Lydgate's Fall of Princes :: :: University of Virginia Library

Off this mateer stynte I wil awhile
And folwe myn owne strange oppynyoun,
Fro Constancius turne awey my stile,
To his fadir make a digressioun,
Cause Bochas maketh but short mencioun
Of Constantyn, which be record of clerkis,
Was so notable founde in al his werkis.

This myhti prince was born in Breteyne,
So as the Brut pleynli doth vs lere;
His hooli moodir callid was Heleyne,
He in his daies most knihtli & enteere.
Of marcial actis he knew al the maneere,
Chosen emperour for his hih noblesse,
Fill to [be] lepre, cronicles expresse.

His soor so greuous that no medecyne
Mihte auaile his seeknesse to recure;
He [was] counsailled to make a gret piscyne,
With innocent blood of childre that wer pure
Make hym cleene of that he did endure.
Thoruh al Itaille childre anon wer souht,
And to his paleis be ther moodris brouht.

It was gret routhe to beholde & see,
Of tendre moodres to heere the sobbyng,
Be furious constreynt of ther aduersite,

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Hir clothes to-rent, bedewed with weepyng.
The straunge noise of ther hidous criyng
Ascendid up, that ther pitous clamour
Kam to the eris of themperour,

Of which[e] noise themperour was agrised.
Whan that he knew ground & occasioun
Of this mateer, afforn told & deuysed,
This noble prince gan haue compassioun;
And for to stynte the lamentacioun
Of all the women ther beyng in presence,
Of merciful pite hath chaungid his sentence.

This glorious, this gracious emperour
Is clomb of merci so hih vpon the staire,
Spared nouther vitaille nor his tresour,
Nor his langour that dide hym so appaire.
With ful glad cheer[e] maad hem to repaire;
Where thei cam sori to Roome the cite,
Thei hom returned glad to ther contre.

Roial compassioun dide in his herte myne;
Ches to be sik rather than blood to sheede,
His brest enlumyned with grace which is dyuyne,
Which fro the heuene dide vpon hym spreede.
He wolde nat suffre innocentis bleede,
Preferryng pite & merci mor than riht;
He was visitid vpon the next[e] niht.

Petir and Poule to hym dede appere,
Sent fro the Lord as heuenli massagers,
Bad Constantyn been of riht good cheere,
“For he that sit aboue the nyne speeris,
The Lord of Lordis, Lord of lengest yeeris,
Wil that thou wete,—haue it weel in mynde,—
In mount Serapti thou shalt thi leche fynde.

God of his grace list the to visite,
To sheede blood because that thou dost spare;
He hath vs sent thi labour for to quyte;
Tidyngis brouht of helthe & thi weelfare
Pope Siluester to the shal declare,

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As we haue told[e], be riht weel assured,
Of thi seeknesse how thou shalt be recurid,

To mount Serapti in al hast that thou seende,
Suffre Siluester come to thi presence.”
Souht & founde, breefli to make an eende,
Resceyued aftir with deu reuerence,
Dide his deueer of enteer dilligence,
Lik as the lyff of Siluester hath deuised,
Be grace maad hool, whan he was baptised.

His flessh renewed and sodenly maad whiht
Be thries wasshyng in the fressh piscyne
Of holi baptem, welle of most deliht,
Wher the Hooli Gost did[e] hym enlumyne.
Enfourmyd aftir be teching & doctryne
Of Siluester, lik as myn auctour seith,
Of alle articles that longe onto our feith.

The font was maad[e] of porfirie stoon,
Which was aftir be cost of Constantyn
With a round bie, that dide aboute gon,
Of gold & perle & stonis that wer fyn;
Myd of the font, riht up as a lyn,
Vpon a piler of gold a laumpe briht,
Ful of fyn bawme, that brente day & niht.

A lamb of gold he did also prouyde,
Set on this font vpon a smal pileer,
Which lik a conduit vpon eueri side
Shad out water as eny cristal cleer,
On whos riht side an ymage most enteer
Was richeli forgid of our Saueour,
Al of pure gold, that coste gret tresour.

And of this lamb vpon the tothir side,
An image set longe to endure
Of Baptist Iohn, with lettres for tabide
Graue coriousli, & this was the scripture:
“Ecce Agnus Dei, that did for man endure,
On goode Friday offrid up his blood,
To saue mankynde starf upon the rood.”

