University of Virginia Library

IN Alisaundre, þat grete citee,
Þer was a mon of muche pouste,
Pathnucius forsoþe he hiht;
He kepte wel þe heste of god almiht.
A wyf he tok of grete blode,
Þe wȝuche was euere meoke & gode.
But fruit com non bitwene hem two,
And þerfore hem was ful wo.
Þis mon was sori and in gret speir,
For he hedde of his bodi non heir
þat his goodes in toun and feelde
After his deþ scholde gouerne and welde.
Vppon a day he him biþouht
And preyed to god, þat vs haþ bouht,
To seende him a child, as he wel may,
His good to hauen aftur his day.
And his wyf boþe day and niht
Dude almesdeede al þat heo miht,
And preyed to god, heuene kyng,
To graunten hem heore askyng.
Þen wente þis goode mon feor & nere,
To witen ȝif he mihte ouȝwher here
Aftur sum good holy mon,
Þat god wolde heere his preyere anon:
Þorw hos preyere he hopede wel
Þat god wolde graunte him eueridel.
Þenne he wente in to an abbey,
Where was an holy mon, as I ow sey,
Þat was abbot of þat place—
In him god schewed boþe vertu & grace.
And whon he hedde dwelled þere a stounde,
He tolde þe abbot hol and sounde
What was his comyng, wherfore & whi.
Þe abbot of him hedde reuþe forþi
And hertly to god made his preyere
To sende him a child, ȝif his wille were.
And Jhesu Crist, maydenes sone,
Graunted þe abbot al his bone.

ÞE wyf conseiued & bar a childe,
A douhtur, þat was meke & mylde.
And whon he say þe abbotes liuinge,
He wolde neuer go fro þat wonynge,
But brouȝte his wyf in to þe abbey,
Þer to dwelle boþe niht & day.
Þe child þei toke, as I ow say,
And Eufrosyne þei cleped þat may.
And whon þat heo was twelf ȝer olde,
Heo was cristened in water colde.
Hire fader & moder weore glad & blyþe
And þonked god mony a siþe
Þat hedde graunted to hire such grace,
Þat was so goodlich & feir of face.
And whon hit was at twelf ȝer ende,
Hir moder diȝed & to god gan wende.
Hire fadur liued, & tauȝt hire lettrure,
Boþe wit & wisdam, beo ȝe sure.
Þen wox heo wys & lerned so faste
Þat hir fader merueiled þerof atte laste.
Hire loos sprong þorw al þe cite
Þat a wisor creature miȝte non be.
And for hir wisdam & hire feirnesse
Heo was desyret of more & lesse
To wedden hire to heore sones ȝinge,
And sum striuen wiþ hir fader for þat þinge.
Þen was þer a noble mon of þat cite
Þat passed alle oþure of riches & fee;
He asked Pathnucius douȝter feire
His sone to wedden þat was his heire.
And hire fader verrament
Þerof was fayn & to him asent.
He tok his douȝter, as ȝe may here,
Þat was of elde XVIII ȝere,
And brouȝt hire to þe abbeye
Þer he was wont to bidde & preye,
And tok wiþ him muche oþur goode
And ȝaf þe monkes, to buggen hem foode.

TO þe abbot þen he brouȝte þat maide.
»Þe fruit of þi praiȝers, lo her!« he saide,
»Preye for hire to god almiht:
Forte marien hire I haue Itiht«.
Þe abbot bad hire to þe hoste be brouȝt:
To speke wiþ hire þer haþ he þouȝt.
And whon þei þidere Icomen were,
He blessed hire wiþ goode chere,
And seyde: »douȝtur, I counseyle þe
To liue in pacience and humilite,
In chastite also, I rede,
And ouer alle þing þi god þou drede«.
Þen dwelled þei þere þreo dayes stille
And herden heore seruise wiþ gode wille.
Pathnucius of hire lyuinge was wel payed
And of hir holynesse; he meruayled & sayd:
»Þeose seruauns of god Iblesset þei beo
Þat liuen as angles in heore degre,
And aftur þis wiþouten drede
Euerlastynge lyf schal ben heore meede«.
Þen wax his herte in god studefaste
And to his seruise holliche him caste.
Þen aftur þreo dayes Pathnucius went
To þe abbot wiþ good entent
And seide: »fader, I preie þe,
Cum spek wiþ my douhter fre
And prey for hire, as I truste on þe,
For we wol walken in to þe cite«.
And whon þe abbot was comen þat stounde,
Heo felde at his feet vppon þe grounde
And seide: »fader, þou preye for me
To þe holy trinite
Þat he wolde of his godnes
Mi soule wynne to his blis«.

