University of Virginia Library

Here begynnys þe lyf seynt Cycyle.

Cycyle of þe nobyl Romayn blood
Born was, wych at þat tyme stood
Of temporal wurshepe in ful hy degre;
And from hyr credyl fostryd was she
In crystys feyth ful dylygently,
And in hyr brest she bare pryuyly
Crystys gospel wyth al hyr myht,
And neuere cecyd daye ner nyht
From preyer ner from holy talkyng,
To god hyr maydynhede commendyng.
And despousyd she was to a yung man
Whos name was clepyd valeryan,
Wych born was eek of hy lygnage.
And whan þe day fyxyd of hyr maryage
Was come, nexst hyr skyn an hayre,
And a smok abouyn both whyt & feyre,
She dede on, & þem both dede wrye
Wyth clothys of gold, wrouht craftylye,
Al wyth-owtyn þe werd to blynde.
And couertly in hyr inward mynde,
Whyl þe orgons sunge in her melodyous guyse,
Cycyle to god song in thys wyse:
‘Lord god, I the beseche mekely,
My hert kepe, & eek my body
Vndefoulyd [in] clennesse of chastyte,
That I no wyse confoundyd be.’
And to thys entent two dayis or thre
She fastyd & preyd in humbyl degre,
To god commendyng þat she dede drede.
But forth in oure processe to procede,
I seye þat þe derknesse of nyght
Of þe maryage day had flemyd þe lyht,
And ych man to hys loggyng was go,
Valeryan & Cycyle to her chaumbyr went þo;
Where whan þei were in her secre sylence,
Thus Cecylye to hym vttryd hyr sentence:
‘O swetest yung man, o spouse dere,
Wych I best loue wyth herte entere,
A mysterye I haue of greth pryuyte
Wych þat I knouleche wyl to the,
Vp condycyoun þat þou swere & seye
That in no wyse þou shalt it bywreye
But obseruyn & kepyn yt wyth al þine entente.’
And valeryan anoon þer-to dede assente,
And swor þat neuere for no necessyte
It to no creature dysclosyd shuld be
Whyl þat hys lyf myht lest & dure.
Quod Cycyle þan wyth chere demure:
‘An aungel of god a louere haue I,
Wych my body kepyth wyth greth jelusy.
Where-fore, yf he neuere so lytyl may proue
That þou me touche wyth vnclene loue
Wy[t]h wyl me to defoulen flesshly,
Anoon wyth þe he wyl ben angry
And ful cruelly on þe veniaunce take,
And so, for a lytyl fleshly lustys sake,
Of þi fresh youth þe greth beute
Þou shalt lese þe flour; & yf þat he se
Þat þou me louyst in perfyth clennesse
And be not besy me to oppresse
Ner þe flowre to byreuyn of uirgynyte,
Than shal he þe louyn as wel as me,
And plenteuously shewyn to þe hys grace.’
Valeryan þan wyth a sad face,
As he þat preuentyd was wyth mercy,
Þus answerd: ‘If þou wylt at I
Yiue credence to þe, in wurdys fewe,
That aungel of whom þou spekyst, me shewe.
And whan I haue prouyd hym an aungel to be,
Than wyl I perform þat þou counselyst me.
But yf I fynd þat anoþir man
Thou louyst þan me, þi spouse valeryan,
I make a vow wyth-oute more respyte
Your bothyns hedys I shal of smyte.’
Quod Cycyle to þis: ‘I wele assente.
Wherfore yf þou wyth humble entente
To my counsel þe wylt applye,
And in þe welle of lyf þe do puryfye,
And leue oo god in heuene oonly to be,
Than shal þou moun myn aungel se.’
‘And wher euere þer be ony swych man
That me puryfye so may,’ quod he, ‘& kan,
That I an aungel shuld moun behold?’
Quod Cycyle, ‘I know oon, but he is oold,
Wych kunnyng hath & eek power
To puryfyen men & make so clere
That þai an aungel may behold & se.’
‘And where myht I fynd þat man?’ quod he;
‘If þat I wyst, I wold hym seche.’
Quod Cycyle þan: ‘I wyl þe teche.
Thre myle hens go fyrst of alle
In þat weye wych men Appya calle,
And þou shalt fynd þer in þe strete
Pore men syttyng, whom þou weel grete
On my behalue, for hem euere haue y
In myne affeccyoun louyd tendyrly,
And of my counsel þei know mych thying.
Sey þat I send hem my blyssyng,
Preying hem þat in secre wyse
Wher þou myht fynd þei wyl deuyse
Pope vrban, for fro me hym to
Pryuy erandys þou hast to do.
And doutlees anoon þei shul þe wys
On-to þe place wher þat he ys.