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He leet also make a gret censeer
Al of gold, fret with perles fyne,
Which be nyhte as Phebus in his speer
Thoruh al the cherch most fresshli did[e] shyne;
Ther wer fourti stonis iacynctyne.
Appollos temple, myn auctour writ the same,
Was halwid newe in Seynt Petris name.

The Romeyn templis, that wer bilt of old,
He hath fordoon with al ther maumetrie;
Ther false goddis of siluer & of gold
He hath tobroke vpon ech partie.
This goodli prince, of goostli policie,
Set of newe statutis of gret vertu
To been obseruid in name of Crist Iesu.

The firste lawe, as I reherse can,
In ordre set with ful gret reuerence,
That Crist Iesu was sothfast god & man,
Lord of Lordis, Lord of most excellence,
“Which hath this day, of his benyuolence,
Cured my lepre, as ye haue herd deuysed,
Be blissid Siluester whan I was baptised.

This gracious Lord, my souereyn Lord Ihesu,
From hen[ne]s-foorth, for short conclusioun,
I wil that he, as Lord of most vertu,
Of feithful herte & hool affeccioun
Be worsheped in euery regioun;—
No man so hardi my biddeng to disdeyne,
List he incurre of deth the greuous peyne.”

Folwyng the day callid the secounde,
This Constantyn ordeyned a decre,
That who that euere in [the] toun wer founde
Or ellis-wher aboute in the contre,—
What-euer he were, of hih or louh degre,
That blasffemed the name of Crist Iesu,
Be doom sholde haue of deth a pleyn issu.

The thridde day, in euery mannys siht,
Bi a decre confermed & maad strong,
To any Cristene who that dide vnriht

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Be oppressioun or [be] collateral wrong,
It should[e] nat be taried ouer long,
Who wer convict or gilti shal nat chese
Be lawe ordeyned halff his good to lese.

The fourthe day, among[es] Romeyns all
This pryuylege pronouncid in the toun,
Youe to the pope sittyng in Petris stall,
As souereyn hed in euery regioun
To haue the reule and iurediccioun
Of preestis alle, allone in alle thyng,
Of temporal lordis lich as hath the kyng.

To the cherche he granted gret franchise
The fifte day & special liberte:
Yif a feloun in any maner wise
To fynde socour thidir dide flee,
Withynne the boundis fro daunger to go fre,
To been assurid & haue ther ful refuge
From execucioun of any temporal iuge.

No man presume withynne no cite,—
The sixte day, he gaff this sentence,—
No man so hardi, of hih nor louh degre,
To beelde no cherche, but he haue licence,
Of the bisshop beyng in presence;
This to seyne, that he in his estat
Bi the pope afforn be approbat.

The seuenthe day, this lawe he did eek make:
Of all pocessiouns which that be roiall,
The tenthe part [y]eerli shal be take
Be iugis handis, in parti & in all,
Which[e] tresour thei delyuere shall,
As the statut doth pleynli specefie,
Hool & enteer cherchis to edefie.

The eihte day meekli he ded hym quite,
With gret reuerence & humble affeccioun,
Whan he did of al his clothes white
And cam hymsilf on pilgrymage doun
Tofor Seynt Petir of gret deuocioun;
Natwithstondyng his roial excellence,
Made his confessioun in open audience.

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His crowne take of, knelyng thus he saide
With weepyng eyen & vois most lamentable,
And for sobbyng as he myht abraide:
“O blissid Iesu, o Lord most merciable,
Lat my teres to the be acceptable;
Resseyue my prayer; my request nat refuse,
As man most synful, I may me nat excuse.

I occupied thestat of the emperour;
Of thi martirs I shadde the hooli blood,
Spared no seyntes in my cruel errour,
The to pursue fell, furious & wood.
Now blissid Iesu, most gracious & most good,
Peised & considered myn importable offense,
I am nat worthi to come in thi presence,

Nor for to entre into this hooli place,
Vpon this ground vnhable for to duell,
To opnen myn eyen or to left up my face;
But of thi merci so thou me nat repell,
As man most synful, I come vnto thi well,
Thi welle of grace and merciful pite
For to be wasshe of myn iniquite.”