HE tok his hond & blessed hire þere
And seide þeos wordes, as ȝe schul here:
»God, þat knowest mon er he weore Ibore,
Let þis creature neuere ben forlore
And graunt hire felauschipe & part also
In heuene, whon heo schal heonnes go!«
Þenne tok þei heore leue of þat holy mon
And wente in to þe cite anon.
And whon hire fader bi wei or streete
Eny of þeose monkes couþe fynden or mete,
To his hous he wolde hem bringe
To preye for his douhter in alle þinge.
Þenne hit bifelde vppon a day
Þat a gret feste scholde ben in þe abbay.
Þe abbot a monk to Pathnucius sent
And bad him cum þider wiþ good entent.
And whon þe monk com to his hous,
He asket after Pathnucius.
His seruauns seiden wiþouten weere
He walked forþ riht nou heere.
And Eufrosyne, þat noble may,
Asked þe monk wiþoute delay:
»Sei me, broþer, for charite
How mony monkus atome beo ȝe?«
Þe monk hire tolde witterli:
»We ben þre hundret & two & fifti«.
Þen spac þat mayden to him anon:
»What, & þer coome to ȝou a mon
Þat wolde aske þe hous for charite,
Wolde not ȝor abbot graunten, ȝe?«
He onswerde & to hire sayde:
»Ȝus, þerof we ben riht wel apayde,
And for þeose wordes more and las:
Qui venit ad me, non eiciam foras«.

ÞEn Eufrosyne, þat mayden good,
To þe monk speek þer heo stood
And seide: »þou tel me holliche
Ȝif alle þe monkes preien & fasten Iliche«.
Þe monk onswerde wiþouten lesynge:
»In comuyn we preȝen boþe olde & ȝinge,
But fastynge is, as hit is skil,
To take or leue wheþer we wil«.
»To þis lyf«, heo seide anon riht,
»I þouȝt to come, ȝif þat I miht.
But þe wraþþe of mi fader sore I dredde,
For he haþ þouȝt me forte wedde.«.
Þe monk seide: »suster, for charite!
Let neuer mon defoulen þe,
Ne þi fairnesse, þat is so briht,
Soffrun schome bi day nor niht;
But wedde þe to Crist þat ȝiue þe may
Heuene after þin endyng day,
And in to sum abbeye þou do þe gon
And chaunge þin abyte sone anon!«
Þen of his counseil heo was apayd.
»But ho may schere me þenne?« heo said,
»For wiþ no lewed mon wolde I dele,
For he wolde not my counseil hele«.

