citie bothe two there present,
In Verolamy, / whiche yafe this iugement.

The citezyns gathered enuiron
For this matter with great diligence,
Bothe of London and many other towne,
Of iugement to here that sentence—
Youen vpon Albon in open audience,
Vnder these wordes put in remembrance,
As ye shall here rehersed in substaunce:

Tyme of the emperour Dioclesyan,
Whan he stode hyest in his maiestie,
At Verolamy—the story tell can—
Whan Albon was lorde of that citie,
Tho days called for his dignitie—
Recorde of cronycles / whiche lyst not feyne—
Prince of knyghtes and stewarde of Bretayne,

Duryng his lyfe to haue possession;
All his power aforne hath he practysed;
But nowe for he by false rebellyon
Of wylfulnes and malyce hath despysed
Beforne these dayes by antiquite deuised
The olde worshyps notable and famous
Done to Jubyter, Appollo and Venus:

For whiche cause let euery man take hede,
Lyke as the lawe concludeth of ryght,
By iugement in hast he to be dede,
His hede smyten of fyrst in the peoples syght
By the handes of some olde worthy knyght—
Bycause the martyr was of high renowme
There shulde a knyght done execution—

By dome also, after whan he were deed,—
The place assigned by sorte or auenture—
From the body / whan parted was the heed:
The corps there shulde haue his sepulture
Passyng an other priuate creature,
There to be grauen, the body with the heed
Joyned to-gether, in a great chest of leed;

With hym buryed his crosse and his sclaueyne;
A large tombe for a memoryall.—
This was the dome of the iuges tweyne
In Verolame, citie full royall,
To auenge theyr goddes infernall
Vpon Albon, whan they dyd deme,
Agayne theyr lawes, for a false blaspheme;

Dempte he was cause of mysauenture
That theyr landes brought forth no grayne,
The benefytes withdrawen of nature—
To cherisshe theyr frute come noder dew nor reyne
By sodeyn vengeance, as ye haue herde me seyne.
Diuersely theyr sorowes were made double
To fynde the cause what made all this trouble:

Either it come by some frowarde aduenture,
By wytchecrafte or by sorcery,
Whiche so longe vpon them doth endure,
Either by artmagyke or by nygramancy—
Eche dempt after his fantasy;
Within the citie they sayd eke many one:
It come for vengeance of saynt Albone.

With this sodeyn vnware aduersite
Itroubled was all the regyon

Of Verolamy, the greattest of that citie
Made amonge them a conuocation,
Of all the countre, / citie, / borough and towne
The wysest come downe from eche partie,
Agaynst this myschefe to shape a remedye.

Amonge them selfe cast a prouydence:
Wronge that was don to Albon in that towne
Agaynst trouthe and good conscience,
Of this myschefe / was chefe occasyon;
And by assent to relece his prison—
Theyr aduersite so myght be amended
By meane of hym / to whom they had offended,

Barefote and bare whan that he was take,
Lyke a prisoner brought to theyr presence.
Of this matter a counsell they gan make,
Dempt of reason in hym was none offence,
For at them selfe began the violence,
And he stode quite in theyr opinion,—
Of this iniury hauyng compassyon;

They consydered his blode and his kynred,
His alyaunce and his hygh noblesse,
For they stode a parcell in great drede;
All the citie troubled with heuynesse
To se theyr lorde brought in suche distresse,
Causyng that citie and that famous towne
To stande in rumour and great discention.

Seynge theyr stewarde, that was so noble a knight
And a man fre-borne of that citie,—
His famous lyne downe descendyng ryght
From the Romayns of olde antiquite—
By comparyson, the cronycle who lyst se,
The stocke conueyed of hym that was so good
First from Troyans and from Romayn blode.

Fyrst from the partye / for to speake of Troye:
He had with Ector magnanimyte,
Of whose noblesse all Brytayne may haue ioye;
Sad a(s) Scipion, voyde of duplicite.
And Verolamy, that famous olde citie,
May well reioyse, / renewed euer in lyche
With his relyques that it is made so ryche.

And to reherse of his conditions:
A ryghtfull prince in all his gouernance;
In hym was neuer founde occasyons,
Of frowarde meanyng / nor double varyance
Neuer ment to no man displeasance;—
Peysed all this, / alas, voyde of refuge
Nowe lyke a thefe he stande aforne the iuge!

But to refourme his byrth and lyberte
The chefe of the citie dyd theyr busy payne,
This noble prince amonge them to go free
From bonde or fetters / or noyse of any chayne.
But therupon the martyr gan complayne
Within hym selfe, leste suche noyse and sown
In any wyse shulde let his passyon;

That kynde of mercy / whiche they dyd hym shewe
Of his paynes by a maner of allegeaunce,

The martyr dempt—to speake in wordes fewe,—
It was to hym moste odious vengeaunce;—
For his desyre and his herty pleasance
Was only this, shorte processe to make,
To suffre dethe only for Christis sake.

With herty sobbyng, profounde and depe
Towarde heuen mekely he kest his syght,
Of inwarde constreynt pitously can wepe,
The crosse aforne hym deuoutly helde vpryght,
Cryenge to Jesu: “haue mercy on thy knyght!
Let not the fende by no collusyon
Stere the people to let my passyon!”

To the people turnyng his knyghtly face,
Sayd vnto them of herte and hole corage:
“Your fayned fauour, your dissymuled grace
May in this case do me none auauntage,
Fully disposed to perfourme my viage,
Forto accomplysshe lyke as I haue begon—
In Christ Jesu my tryumphe may be won.

Syth I am redy forto endure payne
Of my free wyll, why suffre ye so longe?
Of my desyre I desyre moste souerayne
For Christis sake to endure paynes stronge.
My martyrdome / why do ye so prolonge?
In your entent agayne me ye do erre
That I do couet so longe to differre.

I maruayle howe ye may susteyne
Of neglygence so longe to abyde,
Whyle the martyr is newe, fresshe and grene
Execution for to set a syde.
Loke your statutes and thereupon prouyde,
Vnto your goddes reporteth how that I
Of all the worlde am theyr most ennemy!

Syth they be wrought of men that ben mortall,
Vnworthy preued to beare any dignitie,
But forged ydols of stones and metall,
Falsely vsurped agayne the deyte.
Foles do wronge to knele vpon theyr knee;
For, who calleth to them, they yeue none audience,
Domme as a stocke, / voyde of intelligence.

A fole is he amonge foles all
To a blynde stocke / that kneleth to haue syght:
And so is he that doth for strength call
To hym that hath no power nor no myght,
Can not discerne betwene darkenes and lyght,
Large lypped wordes haue they none,
Of tonge meued / as any stocke or stone.

O fruteles hope, / O false trust dispayred,
O vanyte, / O rudenes detestable,
O apparence with manhode foule appared,
O ignorance passyng-abhomynable!
O Idolaters of corage most vnstable,
Why worshyp ye in your conceytes blynde
Cursed mawmets / þt haue nother wyt nor mynde?

They be proued worse of condition,
Lasse of power, sothely, than be ye;
Of worldly thynges ye haue inspection—
They haue great eien, yet they may, not se;

Boistous handes, / they fele nothyng, parde,
Theyr armes longe they make no diffence,
With theyr defe eares may haue none audience.

What thynge is worse than yeue the souereynte
Of your handwarke to forge fals ymages,
Defe, blynde and dombe; / vnto whose deyte
Though ye call ay afforne theyr visages,
They knowe no-thyng thentent of your langages;
Of all fyue wyttes they be so defectyfe—
What causeth this / but lacke of soule and lyfe?

For howe myght he verrayle in dede
Without felyng of ioye or heuynes
Restore to lyfe folkes that ben deed
Or make them hole that playne of theyr sykenes?
For all distresse, disceyte or doublenes
Of worldely myscheues, sought on eche partie,
Was fyrst brought in by false ydolatrye.

A man that hath memory of reason,
Whom god hath made lyke to his ymage,
Is foule blent in his discretion
To fals ydols to knele or do homage.
Wo be to them, ruyne and damage,
Trouble, myschyefe vnto one and all
To suche mawmettry that for helpe call!”

Whan the paynyms herde and vnderstode
That they myght not remoue his conscience
From Christ Jesu that dyed vpon the rode,
For fayre nor foule, / for fauour nor violence
To do by theyr counsell: and all of one sentence
A place assigned, lyke theyr opinion,
Shulde at Holmehurst suffre his passyon.

In theyr opinion by controuersye
Stode at debate, as they were applyed
What maner deth Albon shulde dye
Whiche hath theyr goddes and theyr secte denyed;
Some of a crosse wolde haue hym crucyfyed,
Other there were, / that dyd in malice raue,
Wolde haue hym quicke karued in his graue,

Some also, aforne or he were deed,
Of false enuie and furyous wodenes
Wolde haue his eien out of his heed:
That he shulde in myschefe of blyndnes
All desolate and abiecte in darkenes
Folowe his maister with his eien blynde,
Of auenture tyll he myght hym fynde;

Echeon concludyng that he shall be deed.
And fynally thus was theyr iugement:
Lad to Holmehurst there smyte of his heed—
The cruell iuges with paynyms of assent.
Lyke a lambe / monges wolfes all to-rent,
Towarde his dethe and pitous passyon
In cheynes bounde led hym through the towne,

No fauour shewed; lettyng nor obstacle,

But cruell rygour, voyde of all pitie.
Lyke as men gone to some vncouth spectacle,
People come downe his martyrdome to se—
The iuge alone lefte in the citie.
Lyke turmentours, this was theyr furyous cry:
“Out of this towne drawe forth our ennemy!

By experience at eye ye may deme:
Lyke his desert, so foloweth hym his chaunce,
To our goddes moste odious blaspheme,
Grounde and gynning of our sodeyn greuance,
On whom they lyst to shewe theyr vengeance”—
This was theyr noyse, far from all reason,
As they hym lad towarde his passyon.

There was so great concors of folkes aboute—
The multytude gan alway to multiplie—
Of paynyms contagious was the route,
The grounde so full on euery partie:
Men myght vnneth any space espie
To stande vpon—myn auctor lyst not feyne—
Whā blessed Albon was led towarde his peyne.

The feruent hete of the sommer sonne
Hath with his streames / the soile so clad & brent,
Vp in the lyon as his course hath ronne:
With his brennyng the grounde was almost shent;
Vnder the fete where as the people went,
The soyle so hote of sodeyn auenture:
For enchaufynge they myght not endure.

Lastynge this hete / whan Phebus shone so clere,
The people in nombre waxed more then lasse,
Tyll that they come to a great ryuere,
Whose sturdy wawis wolde not suffre them passe.
The great depenes gan them to manasse.
The brydge streite, / the people so great and huge
That many one were dreynt in that diluge.

Great preace of people downe to the water cam:
The ryuer depe, / the brydge narowe & small:
They that coude, ouer the ryuer swam,
Who that coude not, turned ouer as a ball;
The comberous preace caused many a fall.
The noyse was great, the rumour & complaynt
In his passage of people that was dreynt.

Fauour was none of brother vnto brother—
They were so busy to passe the ryuer;
In that great pryde eche man oppressed other—
To passe the brydge there was so great daungere;
The hete importable that tyme of the yere
Caused many one / whiche on the brydge stode
For great fayntnes / to fall in to the flode.

This great myschefe whan Albon gan beholde,
Moued of mercy and of compassyon,
With wepyng eyen, as they water wolde,
Vnto the erthe fyll on his knees downe,
His loke vpcast with great deuotion
Towarde heuen, makyng his prayere
To Christ Jesu sayde as ye shall here:

“O lorde Jesu, out of whose blessed syde,
Whan thou for man were nayled on the rode,

Through whose herte / there dyd a spere glyde:
At whiche wounde ranne water out and blode—
O blessed lorde, moste mercyfull and good,
So as I sawe in myn auisyon,
Out of thyn herte two lycours ranne adown:

That is to say, / red bloud and water clere,—
Those two lycours / of our redemption;
At my request drye vp this ryuer,
Staunche the floode, and here myn orisoun,
And take this people vnder thy protection,
Suffre that they with dry fete may wende
Of my passyon to se an ende!”

And whyls the teares from his eien ranne
Downe by his chekes on eche partie,
By deuout prayer of this holy man
All sodeynly the ryuer was made drye,
The flode staunched and vanysshed as a skye. /
He neded not the maner out to serche
Whan god by grace lyst any thynge to werche.

For he that made maugre Pharao
The people of Israell passe the red see
With drye fete, / the same lorde euen so
Was that Albon kneled vpon his knee
Prayeng the lorde of grace and pitie
Graunt the people to haue inspection
And passe the ryuer to sen his passyon.

An vncouth maruayle, / a gracious myracle:
Folkes drounde / lowe at the bottom sayne,
With goddes myght, / where may be none obstacle,—
The ryuer drye / founde was ageyne,
Voyde of moysture, / smothe was and playne—
Of the holy martyr / the vertue alway mored:
Folke aforne drownde / to lyfe were restored—

No token of deth was in theyr faces sayne,
But quicke and lyuely to euery man nes syght.
These great myracles notable in certayne,
Fyrst of the ryuer / dryed by goddes myght,
All this consydered: the selfe same knyght
Whiche was assigned for to do vengeaunce
On blessed Albon, / fyll in repentance;

The same knyght / astonyed and aferde,
Whiche through (!) Albon towarde his passyon,
Of god visited / cast a way his swerde,
Afore the martyr / mekely kneled adowne
And vnto god made his confessyon,
Besechyng Albon of comforte and socour,
In humble wyse beknowyng his errour:

“Seruant of god, / O blessed man Albon,
Thy god only / is very god, certayne,
There is no god sothly but he alon,
All other goddes bere here name in veyne;
By the myracles / whiche that I haue seyne
I dare affirme—/ the trouth it doth well preue—:
He is very god, / on whom that I beleue.

