University of Virginia Library

Lvcye of ‘lyht’, aftyr Ianuencys purpose,
Takyth þe name by dyryuacyoun;
For þe kynde of lyht ys, as seyth Ambrose,
That in syht þer-of ys gracyous consolacyoun,
It dyffoundyth þe self wyth-owte inquynacyoun,
It ryht furth procedyth wyth-owte crokydnesse,
And a long lyne wyth-owte morous dylacyoun
Ful redyly yt passyth, for þe greth swyftnesse.

In wych exaunnple Ianuence doth expresse
That lucye had þe beute of virgynyte,
Wyth-owte spot of fylthe or of vnclennesse,
And ful wyde on brede she chad hyr cheryte;
Ryht entent to god wyth-owtyn oblyquyte
She had, & þe ly[n]e of good werkyng
Wyth perseueraunce fynally possedyd she;
Thys ys þe entent of Ianuences wrytyng.

Now, blyssyd lucye, wych clepyd art lyht
Or lyhtys weye, by a synguler propyrte
Of specyal grace whom so greth myht
The holy gost yaf, þat in no degre
To þe bordelhous myht not drawyn þe
A thowsend men, wyth oxyn many a peyre:
Granth vs in vertu so strong to be
That no maner vyce vs mow apeyre.

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Here begynnys the lyf of seynt Lucye.

Thys nobyl virgyne, þis blyssyd Lucye,
Whos lyf y purpose for to dysc[r]ye
Brefly in englyssh, y[f] god me grace
And of lyf graunte leyser and space,
Born was in a comodyous yle
Wych þat storyis clepyn Cecyle,
And in a cyte wych þei vse
That þer dwellyn to clepyn Syracuse;
And lyneally descendyd of þe wurthyest kin
The seyd cyte wych dwellyd yn.
Whos fadyr deyid in hyr nounn-age;
And a modyr she had, bothe wyhs & sage
Whos name clepyd was Eutyce,
Wych vertu louyd & hatyd vyce.
And so befel þat þe greuous syknesse
Clepyd dyssentyrye hyr dede oppresse
Ful yerys foure, & þat so greuously
That no leche hyr cowde do remedy.
But who-so lyst to vndyrstonde
What dyssentyrye ys, let hym fonde
To aqueyntyn hym wyth summe of þese men:
Ypocras, Constantyn, or Galyen,
Wych of fysyk þe pryncys be
And arn souereyns clepyd in þat faculte,
Wych kun declare clause by clause
Of yche syknesse both ruth & cause.
And how þei shuldyn curyd be.
But I no skyl kan of þat faculte,
Wherefore no man loke aftyr here
That I shuld more seyn in þis matere,
Than þat dyssentyrye of comoun vsage
The reed flyx ys clepyd in oure langwage,
Wych wyth of þe guttys excoryacyoun
Sendyth owte sangweyn agestyoun.
But how þis syknesse hath spycys thre,
And how of thre humours þei causyd be:
As coler reed, fleum salt, & coler adust
(Wych of alle þe thre ys þe wurst);
Nere for what skyl yt ys incurable,
And specyally whan þe colour ys sable:
Of þat faculte for I am but bare,
I wyl not presumyn here to declare.
Suffycyth to knowyn þat þis syknesse
Is ful greuous, as bern wytnesse
Kun þei best þat han experyence
And specyally seyd Eutyce, wych greth expence
Doon had þer-on, as to-foor seyd ys,
Ful yerys foure. but aftyr þis,
Whan thorgh þe prouynce of seyd Cecyle,
Wych of lengthe & brede ys many a myle,
The gloryous fame dyuulgyd was
Of þe blyssyd virgyn seynt Agas.
Wych in [þe] cyte of tagatence
Was neuly martyrd wyth greth vyolence,
Whom for to seken wyth an holy entent
On hyr festful day mych peple went
From euery plage of þe seyd Cecyle,
And specyally from Syracuse, wych fourty myle
And fyue ys from þens, or lytyl lesse.
At wych tyme, excytyd, as I gesse,
By Lucye, hyre doughtyr, Eutyce also
The same pylgrymage purposyd to do;
And, not-wythstondyng hyr syknesse,
She & Lucye hem þedyr dede dresse.
And whan þei doon had her pylgrymage
And offryd, as þan was þe vsage,
And performyd was þe processyoun,
In wych yerly was red & of custom
That gospyl wych tellyth of a wumman
That of þe reed flyx no remedy myht han
Tyl she had touchyd wyth feythful entent
The hem benethyn of hys garnement;
And whan þe gospel was endyd & do,
Lucye hyr modyr þis wyse seyd to:
‘Modyr, yf þou yiue ful credence
Of þis gospel on-to þe sentence,
Beleue þat agas hath euere present
Hym for whos name she suffryd torment;
Wherfore I counsel þat þou hyr graue
Wyth ful feyth touche, & þou shalt haue
Of þi syknesse soon remedye.’