ÞE monk seide þen to hire anon:
»Wiþ me to þe abbey þi fader schal gon,
Þreo dayes wiþ us þer schal he dwelle;
Þen sent þou aftur a monk ful snelle
Priueliche, wiþoute lettynge,
And he schal comen for eny þinge«.
And as he stod & speek wiþ þat mayde,
Hire fader com in & to þe monk sayde:
»What is þi wille? broþur, tel me!«
»Vr abbot« he seide, »sent to þe
And bad þe comen on his blessynge,
To eten wiþ him, wiþouen dwellynge«.
Pathnucius was glad & wiþ him ȝode
To þe feeste wiþ herte goode.
Þreo dayes wiþ þe abbot he dwelled þere.
Þen Eufrosyne sent hire messagere
To þe abbeye, as I ow telle,
And seide to him þe wordes felle:
»What monk þat þou mayst furst Ise,
Prei him þat he wolde come wiþ þe«.
Whon he com þider wiþouten lette,
Þorw grace of god a monk he mette;
Þen he him preyed wiþ herte fyne
To come & speke wiþ Eufrosyne.
Þe monk him wente wiþ herte meke.
And heo him mette & to him speeke:
»Blesse me«, heo seide, »fader, apliht!«
And he hire blesset, & sat doun riht.
Þen Eufrosyne seide to him anon:
»Mi fader is a ful good mon,
A riche mon, of muche miht,
And serueþ god boþe day & niht;
A wyf he hadde, & heo is dede,
Þat was my mooder, wiþoute drede;
And mi fader for his riches, I wot wele,
Wolde take me to þe world þat is so frele,
And I nolde for no richesse here
Beo defoulet wiþ þe world in non manere.
But euere I drede my fader so
Þat I not neuure what I schal do.
Al niht I lay, & sleep riht nouȝt,
And preyed to god, þat us haþ bouȝt,
To sende me merci & sum tokenyng;
And so I beoþouhte me in þe morwening
To sende to þe abbey aftur sum wiht,
To counseile me what best do miht
Sum word of soule-hele forte lere.
Þerfore I preye þe, fader deore,
Tech me godes lore wiþ good entent,
For þou art holliche fro god Isent«.

ÞE monk to hire speek wiþ gret wit:
»Þus hit is seid in holy writ:
Hose wol not for loue of me
Forsake his fader & al his fee,
His modur, his breþuren his sustren boþe,
Mi disciple he may not ben for soþe.
I con no more to þe say
But, ȝif þou seo þat þou wel may
Temptacion of flesch wiþstonden ariht,
Forsake alle þing for god almiht.
Þi fader richesses, beo þou bold,
Schul fynden eires monyfold:
Hous of almus þer beoþ Inouwe
In þis cuntreye, boþe heiȝe & lowe,
Pilgrimus, prisouns, as we knowe wele,
Faderles children monie & fele:
On heom his richesse he may sette
To godes worschupe wiþouten lette.
And þou wolt only don after me:
Leose not þi soule, I counseile þe«.
And heo onswerde wiþ milde chere:
»I truste holliche on þi preyere;
Now for soule I schal trauayle,
For I truste to god hit wol me auayle«.
Þat holy mon seide to hire þo:
»Let neuer þulke desyr fro þe go,
For nou is tyme of penaunce«.
And heo onswerde wiþouten distaunce:
»For al myn desir to folfille,
To trauayle þe hit was my wille.
Þou blesse me nou & for me pray,
And þe her of myn hed þou schere away!«

HE ros vp, as heo him beede,
And cut þe her of hire hede,
And cloþede hire in a cote good,
And preyed to him þat diȝed on rood
And seide: »lord god in trinite,
Þow saue þi seruaunt þat loueþ þe!«
And whon he hedde seid þeos wordes apliȝt,
He went his wei anon riȝt.

ÞEn Eufrosyne þouȝte: »sikerly,
Ȝif I go to a nonneri,
Mi fader wol seche me & fynde me þare,
To take me out wol he not spare
And make me iweddet also swiþe;
þen schuldi neuere beo glad ne bliþe.
Þerfore wol I to an abbey gon
Þer as beoþ men, and wymmen non«.
Hire owne aray þer heo forsook,
And monnes cloþing to hire heo took.
And anon as hit was niht,
Heo made hire redi and forþ hire diht,
Fiue hundret schilyng wiþ hire heo tok,
And priueliche al þat niht heo wok.
And erly on þe morn, as I telle þe,
Hire fader com in to þe citéé;
As god wolde, to chirche he went.
And Eufrosyne þe wei to þe abbey hent
Þer as hire fader was knowen wel.
And to þe porter heo spak also snel:
»Go prey þe abbot«, heo seide, »anon,
To speke heere wiþ a straunge mon
Þat fro þe paleys is come nou riht!«
Þe porter wente forþ wiþ al his miht
And tolde þe abbot word & ende.
Forþ wiþ him þen gon he weende.
And whon Eufrosyne saiȝ him þat stounde,
Heo fel doun flat vppon þe grounde.
He tok hire vp & blessed hire furst,
And aftur þei talket what so hem lust.
Þe abbot seide: »sone, what is þi wille?«
And heo onswerde wiþ wordes stille:
»I haue dwelled at þe palys
And liued in joye & muche delys;
And, for me þinkeþ þis world nis nouȝt,
To chaunge my liuynge I haue þouȝt:
Wherfore I prey ow, fader deere,
Graunte me to dwelle wiþ ou heere!
For I haue riches gret plente,
And al schal comen hider to þe,
Ȝif þat god wol ȝiue me grace
Him to seruen here in þis place«.
Þe abbot seide to him riht þus:
»Þou art welcome, dwelle here wiþ vs.
What is þi name?« þen seide he.
»Smaragdus« heo seide, »men callen me«.
Þe abbot seide: »þou art ful ȝyng,
Þe bihoueþ a maister for eny þing,
To teche þe rule & þi seruise
And þe lyuyng of monkes in alle wyse«.
To þe abbot heo speek riȝt þo:
»As þou biddest, so schal I do«.
And tok to him þer as he stode
Fyf hundred schilynges þat weore goode,
And seide: »tak þis in parti of pay,
Al þat oþur schal comen anoþur day,
Ȝif hit beo so in alle manere
Þat I may susteyn & dwellen heere«.