I wote ryght wele he is myghty and is good:
For in a moment / through his magny fycence

At thy request voyded hath the flood:
As lorde of lordes most digne of reuerence—
None lyke to hym of power and potence,
Whiche on this erthe as souerayne lorde and kynge
Passyng all other / doth maruayles in werchynge.

Set all a syde, the dede beareth wytnes,
Of no collusyon nor of no false apparaunce,
Of godly myght shewyng his greatnes
Ryght as it is in very existence.
For whiche I aske of all olde neglygence
Mercy, / and pray for my trespace,
O glorious martyr, / that lorde to do me grace!

There is no lorde / but only Christe Jesus,
He is my lorde and I wyll be his knyght,
Whiche made these stremes to departe thus—
A great myracle wrought in the peoples syght!
His power is great / and he is moste of myght;
All fals goddes here I do forsake
And to his mercy all holy I me take.”

This knyght by grace thus sodeynly conuerted—
The name of whom was Araclius.
Whiche thynge whan paynyms haue aduerted,
They fell vpon hym as wolfes dispitous,
Touchyng the ryuer sayd it was not thus,
It weren theyr goddes and none other wyght
That wrought this myracle by theyr great myght.

“Our myghty goddes, most famous and most good,
Of theyr benyngne gracious influence
They haue auoyded this ryuer and this flood;
Of whose secretes we haue experience
And in effecte full notable euidence:
Whiche for our sake, / if it be well sought,
For our passage this myracle haue we (!) wrought.

For to accomplysshe that we haue begon
Agayn our moste enemy, lyke to our entention,
Our god most myghty, the fyry feruent sonne
With his great hete and beames yuyronne (!)
Hath rauysshed, with a shorte conclusyon,
This gloryous Phebus with his streames clere
The watry moysture of this great ryuere.

They haue consydered our great deuotion
Whiche we haue towarde theyr deyte,
Howe we labour for execution
Agayne theyr moste ennemy founde in the citie.
But for (to) hynder theyr magnanymytie
Though thou in contrary accordyst with Albon,
Hast an opinion agaynst vs euerychone.”

Thus was theyr langage and theyr dalyance
Of hatefull malyce agaynst this trewe knyght;
With great rebukes for his repentance
Fyll vpon hym lyke wolfes anone ryght
And called hym in all the peoples syght
To theyr goddes he was a fals blaspheme,
Worthy to dye—/ of malyce thus they deme;

Ranne vpon hym with paynes full vncouth

Of great malyce they had vnto Albon,
Fyrst they smyten the tethe out of his mouthe,
And there they brake his bones euerychone—
Without wounde membre was lefte none.
Of mynde, of herte alway hole he stode,
For in his brest the fayth of Christe abode.

Only by grace he had this auantage:
In his belefe so holy dyd he stande
Whiche for his fayth myght suffre no damage,
Kepte his promyse / whiche he toke in hande.
He lefte halfe-deed lyeng vpon the strande:
Fro wycke or worse, / fro cryme to cryme in dede
Lyke homycydes the paynyms gan procede.

With broke bones / this pytous wounded knyght
Was on the stronde lefte with deedly chere,
Pale of hewe, / myght not syt vpryght,
As the story in order doth vs lere.
By many a stubbe and many a sharpe brere
Barefote they led hym, / voyde of compassyon,
This blessed Albon, towardes his passyon.

That he was bare, the traces were welll seyne:
For with his blode the soile was dyed redde;
Made his passage towarde a hygh mounteyne
Through sharpe stones / quare as speres hedde—
Thus entreated aforne, or he was deed.—
Without wepyng / what erthely creature
Myght se a prince / suche deadly payne endure?

Stedfast of herte, his trust wolde neuer fayle,
Grounded in god, and in his fayth so stable,
Goth vp the hyll to accomplysshe his batayle.
And there were people veryly innumerable;
The sonne was hote, / the hete importable,
In poynt almost with feruence and with dust
To slee the people with a sodeyn thurst.

Constrayned with hete, gan cry eche one,
Of cursed malyce and great malyncoly,
Vpon the martyr made assaute anone
And sayde: through his magyke and his sorcery
That they were lyke through mortall thurst to dye.
Agaynst whose deedly furyous cruelte
Blessed Albon gan shewe his charyte:

To pray for them that dyd hym moste turment
This was his custome and his olde vsage:—
With hole herte and humble trewe entent
Prayed god with teares in his visage
Of this myschefe to stynt the great rage,
That the people shulde in no degre
Bicause of hym to suffre aduersyte.

“O lorde, quod he, / for thy heuenly empire,
Lyke as thou arte most myghty of pusance,
Thy smothe wynde by grace let enspire
Called zepherus, to do them allegeance,
This rygours eyre with dewe of attemperance,
Betwene hote and colde set a meane in dede;—
Or thou do vengeance, mercy may procede.

Of this myschefe ordeyne a relece,
Without vengeance suffre people gone!—
That whylom madest thy seruant Moyses
With his yerde to smyte vpon a drye stone,
At whose touchyng come water out anone:
Nowe, gracious lorde, with newe stremes fresshe
On this hyll these people do refresshe,

Thy gratious mercy from them do not expelle!”
Of blessed Albon rehersed this prayer:
At his fete anone sprange vp a well,
Full plentous with cristall stremes clere—
A wonders thynge / and a maruaylous to here
From a drye hyll of moystyr voyde at all
To se spryng a well clerer than cristall!

Of whiche water there was so great foyson
And of that sprynge so gracious habundance,
That from aboue there came a ryuer downe;
This holsom streme was of so great pleasaunce:
To staunche theyr thurst founde ther suffisance,
The hete aswaged, the people out of dispreyre—
By goddes grace so temperate was the eyre.

Thus was the people refresshed at theyr lust
By the holy martyr, mercyfull and good.
Yet of false malyce they had a frowarde thurst
In theyr corages, lyke furyous folke and wode,
Agayne nature for to shede blode,
The blode of hym / whiche in theyr disease
By his prayer theyr myschefe dyd appese.

Theyr thurste was staunched, / they were refresshed wele,
But a false thurst of malyce and hatered
In theyr desyres / was staunched neuer a dele:
They were besye the blysfull blode to shed
Of hym that holpe them in great nede:
Lyke blasphemous, / makyng a false obstacle,
Gaue vnto the sonne thanke for this myracle.

With voyce vpraysed falsely they began,
Thus they sayde of outragyous clamour:
“Praysyng and laude be to you(!) the sonne,
Whiche in this myschefe hath be our sauiour,
Stauched our thurst / with his gracious lycour,
By his beames moste fresshe and clere shynyng
Vs to releue made a well vp spryng!” Verba translatoris.

O people vnkynde, blynded with fals errour,
O frowarde people, / rude, / dull / and obstinate,
O beastiall folke, / forthest from all sauour
Of grace and vertue, / o people in fortunate,
In your conceyte / o folke moste indurate!
That god hath shewed for loue of Albon,
Ye gyfe thankes to ymages made of stone!

O most vnhappy, / o people vngratious,
Worse than beastis, / o voyde of all reason,
O cruell tygrys, / o wolfes furyous,
O folysshe asses / dull of discretion,
Falsely to deme in your opinion:
Thynge that Albon by grace of god hath wonne
Ye yefe the laude other to sterre or sonne!

Ye set a syde the southfast sonne of lyfe,
The sonne of grace that doth all the worlde gye,
Whiche may you saue agayn all mortall stryfe,
To all our sores may do best remedy.
Ye do great wronge for to defye(!)
This worldly sonne from temporall bryghtnes,
And to forsake the sonne of ryghtwysenes!

Lyke false blasphemus, forsoke your creature
And do worshyp to a creature!
The sonne of lyfe may clyppis no shoure,
Whose heuenly beames, by recorde of scripture,
Yeueth lyght of grace to euery creature;
But ye arne frowarde his influence to take
And for your ydols his lordshyps to forsake (!).

What may auayle Jupiter, or Saturne,
Or cruell Mars, / that causeth stryfe or warre,
Or worldely Phebus, / þt one day doth her soiurne,
The nyght cometh on: / the lyght is fro you farre,
And eke your Venus, / called the day-sterre,—
All these rekened, in your mad wodenesse
Called of your custome goddes and goddesse!

God that this day shewed here,
To magnifie his gloryous knyght Albon,
With a fresshe well, / and dryed the ryuer—
Reken vp your goddes, and forget neuer one:
Of these myracles, / forsoth, his (!) parte is none!
A fole is he that of them dothe retche,
Sith vnto suche thīg their power may not stretche.

Of theyr power me lyst no more to entreate
Whiche leadeth men vnto theyr dampnation;
Mars nor Jupiter / nor Phebus with his hete
May do no fauour nor mytigation
Agayne the myschefe, lyke your opinion.
The sayde myracles were wrought by vertue
For loue of Albon by grace of Christ Jesue.

Your discretions ben so foule blent,
Your conceyt derke / and false in your opinion
Magre your mawmettes, in all my best entent!
I woll procede with hole affection
To accomplysshe vp the holy passyon
Of seynt Albon by grace of his fauour,
In his translation folowyng myn auctour.—

After these myracles shewed at the well—
A gratious treasure, a yefte of great price,—
Lyke here toforne as ye haue herde me tell—
Yet for all that, folowyng theyr olde auice

The people abode styll in theyr malyce;
From the mounteyne / cast not for to wende
Of the martyr tyll they haue made an ende.

Fyrst hent his lockes, that were longe and large,
Malycyously bounde them to a stake;
Chose out a knyght / and on hym layde the charge
That in all hast he shulde hym redy make
And a sworde sherpe in his hande take,
And they hym bad, hauyng of god no drede,
With a great stroke to smyte of his hede.

The hede hynge styll, / the body fell to grounde;
His crosse also all besprent with blode—
Kepte for a relyque / whan it was after founde,
Maugre paynyms, contagious and wode;
For amonges them secretely there stode
A christen man, / the whiche toke kepe
The sayde crosse deuoutly for to kepe.

This turmentour, this cursed paynym knyght,
He that smote of the hede of saynt Albon,
By vengeance he hath lost his syght:
Bothe his eien fyll from his hede anone—
Without recure his worldly ioye was gone;
Whiche fyrste was glad to make the martyr blede,
Lyke his disceyt, deserued hath his mede.—

This wounded knyght / whiche in the valey abode—
Araclius, as ye haue herde me deuise—
The deth of Albon whan he vnderstode,—
Whiche for feblenes myght not aryse,
Gan peyne hym selfe, in full pitous wyse,
Amonge paynyms, as he myght hym kepe,
With honde and fote vpon the hylle to crepe,

Vpon the monition of the same knyght
Aforsayd(!) hym selfe on hande and fote to gone.
The iuge hym met and spake to hym thus ryght:
“Thou that hast so many a broke bone,
Clymbe vp fast and praye to thyn Albone,
Ceasse not / but crye vpon hym sore
Thy broke bones and woundes to restore!

Fyrst of all renne to hym and take hede—
To be made hole of thyne infirmyte,
Vnto the body / ioyne agayne the hede,
And in all hast thou shalte recured be
From all sykenes and aduersyte;
And after that do thy busy cure
To ordeyne for his sepulture!

And syth thou arte a knyght of his doctryne,
Let se what he may nowe do the auayle
To make the hole by crafte of medycyne!
Call vnto hym fast, / & loke that thou not fayle,
And thou shalte fynde an vnkouth meruayle:
If thou not cesse vpon hym for to crye,
Agaynst all sykenes / thou shalte fynde remedye.”

This maymed knyght yafe good audience
To that the iuge sayde in derysyon;

All set in fyre with sodeyn hote feruence
Gan to abrayde of great deuotion:
“I truste, quod he, of hole affection,
Only by vertue and merytes of Albon
God vnto helthe me may restore anone;

Through his power and his magnyfycence
The eternall lorde may by his great myght
By the prayer and mercyfull clemence
Of hym that is his maister / and he his knyght,
I that am lame to make me go vpryght.”
And these wordes sayde, / with great loue & drede
So as he myght crope vp to the hede.

With great deuotion he gan the heed embrace,
To the heed(!) he brought it anone ryght,—
All bedewed with wepyng was his face
Of wofull herte, to se that pytous syght,
That holy prince albon, Christis owne knyght.
By whose meryte, / whan he crepte on the grounde,
All sodeynly he rose vp hole and sounde.

And whan he was restored agayne to his strength,
He yafe praysyng, laude and reuerence,
With humble chere fyll prostrate in length,
Thankyng god of entier diligence;
And in the peoples open audience
Seased not saynt Albon for to prayse,
For loue of whom Christ Jesu dyd hym rayse—

His force agaynst Christe made hym to recure—
The people present myght se and knowe.
Than he deuoutly made a sepulture,
Gadryng stones, lyenge on a rowe:
Layed the martyr in the grounde downe lowe,
And all alofte—his labour was wele sene—
He couered it with torues fresshe and grene.

Wher-of paynyms had great enuie,
Whan they behelde howe the same knyght
Restored was and hole in eche partye
So sodeynly to his force and myght:
Wherof astonyed was euery man and wyght,
Thought in them selfe it was agayn nature
A brosed man so soone forto recure.

Agayne this knyght they toke theyr consayle,
Amonge them gan his deth conspyre.
Thought it shulde be to them great auayle—
To slee this man they were so set a fyre,
His hasty deth so greately they desyre.
Some sayd that he had in his entent
Some wychecrafte or some experiment,

Some other sayde in theyr iugement—
Lyke theyr owne false immagynatyfe—
This was wrought by inchauntement,
Or by some magyke had a preseruatyfe
Not to be slayne with dagger, / sworde / nor knyfe,
But so were—/ the story doth remembre—
That he were hew in peces euery membre.