And whan þou comyst to hys presence,
Wurd for wurd al my sentence
To hym declare euene pleynly,
And he þe puryfyin shal ful gladly,
And newly arayin in clothys whyte,
In wych whan þou art clad & dyht
And returnyst ageyn in-to þis place,
To seen þe aungel þou shalt haue grace,
Wych þe shal louyn as weel as me,
And what þou ask it grauntyd shal be.’
These wurdys seyd, up roos valeryan
And hys iourne furth-wyth began.
And [whan] wyth-owte þe gatys a myle
He cam, by þe tokne wych Cecyle
Hym took, he vrban fond darkyng
In kauys & grauys, & wyth-oute lettyng
He dede hys erand as Cecyle bad;
And whan he it herde he wex ful glad,
And lyftyng to heueneward bothe handys & eyne,
Knelyng & wepyng, he þus dede seyne:
‘Lord Ihesu cryst, wych al thyng knowyst,
And of chast counsel þe sede euere sowyst,
The fruht of þe seed to þe up take
Wych Cecyle sowyn hath for þi sake.
Tak hede & behold, o lord Ihesu,
How Cecyle þi seruanth, ful of uertu,
As besy is in yche maner degre
The to seruyn as euere was ony be
Flourys to gadryn & hony to make.
For, lo, hyr husbond whom she dede take,
As fers fyrst as a uoyde lyoun,
As a lamb she hath maad to þe buxum,
And hedyr hym sent þe treuth to preue.
Wych þus to come, as I do leue,
Shuld not assentyd but he youe credence
Had of Cycylys doctryne to þe sentence.
Wherfore, lord, wyth hert entere,
For hym to þe I beseche now here:
Of hys herte vouchesaf the gate
To opnyn, & yt so to dylate
Of þir wurdys to þe doctryne,
And so wyth grace hym to illumyne,
That he may þe knowe hys creatour,
Hys lord, hys god, hys redemptour,
And renouncyn al þe werkys blake
Of þe deuyl, & alle ydols forsake
Wych he hath wurshepyd her-to-for,
And neuere her-aftyr to seruyn hem more.’
And whyl he þus ocupyid was in preyere,
Sodeynly beforn hem dede appere
A man wych fer runnyn in age
Was as semyth by hys vysage,
Al arayid in fayre whyt uesture,
In hys hand holdyng a scrypture
Wych wrytyn was wyth lettrys of gold;
Whom whan Valeryan dede behold,
So he astoynyd was for fere
That doun to grounde he fel euene þer
As he deed had been; whom þe old man
Lyftyd up, & seyd, ‘drede not, yung man,
But rede þe text of scrypture
And byleue yt, þat þou mayst ben pur
An clene þo aungel for to se
Wych Cycyle þi wyf promyssyd to þe.’
Wyth þis wurd Valyryan roos up redyly
And on þe scryptur lokyd ful dylygently,
And in hys hert priuyly he dede rede,
Wher-of þe sentence wyth-oute drede
Was þis: ‘o lord & oon feyth þer-to,
O baptem þer is, & o god also,
Wych fadyr is of alle thyngys,
And ouyr alle, by alle, & in alle us is.’
Thys pleynly was þe scrypturys entent.
And whan Valeryan ryht good auysement
Had take þer-of, þe old man anoon
To hym þus seyd: ‘leuyst þis or noon?
Or stondyst in doute? sey on pleynly.’
And at þat wurde Valeryan loude dede cry:
‘Ther is no thyng þat, as yt semyth me,
Vndyr heuene may treulyer beleuyd be
Than þis.’ & þer-wyth þe eldere
Vanysshyd a-wey, þei ne wyst where.
And anoon Vrban hym dede baptysse
And instruct in þe feyth of crystene guyse,
And hom to Cycyle ageyn hym sent.
Wher whan he cam, to þe chaunbyr he went,
And Cecyle besy he fonde in preyer,
And bysydyn hy[r] stonde an aungel clere
Whos wengys bryhter glastryd þan gold,
Wych in hys hand two garlondys dede hold,
In wych, by maner of a ryal fret,
Rede rosys wyth whyt lylyis were set,
Wych eek wer of so swete redolence
That neythyr baum ner frankencence
Yaf so swete a flauour as dede tho.
And anoon þe aungel, wyth-owte mo,
Departysoun made of þese garlondys,
And set oon on Cecylys heed & a-noþir on hys,
Thys wys seyng: ‘þese corouns two
Wyth clennesse of hert & body also
Kepyth, I counsel you, dylygently,
Wych from paradyhs now brouht haue I,
In tokne wher-of þei kepyn shul euere
Both colour & odour, & welke shul neuere;
Morouyr ner hem shal noon moun se
But þo aloonly whom chastyte
Is prouyd to han plesyd, as yt hath doon yow.