ÞE abbot let callen anon riht
A noble monk, Agapitus he hiht,
Smaragdus to him bitok he þere,
His rule to teche him and to lere,
And him to gouerne in such asyse
To passen his mayster in alle wyse.
Þen kneled he doun, as hit was skil,
And þei him receyued wiþ good wil;
Agapitus, his mayster mylde,
In to a celle brouȝte þat noble childe.
And for he was so feyr, wiþoute lye,
Þe fend to him hedde gret envye;
Whon þat he was in þe chirche,
Þe werk of god forte wirche,
He tempted þe breþeren þorw his queyntyse
In idel þouȝt in mony a wyse.
Þei wente to þe abbot & tolde him alle
What caas among hem was bifalle.
Þe abbot þis herde & Smaragdus let fette,
And seide þeos wordus wiþouten lette:
»Sone, þi grete feirenes
Makeþ vr breþuren to þenken amis;
Þerfore I comaunde þou sitte alone
In a celle, nowhoder to gone«
And bad his mayster also anon
To ordeyne him a place, þerinne beo don.
And so he dude, as I ou say,
Þerin to lyuen boþe niht & day.
And euur he lyued in so gret penaunce
Þat his maister merueiled wiþoute distaunce
And tolde his breþuren of his godnesse,
And þei þonked god boþe more & lesse.

NOu of þis matere I þenke to stinte;
Of Pathnucius to telle I haue Iminte
Hou he com hom to his oune place,
To seon his douhtur feir of face.
And whon he com in, he fond hire nouȝt:
Þerfore muche serwe was in his þouȝt,
And asked his seruauns al bideene
Wher was his douhtur, þat was so schene.
And þei onswerde anon riht:
»Forsoþe, we seȝen hire to niht,
But al þis day wiþouten doute
We couþe not seon hire walke aboute«.
Þen supposed hir fader þat he hedde hire fet
Þat scholde hire wedde wiþoute let;
He bad a seruaunt þider to gon;
But word of hire ne herde þei non.
And whon hir hosebonde hit herde, his fader also,
Þei woxen sori and weore ful wo,
To Pathnucius hous þei comen vchon.
Þei wepten & sorwed & made muche mon,
And seiden: »sum mon wiþ tresoun
Haþ lad hire awey out of þis toun«.
His men anon heore hors þei hent,
To sechen hire forþ beoþ þei went,
Boþe bi water and bi londe,
In caues & wildernes, I vndurstonde,
Hous of nonnes also þei souȝt,
But word of hire ne herde þei nouȝt.
»Alas«, seide Pathnucius, »my douȝter dere,
Mi solas, myn eȝen-siȝt, & al my chere,
Ho haþ my tresour Inome me fro?
Allas, my riches awey is go!
Allas, my vyne ho haþ Ischent?
Allas, my lanterne ho haþ Iqueynt?
Allas, myn hope ho haþ bigylet?
Allas, my douȝter ho haþ defuilet?
Allas, what wolf my lomb haþ spied?
Allas, what place þat hire haþ wriȝed?
Allas, for deol I droupe and dare,
I clynge as cleyȝ, Icauȝt in care,
I wayle, I wandre, I wake, I walke,
I stunte, I stonde, vnstabli I stalke,
For hire þat was so witti and wys,
Of alle gentrise heo bar þe prys.
Allas, eorþe, þou dost me pyne,
Þou hulest þe blod of Eufrosyne«.
Whon Pathnucius hed seid þis wordes alle,
Þe peple þat þer was in þe halle,
And þe citeseyns eueruchone,
For hire þei wepten & made muche mone.