Amonge them selfe was great controuersy,
And eche of them gan his verdyte shewe.
Tyll it befell, of malyce and enuye

Fals paynyms, in nombre not a fewe,
In peces smale / haue hym all to-hewe;
Of his recuryng hauyng no maner of drede,
All of one assent they smote of his hede.

This blessed knyght, as the story sayth,
Stode alway in one in his perseuerance,
Of wyll, / of herte / stedfast in the fayth,
Lyst not chaunge for turment nor penance,
To holy Albon egall in constance;—
As he was made felowe of his victorye,
So is he nowe partable of his glorye.—

After all this vengeable cruelte
And all this mortall furyous violence,
For to go home agayne to theyr citie
To all the people the iuge yafe lycence.
At theyr departyng all of one sentence
And with one voyce, / homwarde as they resorte,
Theyr langage was, as the story doth reporte:

“Wo (to) that iuge that doth none equite,
Wo be to hym that doth no ryghtwysenes,
And wo to hym that can haue no pitie,
Wo to that iuge gouerned with wodenes,
And wo to hym that of false hastynes
Worketh vpon wyll by false collusyon
Without tytle or trouthe or of reason!”

This was the noyse, the rumour and the crye
Whan they departed home from the mountayne—
Trouthe wyll out, magre fals enuie,
Ryghtwysenes may not be hyd, it is certayne,—
As for a tyme it may be ouerlayne;
By ensample: as passed is the daungere
Of stormy weders, / Phebus is most clere.

Our gracious lorde Jesu most benyngne,
Which all gouerneth by eternall myght,
Lyst to shewe many a gracious sygne,
Folowyng vpon the selfe same nyght
After the passyon of his blessed knyght:
Out of whose tombe was sene an heuenly strem
Assendyng vpwarde, bryght as the sonne beame;

The same tyme whan folkes to bed went,
Ouer the citie / this bryght streme gan shyne,
Last all the nyght—no man knewe what it ment—
Vpwarde erecte ryght as any lyne.
The people sawe / howe it dyd enlumyne
The longe nyght, as god dyd ordayne,
To all four partes stretchyng of Bretayne.

With this vncouth maruaylous myracle
Was sene and herde duryng all the nyght—
People gathered to loke vpon that spectacle,
Betwene ioye and drede / reioysyng of that lyght—
As they coude discerne and knowe of ryght,
This was the ditie / which in that lyght was songe,
As folowyng is wrytten in latyn tonge:

Albanus vir egregius martir extat gloriosus.
And were there sene assendyng vp and downe
In the celestiall, glorious, bryght skye
Heuenly angels, that made noyse and sowne

With this refret in this armonye:
“Let vs with songe vpreyse and magnyfye
The laude of Albon, notable and glorious,
This day with martyrs made victorious!”

Albanus vir egregius martyr extat gloriosus.
This songe was herde by reporte through þe towne
And remembred vpon eche partie
For a synguler commendation
Of hym that was prince of his chyualrye,
Stewarde of Bretons, to gouerne them and gye:
Whose synguler laude and tryumphe glorious
This day with martyrs is made victorious.

Albanus vir egregius martyr extat gloriosus.
This noble prince of Brutis Albion
Hath suffered deth and mortall turmentrye
Stable of herte, this Christis champyon,
Hauynge dispite of all idolatrye;
This blessed martyr, crowned aboue so hygh,
With angels songe soete and melodious
This day with martyrs is made victorious.

Albanus vir egregius martyr extat gloriosus.
O prothomartyr full famous of renown,
Amonge paynyms hauyng the maistrye,
To be cause, grounde and destruction
In Verolamy of all false mawmettrye,
Thy lyfe for Christe hath put in ieopartye:
For whiche this day with songe melodyous
Thou arte with martyrs made victorious;

Be vnto that citie supportour and patron,
Kepe them from sorowe, / sykenes / and malady,
From pestilence and yll infection,
And of theyr ennemyes represse all tyrannye;
Whiche be fraunchised with the regallye
Of thy presens, / o martyr glorious,
With all that longeth to the and to thyn hous!

And, blessed martyr, most lowly I the requere,
Whiche abydest in the heuenly mantion,
With laurer crowned aboue the sterres clere,
Only of mercy to haue compassyon
If ought be sayde in this translation
Through ignorance, vnconnyng or rudenes,
Of gracious support, / and rewe on my symplenes—

In my labour though there be founde offence,
My wyll was good, / though small was my connīge;
Meddell mercy with thy magny(fi)cence,
O gracious martyr, of pitie remembrynge
The wydowe offered parte of a ferthyng,
The lorde aboue her meanyng vnderstode—
Saue of only wyll / she had none other good:

Semblably thy parfytnes to queme
I am full set of humble affection,
Hopyng eche man / lyke myn entent wyll deme.
I wyll procede vnder correction
To wryte in order the translation,
Fyrst set aforne brefe and compendious
The martyrdome of Amphybalus,

With this, o martyr, / that from thy heuenly see
Thou lyst downe cast on me thy heuenly loke,

To forther my penne, / of mercy and pite,
In compylation of this, the thyrde boke.
O blessed Albon, / make thy dewe downe flete
To my penne of mercyfull habundance,
This boke to accomplysshe vnto thy pleasance!

Finis.

Here endeth the seconde boke of the gloryous prothomartyr saynt Albon.

(Buch III.)

Here begynneth the thyrde boke / whiche telleth of the conuersion of many of the paynims vnto the fayth. And also of the martyrdome of holy Amphibalus / whiche conuerted saynt Albon to the fayth of Christe. whiche Amphibalus was the princes sonne of wales.

Myracles shewed / and maruayles many folde
This blessed martyr for to magnyfye,
As here toforne ye haue herde me tolde:
The nyght illumyned with the golden skye,
Songe of angels with heuenly armony:
The people astonyed, tremblyng in the derke,
To se howe Christ lyst for the martyr werke.

“But on your brest remembre your trespas,
To therth fall prostrate downe,
Prayeth to the lorde for to do you grace,
Of your offence and transgression
Or that he take vengeance on your towne!
Trusteth playnly, / whether ye be wrothe or fayne,
All this wrought for hym that ye haue slayne:

This lyght from heuen / whiche þt is descended,
For Albon shewed, and the golden skye.
Let vs repent of that we haue offended,
Of our trespas mercy to Jesu crye
And forsake all ydolatrye,
Takyng ensample all by one accorde
Of this martyr that whylome was our lorde!

We may consydre a thyng agaynst nature:
Howe the nyght with her derke derkenesse
Passyng reason of any creature
Is by myracle turned to bryghtnesse,
Of angels herde a melodious swetnes:
And all thynge—brefely to comprehende—
For the merytes of Albon to commende.

Maugre mawmettes / whiche can but disceyue,
Impotent and very feble of myght—
By experience as ye (may) conceyue—
Bryghter than day hath made the derke nyght,

To declare the merytes of his knyght,
Playnly to shewe lyght of his perfytenes,
Whiche may nat be clypsed by no foreyn derkenes.

Agayne this lorde, / whiche is moste of myght,
We haue erred in our opinion
And done vnto hym great wronge and vnryght
To make our fayth and our professyon
To fals idols, / whiche in this royall towne
We haue so longe in our paynem wyse
As idolatres do frowarde seruice.

Let vs nowe dampne all suche errour
And forsake with entier diligence
All false goddes, / whiche may do no socour
To theyr seruantes, present nor absence:
Wherfore let vs nowe clere our conscience
And axe forgyfenes of our lorde Jesu,
Whiche hath in Albon shewed so great vertue!

Let vs not tary, / but in all hast we can
Go seche meanes for our saluation
In dyuers countres to fynde vp the man
Wh(i)che by his labour and predication
Conuerted Albon in the same towne
To Christis fayth, / that martyr moste benyngne,
This nyght declared by many an vnkouth signe!

From our rytes and ceremonyes olde
And false errours enclypsed with darkenes,
Done to mawmettes, / with whom we were withholde
Of ignorance by consuete rudenes,
And to directe and clarifye our blyndnes
From all errour and ydolatrye,
The best way that I can espie,

By these myracles / whiche Christ Jesu hath wrought
For loue of Albon the same nyght,
That his maister may in hast be sought;
For it is lykely, accordyng wele to ryght:
Syth god hath shewed suche myracle for his knyght,
He that was cause of his conuersion
Myght best prouyde for our saluation:

I mene as thus in very equite:
Syth god in Albon hath shewed suche vertue,
His maister shulde haue great auctoritie
That was sent hym, by grace of Christ Jesu,
To put our doubte at a playne issue,
By myracles declaryng newe and newe
His maisters teachyng faythfull was and trewe.”

All that people beinge in presence,
Of god enspired, as by one assent,
With one voyce commendyng that sentence
Gafe the fauour in all theyr best entent
Toke theyr way by great auisement
Towarde wales and sought on euery syde,
Serchyng the countre, where he shulde abyde.

Of whose preachyng notable was the fame
Both in his lyuyng and perfyte holynes,
Full glad they were / whan they herde his name,
And towardes hym fast they gan them dresse;
As the story playnly beareth wytnesse,
Came by grace where he dyd teache
The worde of god / and to the people preche.

And full deuoutly vpon hym they abode,
Hauyng aforne hym ryght great audience
As they come to hym, / euen as he stode,

And hym saluted with great reuerence,
Greatly reioysyng of his deuoute presence:
Offered to hym, or they ferther gone,
The same crosse he yafe vnto Albon.

The whiche crosse was newly sprent with blode
Whan he for Christ suffered passyon;
By whiche token full well he vnderstode
That he was slayne: / fell on his knees downe,
Kyssyng the crosse with great deuotion,
In his armes with teares all be reyned
That holy relyque full swetely he hath streyned;

He thanked god with deuout obseruance
And that martyrs humble pacience.
This newe people with deuoute attendance
Whiche was come to yefe hym audience,
All at ones with full great reuerence
And herte contrite knelyng on theyr knees,
Forsoke theyr ydols and olde vanytees;

Theyr myspent tyme to them was great losse,
To all vertue an odious spectacle,
Tyll tyme they were marked with the crosse
In theyr forhede by grace and myracle,
With that victorious tryumphall signacle;
And folowyng on, / lyke theyr fyrst entent,
Receyued of baptisme the holy sacrament.

Within a whyle the fame went abrode
Farre about—in story as I rede—
Dyuers countres, of this thynge howe it stode;
Tyll at last the noyse gan sprede,
Of Verolamy / howe verely in dede
Citezyns theyr goodes haue forsake,
A full great nombre, / and theyr iourney take

To folowe the traces of Amphibalus,
A newe preacher, straunge and foreyne;
Theyr olde rytes false and superstitious
They haue renounsed and holde al that ben vayne;
They haue also of very high disdayne
From them abiecte—/ myn aucter lyst not lye—
All theyr ydols and false mawmettrye.

Whan the rumour was come vnto the citie,
They were troubled, / hauyng great maruayle
What it ment or what it shulde be;—
At prime face lyke a great dissauayle
To comen profyte, they dempt in theyr counsayle
It was full lyke theyr citie to encombre.
Enquered fyrst what fayled of theyr nombre.

In theyr rolles were a thousande founde
And theyr names entytled euery chone—
A thynge lykely the citie to confounde,
But remedy ordeyned were anone,
That suche a nombre by assent were gone.
By great auise cast it was dewe,
A myghty thyng tho folke to pursewe,

And with stronge hande serched out the rote
Of this matter, in hope it shulde auayle.
They gathered them on horsebacke and on fote,
And gan ordeyne a myghty stronge batayle
Of sondry folke armed in plate and mayle
Agaynst fugytifes gon out of the cite,
And on Amphibalus auenged for to be.

Of whose persone so notable was the fame
Through all wales and contres enuiron,
That the report of his good name

Gan to encrease thorough all the regyon,
Of his doctrine and predication:
Whiche through wales shone lyke a lode-sterre,
Them to directe / which in our fayth doth erre.

Tho folke that were come to hym of newe
From Verolamy his preachyng for to here,
Lyke a doctour in Christis fayth most trewe
Receyued them with all his herte entiere,
Enformed them and taught them the maniere
Of Christis lawe with busy diligence,—
And they were glad to abyde in his presence;

Lytell and lytell in he gan them drawe
To catche fayth and sauour in his doctryne:
Of hole herte forsoke the paynyms lawe
And with great wyll theyr corage dyd enclyne
So to perseuer and so theyr lyfe to fyne
In Christis lawe as folke that lyst not tary,
So for to abyde and neuer more to vary.

Other there were, / whiche gan pursewe
The sayde people, of malyce and of hate,
This newe doctrine of Christis transmewe:
Whiche come vpon, armed with mayle and plate,
Sent from that citie of purpose to debate
Agaynst them / whiche that for Christis sake
Fayth of paynyms vnwarely hath forsake;

Folowed after with rumour, noyse and sowne,
To fall vpon them with sodeyn auenture;
Serchyng in wales aboute towne and towne
Of Amphibalus the presence to recure:
Whiche lyke a clerke grounded in scripture
To that people at reuerence of our lorde
Stode amōges them / and preached goddes worde.

And one there was, for anger almost wode,
That brake fyrst out, shewyng his conceyte
To Amphibalus amonge them as he stode—
Whereof that people was all and hole receyte:
“O thou, quod he, grounde of all disceyte,
Rote of fraude, / falsenes / and trechery,
To all our goddes traytour and ennemye!

That thou hast done, thou mayst it not forsake,
Of frowarde contempte malyciously practised
Agaynst our goddes a quarell for to take,
Theyr lawes olde presumptously dispised,
As these people contagiously disguysed,
To great damage of vs and of our cite:
Whiche, trust me well, shall not vnpunysshed be.