And, valeryan, for-as-mych as thow
To þe counsel of chastyte has youyn assent,
Therfore to þe god hath me sent,
That what petycyoun þou lyst to craue,
Of hym aske, & þou yt shal haue.
Aske on; for þine answer I abyde.’
‘I-wys,’ quod Valeryan at þis tyde,
‘Ther is no creature in erthe here,
Next my wyf, to me so leef & dere
As my broþir Tyburcyus ys.
Wherfore ful gladly I wold þis,
For uery compassyoun & eek for reuth,
That lych as I do he know þe treuth
Of hys errours & hys mysbeleuyng;
For yt were, me thynkyth, a cruel thyng
And ageyn þe ordre of brothyrly cheryte
That I were sauyd & he lost shuld be.
Wherfore, syth go[d] hath grauntyd me
My bone, as now in þis degre,
Compendyously I forme my petycyoun:
That, lyche as god me fro perdycyoun
Hath sauyd by Cycile here my wyf,
So he vouchesaf from deth to lyf
Clepyn ageyn my brothyr by me,
And us both in hys loue perfyht to be.
Thys ys þe summe of my prayere.’
Quod þe aungel þo wyth a mery chere:
‘Syth þou hast askyd so cherytabylly
Wych thyng as plesyth god souereynly
To graunt, I þe make promys
That þi petycyoun admyttyd ys.
And more-ouyr, of hys specyal grace,
He hath grauntyd þat wyth-in þe space
Of oo daye ye shul comyn both two
Thorgh martyrdam þe blysse of heuen to,
Ther euere wyth hym in ioye to abyde.’
Thys seyd, þe aungel awey dede glyde,
They ne wyst how, & furth wyth-al
Tyburce cam & at þe dure dede cal;
And whan [he] was entryd, in curteys wyse
Cycylys heed, as it was þe guyse
In þo dayis he anoon dede kys,
And seyd, ‘I marueyle wher-of it is
Thys tym of yere þat of rose flour
And of lylyis I fele so swete odour,
As þou it were mydsomyr eue.
For treuly, brothyr, as I beleue,
Thow þat I wyth-ynne my fyst
Lylyis & rosys to-gedyr dede thryst,
A swettere odour myht yt not be.
I feel þat yt refresshyd hath me
Maruaylousere þan I telle kan.’
‘Tyburce, brothyr,’ quod þo Valeryan,
‘God be thankyd, thorgh my preyere
Odour of rosys & lylyis here
Thow hast get, but thorgh hys grace
And thyn owen byleue þou mayst purchace
Of hem both to han þe syht,
Wych to þe shuld be greth delyht.
For both þi sustyr Cycyle & I
Garlondys han, made craftyly,
Owt of paradyhs from god vs sent,
Wych of hem þat wyth wanhope be blent
To ben seyn yt is vnpossyble;
Wherfore to þe yete inuysyble
Thei been, & shul tyl þou credence
Ful yiue to a bettyr sentence,
And be treuly subiect to crystys feyth.
To whom Tyburce þus ageyn seyth:
‘Here I þis in a dreme or ellys wakyng?
Is yt soth, brothyr, þis þi talkyng?’
‘In slepe we han lyuyd, & þat is reuthe,
Hedyrtoward, brothyr; but now in treuthe
We ben,’ quod Valeryan, ‘& no falsnesse
In us ys, I boldely dar expresse.
For þo mamettys, wych to þis our
We han seruyd wyth godly honour,
Ben in good feyth but uery deuelys.’
Quod Thyburce þan, ‘how knowyst þis,
Valeryan, brothyr, I þe beseche?’
‘An aungel of god þus dede me teche,’
Quod valeryan, ‘whom no wyse þou se
Shalt moun tyl þou puryfyid be
From þe fylth of fals ydolatrye.’
‘Why shuld I not þan,’ quod Tyburce, ‘me hye
To be puryfyid, yf þer-by I myht
Of an aungel atteyn to haue a syht?
Wherfore helpe fast þat [it] were do.’
And wyth þat wurde Cecyle went hym to
And kyssyd hys brest, & seyde, ‘cosyn,
Now knowleche I þe uerely to be myn.
For lych as thy brothyr goddys loue
To be myn husbonde þis day doth proue,
Rycht so contempt of ydols the
Shal treuly shewyn my cosyn to be.
Wherfore, þe for to puryfye,
Go wyth þi brothyr & fast þe hye,
That þou þerby grace may purchase
Of aungels to seen þe gloryus face.’
And as þei shulde from Cecyle wende,
Quod tyburce, ‘brothyr feythful & kynde,
Or þan we go, I þe beseche
Whedyr we shul goon do me teche
To be puryfyid, & of what man.
‘I-wys’, quod he, ‘to þe holy pope vrban
We shul goon, wych hath power
Men so to puryfyin & makyn cler
That þei shul after moun aungels se.’