ÞEn Patnucius þis serwe miȝt not drye;
To þe abbey faste þen gon he hyȝe,
At þe abbotes fet he fel doun þere
And seide: »fader«, wiþ mylde chere,
»Ne cece þou not to preye þis stounde
Þat Eufrosyne mouȝte ben Ifounde;
For I ne con witen in no manere
What is bifalle to my douhter dere«.
Whon þe abbot herde þis, he made gret mone,
And sent after his monkes euerichone
And seide: «breþeren, for charite,
Preye we to god for his pite
Þat he wold schewen us bi sum tokenyng
What caas bifallen is to þat mayden ȝyng«.
Þen al þat wike þei faste and prayden;
But þei herde noþing of þat mayden,
As þei weore wont bifore to heere
Whon þei to god made heore preyere;
For Eufrosyne preyde so day and niht
Þat god schulde not outen hire to nowiht:
Þerfore to þe abbot verrament
God wolde not hire schewe, ne to þe couent.

ÞE abbot to Patnucius þenne he sayd:
»Of godes sonde holt þe apayd,
And keep his lore in alle wyse,
For whom he loueþ, he wol chastise.
Forþi to þi douhter is nouȝt bifalle
Wiþouten his wil þat weldeþ alle;
But, for heo is sumwhere in godes seruise,
God wol not outen hire, as I deuyse.
In wikked werk ȝif heo weore tayn,
God wolde not leten vs trauaylen in vayn.
Such trust in god forsoþe Ichaue:
Er þen þou dye, þou schalt hire haue«.
Þen Pathnucius þonket god almiȝt,
And layȝ in his preyers boþe day & niȝt.

ÞEn hit bifel vppon a day
To þe abbey Pathnucius tok þe way;
Tofore þe abbot of gret renoun,
At his feet he fel adoun
And seide: »fader«, in þat stounde,
»I am so harde wiþ serwe Ibounde
For my douhter, þat was so fre,
Allas in world þat wo is me!«
Þe abbot þo wiþ dreri mood
Speek to him, þer he stood:
»We han a monk among us here,
An holy mon wiþouten peere,
Icomen he was fro þe palys;
Go spek wiþ him al þyn deuys!«
And he seide: »fayn I wol gon«.
After Agapitus þei sende anon:
»Tak Pathnucius & þe wey him teche
Wiþ þyn disciple to haue a speche!«
Þen tok he him anon riht
And brouht him þider wiþ al his miht.
And assone as heo hire fader bihulde,
Al wiþ teres heo was folfulde.
And whon Pathnucius seiȝ him so don,
He þouȝte hit was for deuocion;
He kneuȝ hire not, for soþe to sey,
For hire chere was clene Itornd awey:
For abstinence hit was not sene,
Wiþ wakynge & weping also, I wene.
Hire coule toforen hire face heo doþ—
To ben Iknowen hire was ful loþ.
Heo blessed hem, and seeten doun,
And bigon a tale of deuocioun,
Hou men scholde kepen hem out of sinne,
Þe blisse of heuene for to winne,
Wiþ good lyuinge and chastite,
Wiþ almesdede and charite;
And hou men scholde not heore children loue
More þen god, þat sit aboue;
And seide þat holy writ bereþ witnes
Hou pacience bi desese Ipreued is.
Heo sauh what sorwe hire fader made,
And of him compassion heo hade;
Of him to be knowen wolde heo nouht,
And to cumforten him was al hire þouht,
And seide: »sire, trustne to me,
God wol neuere deseyuen þe:
For, ȝif þi douȝter weore ouȝwher amis,
God wolde schewe þe of his godnes,
Þat nouþer þe deuel ne no wikked wiht
Scholde binymen hire soule, & þe þi siht;
But I truste in god so wonder wel
Þat heo haþ taken hire to good counseil.
For god almihti seiþ him self:
Hose loueþ his fader bi eny half
Oþur his moder in eny degre,
He nis not worþi to come to me;
And hose wol not his richesse forsake,
Him to me wol I not take.
God, he is of such pouwere,
Ȝif him lust, to schewen þe here.
Soffre nou, soffre, & hold þe stille,
And let not serwe þi seluen spille,
Ne waxe þou noþing in dispeyre,
But þonk þi god boþe wel and feire!
Agapitus, mi maister, ofte haþ me tolde
Of Pathnucius tales monyfolde,
And hou for his douȝtur he made muche mone,
For he hedde no mo but hire alone,
And sodeynliche awei heo was nome,
And couþe neuer here wher heo was bicome.
He tolde me þat þe abbot & al þe couent
Hedde preyed to god wiþ on assent;
To me he speek to don þe same,
And bad preie for hire a goddes name.
And þauȝ þat I vnworþi be,
A synful creature, as þinkeþ me,
To god I haue preid wiþ herte & þouȝt
To sende þe soffraunce, as he þe wrouȝt,
And to folfulle al þi desyre,
As may be best for þe and hire.
To seo þe, ofte desyret Ichaue,
Ȝif eny cumfort bi me mihtest haue«.
And leste he kneuh hire at þe ende
Bi hire speche, heo bad him wende.
And whon Patnucius went & outward stepte,
Hire eiȝen erende and for him wepte;
Hire face was pale as eny leed,
For fastynge & penaunce heo was neih ded.