It is no doubte it shall not abyde longe;
Of theyr iniury and theyr godly greuance,
As they be moste myghty and most stronge,
They sodenly shall take on the vengeance.
But if thou wylte eschewe theyr pusance,
Fyrst do repent the, / to fynde them more tretable,
And seche a meane to make them mercyfull.

Fyrst of all do thy busynesse
Of theyr great ire to appese the rancour,
Afore these people / shewe outwarde thy mekenes,
To louse the bondes, / whiche by thy labour

Thou hast them brought in full great errour:
Be so besy agayne with faythfull attendaunce
Them to counsell to fall in repentance!

Gyfe them counsell and make them to assent
With herte and body no daunger for to make
To axe mercy and sore repent,
Or sodeyn vengeance be on them take
Of that they haue our goddes forsake!
For this no doubte: but it be done in dede,
We shall agayne them vengeably procede.

For if they stande in theyr fyrst errour
As they began, frowarde and obstynate,
They shall of mercy fynde no fauour,
Without exception of high or lowe estate,
But lyke as people most infortunate
Dye vpon the sworde—take this for full sentence—
As is concluded by marcyall violence.”

Yet there was one, supprised with feruence,
Of Christis lawe stedfast in the fayth,
Whiche had bothe connyng and eloquence
And for his maister holy wryt he laythe;
To thylke paynym euen thus he saythe:
“Our lorde god / whiche called is Jesu,
Shall be this day our refuge and vertue

And our chefe helpe in tribulation—
Whiche shall percase shewe some myracle
By his most myghty domination
Therfore(!) these folke, an vnkouth spectacle,
That there-ayen shalbe none obstacle:
Through goddes myght and mercyfull goodnes
Some man to saue of his sodeyn sykenes

Our maister here whom that ye repreue,
In Christis name, to shewe an euidence,
From all mys-chefe some syke man to releue
Whiche lyeth outraged by mortall violence,
But, to declare the magnyfycence
Of Christe Jesu, anone without more
To helth agayne suche one he shall restore,

Not in couert, but in your alther syght,—
We haue suche trust in his parfynesse.
Fro whose doctryne, as we haue behyght,
We shall not chaunge for deth nor distresse;
Without faynyng or any doublenesse
Your counsellyng in Christis holy name
Folowe his teachyng and to do the same.

Ye threte fast to maken vs aferde:
But god alone he is our defence;
Jesu is stronge agayne spere and swerde:
Vnder whose pauise of parfyte pacience
We shall abyde; concludyng in sentence:
We forsake all false ydolatrye
And for Christis sake redy for to dye.

Fauour of blode nor none allyaunce,
Cherysshyng of treasure nor promyse of kynred,
Experte kynred nor none acqueyntance,
Fayre behestes, / manaces nor hatered,—
All set asyde, both loue and drede,
The fayth of Christ of hole herte we haue take,
All false ydols and mawmettes we forsake.”

Of this answere the paynyms almost wode,
Lyke tygrys fell, / vengeable as lyons
Of innocentes to shede the christen blode,
With sharpe swerdes lyke rauenous felons
They kyll and flee of all conditions,
As hongry wolfes in theyr beastiall rage,
Whithout exception of olde or yonge of age.

The father ther agayn all skylle and ryght
Of his sonne toke his deadly wounde,
Brother and brother was slayne in that fyght,
And with theyr speres, / that were square & rounde,
Theyr nygh cosyns were glad to confounde,—
There was none spared of blode nor kynred,
Without mercy, eche others blode to shed;

Of aged folke there was no reuerence,
In that vnkyndly, sodeyn, cruell shoure,
Myddell age, / nor age of innocence,
Nor blode of blode, lyst knowe his neybour (!)
Nor none to other lyst shewe his fauour;—
Echon were slayne, the story telleth thus,
And were conuerted by Amphibalus.

Frowarde tyrantes that this people sleeth,
Most mercyles, with pollax, swerde and knyfe!
Eche preased in aforne other towarde the deth—
So amerous was that charytable stryfe—
Lyke folke that were glad to lese theyr lyfe,
Of one corage and of one pacience
To dye for Christe—/ so hole was theyr feruence.

Amonge these holy seyntes euerychone
That forsoke theyr towne and theyr cite,
There was none lefte alyue but one
Of all that come Amphibalus to see:
Whiche by occasyon of his infirmyte
Abode behynde, feble and impotent:
Whiche at theyr dyenge myght not be present.

Whan Amphibalus sawe them all deed
Lyggyng in the felde, / turned vp set downe,
With pitous chere sawe theyr woundes blede:
Of wofull herte and compassyon
Deuoutly made his commendation,
Prayenge Jesu with voyce full pytously
On all tho saules to haue mercy.

At Lychefelde fyll all this auenture,
This great slaughter, and made is mention—/
Of whiche slaughter, recorde of olde scripture,
By dayes olde named was the towne:
This worde “Lychefelde” by interpretation
Is to say in that tonge, as I rede:
A felde that lyeth full of bodyes deed.

There these martyrs suffered passyon,
Of one corage and of one stablenes.
The paynyms, in theyr opinion
Most obstinate, in theyr cursednes
Made a vowe in theyr wodenes
Neuer to eate for none occasyon
Tyll Amphibalus were brought to theyr towne.

Lyke wodemen they about hym ryde;
The holy man, playnly to declare,
With speres wounded body, backe and syde,
Went aforne them with his fete all bare;
The more vngoodly / they dyd with hym fare,
The more the martyr with chere and visage
Patiently suffred theyr owne outrage.

To hym they had frowarde, fell langage;
The stone weye dyd hym great duresse.
And though that he felte in his passage
Vnder his fete constreynt of great sharpenes,
Mytygation of all his heuynes
Was, whan he the place dyd approche
Where Albon lay graue vnder a roche.

The homecydes of whom to-forne I tolde,
Had in this whyle a maner repentance,
Bakwarde amonge as they gan beholde

The people slayne of theyr allyance
By theyr owne furyous gouernance.
For they them selfe, lyke folke that were wode,
The slaugter made vpon theyr owne blode:

Lokyng behinde fyrst whā they toke hede & beheld
There owne brethern, cosyns and kynred
By theyr handes lay slayne in the felde:
They gan to wepe / to se theyr woundes blede.
This same tyme, or they toke any hede,
They founde a man that lay lanquisshyng
Vpon the felde, moste pitous compleynyng.

This syke man with a full deadly face—
For great constreynt of his malady—
Sawe Amphibalus forby shulde passe;
With deadly voyce gan to hym crye:
“Seruant of god, do me socour, or I dye!
For Jesu sake lowly I the requere
To helpe his seruant that lyeth in myschefe here!

For by the callyng of his holy name
I haue suche trust in Christ Jesu and the:
Though I lye here impotent and lame,
By thy merytes thou mayst helpe me
To be made hole of this infyrmyte”—
Maugre paynyms / that can about hym prece,
Of this clamour wolde not he sece,

In his prayer he doth alway continue—
Suche fayth he had in his opinion.
Paynyms sawe he was importune
And so stable in his action,
Hadden in disdeyne and in derysion
His great noyse, / but magre her felnesse
He arose vp hole of all his olde sykenesse.

This seke man that lay bounde in payne
Of olde sykenesse, greuous and importable,
By Amphibalus, lay bounde in a chayne,
Was made all hole / and of his lymmes stable.—
This can the lorde, whiche is most mercyable,
Of syke folkes here theyr complayntes
And worche myracles for his holy sayntes.—

This myracle gracious and vnkouth
Fyrst of this man releued of his sykenesse—
The deth of the martyrs gan sprynge northe and southe,
Of theyr wylfull sufferance with mekenes.
Homwarde agayne paynyms gan them dresse;—
But this myracle whan they dyd auerte,
They were greatly astonyed in theyr herte.

Amonge them selfe they brake (out) openly,
Though they to Christ were contraryous,
Of this myracle wrought sodenly
They spared not playnly to say thus:
“The god of christen is great and maruaylous,
Great is his vertue—the deed beareth wytnesse—
To heale a man so sone in his sykenes.”

As they tolde erst, / paynyms at last
Wonder desyrous towarde your contre,
They rode armed and began to hye fast,
And sped them so that they myght se
The crested walles of theyr citie.
As they thought that tyme for the best
After labour a whyle for to rest—

They were oppressed with hunger and with thurst:
For that tyme lyst no forther for to ryde,
And eche one of them folowyng theyr owne lust
Chose his grounde, a certayne home (!) to abyde;
Their shelde, theyr speres set them downe a syde;

Them to refresshe layser they haue founde,—
Whyles Amphibalus lay in his feters bounde.

The turmentours refreshed at the best,
As I haue tolde, after theyr werynesse.
The holy martyr myght haue no pece nor rest,
Bounden in chaynes by full great duresse;
In his most labour and greattest distresse,
Maugre paynyms, whan he a layser caught,
To his most foone the worde of god he taught.

This meane whyle þt all this thyng was wrought
As ye haue herde, come tydyng to the towne
Howe Amphibalus was to the citie brought,
Maister vnto Albon, as made is mention.
At whose entrynge great people there come downe,
Thought in them selfe all theyr heuynesse
By his comyng was turned in to gladnes;

Dempte amonge them bothe one and all
The matyre had standyng other wyse:
Howe Amphibalus from Christis fayth was fall,
Of that lawe lefte all his olde emprise,
Come to theyr goddes to do sacrifice,
All theyr frendes with them were repayrde,
Of whom toforne they dispayred.

The beastiall folke supposed in certayne
Howe all the people that went by assent
To Amphibalus, were come home agayne,
By force of them / that were for them sent.
But they fayled foule in theyr entent:
For through the towne the noyse went anone:—
Lyke as it was—/ howe they were deed euerychone.

Agayne Christis (fayth) of malyce set a-fyre,
Homecyded (!) turmentoures that dyd this cruell dede,
Whiche fyll vpon them in theyr cruell ire,
Tho that made the martyrs for to blede,
Of indignation and of great hatered:
The selfe same made relation
Of theyr slaughter through verolamy towne.

The fathers wepte with sorowfull syghes great
Whan they herde theyr sonnes were deed,
Pytous mothers theyr sobbyng can not let—
Whose watrye eien with wepyng made red;
Through the citie bothe in lengthe and brede
Wydowes, maydens ran with theyr here to-torne,
That so sodenly haue theyr frendes lorne.

Suche pitous wepyng, I trowe, not ther was
At the brennyng of the famous Ilyon
In Troye, whan the stede of brasse
Was by sleyght compassed of Synon;
For through euery strete of Verolamy towne
This noyse was herde deedly and mortall
Lyke as men synge at feastes funerall.

In theyr most wofull lamentation
They said amonge them, with hygh and low estate:
“The tyme is come of our destruction!
Cite of citezyns forsake and desolate!
Most outragyous and most disconsolate
To be noted: of furyous, fell hatered
Blode agayn blode so felly to procede!

For our defence we haue nowe none excuse,
Folke infortunate by deuision;
We shall from hensforth be called the refuge (!),
As folke abiecte, of euery nacion;

So importable is our confusyon
That we be lyke neuer to fynde grace
Amonge no folke to shewe ous grace(!).

We can nor may our seluen acquite
For our excuse a reason for to make,
But here after that folkes wyll vs awyte:
Our kynne, our blode theyr goddes haue forsake,
On whom vengeance so mortally was take
In straunge countre, so, playnly to descryue,
Amonge also that none was lefte alyue.

Alas alas, vnburyed in the felde
Cast out to the beastes that walke in pasture!—
Kynne agayne kynne in armes bare on shelde
An hatefull warre, / a warre agayne nature!—
Whiche lye nowe deed without sepulture—
So late done, it may not be socoured—
Of foule and beast a pray to be deuoured!

Alas, our ioye is turned in to dispayre,
The staffe broke of our vnweldy age,
Our harpe troubled! / our fortune is not fayre—
Frowarde to vs she turneth her visage.
Wo to that man that with his langage
Caused Albon our goddes to forsake
And magre them / the fayth of Christ to take!

Whiche hath, alas, perturbed the cite,
Brought our welfare to desolation,
Grounde and gynnyng of this mortalite
Of our alyes and citezyns of the towne,
Whose bodies nowe lyen vpsetdowne.
O myghty goddes of power immortall,
Defende the people of our cite royall!

To our request your eares downe enclyne:
Take vengeance vpon our enemy
Whiche is cause of our mortall ruyne
And of our myschefe the rote fynally;
Reuenge your wronge, ye that be most myghty,
On hym that causeth / that we be seke and grone!
Let the vengeance rebounde on his persone!”

Of their plaintes and of their wofull clamours
They seased not, lyke folkes most vengeable.
Tyll it fyll so that (the) turmentours
Perceyued well they were not treatable,
Howe theyr sorowe was intollerable;
Of compassyon lyst no lenger spare
Of all this thynge the trouthe to declare.

All sodeynly they began to abrayde
Theyr deedly sorowes and playntes to refrayne:
“Of the most worthy of the towne, they sayde,
O citezyns, / why lyst ye so complayne?
Leue your wepyng, / your teares doth restraynt!
For, by report of vs that were present,
Voyde of disceyte or meanyng fraudolent,

Ye haue more cause of gladnesse than wepyng,
And greatter matter of consolation
Than of distresse or of complaynyng:
For, if the grounde be sought out by reason
Touchyng your frendes slaughter and passyon,
Ye haue more grounde—vs lyst not for to fayne—
For to be glad / than for theyr deth to prayne (!).

By sondry tokens that were contemplatyfe
Of signes shewed—/ the deed beareth wytnes—
Theyr deth was entred in to euerlastyng lyfe,
Ende of sorowe concluded on gladnes,
From this darke valey went vp to bryghtnes,

Where day departed is from the nyght
And bryght Phebus leseth neuer his lyght.