Quod Tyburce, ‘ys not þis Vrban he
Wych in þis cyte is so odyous
That he dar abydyn in noon hous,
But darkyth in beryels & in grauys,
And vndyr þe erthe hym hydyth in kauys,
Wych ofte hath be iugyd slayn to be,
Or ellys to be brent, by a comoun decre?
Wherfore, wyth hym yf we be founde,
I dar weel seyn þe same stounde
We shul wyth hym douthles be brente,
And þan is frustrat al oure entente.
For wher we sekyn lyf immortal,
Fynd we shuln a ful cruel fal,
And þerfore swych thyng is good to fle.’
Quod Cycyle þanne, ‘Tyburce, to me
Take heed a whyle, & I the ensence
Wyth goddys grace shal a bettyr sentence.
Thys lyf to lese were good to fere
And to eschewe besyly, yf ellys-wher
Noon oþir lyf were bettyr þan þis.
But who þus thynkyth doth amys.
For a-nothyr lyf þer ys incomparabylly
Bettyr þan þis & more wurthy;
Wych who-so hau[e] grace onys to kecche,
Shal deth hym þens neuere aftyr feche,
Nere hungyr, ner thyrst, ner no syknesse
Shal hym [no] wyse moun dystresse.
Thys lyf to teche, of þe fadyr of heuene
The sone cam doun wyth a mylde steuene,
In oure freelnesse born temporally
Of a mayde, but of hys fadyr eternally
Born to-forn al tyme, to whom egal
He is & was & euere be shal;
In whom, by whom, al thyng was wrouht,
And wyth-oute whom was neuere maad noht;
To whom wyth þe fadyr consubstancyal
The holy gost ys & coeternal;
And þow þei personelly dystynct be,
Yet in substaunce but oon þei arn al thre,
Vndeuydyd outward in her werkyng.’
Quod Tyburce þan, ‘þis manere talkyng
Ageyn al resoun me semyth to be;
For nowe o god þou puttyst, anoþir tyme thre;
To wych thyng my wyt can not inclyne.’
‘No wundyr,’ quod Cycyle,’ ‘for, but þe illumyne
God vouchesaf wyth specyal influence
Of hys grace, to þe intellygence
Thow neuere shalt of þis mater atteyne.
Yet not-for-þan, in wurdys pleyne
Oon exaunnple or two I wyl þe meue,
Wher-by naturally þou mayst preue
Substancyally sum thyng but oon to be,
And yet by resoun yt ys dystynct in thre,
Wher-of, to seyn propyrly, noon oþir ys.
And fyrst by a soule I shewe wyl þis,
Wych hath powers condystynct thre,
And yet substancyally þei but o soule be,
As mende, resoun & vndyrstondyng.
Anoþir exaunnple by feer I may eek bryng,
Wych threfold in propyrtees hath varyaunce
Formally dystynct, & yet in substaunce
Þei ben o feyr; so snow, hayl & yhs
Dystynct ben, as seyn phylosophyrs wyhs,
In name & forme, but substancyally
They be but watyr: so coniecturally
May be conseyuyd of the trynyte—
Ternyte in personys, in substaunce vnyte.
Al-be-yt þat noon forseyde symylytude
May fully as yt ys þe treuth conclude,
For resoun here faylyth, & oonly feyth
Preuaylyth; wherfore scripture seyth,
But ye feyth haue & eek byleue,
To vndyrstondyng ye ne moun acheue.
And þerfore for resoun forsake euydence
And to doctryne of scryptur yiuyth credence,
Wych vs techyth in þe souereyn deyte
Thre dystynct personys oo substaunce to be;
Of wych þe secunde, as I seyd beforn,
Was of a maydyn wyth-owte man born,
And as a medyatour dede vndyr-take
To hys fadyr in heuene a-sythe to make
For owr forn-fadrys transgressyoun,
Wych had infect al hys successyoun
Wyth orygynal synne; for wych entent
Wylfully he suffryd cruel torment;
For fyrst he was takyn & boundyn also,
Scornyd & skourgyd, & crownyd þer-to
Wyth a croun of thornys, & to a cros of tre
Both hand & foot aftyr naylyd was he,
And hangyd up betwyx theuys tweyne,
As mayster of hem & most vyleyne,
And eysyl youe dronk in hys greth threst;
And aftyr al þis, whan þat hym lest,
To hys fadrys handys he dede comende
Hys spyryht & frely yt furth dede sende;
And whan he deed was wyth peynys smert
Stungyn he was euene to the hert
Wyth a sharp spere thorgh hys ryht syde,
And anoon watyr & blood þer-oute dede glyde;
Blood for raunsoun mankynde to bye,
Watyr from synne yt to puryfye
Of holy bapteem by þe sacrament,
If yt be receyuyd wyth a dew entent.