And aftyr, whan yche man hym dede hye
Hoom to hys yn, hym to counforte
Wyth bodyly food & othyr dysporte,
They two abydyn, & wyth humble entent
To agas tounnbe to-gedyr þei went,
To offryn to hyr deuouthly here preyere.
And whan þei contunyd had in þat manere
A lytyl whyle, or þan [s]he took keep
Lucye oppressyd was wyth a sleep;
And anoon as she a-slepe was,
Hyr thouht she sey blyssyd agas,
In myddys of ryht a grete cumpany
Of aungelys stondyn, and ryally
Wyth gemmys arayid bryht & clere,
And to hyr seying on þis manere:
‘Lucye, sustyr, & mayde deuouth,
What ys þe cause þat þou come outh
Of me to askyn swych a bone
As to þi modyr þou mayst grante sone?
For thorgh þi feyth & þi goodnesse
Curyd ys þi modyr of hyr syknesse.
More-ouyr I wyl þou knowe treuly
That, lych as þis cyte þorgh goddys mercy
Of Tagatence onouryd ys by me,
So shal Syracuse ben vurshepyd by þe;
For a dwellyng-place both myry & glad
To god & þi maydynheed þou hast maad.’
And wyth þis wurd Lucye abreyd
Out of hyr slepe, & to hyr modyr þus seyd:
‘Modyr, be myry & of ryht good cher!
For releef þou hast of þi myster,
And art ful helyd of þi syknesse.
Wherfore I þe prey for þe goodnesse
Of hyr thorgh mene of whos preyere
Thou art maad hool, þat in no manere
Here-aftyr, neythir in ernyst nere game,
No mortal husbonde to me do name,
Nere of my body þe fruht of successyoun
Neuere desyre by fleshly corrupcyoun;
But alle þo thyngys wych þou me
Shuldyst yeuyn of my virgynyte
[Go]yng to a mortal coruptoure,
Yif me joy[n]ing to þe conseruatoure
And þe keper of my virgynyte,
Cryst Ihesu, wych euere blyssyd be!’
Quod Eutyce þan: ‘o doughtyr Lucye,
Thys nyne yere syth þi fadyr dede dye
Al thy patrymony ful dylygently
Wych he þe left kept haue y,
And no thyng yt lessyd in ony degre;
And also al þat longyth to me
As my-self, þou knowyst as weel,
Wych þine shal ben euery deel.
Wherfore, douhtyr, fyrst me be-graue,
And þanne shalt þou ful power haue
Wyth al to do what-euere þou lest.’
‘Modyr,’ quod Lucye, ‘þis ys not best,
As me semyth, þe soth to seyn;
For bettyr plesaunce to god yt ys, certeyn,
A man for hys sake to refuse
Swych as no lengere he may vse.
Wherfore, yf þou wylt acceptyd to be
Thy yiftys of god, by counsel of me
Swych thyng yif hym wylfully,
And yn swych tyme as þou mayst frely
Leuyn or kepyn stylle whyl þou lyuyst;
For in þi deyng what-euere þou yiuyst,
There-foor þou yiuyst yt, for in no degre
Aweye þou ne mayst yt bern wyth þe;
And swych yiftys lytyl thank-wurthy
Been as me semyth.’ quod Eutyce: ‘treuly,
As þou wylt, doughtyr, I wyl assente.’
And aftyr þis þei home wente;
And euene forwyth quotydyanly
They almesse delte haboundauntly,
So þat of her temporal possessyoun
Was maad anoon ryht greth dystraccyoun,
And yche daye yt began to amenuse.
Where-up-on ful sore dede muse
He that commenauntyd had to be
Hyr husbonde; & anoon aftyr, he,
The treuth of þe matere for to aspye,
To þe nuryhs he labouryd of lucye,
An pryuyly of hyr he dede enquere
If she owt knew of þat mater.
‘Ya,’ quod hyr noryhs, ‘I knowe ryht wele;
The cause why þat she summe dele
Of hyr meuable good dystraccyoun
Makyth, ys for she a possessyoun
Hath aspyid wych for to bye
She hyr dysposyth ful hastylye,
To þe comoun profyht of [y]ou both two.’
Glad was he þanne, & fully þer-to
He assentyd & was ryht glad.
And yt to perform both counseld & bad,
Wenyng, þe fool, þat she þat wyse
Ment had a temporal marchaundyse.
But whan he sawe how þe game went.
And weel perceyuyd þat ner al spent
Was in almes-dede, & no thyng bowt
Therwyth, ageyn a-noon he sowt
Occasyoun how he myht lucye teynt.
And forth-wyth geynys her he reysyd a pleynt
Beforn [P]as[c]asye, wych of consularye
The offyce hadde & þe lawe dede gye.