It is accordyng full well to nature
A man to wepe for frendes that be dede;
But agaynwarde, by recorde of scripture,
For Christis sake / who lyst his blode to shede,
A thousande folde shall receyue his mede
And for his lyfe, / whiche is but transytory,
Eternally to abyde and lyue in glory;

Where is no complaynt, / nor no parte of sorowe,
But euerlastyng gladnesse in that place,
Ilyche newe both at eue and at morowe;
From wo to ioye, from sobbyng to solace;
Wher deth hath lost his power to manace.
Fye on dispeyre, / for dethe to make stryfe
Where ioye foloweth of euerlastyng lyfe!

Dethe in this worlde shulde not be complayned
Of them that passe from worldely vanite,
Suche as by grace and mercy haue attayned
With Christ to reigne in his eternall see,
Where ioye is euer and all felicite;
And for suche folke, mydday, eue and morowe,
It were wodenes for to make sorowe.

Ye be bounde, playnly to conclude,
To thanke god for frendes that ye mysse,
Whiche hath chose so great a multitude
Of this citie / and brought them vnto blysse;
Of ioye perpetuall they may neuer mysse,
Makyng a chaunge from this temporall
For thylke lyfe aboue, celestiall.

Take hede hereto / and yeueth good audience
Of thynge that we shall make rehersale,
And it imprenteth in your aduertence.
Touchyng your frendes slayne in batayle,
Whom that we dyd so mortally assayle!
All this consydered: to complayne ye do wronge,
As ye shall knowe paraunter or ought longe.”

Aforne rehersed the same turmentours
With a great othe, present there all the towne,
To them not only / but to theyr successours
To be reported through all that regyon.
Maden there open protestation,
Touchyng this mater they cast to expresse
Shall haue no touche nor spot of falsenesse.

They gan theyr matter, brefly to conclude,
Touchyng the story to all theyr entent
In Verolamy, to all the multitude
Of great and small beinge there present.
Rehersyng fyrst howe that they were sent
With myghty honde to all contres enuiron
To seke theyr frendes, were fled from the towne;

Vnder these wordes spake for theyr partie:
“By your byddyng we went, as ye wel knowe,
With force and armys, / serchyng to espie,
To northwales, in countres high and lowe.
Tyll it fell so within a lyttell throwe,
Lad by fortune / we founde them euerychone
With hym that whylom was maister to Albon—

Out of this citie they were fled and gone;
Some that were full nygh of your allye:

Vpon the maister abydyng of Albon
We founde eke gethered a great company.
And of Pectis we dyd also espie,
With walsemen, of newe that were drawe
And conuerted vnto christen lawe

By thylke clerke that all these thynges wrought:
From whom they wolde departe in no maner.
Amonge all our kynred out we sought,
Toke them aparte / and with full frendly chere,
With fayre speche, requestes and prayere,
Maynte with manassis / and softnesse of langage,
From that doctryne to reuoke theyr corage.

But euer they stode in suche obstinacy,
On hym abydyng eche houre and moment:
By theyr answere rather for to dye
All of accorde and echeone of assent;
Lyst in no wyse folowe our entent.
Whan we myght not our purpose recure,
We lefte our tretes and toke our armour.

Of whiche they were not astonyed nor aferde,
For Christis sake / eche redyer than other
Who myght fyrst renne vnder the swerde.
In theyr metyng brother slayne of brother—
There was suche prese it myght be non other;
For Christis sake echon were fayne
For a prerogatyue / who myght fyrst be slayne.

Vpon the sonne, / whiche was the father heyre,
The father shewed most cruell violence—
Whiche in nature was nother good nor fayre;
The sonne also, voyde of all beneuolence,
To his father dyd no maner of reuerence;—
There was no mercy, / but marciall outerage,
Without exception of olde or yonge of age.

Pacience was captayne in the felde
Of them that suffered deth for Christis sake;
Theyr spere was hope; / mekenes was theyr shelde;—
Other defence they lyst not for to make
In thylke quarell / whiche they had take,
Lyst not departe tyll spent was theyr blode,
Whiche on the playn ran large as a flode.

The lorde that sytteth aboue the sterres clere
Saugh and behelde the great pacience
Of his knyghtes, / whose blode lyke a ryuere
Ran in the felde by mortall violence:
Whom to comforte, of his magnificence,
The heuen all open to shewe his great vertue,
Sayd vnto them that blessed lorde Jesu:

““Cometh vp to me, my knyghtes most entere,
Proued in batayle ryght victorious,
Assendeth vp aboue the sterres clere!
My gate is open and redy is my house
Agayne your comyng, most ryche and glorious,
With tryumphe that neuer shall disseuer,
And with a palme that shall lasten euer,

O Paradyse / o chosen citezyns,
For your notable tryumphall prowesse,
Makyng your clayme as very denzyns
There to abyde your knyghtly nobylnes;
To spende your blode / was shewed no scarsenesse,

For me to suffre deth by great outrage:
Digne amonge martyrs / come take your heritage!

The amerous fayre (!) of feruent desyres
In your conquest of most souereyne price
Haue gyue you title to be possessioners,
Eternally to clayme, lyke your auise,
Abydyng space in the heuenly paradise,
To be registred fre from all worldly stryfe
With the holy martyrs in the boke of lyfe.””

From this worlde we saugh them flee to heuen—
By many signes whiche that dyd appere—
From deth to lyfe / aboue the sterres seuen;
We stode astonyed, beholdyng the manere
Howe Christe Jesu with a benyngne chere
Lyst to receyue into his regyon
These holy martyrs of Verolamy towne.—

In these nombre of martyrs that were founde
Full nyne hundred and nynty rekened clene
And nyne therto, slayne with many a wounde:
Of whose blode, / as it was well sene,
All in to redde stayned was the grene,
The flode so great of blode that come downe lowe
That one from an other no man coude knowe—

They lay so oppressed vnder the horse fete,
No man myght haue very knowlegyng;
The blody streme dyd ouer-flowe and flete
Theyr deedly faces vpon the grounde lyggyng.
But sodenly there fell a wonders thyng:
Eche from other only by goddes grace
Was thorough the felde knowen by the face,

By the prayer of Amphibalus,
Of the deed bodyes with woundes grene—
A great myracle—the story telleth thus:
Theyr woundes hole, that no carectes were sene,
Ioyned together and souded eke so clene;
A straunge syght, / a syght of great delyte:
The blody streme as mylke ranne all whyte.

Thus by prayer of one ryghtfull man
Of theyr woundes, fyrst fearefull and terryble,
There was no carecte, as we reherse can,
By apperance that outwarde was visible—
For vnto god nothyng is impossyble;
For they that were mangled and disfourmed,
By grace and prayer sodeynly were refourmed.

The people, frowarde in theyr opinion,
Seing this myracle, and were there present,
By a contraryous exposition
Sayd aye the worst in theyr false iugement,
And vengably, echon of assent,
Of false malyce dyd theyr busy cure
To denye them theyr kyndly sepulture,

But cast them to beastis, of malyce and disdayne,
To suche as weren disposed to rauyne,
Without reuerence, lyke an olde carayne,—
They agayne them so felly gan maligne.
But Christe Jesus most gracious and benygne,

To preserue his martyrs by myracle,
Agayne paynyms haue shewed an obstacle.

A wolfe come downe with sturdy violence,
Terryble of loke and furyous of chere,
Agayne beastis wylde to make resystence,
Towarde the seintes that they came no nere;
An egle also with persyng eien clere
Houyng alofte, / as all men behelde,
Fro touche of foule / kepte all day the felde.

Wherof Pictis greatly gan maruayle,
They of waled (!) had a maner of drede,
Thought in them selues, these tokēs may not fayle,
It cometh of god and of no mans dede;
And of reason, whan they toke hede
Fyrst of the wolfe and of the egle alofte,
Stode astonyed and gan to wonder ofte.

It is appropred to the wolfe of nature,
As clerkes say, mannes flesshe to attame,
Amonge all caryns, where they may it recure,
They most reioyse / and thereof haue most game;
But he that maketh wylde beastis tame,
Dauteth serpentes / whiche on grounde lowe crepe,
Hath made a wolfe his martyrs for to kepe,

From all beastis disposed to rauyne,
By his myracle and gracious worchyng;—
And by his power heuenly and deuine
Of later date he yafe eke the kepyng
Of blessed Edmonde, / mayde, / martyr / and kyng,
Vnto a wolfe the heed most vertuous,
It to preserue from beastis rauenous.

In this myracle, / who can vnderstande,
To be noted is great conuenience
Of martyrs / whiche were with violent hande
Slayne for the fayth by humble pacience.
And thylke martyrs, / whiche made no resistence,
So were slayne for Christ, / as it is founde,
At Lychefelde, / with many a blody wounde,

Folowyng the ensample, these martyrs euerychon,
For Christ deth sufferyng and full great payne,
Of theyr prince, / that called was Albon,
In his tyme stewarde of Brytayne.
As I trust, these noble princes twayne,
Edmonde and Albon, / these ioyned two
Shall saue this lande in that we haue to do.

This kynges banner, of assure is the felde,
Therin of golde be crownes thre;
The same campe beareth Albon in his shylde,
Bete in the myddes of golde a fresshe sawtre.
Agayn our enmyes, / whan they together be
In one assembled, / shall make our partye stronge,
Magre all tho that wolde done vs wronge:

Of est-Englande kynge and champyon,
Blessed Edmonde, shall his baner sprede;
The prince of knyghtes in Brutis Albion
And prothomartyr shall vs helpe at nede;
A thousande martyrs that theyr blode shede
For Christis fayth slayne at Lychefelde,
Shall vs defende with spere, sworde and shelde.—

These tokens sene, the paynems gan to sease
Of theyr pursute and furyous wodenesse,

And by myracle they sodenly gan to prease
To kysse the relyques, / on knees gan them dresse,
With many signes and tokens of mekenesse;
And where afore as they began to maligne,
They shewed them selfe most goodly & benygne.

Theyr olde malyce and theyr frowarde disdeyne—
Hauyng the matters fyrst in derysyon—
From that conceyte they turned be agayne,
And caught in theyr herte a newe opinion:
Them to worshyp with great deuocion;
Gafe thankyng to god / & were therof full fayne
That suche a nombre in that lande was slayne

Of holy martyrs, and holowed with theyr blode.
Whiche thynge to put in token of victorie
Perpetually they thought that it was good
Theyr nombre and names to set in memorie,
Whiche fro this lyfe fleynge and transitorie
Be nowe translated / where they may not mysse
Eternally with Christ to reigne in blysse.—

Whan the turmentours had theyr tales tolde
Ryght as it fell in order of euery thynge,
Of Verolamy the people, yonge and olde,
Present there that tyme, / herde all theyr talkynge:
The more partye lefte theyr wepynge;
For by reporte only of theyr langage
Of theyr sorowe / the constraynt gan to swage.

They gan the lorde to magnifie and prayse
And to reioyse the glorie of theyr kynred,
Whiche by grace he lyste so hygh vprayse
By mertyrdome theyr precious blode to blede,
For his sake dye without any drede;
All with one voyce atones in sentence
This was theyr noyse with deuoute reuerence:

“Great is that god, / greatest and glorious,
Aboue all goddes of most magnificence,
That maketh his seruantes so victorious
To gette so great tryumphe by theyr meke paciēce,
And by his myghty imperyall influence,
This lorde Jesu, most gracious and benigne,
Shewed in theyr deth so many an vncouth signe:

Theyr grene woundes terryble to beholde
With sherpe swerdes seuered ferre a sonder,
For lacke of blode / whan they were sterke & colde,
One parte there / and an other parte yonder:
The redde blode—/ this was a great wonder—
Turned to mylke whyte, as openly was sayne;
Theyr woundes large hath souded newe agayne.

He may be called a leche, veryly,
Whiche hath practised so hygh a medycyne
Suche mortall hurtes to cure them sodeynly;
Whose royall bawme is heuenly and deuine;—
Galiene coude not imagyne
Nor ypocras duryng all theyr lyues
Suche consoudes nor suche senatiues.”

The vertue shewed and power glorious
Of Christ Jesu by great experience.
And of his martyr, blessed Amphibalus,
That day declared by notable euidence,
By whose prayer, they beinge in presence,
These myracles, / who so lyst take hede,
The same day accomplysshed were in dede:

Whiche thyng remembred, the iuge was nygh wode,
Whose sodeyn ire no wyght coude appese;—
Great preace about in the place ther stode,
They of this matyr felte so great disease;
But for he cast hym fynally to please
The paynyms, in his malencoly,
Distraught of rancour, thus he gan to cry:

“Howe longe shall we endure or susteyne
This great iniury, / sclaunder / and clamour?
Let vs serche out what it shulde mene,
This hatefull noyse and furyous romour!
But I wote well grounde of this errour
That this clerke / whiche not yore agon,
As ye wele knowe, was maister to saynt Albon.

Whose doctrine / if it were vertuous
Or come of god, as ye reporte and say,
He shulde not haue demeaned hym thus,
So great a nombre suffre for to dye
Of innocentes that dyd his lust obeye;
But it is lyke, I do well apperceyue,
This clerke was busye the people to disseyue.