To þis yiue feyth & ful credence,
And receyue þis baptym wyth reuerence,
And þan shal þou clensyd & puryfyid be,
And able maad aungels for to se.’
Quod Tyburce to hys brothyr þan,
‘Haue mercy on me & leed me to þe man
That me can puryfye wyth þat sacrament,
Wych to receyuyn ys myn entent,
Aftyr counsel of my sustyr Cycyle.’
And þus þis Thyburce, wyth-ynne short whyle,
By hys broþir led, of pope vrban
Was baptysyd & maad a crystene man,
And wyth-ynne short whyl greu so perfyth
That whan he wold he aungels se myht
And speke wyth hym face to face.
And what euere he askyd, swych was hys grace,
Of god, he yt hadde wythowt lettyng;
Wherfore hys brothyr & he ych oþir thyng
Leftyn, & ocupyed hem in almesse-dede;
And for þei god both dede loue & drede,
Thei dedyn her dylygence wyth besy cure
There bodyes to bryng to sepulture
Whom Almache, þe prefect of þe cyte,
For þei crystene were, slow of cruelte.
And whan he herd seyn þat þei dede so,
He chargyt hem to be brouht hym to.
And whan [he] hem sey, ful sturdyly
He askyd what was þe cause & why
That þei to byryin dede swych bysynesse
Hem þat he had dampnyd for þere wykkydnesse.
Quod Tyburce anoon: ‘wold god þat we
Were able her seruauntys for to be
Whom þou clepyst dampnyd wroungfully,
Wych wyth her hool herte despysyd wyshly
That semyth to be sumwhat in apparence
And ryht nowht ys in very existence,
And þer-ageyn han foundyn & wyth dethe boht
That most ueryly is & yet semyth nouht.’
Quod Almache þan: ‘what may þat be?’
‘Take hede,’ quod Tyburce, ‘& I shal telle þe.
That semyth to be & ys nouht, I-wys,
Is al þat here in þis werd ys,
Wych deceyuyth & bryngyth to nouht al þo
That þer-in trustyn, whan þei hens go.
But þat þing wych most perfythly ys
And semyth nouht, ys þat eternal blys
Wych ordeynyd ys to hem þat dwelle
In heuene aboue, or ellys in helle
Wych to tormentyn þe dwellers shal neuere sees.’
‘I trow,’ quod Almache, ‘þou art mendlees,
For þou spekyst lych hym þat no wyt kan.’
And furth-wyth he seyd to valeryan,
‘For-as-mych as Tyburce þi brothyr
Wytlees ys, me semyth noon othyr,
Thou þat bettyr art in þi mynde
A wysere answer I trow shalt fynde.
For treuly, me thynkyth, þei grethly erre
Tha[t] pees forsakyn & chesyn werre,
And sorwe þan ioye louyn hertlyer.’
Whom valeryan þus dede answer:
‘Ful oftyn in wyntyr, I haue herd sey,
In frost & snow many iape & pley
And skornen hem wych wold labour
The ground to tylyn wyth her labour;
But in somyr whan þe fruht was come
Of þer laboure þei were fulsome,
And haddyn of welth greth fulsumnesse,
Where þe toþir wept & were in dystresse
For uery myserye & necessyte.
And in þis wyse fare ye & we;
For we now here in þis lyf present
Suffren myscheef, peyn & torment
Wych sone be doon, but whan we hens wende
We receyue ioye That neuere shal haue ende.
But ye doon euene þe contrary,
For ioye ye han here transytory
And momentanye; but, whan ye hens go,
To þe place ye wende of endles wo.’
‘Than concludyst þus,’ quod Almache, ‘þat we
Wych be pryncys of temporal felycyte
Shuld go to þe place wher sorwe euere ys,
And þe trecherous caytyfs to endles blys?’
Quod valerye þan: ‘þou seyist a-mys,
For ye homouncyons ben, & no pryncys,
In your tym born, ful lytyl durable,
And whan ye hens pace, of mych countable
To god ye arn, mor & oþir be.’
Quod almache ageyn: ‘where-to we
That cercly abou[t]e [in] batayl verbal?
Take þis for conclusyoun sentencyonal:
Offryth to oure goddys her in þis place
A sacryfyse, & harmlees ye shul hens pace;
Or ellys certeynly ye shule deye.’
And ageyn wyth oo voys þei both dede seye:
‘Ich day as soon as we vp ryse
To owre god we offrene a sacryfyse.’
‘What is hys name,’ quod Almache þan,
‘Of youre god?’ ‘I-wys,’ quod valeryan,
‘Thow þou haddyst wyngys & myhtyst flye
A thowsend myle abouyn ych skye,
Yet shuldyst þou neuere moun come þer
Where he doth dwelle.’ ‘A, þan Iupiter,’
Quod Almache, ‘I trowe is hys name.’