And þe summe of hys pleynt was þis:
That she crysten was, & ageyn þe lawys
Of þe emperours lyuyd. & whanne pascaas
Thus ageyn lucye ensencyd was,
In hasty wyse he for hyre sent;
And whan she was come, he hys entent
To hyr dysclosyd in þis manere:
‘Lucye, þou art acusyd here
That þou a crysten wumman shuldyst be,
And lyuyn ageynys þe general decre
Of oure emperours, of þi lygnage
To greth vylany & eek damage.
If yt be soth, þou art to blame;
Wherfore, yf þou wylt eschewyn shame
And harm also as wumman wyhs,
To oure goddys anoon do sacryfyhs,
Mekely þem offryng frankencence.’
To whom þus Lucye seyd hyr sentence:
‘A uery & immaculat sacryfyse
To god, þe fadyr of heuene, þis wyse
Is maad: a man hym to delyte
The fadyrlees chyldyrn to vysyte
And hem to counforte þat troublyd be.
And for I now stond in swych degre
That I not ellys haue to take to
But my-self oonly, sacryfyse to do
To þe fadyr of heuene in humble wyse,
My-self I offre to hys sacryfyse,
For hys sake euene redy to dye.’
‘These wurdys,’ quod Pascas, ‘þou myht, Lucye,
To a crystene fool telle, swych as þou art.
But her I seye as for my part,
Wych kepere am of þe emperours decre,
And euere wyl, þi wurdys veynly seyde [b]e.
Wherfore sece þer-of, lucye, I preye.’
‘Ya, Pascas,’ quod she, ‘lyst what I seye!
Thou dredyst þi pryncys wych ben mortal,
And I drede þe god þat ys eternal.
Thou þi pryncys decrees hast in awe,
And I besy to kepe my goddys lawe.
Thou dredyst þi pryncys to offende,
And to offend my god I am dredende.
Thou desyryst þi pryncys plesaunce to do,
And I god to plesyn coueyte also.
Wherfore do þou now as þou lest,
And I wyl doon as me thynkyth best.’
Quod paschasye, ‘þou hast wyth coruptours
Thy patrymonye spent & wyth lecchours,
Wherfore þou spekyst as a strumpet.’
‘My patrymonye,’ quod Lucye, ‘I haue beset
In sykyr place; but of soule ner body
Coruptours yet neuere noon had I.’
‘Of body & soule, o þou nyce Lucye,
Wych ben coruptou[r]s þou vs descrye!’
‘Coruptours of soule, I-wys,’ quod she,
‘And gostly auounterers ben al ye,
Wych do youre besynesse in your laboure
To makyn soulys to forsakyn her creatour.
For, as seyth seynt poule, shrewyd talkyng
Corumpyth good maners & good lyuyng.
But þei ben coruptours of þe body
That delectacyoun preferryn here temporally
Of here flesh, wych ys mortal,
Beforn þe delycys wych euere dure shal.’
‘I-wys,’ quod Paschasye, ‘þese wurdys shul fayle
Whan tormentys þe onys begynne assayle.’
‘Sekyr,’ quod Lucye, ‘þat ys a lees,
For goddys wurdys shal neuere cees.’
‘Ergo þou art a god?’ quod he.
‘Thyn argument is not wurth,’ quod she.
‘I am no god, but I am þe hand-mayde
Of hym wych in hys gospel seyde:
Beforn kyngys & meyrys whan ye stonde,
Wych me fro you to departen shuld fonde,
Not thynkyth to-forn in youre mende
What shal be gynnyng or what ende
Of swych wurdys as ye þere shul seyn;
For þis I wyle ye k[n]owe certeyn,
It ys not ye þat spekyn, sothly,
But yt ys þe spyryht of your fadyr on hy
In þe blysse of heuene of myhtys most.’
‘Ergo,’ quod Paschasye, ‘þe holy gost
Is þe wyth-ynne, & þis manere speche
Wych þou here vsyst now doth [þ]e teche.’
‘Certeyn,’ quod Lucye, ‘þis weel woot I,
That þei wy[ch] chast leuyn contunelly
Here in þis werd, been thorch grace
The holy gostys temple & hys dwellyng-place.’
Quod Paschasye þan, ‘here-ageyn shal y
Ful redyly ordeynyn a remedy
To dryuyn þe holy gost fro the;
For to þe bordelhous þou led shat be,
Where, wylt þou or nylt, folwe þe lust
Of euere comer þedyr nedys þou must
Of nature aftyr the condycyoun.
And whan þou þus wyth corupcyoun
Defoulyd art, I vndyr-take
The holy gost wyl þe forsake.’