ÞEn Patnucius was Icumfortet wel,
And wente to þe abbot also snel
And seide: he was as liht þat stounde
As þei he hedde his douhtur founde.
He speek to þe abbot & al þe couent
To preye for him, & hom he went.
And Smaragdus liued in þat maneere
Folliche VIII & þritti ȝere.
Þen a gret seknesse him toke,
And dyed þervppon, as seiþ þe boke.
Þen hit bifel vppon a day
Patnucius wente to þe abbay,
And saluwede þe monkes euerichon,
And siþen to þe abbot is he gon
And seide: »fader, ȝif ȝe wolde,
Speke wiþ Smaragdus fayn Icholde«.
Þe abbot let calle Agapitus
And bad him lede Pathnucius
To Smaragdus celle anon riht,
»For wiþ him to speke he haþ Itiht«.
And whon he com in, þer he lay seke,
He custe him wepinge & to him speeke:
»Allas«, he seide, »nou wo is me!
Wher beoþ þi bihestes þat þou bihihtest me?
Þou seidest I schulde my douhter seone;
But nou schal I liue in serwe and teone.
Allas, who wol cumforte me at myn ende?
Allas, whoderward nou schal I wende?
Allas, ho may me ouȝt avayle?
Allas, myn harmes I wepe and wayle,
For hit is gon VIII. and þritti ȝere
Siþen I lees my douhter dere.
For hire I haue preyed niht & day,
But noþing of hire witen I may.
Boþe wo and serwe me halt so swiþe
Þat I schal neuer beo glad ne blyþe,
For trust heraftur schal I haue non,
But in to helle wepen and gon«.

ÞEn Smaragdus saiȝ him sore wepinge,
Þat wolde not stinte for no þinge,
And seide to hym: »on goddes halue,
Mon, þenkestou forte culle þi selue?
Þenk þat god is of such pouwere
And knoweþ alle þing boþe fer & nere!
Now of þi serwe þou make an ende!
For god, þat is curteis and hende,
Schewed to Jacob þorw his graas
His sone Josep wher þat he was.
þerfore hertiliche I preye þe,
Þeos þreo dayes go not from me!«
Þen Pathnucius þouȝte in þat tyde:
For he bad him þreo dayes abyde,
Þat god wolde schewen him in sum manere
Wher þat his douhtur bicomen were.
And whon hit was comen þe þridde day,
He com to him and bigon to say:
»Broþer, Ichaue abiden here wiþ þe
Þreo dayes fulle, as þou beede me«.