‘Fy! lat be,’ quod Valeryan, ‘for shame!
Do neuere owre god swych dyshonour
To lykne hym to an homycyde & an auentour
As Iupiter was.’ ‘ergo,’ quod Amache, ‘now
Al þe werd erryt saue þi broþir & thow,
And [y]e two aloon han þe trew byleue?’
‘Nay wys, tyraunth, þow yt þe sore greue,’
Quod Valeryan, ‘yet many hundyrdys þer be
That on þe same wyse beleuyn as we.’
And whan Almache sey þat in no wyse
He myht hem brynge to do sacryfyse,
Neythyr wyth sturdy ner wyth feyr chere,
To oon Maximus hys cornyculer
He hem delyuerid wyt þis charge,
That þei no wys shuld goon at large
Tyl þei had louly sacryfys do.
And anoon Maximus þus seyd hem to,
Whan he hem at home had in hys hous:
‘O purpyl flowrys of youth delycyous,
O brothirly affeccyoun, in oon knyt
Indyssolubylly, how ben may yt
At ye to deth as gladly go
As to a feste?’ quod valeryan þo:
‘If þou wylt to us make promys
To beleuyn, þou shalt seyn, I-wys,
Aftyr oure deth oure soulys vp wende
To þat ioyful blys wych neuere shal ende.’
Quod Maxym þan, ‘greth god in heuene
Make me to steruyn wyth thundyr & leuene
If I not in hym feythfully byleue
The affect of your wourdys whan I suth preue!’
And euene furth-wyth auertyd was he,
The tormentourys eek & alle hys mene,
And of Vrban þe pope þei baptem nam,
Wych þedyr by nyht preuyly cam;
And so dede Cycyle, wych was ful glad
That swych a multytude þei conuertyd had.
And so þat nyht wyth holy talkyng
Thei furth dreuyn tyl up gan spryng
Aurora, wych wyth hyr bryhtnesse
Flemyd a-wey þe nyhtys therknesse;
And þerwyth anoon Cycyle gan seye:
‘Beth glad & myry, crystys knyhtys, I preye,
And þe werkys of therknesse awey doth throwe.
For þis certeyly I wyl ye knowe,
That ye han begunnen a good chyualrye.
Beth perseueraunth þer-yn whyl þat ye dye,
And þe cours of lyuyng wyth ye han take
And youre byleue eek doth neuere forsake.
And yf ye þus do, wyth-owte mysse
Receyuyn ye shuln þe crounne of blysse
Of cryst ihesu, most ryhtful iuge,
Wych after her desert shal alle men iuge
The last day at þe greth assyse.
And anoon aftyr þe sunne dede ryse,
Foure myle or more oute of þe cyte
They were led ther hefdyd to be,
Lesse þan þei wold in humble wyse
To Iubyter statu doon sacryfyse.
Where whan þei come, for þei nold do
Sacryfyse, þei hefdyd wer both two.
And anoon Maximus euene opynly
Swore þat he þe same oure sy
Aungelys bryht her soulys vp bere
In-to heuene, þan þe sunne bryhtere,
Or þan euere was mayde wych in fressh wede
Owt of hyr chaunnbyr dede procede
Ageyn hyr spouse, hym in to fette.
Whan Almache þis herd, wyth-owte lette
He hym chargyd wyth shourgys of leed
So long be betyn tyl he wer dede;
Whos body wyth Tyburce & Valeryan
Cycyly beryid; & almache þan
Of her goodys made inquysycyoun.
And anoon to hym was made relacyoun
Of Cycyle, wych to Valyryan wyf was.
And anoon for hyr home to hyr plaas
He sent hys offycers & chargyd þat she
Anoon to hys presence brouht shuld be.
Whedyr whan she cam, of two thyngys oon
He bad þat she shuld chesyn anoon:
That ys to seyn, or ellys sacryfyse
Or to be sleyn most shameful wyse.
And whan þe apparytours hyr gunne lede
For to compellyn hyr to þat dede,
And consydyrdyn the hye noblesse
Of hyr byrth, & eek þe semelynesse
Of hyr persone & eek þe greth beute,
They gunne to wepe for uery pyte,
And seydyn: ‘allas! why wyl þis mayde
Hyr youthe þus lese?’ to whom she seyde:
‘Wepyth not, yung men, for me, I praye;
But lystnyth rather what I shal saye.
That I now rather to deye chese
Than to sacryfyse, ys not to lese
My youth, but a commutacyoun
Of wysdam it ys, as ye se moun;
Lych as a man comenauht dede make
Erthe to yiuyn & gold to take,
Or ellys to chaungyn an ould rottyn hous
For a ryal paleys of stonys precyous.