This exaumple in open he hath shewed,
His staat imperial of meeknesse leid aside,
His purpil garnement with teres al bedewed;
Suerd nor sceptre nor hors upon to ride
Ther was non seyn, nor baners splaied wide;
Of marcial tryumphes ther was no tokne founde,
But criyng merci, themperour lay plat to grounde.

The peeplis gladnesse was medlid with wepyng,
And ther weepyng was medlid with gladnesse,
To seen an emperour and so notable a kyng
Of his free chois shewe so gret meeknesse.
Thus entirmedlid was ioie & heuynesse:
Heuynesse for passid old vengaunce,
With newe reioisshyng of gostli repentaunce.

This ioye was lik a feeste funerall,
In folk of custum that doon ther besi cure
To brynge a corps, which of custum shall

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Haue al the rihtis of his sepulture,
And in this tyme, of sodeyn auenture
To lyf ageyn restored be his bonys,
Causyng his freendis to lauhe & weepe attonis.

Semblabli dependyng atween tweyne,
The peeple wepte, & therwith reioisshyng
To seen ther emperour so pitousli compleyne,
For his trespacis merci requeryng:
Of ioie and sorwe a gracious medlyng.
That day was sey[e]n gladnesse meynt with moone,
With weepyng lauhtre, & al in o persone.

Aftir al this he digged up hymselue
Stones twelue, wher he lay knelyng,
[And] putte hem in cofynes tuelue,
On the tuelue postlis deuoutli remembryng,
Compassed a ground large for beeldyng,
Beside his paleys caste theron to werche
In Cristes name to sette up ther a cherche.

The place of olde callid Lateranence,
Bilt and edefied in thapostlis name.
Constantynvs bar al the dispense,
Ordeyned a lawe, myn auctour seith the same,
Yif any poore, nakid, halt or lame
Resceyue wolde the feith of Crist Iesu,
He sholde be statut be take to this issu:

In his promys yif he wer founde trewe,
That he wer nat be feynyng no faitour,
He sholde first be spoiled & clad newe
Be the costage off the emperour,
Tuenti shillyng resceyue to his socour,
Of which resseit nothyng was withdrawe,
Be statut kept & holde as for a lawe.

It wer to longe to putte [al] in memorie,
His hih prowesse & his notable deedis,
And to reherse[n] euery gret victorie
Which that he hadde with hostis that he ledis;
And to remembre al his gracious speedis,

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The surplusage, who list [to] comprehende,
Lat hym of Siluestre reede the legende.

And among othir, touchyng his visioun,
Which that he hadde, in cronicles men may lere,
Whan that he slepte in his roial dongoun,
How Crist to hym did graciousli appeere,
Shewed hym a cros, & seide as ye shal heere:
“Be nat afferd upon thi foon to falle,
For in this signe thou shalt ouercome hem alle.”

Be which auyseoun he was maad glad & liht
Thoruh Goddis grace & heuenli influence.
First in his baneer, that shon so cleer & briht,
The cros was bete, cheef tokne of his diffence.
Slouh the tiraunt that callid was Maxence,
Aftir whos deth[e], thoruh his hih renoun
Of al thempire he took pocessioun.

In which estat he meyntened trouthe & riht,
Vpon al poore hauyng compassioun,
Duryng his tyme holde the beste kniht
That owher was in any regioun,
Of Cristes feith thymperial champioun,
Thoruh his noble knihtli magnificence
To alle Cristene protectour & diffence.

Aftir his name, which neuer shal appall,
Chaunged in Grece the name of Bizante;
Constantynople he did it aftir call,
And on a steede of bras, as men may see,
Manacyng of Turkis the contre,
He sit armyd, a gret suerd in his hond
Them to chastise that rebelle in that lond.

Reioisshe ye folkis that born been in Breteyne,
Callid othirwise Brutis Albioun,
That hadde a prince so notabli souereyne
Brouht forth & fostrid in your regioun,
That whilom hadde the domynacioun,
As cheef monarche, prince & president,
Ouer al the world, from est til occident.

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Tyme of his deth, that moneth of þe yeer
Phebus nat seyn, withdrouh his feruent heete;
And longe afforn[e] large, brod & cleer,
Toward Affrik shewed a gret comete,
Alway encresyng, drouh toward the sete
Of Nichomedie, shon erli & eek late,
Wher in his paleis he passed into fate.