By some false crafte of incantation
Or by some sotell and straunge experience,
Folke forto blynde by some illusyon
Or by collusyon of false apparence,
Lyke as it were soth in existence,
With some coniurison or some charme made of new,
A thynge that is nought / to shewe as it were trew;

For by his compassed false deception
The worthyest borne of this cite
Haue ben perysshed, / as made is mention,
And brought to nought by great aduersite.
Wherupon I make a newe decree:
Payne of deth, / yeuyng this sentence
To the bochers, / who that yeueth credence,—

That all other therby may be aferde
By playne ensample of theyr punysshon,—
Where they be founde, go vnto the swerde
Without mercy of any remyssyon.”
And after this he sent for all the towne,
Hygh estates and lowe dyd do call;
And whan they come, he sayde to them all:

“Let vs procede and werken fynally
And therunto set an ordinance,
All of Assens, vpon our ennemy,
As we are bounde, take on hym vengeance!”
That euery man gan hymselfe auaunce
With suche weapyn playnly as they founde,
Sworde, / knyfe, / dagger / or what come first to hāde.

So great people out of wales come than
In theyr furyous rage and cruelte
That there was lefte vnnethes any man
Whiche that abode within the citie.
Eche cryed on other: / “go we hense, let se
Who that can fyrst make hym selfe stronge
To be auenged vpon our great wronge!”

Theyr goinge out was to the north partye;—
A medeled people of folkes nyse and rude,
That no man coude remembre fynally
The great nombre nor the multitude;
All the citie, playnly to conclude,
Was almost voyde—myn auctor tell can—
Lefte alone of woman, chylde and man.

Amonge the bochers and turmentours stronge
One was marked aforne in that passage,
Whiche that thought his felowes abode longe,
Ranne forth fast to get hym auantage,
And lyke a wolfe in his cruell rage
Stynt neuer tyll that he founde
The place where Amphibalus was bounde;

Lyke a bocher persed his entrayles,
This homycyde that ranne afore the route,
Rafle his nauyll and toke out his bowelles
And at a stake / whiche that stode without
Tyed lyke ropes euyn rounde about,
And with a scurge the martyr he gan make
In sercle-wyse to go aboute the stake.

By the grace of god in his sufferyng,
Felly assayled with many a great turment,
Shewed no token of sorowe nor grudgyng,
But alway one, stable in his entent;
Tyll his bowels were rased out and rent
With turmentours in theyr cruell rage,
He chaunged no chere of loke nor visage.

Two turmentours—accorsed all theyr lyues!—
Amphibalus set vp for a signe
And cast at hym swerde, dagger, spere and knyues;
And euer the more agayne hym they dyd maligne,
The more they founde hym gracious and benigne.—
A pronosticke maruaylous in nature,
Saue goddes grace, howe he myght endure;

To wonder vpon, a merueylous myracle
Was sene that day in peoples syght:
Howe this martyr, vp set for a spectacle,
So longe lyued agayne natures ryght;
His blode was spent, and lost was all his myght,
And his humedite called radicall
In synewes and ioyntes wasted was at-all.

His soule, his spirite, his goostly remembrance
Stode in theyr strength of spirituall swetnes,
His heuenly feruence, / his charite in substance
Appalled not by no foren duresse;
Fors bore his baner agayne his mortall feblenes—
To preue this texte, / sayd ago full longe:
Howe persed loue / as any deth is stronge.

O bodely force feble to stande vpryght
After his flesshely disposition,
In goostly strength lyke Hercules of myght,
For vertuous noblesse egall to Sampson
Proued this day in Brutis Albion
Was Amphibalus, / with whom, who lyst aduerte,
Was nothyng lefte / saue only tonge and herte.

In his herte, as longe as ther was lyfe,
He ceased not gods worde to preache,

Grace was guyde, and trouthe his preseruatife,
Fayth bare vp all, / charite was his leche;
His tonge enspired, the people for to teache;
His body feble, / his membres impotent,
Yet tonge and herte were of one assent.

His herte stronge, stable as dyamant—
Fayth had of stele forged his ymage,
His hope in god was so perseuerant:
Dispayre in hym myght haue none auantage.
For his gracious influent langage
And by myracles, in hym shewed than,
That day to Christ was turned many a man.

His doctrine fyxe in his (!) remembrance,
Most souerently than gan therin delyte,
Let theyr ydols go vnto a myschaunce
Whiche myght them nother helpe nor profyte;
God with his grace lyst them to visite;
Of one assent / gan them redy to make
After his counsell the fayth of Christ to take.

They were compuncte and maden theyr prayer
With repentance and voyce most lamentable
To graunt them parte of that he suffered there
Touchyng his passyon greuous and importable,
In that ioye / whiche is perdurable,
Touchyng the syghtes that they had sene
Therof by grace to put them in certene,

Lyke as theyr trust and theyr perfyte beleue
Was in Jesu of herte, thought and dede,
With hole affection, that it shall them not greue
For Christes sake theyr blode in hast to blede;
They stode so hole, hauyng of deth no drede,
In theyr opinion our fayth to magnyfye,
That they dispised all ydolatrye.

Theyr prince and iuge the whyle in presence stode
Lyke a man fall in to a franesye,
Voyde of reason, and as a tyrant wode
Commaunded all his turmentours to hye
Without exception of lowe or hygh partye
To kyll and sleye—and no mercy take—
That haue theyr goddes of dispite forsake.

They preased in, the martyr to encombre,
Lyke gredy wolfes or tygrys of assent,
They slough that day a thousande full in nombre,
For to obeye his fell commandement;
Amphibalus beinge ther present,
Whiche in spirite besyly gan entende
To Christ Jesu theyr soules to commende.

A cruell paynem, stoute, indurate and bolde,
Spake to the martyr of hatefull cruelte:
“Whiche of the citie other newe or olde
In any wyse hath trespased agayne the
Whiche hast caused theyr great aduersite,
These innocent people in so shorte a whyle
With thy traynes and sleyghtes to begyle?

Our statutes and lawes thou hast foyled
By occasyon of thy parlous langage,
And our citie most cruelly spoyled

Of her people, bothe olde and yonge of age,—
Cause of theyr losse and mortall damage;
And thou aforne them forwounded to the deth
Stondest in poynt to yelde vp thy brethe—

In suche disioynt thou mayst not recure,
Dissentrayled bounden to a stake;—
And our goddes thou hast aboue measure
Felly prouoked vengeance on the to take.
Yet, and thou woldest repent and forsake
Thy Christis secte and fro thy fayth withdrawe
And of hole herte turne to our lawe,

Worshyp our god / whom thou hast offended,
And be in wyll to do so no more:
Of thyn hurtes thou myghtest be amended—
And axe grace, as I haue tolde before,—
To helthe agayne they myght wele restore
Thy woundes greuous / whiche seme incurable,
Make them full hole—they be so merciable

Vpon wretches benyngnly to rewe,
Suche as lyst falle in theyr grace
And wyll repent lowly and be trewe,
Aske mercy of theyr olde trespas:
They may not fayle within a lyttell space
To be accepte, wounded, halte and lame.
By my counsell do thy selfe the same,

Whiche standest nowe as a spectacle
Afforne the people whiche haue them(!) in disdeyne;
Praye our goddes to shewe some myracle
By theyr power, that it may be sene,
That thou maiste be restored newe agayne
To that mercy, / and afterwardes be assured
Of all thy woundes for to be recured!

If thou thus do, they wyll be gracious
To modifie theyr vengable violence.”
“Let be, thou paynym, / quod Amphibalus,
Feble is theyr myght and mortall in sentence;
In thy langage thou dost great offence
To yefe laude, worshyp or praysyng
To fals ydoles that haue no seing—

For they be voyde of grace and all vertue,
Haue nother tyme nor immaginatyfe:
There is no god but my lorde Jesu,
That deed bodyes restoreth agayne to lyfe;
He is my helth and my restoratife.
All your goddes of whiche nowe ye tell
Ben but fendes that suffre payne in hell.

Them to prayse and worshyp ye be blynde,
For depe in hell is theyr abydyng;
Ye do great wronge them to haue in mynde
Whiche euer endure in complaynt and wepyng,
And were tyrantes here in theyr lyuyng
And of false drede toke theyr originall
To be defied, knowyng they be mortall.

In hell is nowe theyr habitation
Perpetually ordeyned to abyde,
Of your false goddes the commemoration
Is holden ther with all theyr pompe and pride,
With fyre beset on euery syde

Whiche neuer is queynte of infernall feruence
Nor the worme deed of theyr conscience.

All they that serue them in theyr lyue
Shall of theyr paynes be with them partable:
Out of charyte folke that lyst to stryue,
False aduoutrers, / detractours de testable,
And homycydes most abhomyn(a)ble,—
That weren or ben here of theyr assent,
Haue and shall haue parte of theyr turment,

Lyke theyr desertes they must haue theyr mede.
And thou, paynym, shalte haue thy parte in payne
For thy false errour, but thou repent in dede,
Shalte eke with them, I tell the in certeyne,
Ben embrased in a fyrye chayne,
With Sathan stocked amyd the smokes blake.
But, if thou wylte thy mawmettry forsake,

Forsake the ryghtes of false ydolatry,
Thy secte, thyn errour of olde vanyte,
Dispayre the not, / for great is the mercy
Of Christe Jesu, / whiche wyll accepte the,
With all other that here present be,
So that they wyll of fayth and hole entent
Receyue of baptisme the holy sacrament.

Fyrst of baptisme the vertue to deuise
Lyke as it is grounded in scripture:
It wassheth a-way, / who so lyst aduertise,
Of mannes synne all fylthe and all odure,
Causeth a man all grace to recure,
Openeth heuen, as sayen these clerkes,
Forsaketh sathan and all his mortall workes.

Tho that were children of perdition
Vnder the fende by synne and wretchednes,
By grace of baptisme, / as made is mention,
Our fayth receyued, standeth in sykernesse.
Flete (!) to the grace and doth your busynesse,
As I to-forne haue to you deuised,
Forsake your goddes / and beth in hast baptised!

Water of baptisme doth synnes puryfye,
Water of confort and consolation,
Clenseth the fylthe of all ydolatrye,
Originall well of our sauation,
Condite and ryuer of our redemption,
Called in scripture water regeneratyfe,
Whiche restoreth a man vnto gostly lyfe;

It is the heed-springe and the gostly streme
Whiche conueyeth a man to paradise,
Ryuer and porte vnto Jerusalem,
Of all ryuers this ryuer beareth the price;
As to folkes that be prudent and wyse,
Suche as wasshe them in this holsome ryuer,
Auoydeth from them all infernall daunger

And scoureth away all venym serpentyne
And spottis blacke called originall
By grace causeth, / whiche that is deuine,
Renewyng, men to be celestiall;
And for a conclusion in this mater fynall:

To forsake your goddes / whiche may do you no goode,
By my counsell be bathed in this flode!

The streme therof shall glad your citie,
And race a-way the rust of olde outrages,
And with a flowe of all prosperite
Renewe both your herte and your corages,
And you preserue from infernall damages.
Ye stande free, cheseth nowe of tweyne:
Eternall lyfe / or euerlastyng peyne!”

After these notable exhortations,
Grounded on fayth and perfyte charyte,
The paynyms, lyke tygrys or lyons,
In theyr hasty furyous cruelte
Fyllen vpon the martyr, bounde to a tree,
On eche syde assayled hym at ones
With rounde kalyons and with sharpe stones.

A great myracle / god lyst that day to shewe.
And this martyr, lyke goddes champyon,
Beset all aboute with paynyms not a fewe
Stode aye vpryght, / no partye downe,
Stable in prayer and in orison,
Erecte to god, / not turnyng north ne southe,
The worde of god neuer out of his mouthe—

Saue the word of god / & his grace, was impossible
To abyde that bronte, where he had force or might;
In soule and spirite stondyng inui(n)sible,
The eien vp lyfte of his inwarde syght
Towarde heuen—Phebus was neuer so bryght
At mydsomer in his myd-day spere
As he sawe Jesu in the heuen appere

On the ryght syde of his father dere—
Fyne of his tryumphe / and of his turmentry—
Herde of angels with sugred notes clere
Celestiall songe / whiche in theyr melody
Gan prayse the lorde; / and there he gan espy
His blessed Albon, clad in purple wede—
Token, of Christ he lyst his blode to blede.

To that martyr amonge martyrs all,
Of trust assured whylom betwene them twayne,
Amphibalus for helpe began to call:
“O blessed Albon, that sufferdist great payne
For Christis sake, of mercy not disdeyne
To pray Jesu that lyst for vs to dye
To sende his angels my iournay to conueye,

That cruel Sathan trouble not my passage
Nor that his malyce may clayme in me no ryght!”
By the martyr rehersed his langage,
Come two angels from heuen with great lyght;
This voyce eke herde in all the peoples syght—
There as he stode bounden to a stake
Vpon the poynt to dye for goddes sake:

“O Amphibalus, after thy deuise,
With thy disciple, glorious prince Albon,
Thou shalte this day be in paradyse;
Ryght in erthe as ye were both one,
With your triumphe ye shall together gone,

And with your palmes ye shall be in glorie,
With a tytle of euerlastyng victorie,

Amonge martyrs receyue this your mede,
Lyke your deserte, of eternall guerdon:
A crowne of golde / and a purple wede,
Forged with saintes in the heuenly mansion.
Lyke to rubies most souerayne of renowne
Albon and thou perpetually shall shyne
In Verolamy, the citie to enlumyne.”

In this whyle two angels downe descende
To the holy martyr for his gostly socoure,
On his soule benygly to attende,
Whytter than snowe or any lyly floure,
His gost conueyeng vnto the heuenly towre,—
Paynyms this tyme bydyng in the felde
Greatly abasshed / whan they this thyng behelde.

Herder of herte than flynt or any stone,
After his spirite was borne vp to heuen,
Turmentours, in theyr malyce ay one,
Feruent in fyry ire as any leuen:
Lyke as iewes fell vpon saynt Steuen,
So were they busy of hatefull cursednesse
The deed body with stones to oppresse:

They had the martyr in so great disdayne,
After his deth gan make a newe affray,
That no memory shulde of hym be sayne
Vpon the grounde where that he lay.
Safe ther was one / whiche that stole awaye
The deed corps / and dyd his busy cure
Most secretely to make his sepulture.