But now of you I aske a questyoun:
For ych peny [if] ye receyue shuld moun
At a market or a feyr an hool shylyng,
As many as þedyr ye dede bryng,
Wolde ye not spedyn you þedyr hastly?
I trowe ye wold! now, serys, treuly
God of hys goodnesse hath up set
In hys courht abouyn a bettyr market;
For to euery thyng þat to hym ys soulde
The reward ys ordeynyd an hundyr-foulde,
And þer-to lyf þat neuere shal cees.
Now thynke ye not þis a noble encrees,
An hundyrd for oon, wyth hys addytament?
Hou trou ye? seyith your entent.’
Quod they ych oon, ‘we byleue ueryly
That cryst þi lord ys god oonly,
And noon but he, wych to hys seruyhs
The hath chosyn, prudent & wyhs.’
And anoon pope Vrban was souht
An þiddyr by nyht preuyly brouht;
Wher he crystnyd, er he þens dede go,
Of þese neuly conuertyd fourty & mo,
Wyth greth ioye & eek gladnesse.
And whan Almache þis wyst, in hys woodnesse
Neu offycers for Cecyle he anoon sent.
And whan beforn hys benche she was present,
‘Of what condycyoun art þou?’ quod he.
‘A ientyl wumman born, & noble,’ quod she.
‘I aske,’ quod he, ‘of þi relygyoun & þi byleue.’
‘Thy askyng,’ quod she, ‘ys lewyd, I preue,
That two answers sekyth to oon questyoun.’
‘Wher-of hast þou þis bolde presumpcyoun
Me þus to answere?’ Almache seyth.
‘Of pure conscyence & not feynyd feyth
To me þis answer,’ quod Cycyle, ‘cam.’
‘Knowyst not,’ quod he, ‘of what power I am?’
‘Yis, yis!’ quod Cycyle, ‘I knowe yche deel,
And what youre powere ys I can tel weel.
Alle youre power, as yt semyth to me,
May wele to a bleddyr lyknyd be
Blowe ful of wynd tyl yt hath starknesse,
Wych who-so lyst may sone depresse;
For wyth a nedlys poynt he may make
The wynd oute to goon & þe sterknesse slake.
Euene þus it faryth by þ[i] puyssaunce.’
‘Wyth iniuryis þou begunne, & hast perseueraunce
In þe same,’ quod Almache; quod she sothly:
‘Iniurye may not be seyd propyrly
But wyth wurdys of deceyt yt uttryd be.
Wherfore fals to han seyd fyrst proue me,
And yf þou kunne not, þou art to blame
Wyth fals calumnye me to defame.’
‘What, knowyst not,’ quod Almache, ‘oure princys decre,
Wych ordeynyd han, what-euere þei be
That cryst wyl reneyn & forsake,
Shul bothe wurshepe and fredam take,
And þai þat cryst wyl not denye
Wyth peynful torment shul be maad to dye?’
‘As weel your princys erryn as ye,’
Quod Cycyle, ‘wych us, þat innocentys be,
Kunne, as you semyth, noon oþir wyse shame
Than to obiectyn ageyn us crystys name.
But þis we wyln, þat ye wete pleynly
That we wych knowe þis name holy
Neythyr yt moun ner wyl denye;
For bettyr us thynkyth blyssydly to dye
Than cursydly to lyuyn.’ quod Almache hyr to:
‘Anoon com of! chese oon of þese two:
Or to oure goddys sacryfyse deuouthly,
Or þe to be crystene forsaak opynly.
And þan mayst þou harmles askape.’
Quod Cycyle þo, as she had lyst to iape,
‘Lo, syrs, seeth to what necessyte
Thys iuge ys brouht, þat he wold me
Do forsakyn to ben an innocent
That he me myht makyn a nocent!’
Quod Almache ageyn: ‘knowyst not, wrecche,
Hou þat my power doth astrecche,
By commyssyoun of oure prynce myhty,
To quekyn or sleen? wherfoor, so prudly
Why answeryst þou me at þis tyde?’
‘I-wys,’ quod Cycyle, ‘fyrst, as for pryde,
I dar weel seyn noon allyaunce
It wyth me hath, but in very constaunce
Foundyd & groundyd ys myn answere.
But, treuth to heryn yf þou ne fere,
Ageyn opyn treuthe in wurdys fewe
The to han lyid I wyl þer shewe.
Thou seydyst ryht nowe here to me
That þi pryncys commyttyd had to þe
Power to sleen & to quekyn also;
But þer þou lyiddyst, for of þese two
Thou mayst performyn no mo þan oon:
Sle many þou mayst, but quekyn noon.
Sey þan þus, yf þou wylt not lye,
Mynystyr of deth of your polycye
The pryncys the han maad, & no more;
For yf þou do, þi treuth ys lore.’