ÞEn Eufrosyne wuste wel anon
Hire tyme was come þat heo schulde gon;
To hire heo called Pathnucius
And speek to him and seide þus:
»Almihti god of his goodnes
Haþ disposet for my wrecchednes,
Þat þorw his vertu and his miht
Mi desyr to an ende is fully diht,
And, for Ichaue bore me so monliche,
I schal haue a croune in heuene-riche.
Nou wol I no lengore helen hit wiþ þe:
For certes, I am þi douhter fre,
And þou mi fader, þat seost me in siht;
Nou haue I holden þat I haue hiht.
Gode fader, let nomon herof wite ne knowe
Bote þou þi self, heiȝe ne lowe,
Let no mon me wassche ne come me to
But þou þi self, fader! I preye þou do.
Also I hihte þe abbot of gret honour
Þat he schulde haue boþe riches & tresour,
Ȝif god almihti wolde leue me grace
To sosteynen and dwellen in þis place:
Þerfore, fader, for charite
Folful my wil—and prey for me!«
And whon heo hedde seid þis wordes ariȝt,
Heo ȝaf þe spirit to god almiht,
Aboute þat tyme of þe ȝere
At þe kalendes of Janiuere.
Whon Pathnucius hed herd þeos wordes alle,
He swouned anon & doun gon falle.
Þen com Agapitus faste rennynge
And fond hire ded, & him swounynge.
He cast vppon him watur colde
And rered him vp, as god wolde,
And seide: »sire, what is come þe to?«
And he onswerde wiþouten mo:
»Nou let me dye & go my way,
For I haue seye wondres to day«.
He ros vp and on hire face fulle
And wept & criȝed as he wolde spille,
And seide: »allas, my douhter fre,
Whi noldestou schewen þe er to me,
Þat we mihten boþe in same
Haue died togedere in godes name?
Allas, from me hou hastou hed?
Þis wrecched world hou hastou fled?
Hou artou þus priueliche gon away
In to heuene blisse þat lasteþ ay?«
Agapitus herde þeos wordes vchon;
He merueiled muche, & to þe abbot is gon
And told him fro biginnyng to þe ende.
And he wiþ him þider gon wende.
Þe abbot fel doun wiþouten were
And criȝed to hire wiþ wepynge cheere
And seide: »Eufrosyne, Cristes spouse,
Prey for vs and for vr house
To god, þat sit in trinite,
Þat we mowe come his face to se
And to haue part of his blis
Wiþ his seyntes, þer as he is!«
Þe abbot & couent wiþ mylde mood
Buried þat bodi þat was so good.
And whon alle þe monkes weore comen þider
And seȝen þat miracle al to gider,
Þei þonked god þat in so frele a kynde
Such vertu & miracle wolde to hem sende.
Þer was a monk & hadde but on eiȝe,
And he hire custe; wiþoute lye:
As sone as he hedde Idon þat dede,
His eiȝen weoren boþe in his hede.
And whon alle men seiȝe þis miracle done,
Þei þonked god, þat sit in trone.
Þen weore þei cumforted & gladed miche,
And buried hire in toumbe riche.
Þen tok hire fader al his riches
And brouȝt hit to chirche wiþouten lees,
And in þe worschip of god he hit bisette.
And dwelled þer wiþouten lette
In þe same selle þer his douȝter was,
He liued & dyed in þat plas.
And after hir deþ folliche ten ȝere
Holliche he lyuede in þis world heere;
Þen he tok his leue and to god he went.
Bi his douȝter þei leyde him, verrement—
Vche ȝeer þei don his mynde-day holde
Anon to þis day, as hit is tolde.
Þe abbot & þe couent wiþ good chere
Worschipeden god al Ifeere.
And so do we him, þat sit aboue,
Þat he wolde for þat maydenes loue
Graunten vs heuene wiþouten eende,
Wiþ him þerin for to leende.
God graunte vs grace þat hit so be!
AMEN, AMEN for charite.