He was christen, the man whiche dyd his payne
The deed corps to close it in the grounde
In secrete wyse, tyll Jesu lyst ordeyne
And prouide a tyme that he may be founde
Whiche for the fayth suffered many a wounde.
And this done by grace for the nones
Maugre all tho that cast on hym stones.

Dukes, erles and lordes of the towne
Were ouer-come almost with fastyng;
Amonge paynyms rose a discention,
That wolde haue had the body in kepyng:
Whiche had auowed in theyr out-goynge
To brynge the martyr by othe and surete
Other quicke or deed home to theyr cite;

Amonge them selfe of vengeance gan to stryue,
With swordes drawe fell at deuision,
By their promyse outher deed or a lyue
To brynge the martyr with them to the towne.
Whiche were vnworthy to haue possession
Of suche a treasure tyll god lyst shape a tyme
Of gracious chaunge to sende a newe pryme.

Agayne theyr promyse god made an obstacle:
Whan they of newe began the martyr to manace,
The body was besyled by myracle
And eke buryed in a secrete place,
There to abyde tyll god lyst of his grace,

As I sayde erste, this treasure of renowne
May be founde, to glad with all thé towne.

Thus wha the paynims had shewed theyr vttrāce,
Of the martyr the doctrine hole forsake,
God vpon them dyd openly vengance:
All theyr lymmes and membres gan to shake,
With a palsey theyr tonges were eke take—
With whiche membre afforne in many wyse
The fayth of Christ they lyst falsely to dispise:

The handes touched of these homicydes,
Impotent of power and of myght,
Theyr bodyes vnweldy, backe eke and sydes,
Their legges faltred for to stande vpryght,
Theyr mouthes stode wronge, / a gogle stode theyr syght,—
Eche membre and ioynt out of order stode;
And theyr iuge also sodenly waxe wode.

Hondes, to godwarde whan they be vengable,
Feete that ranne of custome for damage,
Cruell eien / whiche be not merciable,
Mortall tonges that dampne men in theyr rage,
By detraction / mouthes for false langage:
Lyke theyr desertes of olde, who lyst remembre,
God of his ryght gan punysshe euery membre;

The eighe for lokyng receyue his guerdon,
The tonge for speakyng taketh his salarie;
Bloud wrongefully shede requireth of reason
Hastly vengance, though it a whyle tary,
Murder, homycyde, / whiche be to god contrary,
Deth of martyrs, / slaughter of innocentes
Cryeth vengeance to god in their tourmentes.

Specially all the turmentours
That were assented for to slee Albon,
Faded away as dewe on sommer floures,
And come to nought almost euerychone.
The mynde of the martyr abode alway in one,
And day by day the great laude and glorie
Gan more and more encrease of victorie.

The sade vengeance no whyle was conseled,
Nor the great noyse of theyr aduersite
Take vpon paynems, wolde not be healed,
Theyr trouble and rumour was not kepte secrete.
For drede of whiche the chiefe of theyr citie,
Medled with grace, as the story sayth,
Were all at ones turned to Christis fayth;

With ryght hole herte and full deuout humblenesse
From theyr olde secte they gan away declyne,
Gan prayse the lorde for his ryghtwys-nesse,—
And some by grace heuenly and deuine,
By influence that dyd vpon hym shyne,
Lefte all the worlde, treasure and substance,
And to Rome went for to do penance—

And by grace of our lorde Christ Jesu
They renounced all theyr olde errour
And sawe in theyr goddes there was no vertue,
Helpe at nede, conforte nor socour:
But all at ones with diligent labour
Of false ydols forsoke the sacryfyce,
Become christen in most humble wyse.

Myracles shewed and vertous doctrine
Of Amphibalus with vertous diligence,
Grace annexed whiche dyd on them shyne,
Caused the citie of all theyr olde offence
To axe mercy, and with hole diligence
Theyr false goddes of new they haue dispysed,
And moste mekely by grace were baptised.—

And so longe continued, / tyll at the last
By a rurall person, / disciple of pelagiane,
His hereticall doctrine—/ longe tyme begon & past—

Newly renewed and fast toke rote agayne,
Peruerted the people of this Brutis Britayne;
And specially in this citie of olde, Verolamy,
Moche increased this doctrine of infamy.

Wherwith sore troubled was all the hole clergy,
Not stronge inough / by lernyng and prudence
These olde errours to refourme & rectify,
But glad to sende for helpe and defence
To the clergy of Fraunce, / to be theyr assistence.
Where assembled a counsell of clergy in generall,
To prouide remedy for this myschefe in speciall.

Lastely concluded by the hole counsell:
Sent vnto Verolamy two auncient clerkes,
In lernyng and vertue / ryght famous and excell:
The one called Germayne, a myrrour in good warkes,
Confoūdet of heretykes / & all fyry sparkes
Of scismaticall doctrine / by gostly influence—
He was consecrate bysshop of Antisiodorence;

And Lupus, the bysshop of Trecassinensis,
In this holy iournay / with hym was associate.
And came to this citie of Verolaminensis
Where the people peruerted were greuously insensate
And from the trewe fayth / crokedly abrogate
By thereticall doctrine of the erroneous person,
Declared to the people with deuylysshe illusion.

Good people afore this tyme, / of feruent deuocion,
For recours of pylgryms / had builded an oratory
Ouer the tombe and corps / of holy saynt Albon;
Wheder these bysshops of blessed memory
Came and made prayer to the martyr instantly
That he for them in theyr batayle and conflycte
Wolde be meane to god / the heretyke to conuicte.

Theyr prayer to god / by the martyr preferred,
As proueth the sequele, / was ryght acceptable:
For than the heretikes, / day ne tyme deferred,
Was clerely conuicte of theyr errours detestable
And reduced to grace / by treuthe infallable
By Lupe and Germane in playne disputation,
Renounsyng theyr errours / made abiuration.

Than for that grace / gyuen them in especiall
Of god by meane of the martyrs intercessyon,

To his tōbe they returned, / with hert & mynd effectual,
Redoublyng theyr prayer / with humble deuocion,
For the great tryumphe / and vtter subiection
That thenmyes of god / had susteyned that day,
Exhortyng the people / to laude god and praye.

And mekely on theyr knees / with all dew reuerence
Vncouered the tombe, / where the corps lay:
There founde the reliques, in state and essence
All though he had layne ther many a longe day.
And of the same reliques they toke no parte away;
But of therth all blody saint Germane toke a porcion,
To bere aboute with hym, of feruent deuotion.

And for the same in full recompence,
A cophyn enclosed with relyques many one
Of all thapostels / and martyrs with reuerence
Whiche he gathered in places where he had gone,
There he them offered to blessed saynt Albon,
For a perpetuall memory of that his acte and dede
And to all pylgryms to haue rewarde and mede.

Than departed Germayne and his felowe Lupus
In to theyr owne countres, there to remayne.
Within foure yeres after / agayne it happened thus:
Newly to sprynge / theresyes of pelagyane.
Than the clergy sent of newe for saynt Germayne;
Who hastely graunted to come and discusse
All doutes, associate / with holy Seuerus.

Who breuely confounded and brought to vtterance
All theretykes to theyr shame and confusyon.
That done, they retourned agayne into Fraunce,
The people delyuered from deuyllysshe illusion;—
Albeit shortely after / theyr former abusyon
Returned theyr myndes and brought in appostacy,
Theyr god forgettyng to laude and magnifie.

And all that was done by the greuous occasyon
Of the furyous saxons / and theyr pagan ryte;
For after that they had in (t)his lāde made inuasion,
Chur(c)hes and clergy they distroyed quite,
To adnull Christis lawe was all theyr delyte
And compell the christen to theyr false ydolatry—
In suche miserable lyfe was all theyr felicite.

Thus by them all this region in maner peruerted
From Christis fayth, / and holy saynt Albon,
The chapell and tombe decayed and subuerted—
Token or knowlege there was lefte none—
Deuotion and prayer forgotten and gone:
Tyll god of his goodnes and mercyfull pitie
Wold reuele his sayntes / to the laude of his deite.

Thus duryng this tyme, thre hundred yere & mo,
The hertes of the people, / all derke & obumbrate,
From the fayth of Christ was clerely lost and go,
Worshyppyng ydols of power adnychilate—

Reason of knowlege by wyll was obnubilate—
By longe continuance accustomed and vsed
That good and trew doctrine / they vtterly refused.

Thylke holy saynt Albon / to the godhed directed
His deuoute prayer / his countrey to reconcile
To Christis owne fayth, / all heresyes reiected
With errours and scismes / from them put in exile,
The disceytes of the deuyll, / hath thē longe begyle,
To abate and suppresse, / to the christen releue
And to all heretikes shame and repreue.

His prayer well herde, / god hath prouyde
A captayne, / a ruler, / a prince of great pleasance,
Ouer this contre / to reigne, rule and gye,
Discended of blode from royall aliance:
That by goddes helpe shortly made purueyance
These fautes to redresse, / by grace as he may,—
This noble deuoute prince called kynge Offa.

It happed that this kyng, thā beinge at Bygging
Besydes wynslowe, his owne maner-place,
Callyng to memory all his former lyuyng,
How by the blody swerd his peace he had purchace:
Cōpuncte by contrition, callyng for grace,
Besought god on his knees / with feruēt deuocion
Some knowlege to haue of his synnes remyssyon.

Than sodēly in the chapel came a maruelous light,
Inflamed the king, with a swete fraragraūt (!) odour.
The kynge fyrst astonyed / to se it so bryght,
Than after coforted, gaue laude, prayse & honour
To that only god, / grounde of all socour,
And set fast in hym / his trust and confidence,
Dayly to serue hym / with all dewe reuerence.

This kynge then lyinge in the citie of Bath
Halfe-slepyng in a slombre, appered an angell,
Shewyng that of god suche fauour he hath,
And also commaundement, as he dyd than tell:
All scismes and heresyes / from the contre texpell,
He shulde perceyue with all diligence anone
To translate the reliques of holy saynt albon.

The kyng or this tyme of the pope had purchased
That Lychefelde shulde be / tharche bysshops see—
Wherby Canterbury was greatly defased—
But for that tyme there was no remedy.
All whiche I omyt and returne to our story,
Howe and by whom was done this translation
Of archebysshop and bysshops with feruent deuocion.

After that the angell at Bathe had thus appered,
Of this prothomartyr Albō / made the kyng relacion,
He called Humbertus, whome he had than arered
Archebysshop of Lychefeld, / and made declaration
Of thangelles cōmandement / for the translation

Of this holy martyr. / than the bysshop anon ryght
Obeyed and prepared therto with all his myght.

Accompanyed with suffraganes—two he had than—
Theyr names to recount / I let ouerpasse—
The kyng & they to Verolamy, / with many noble men
Accompaned, / came reuerently to the same place:
Where as a fyrye pyllour bryghtly shynynge was
Ouer the tombe & place / where as lay saynt Albon—
By whiche token / they founde the cophyn anone.

They toke vp the bones with all humble deuotion
And bare them to the church with ympnes and songe—
The kynge and his nobles folowed the processyon—
Where many fayre myracle was done than amonge—
The relyques enclosed in a shryne great and longe
Of syluer and golde set with great ryches.
Thus with all solempnite / endeth this busynes,—

Not without myracles as the story doth vs teache:
They that were blynde / recured haue theyr syghte,
The domme also was restored to theyr speche,
Folkes lame and podagryd / went than vpryght,
Lepres made clene, / by prayer of this knyght,
And palatyke folke, / as the story doth remembre,
And all other diseased / were hole in euery membre.—

Be glad and mery, / thy title riche and goode,
Londe of brytane, called brutes Albion,
Whiche art inbaumed / with the purple bloode
Of blessed saint Albon, / prince of that region!
And specyally, O noble and ryall towne
Of verelamy, / reioyce and be iocounde:
So riche a treasure / is in thy boundes founde!

Richer treasure, / more worthy to be commended,
Moche better then in Troy / was euer Palladion;
For on thy soyle / of newe is discendyd
A celestiall dew, / of grace and all fosion,
And specially by / angelicall reuelation,
Whiche on thy londe / of newe dothe rebounde:
That blessed Albon / is in thy boundes founde.

Hector whylom / was Troyans Champion,
And Haniball protector of Cartago,
Marchus Maluius / saued Rome towne:
The capitolie / conserued frome dammage;
And in britayne nowe in more lattre age,
Of holy Albon when the corps was founde,
Made in that region all thinges to habounde.—

Kynge Offa, as I sayd, / hauynge this vision,
Whiche of saynt Albon / was patron and founder,
By myracles shewed / for his good deuocion

The place where was hyd / this ryche treasure:
He with cost and diligent laboure
Lett call to-gedre / of diuers regions
Most cunninge maysters of wryghtes & masons,

To buylde the churche / of blessed saint Albon;
Indowed the same / with londes and possession—
So that in all Britayne / lyke to that is none—
Replenished with people / of saynt benettes profession—
Almost VIII. C. yere continued in succession;
Takynge fyrst auctorite, / as the hystorie telle can,
Graunted by bulles, of pope Adrian.

After went hym selfe, / this noble worthy kynge,
Of great deuotion to Rome the ryall citie,
Spared no cost / tyll he in euery thynge
Had of his purpose graunt and auctoritie:
Priuileges, / fredomes / and liberties
By the pope then / confirmed to that place,
For loue of saint Albon, with many especial grace.