‘Put aweye,’ quod Almache, ‘þis boldnesse,
And to oure goddys þe to sacryfyse dresse
In hasty wyse; for by phylosophye
I lernyd haue my wrongys to drye
Personel, and þem wyth pacyence
To suffryn, but oure goddys irreuerence
I may not bern in no degre
Pacy[en]t[l]y.’ ‘now treuly,’ quod she,
‘Syth þou fyrst gunne þi mouth to vndo,
Was no wurde þat shewyd þe so
To been a fool as now doth þis;
For not oonly þi resoun inward blynd ys,
But also þi bodyly eyne blynd been;
For þat þing wych, as we alle seen,
Is but a stoon, a god callyst þow.
Wherfore by my counsel do for þi prow:
Put furth þine hand, & wyth touchyng
Proue a stoon to been, wych wyth seyng
Thou wenyst vnwyhsly þat it a god were;
And so let þine hand þine eye treuth lere,
And þan shalt þou be lawhe to skorn
No lenger, as þou hast ben here-beforn,
Of mych pepyl wych knowyth ueryly
That god in heuene dwellyth oonly,
And þat þese fygurs of stoon, bras or tre,
Not trew goddys but fals ydols be,
Wych neythyr hem-self ner oþir moun
Helpyn ner socouryn, as by resoun
It prouyd may be & by experyence.’
And whan Almache sey from þis sentence
That Cycyle no wyse he myht remeue,
Ful sore hys hert yt dede greue.
Wherfore to hyr hous he [hir] home sent,
Chargyng þat she þer shuld be brent
In an hoot bath; wher whan þat she
A day & a nyht fully had be,
Wyth-oute harm or hurt o[f] hyr body
In ony manere part, & eek as myry
As she had ben in an herbere cold & grene,
For of swete no drope on hyr was sene.
And Almache, informyd of þe caas,
Seyd in hys hert ful oftyn, ‘allaas!
What may I best doon for to han
Vyctory of þis wykkyd wumman?
For whyl she lyuyth shal I neuere han ese
In herte!’ wher-foor, hym-self to plese,
He yaf a decre wyth-owte let
That hyr heed shuld of be smet
Euene þer she was; to wych entent
He þedyr oon of hys tormentours sent,
And chargyd hym hastyly yt shuld be do,
Wych aftyr oo strook yaf hyr two;
But, notwythstondyng þese strokys thre,
Hyr heed of smytyn myht not he.
And, for-as-mych as þan þe lawe
Wold not þat þai wych shuld be slawe
Wyth hefdyng, strokys shuld han no mo
Than thre, [þe] lyctour þens dede go,
And left hyr half-deed; & þer-wyth anoon
Of crystene men come þedyr many oon
And gadryd up hyr blood by & by
I feyr clene kerchys ful reuerently.
An thre dayis, wych aftyr she was lyuyng,
She neuere cecyd of holy techyng,
Exhortyng hem stedefast to be
To crystene feyth wych wunne hath she;
Amoung whom also wyth hert glade
She departyd swych thyngys as she ha[d],
In almes-dede. & whan þis was doon,
She hem alle commendyd to þe tuycyoun
Of pope Vrban, to whom mekely
She þus seyd: ‘holy fadyr, I
Thre days haue askyd of respyth,
That I to þe comendyn myht
Thys pepyl, wych by goddys grace
I wunnen haue, & þat my place
To goddys seruyse myht halwyd be
In-to a cherche perpetuelly by the.’
Thys seyd, hyre soule whedyr yt god wold haue
Ferth went anoon; but hyr body dede graue
Pope Vrban in þe selue place
Where popys beryid wer, by a specyal grace.
And aftyr þis to hyr hous he went
And blyssyd yt & halwyd, aftyr hyr entent,
In-to a cherche ful deuouthly;
Wher myraclys ben shewyd plenteuously
To þe honour of god & hys martyr dere.
But whan she was martyrd who-so lyst to here,
I say þat martyrd was Cycyle þe holy uirgyne
The yere of grace, treuly to termyne,
Two hundyrd twenty & eek thre,
(Legenda aurea thus techyth me),
The tende kalende euene of decembre;
Wych tym regny[d], as he doth remembre,
Alexaundyr of Rome þe emperour.
Now, blyssyd Cycyle, of maydynhode flour,
Gemme of stedfastnesse, of martyrdam rose,
Lylye of uirgynyte [in] þine holy purpose,
To þe sympyl preyer beny[n]gly attende
Of hym þat translatour was of þi legende,
Wych þe, feyth, & Barbara, long go dede take
To hys valentyns, & neuere you wyl forsake
Whyl þat he lyuyth: purchace hym grace
Swych sethe to make, or he hens pace,
For the wrechydnesse of hys forn-lyuyng,
That whan body & soule shul make partyng,
And he shal forth passyn from þis owtlaury,
Wyth you in heuene he may be myry.