By auctoritie, / as ye haue hard deuysed,
He had his askynge / by power spirituall;
And for his part, / to be more auctorised,
He hath annexed his power in especyall:
With all liberties and fraunchies full ryall
Perpetually bound yt in brede and in lenght,
In honour of saint Albō, / to stonde in his strenght.—

O Verolamy, as I haue tolde beforne,
O Famous olde citie / amonge all nations,
Whiche in thy boundes / hadst suche a prince borne,
Notable in knyghthode, / with all conditions
Of hygh prowes, / by manyfold reasons
Wordy by vertu and by ryall lyen
To be in degre / aboue all the worthies nyen!—

He that whylom was busy to compyle
This noble historie, / trewly, of entent,
In latyn tonge to directe his style,
Ryght as he sawe / so was he diligent
It to conuey, / bicause he was present;—
Yet lyst he not—I suppose, of mekenes—
Tell what he was nor his name expresse;

To hym selfe he gaue none other name,
After the story, / as I reherse can.
Excepte he wrote, of drede / and of honest shame,
He wolde be called—as he wrote than—
Of all wretches the symplest man—
Of other name, as by his wrytyng,
To vs he lefte no maner knowlegyng.

Saue he of trust and good confydence,
Whiche that abode in his opinion,
There shulde come in great reuerence
Tyme commyng folke of religion
Specially to Verolamy towne
Whiche that shulde do theyr busy payne
The fayth of Christe / for to preache in Britayne;

Than shall the trouthe be openly knawe
Whan the errour is loused and vnbounde
Of paynyms, and Christis worde be sawe
Thorowe all the londe, / false ydols to confounde;
Than to theyr hartes / gladnes shall rebounde
That vseth our fayth, / whan Jesu lyst by grace
Of his infinite mercy / a tyme to purchase.

This same man of full trewe entent
Whiche busy was / this story to endite,
Vnto the see of Rome / with the boke he went,
By great aduise, his purpose to acquite
And fynally, lyke as he doth playnly wryte,
All false goddes and ydols to forsake,
Baptisme to receyue and Christis fayth to take.

And as I haue tolde, this boke with hym he brought,
To be sene ouer, with meke and lowe subiection,
To all that courte, / and humbly he besought
Our lorde Christe Jesu with deuoute intention,
After theyr dewe and full examynation
Called to recorde, this story made of newe,
Lyke as he wrote, that euery worde was trewe.

This boke accomplysshed / notable and famous
Of hym that was in Brutis Albion
Called prothomartyr most vertuous,
That for Christ suffered passion,
That yere accompted of his translation
Fro Christis byrthe and his natiuite
Fully seuen hundreth nynty yere and thre.—

Nowe, perfyte reders, / that dyuers stories hath sene,
Marke well the tymes / of this here expressed:
Whan that saynt Albon by the paynyms kene
For Christis fayth / from this lyfe was suppressed,
The comyng of saynt Germayn for errours to be,
After all these / the tyme of his inuention
Done by kynge Offa / with his holy translation!

CC.LXXXX.III. yeres of our lorde Christ Jesu,
The reigne of Dioclesyon the XIX. yere,
Christis holy fayth to reuyue and renewe
Suffred saynt Albon, / the story doth appere;
Maximiane & Asclipiodot both his iuges were;
It was in the seconde yere / of the pope Gaius
That holy saynt Albon was martyred thus.

Than one hundreth & one yere after his passion
Began fyrst theresies of false pelagyane,
Which was CCCCIIII. yeres / by iust computation

After that Christ / had take our nature humayne,
The .XIIII. yere of the Brittisshe kynge Graciane,
In the III. yere of the fyrst Anastacious,
And the XVI. yere of themperour Theodosius.

Foure hundred and forty / of our lorde .IX. yeres mo,
And in the fyrst yere of Vortigern the kynge,
And the fyfte yere of the fyrst pope Leo,
Theodose the seconde emperour than beinge
In his. XXI. yere after iust rekenynge,
Saynt Germayn come fyrst, / and lupus also,
To distroye theresies / that were begon tho;

C.XLIII. yeres by iuste computation
After his passion / thus come saynt Germayn,
And forty and two yere without variation
After the fyrst tyme of the falce pelagian.
Yet within fyue yeres saynt Germayn come agayn,
As is shewed before, / with holy Seuerus,
All former heresies by grace to discus.

CCC.XLIII. yeres after saynt Germayne,
Whiche was seuen hundreth / LXXX. & XIII. yere
Of our lorde Jesu, / as stories doth determyne,
That thangell at Bath / to kyng Offa dyd appere
To translate saynt Albon / with all heuenly chere;
The fyrst Adrian pope, / the VI. Constantine thēperour,
Whā this translation was done with all honour.—

Perceyue nowe, good reders, / & gyue true iugemēt
Betwene the monkes of Colen / & of blessed Albon!
The Coloners wryteth after theyr entent,
To cause the pylgryms to withdrawe theyr deuotion
From Verolamy / & to folowe theyr affection,
Sayinge that they haue the very body,
To theyr shame and rebuke / defendyng suche foly.

And to proue theyr intent, / playnely they say
That these heresyes of false pelagiane
Began in the reigne of noble kynke Offa
And also in the tyme of pope Adrian;
Affyrmyng that than shuld come-in Germayne
And with hym Lupus, / a clerke of great substance,
And all theresyes were brought than to vttrance;

And so by Germayn / were brought vnto Rauenus(!)
The body of saynt Albon, / and there (by) themperour
Valentiniane / he was nobly receyued than,
And also the body, / with all godly honour;
Where Germayn sore vexed with a mortall dolour
Departed (from) this lyfe and vale of all misery
To theternall lyfe / in the celestiall glory;

After whose deth themperours mother,
Placida by name, / as Coloners doth say,
To Rome brought this body, / she with many other;
With all dewe reuerence, / there abode many a day;
Tyll Otto themperour / with his mother Theophana
Brought it to Colen / to tharchebysshop Brunon
In to the monastery of holy Panthaleon.

Also at the tyme of this translation in dede
Adrian was pope, / and that they confesse.
And whan Valentiniane / to thempyre dyd procede,
Liberious was pope / in his .XII. yere, doutlesse,
As diuerse Historiographers / playnly do expresse;
So that of the sees spirituall nor temporall
Agreeth with theyr accomptes / after theyr memoriall.

They say also the body is yet incorrupt
From the thyes vpwarde, / they haue in possession.
Whiche saiynge me semeth of trouthe be interrupte,
Onles they wyll graunt any vnsemyng diuision
Of a corporall body to be cut in perticion.
Yet I can not knowe what parte they shulde haue:
Forkynge Offa founde nothyng but the bones in his graue.

They say also that kyng Offa & saynt Germayne
Was bothe at one tyme / at this translation,
Whan therisies was destroyde of false pelagian.
In whose tymes is a great altercation;
Who lust accompt by iust compotation,
Shall fynde .CCC. yeres .XLIIII. also
That kynge Offa came after saynt Germayn was go.

They say also that themperour Valentiniane
Shulde mete S. Germain, / whā he came to Rauēne.
Whiche can not be trewe, / but all spoken in vayne:
For CCC. XLVI. was the yeres of our lorde than
Whan Valentiniane fyrste began to reigne—
That was .LXXX.III. yeres before that Germayne
Came to distroye theresies of pelagiane.

Therfore, good bretherne of holy saynt Benet,
Monkes of Colen, leue this your bablyng!
Ye be so ferre hense, / in dede ye can not let
Ony deuoute persons / for to do theyr offryng.
I wyll not denie / but your vntrewe surmysyng
May brynge some people, / pucyll and innocent,
For lacke of trewe knowlege / in a wrong iugemēt;

But they that be lerned, can rede as well as ye,
Conferre histories / and also accompte the yeres,
Can well perceyue howe craftely ye do flye
From trouthe—/ thistories so playnly apperes.
And are not they accursed þt false wytnesse beares,
And specyally in writing / to the derogation
Of theyr bretherne in god of a nother nation?

Remembre ye ware in Englande but late
With the VII. Henry, that myghty ryall kynge,
Where couertly ye sought meanes with many a noble estate
To staye & aide you in this vntrewe lesing;
But ye durst not abyde thende of the rekenyng,
For feare of afterclappes that myght haue ensued,
Ye where afrayde to drynke of suche as ye brewed!

Wherfore reduce your selfe, / false wrytynge reuoke,
Knowlege your offence—/ of wyll more than dede,
For, if ye continue, / ye shall haue but a mocke—
Men knoweth howe ye can in ony wyse procede.

But if that other ye loue god or drede,
Folowe the trouthe, / so shall ye do best
And in lytle medlynge / ye shall fynde moche rest.—

O blessed Albon, / o martyr most beningne,
Called of Brytons stewarde most notable,
Prince of knyghtholde (!), preued by many a signe
In all thy workes iust, prudent and treatable
And in thy domes ryghtfull and mercyable,
Be in oure paueye / shelde of protection,
O prothomartyr of Brutes Albion!

Let all thy seruauntes grace and mercy fynde
Whiche that call to the in myschefe and distresse
And haue thy passion and martyrdome in mynde,
Agayn frowarde ennemyes & all frowarde duresse
Of thy benigne mercyfull goodnes
Them to defende; be thou theyr champion,
O prothomartyr of Brutis Albion!

Syth thou arte named gracious, benigne & good,
The fyrste also / whiche that in Britayne
Suffred paynems to shede thy gentyll blode,
For Christes faith to die and suffre peyne:
O glorious prince, of mercy not disdeyne
To here the prayers and deuoute orison
Of all thy seruauntes in Brutis Albion!

Thou were a myrrour and of mercy and pitie,
Haddest a custome here in this worlde lyuyng
To cherysshe pylgrymes, and heldest hospitalite,
All poure folke and strangers refresshyng.
Graunt our requestes, for loue of thylke kynge
Called kynge Offa, whiche had a vision,
Where thou were buryed, in Brutis Albion!

Lyke a prince of ryght thou muste entende
To forther all them that lyue in thy seruyce,
All theyr greuous (!) and mischefes to amende,
And by thy prayer a pathe for hym, deuyse
To lyue in vertue and vices to despise,
By thy most knyghtly mediacion,
O prothomartyr of Brutes Albion.

For his sake haue in remembraunce
To all thy seruauntes to do succoure,
Whiche of deuocion, to do the pleasaunce,
Was in thy chyrche chef bylder and foundour,
Of thy liberties royall protector,
There brought in fyrst men of religion,
One theldest Abbeys in Brutes Albion!

Amonge all other remembre that place,
It to preserue in longe prosperite,
Where thou arte shryned to grete encrece of grace,
As there protectour ageyne all aduersitie,
And doer(!) haue mynde vpon ther citie
Whiche is made famous by thy passion,
O prothomartyr of Brutis Albion!

To the cite be patron, prince and guyde,
In thy seruice make them diligent;

With longe felicite on the other syde
Conserue thyn Abbot and thy deuout couent,
Syth they are bounde of herte and hole entent
Euer the to serue by theyr profession,
O prothomartyr of Brutis Albion!

And specially pray / for our most riall prince,
Our redouted lord / and most gracious souerayne,
Most victorious kinge, / our sheld and our defence,
Both kinge & Emperour / within all this Britaine,
Defender of the faith, / of Irlonde lorde & captaine:
Henry the VIII., surmountyng in renowne,
O prothomartyr of Brutis Albion!

Pray for his spouse, / his louynge lady dere,
His riall quene Anna, / notable and famous,
Indowed with grace / and vertu without pere;
Pray for oure princes, / that she may be prosperous,
Elizabeth by name, / both beautifull and gracious;
Pray that theyr issue / haue fortunate succession,
O prothomartyr of Brutis Albion!

Pray for princes that this londe gouerne,
To rule the people by prudent policie;
Pray for the chyrche, that lyke a clere lanterne
By good ensample ther subiectes for to gye;
And pray also that the chiualrie
May holde vp ryght agaynste falce extorcion,
O porthomartyr of Brutis Albion!

Pray for marchantes / and artificers,
To encrease by vertue in theyr busynesse,
That there be founde no fraude in theyr desyres,
So that false lucre haue none encreasse;
By thy prayer do also represse
All tyranny and all false extorcion,
O prothomartyr of Brutis Albion!

And with these, o martyr glorious,
Syth thy prayer may so moche auayle,
Pray to the lorde aboue, most gracious,
Agayne indigence to sende inough of vitayle;
And specially pray for the porayl,
Them to releue with plenty and foyson—
O prothomartyr of Brutis Albion!

Noble prince, most soueraigne and entier,
Corne, frute and grayne to encrease and multiplie,
Blessed Albon, praye for the labourer
To plough and carte theyr handes so to applie
That grace may so gouerne them and gye,
To great increase gyue all this region,
O prothomartyr of Brutis Albion!

All these estates, remembred in substance,
Joyne them in vertue by perfyte charyte;

Lyke a prince take them in gouernance,
And them preserue from all aduersyte,
Set peace amonge them and vertuous vnite,
All where nowe reigneth pride and deuision,
O prothomartyr of Brutis Albion!

Finis.

Here endeth the glorious lyfe and passyon of seint Albon prothomartyr of Englande / and also the lyfe & passyon of saynt Amphabell / whiche cōuerted saynt Albon to the faith of Christe.

University of Virginia Library

Here begynnethe the glorious lyfe and passion of seint Albon prothomartyr of Englande / and also the lyfe and passion of saint Amphabel / whiche conuerted saint Albon to the fayth of Christe.

(Buch I.)

Verbi auctores(!).

(Buch II.)

Here begynneth the prologue of the secunde boke / treatynge of the conuersion of the blessed prothomartyr of Englande called Sainct Albon.

(Buch III.)

Here begynneth the thyrde boke / whiche telleth of the conuersion of many of the paynims vnto the fayth. And also of the martyrdome of holy Amphibalus / whiche conuerted saynt Albon to the fayth of Christe. whiche Amphibalus was the princes sonne of wales.