Quod Lucye ageyn: ‘ful weel knowe I
That defoulyd shal neuere þe body
Wyth-owtyn assent of þe soule be;
As by an exaunnple þou mayst se:
I put þis caas, þat wyth vyolence
Ageyn my wyl þou put frankencence
In myn hand & up-on colys reede
Beforn your goddys yt to shede
Thou me compellyst, myn hand shakyng,
Wenyst þou þat þis were plesyng
To youre goddys as for sacryfyse?
I trow nay; but in no wyse,
I dar weel seyn, to þe hy reuerence
Of my lord god no manere offence
That shuld do nere dysplesaunce,
Wych in euery thyng more attendaunce
Takyth to þe entent þan to þe deed.
Wherefore, þow þou for þi cruelheed
Make by force þe integryte
Of my body to be reft fro me,
Yet shal I þer-to neuere assent
In soule; wherfore, what-euere torment
Thou to me lyst of þi tyranny
Applyin, to suffryn I am redy.
Why taryist so long? anoon begyn,
Thou sone of þe deuyl, & euery gyn
Of peyne wych þou kanst deuyse
Spare not in me to excersyse,
For I wyl þou knowe I þe not fere.’
Whan Paschasye herd þis answere,
Anoon to hys presence he dede calle
Of þe cyte þe Ruffyens alle;
Wych been men þat synfullye
Wummen ben customyd to selle & bye,
And to settyn hem to fer[m]e at þe bordelhous,
Ther to gete wyth her craft vycyous
Her lyuyng & her maystrys þer-to,
Greth peyne to suffre lesse þei so do.
And whan þei were comm to þe presence
Of Paschasye, þus he hys sentence
To hem shewyd: ‘syrs, I you charge,
When ye þis damysel han forth at large,
Whom I iuge comoun wumman to be,
Makyth proclamacyoun þorgh þe cyte,
That to þe bordelhous come who-so wyl
Wyth hyr þe lust for to fulfyl
Of hys flessh at hys owe lykyng;
And doth hem to wet þat she ys ying,
Lusty & feyr, & a maydyn also,
And men þe gladlyer shal precyn hyr to.
And so long hyr letyth ben excercysyd
Lych to you as I haue deuysyd
Tyl she be deed for werynesse.’
And anoon furth-wyth þe gunne hem dresse
Hyr furth to lede, as Paschasye bad;
But wyth al þe myht at þei had,
Wyth so greth wyhte þe holy gost
Hyr had fyxyd, þat lest & most
Styryn h[ir] ne myht ner remeue,
Wych Paschasys hert sore dede greue.
And anoon he comaundyd al þe men
Wych aboutyn hym stood þedyr to ren
And help to drawe, but yt wold not be.
And anoon he chargyd hem þat she
Shuld both handys & feet be bounde;
And whan þat was doon, þe selue stounde
Thedyr he ordeynyd to repeyre
Of myhty oxyn ful many a peyre,
Weel harneysyd & arayid þer-to,
But neythyr men ner bestys myht do
To hyr ryht nowt; but as an hyl
Rotyd she stood both fyx & styl.
And whan he þis sawe, he forth dede calle
The wycchys & þe prestys of þe templys alle,
And preyid hem þat wyth þere incantacyouns,
And to her goddys wyth inuocacyouns,
That þei shuld helpyn hyr forth to brynge.
But for al her crafth & here preyinge,
Ner for no thyng þei cowde deuyse,
They myht hyr steryn in no wyse.
And whan he þis sawe, wenyng þat she
Had by wycchecrafth þus heuy be,
Vp-on hyr oyle he dede caste,
Hopyng þer-wyth for to waste,
Aftyr þe comoun opynyouns entent,
The myht of magyk or enchauntement;
But alle hys besynesse myht not auayle.
And whan al hys craft he saw fayle,
‘Lucye,’ he seyd, ‘I þe beseche,
What be þi wycchecraftys do us teche!’
‘I wyl þou knowe, Pascasye,’ quod she,
‘That wycchecrafth þer ys noon in me.
But al þat doon ys, by þe vertu
Doon ys of my lord god Ihesu.’
‘How ys yt þanne,’ quod he, ‘dylate,
That a maydyn yung & delycate
Of a thousend men may not styryd be?’
‘Sekyrly, the holy gost,’ quod she,
‘Swych wychte me yeuyth, þat þow þou do
Othyre ten thousand men þer-to,
They shul me neythyr styre ner meue.
For fully in þat scrypture I beleue
That seyth of hem wych to god calle
In ony nede: a thousande shul falle
On þi lyfth syde, & on þi ryht hand
Shul ouyrth[r]owe ten thousand,
And be þei neuere so shrewyd of wyl,
Shal noon of hem alle neyhyn þe tyl.’
Wyth þis answere he greuyd was sore
And in hym-self troublyd more & more,
Compasyng alle hys wyttys wyth-ynne
By what crafth or by what gynne
He moost cruelly myht to deth hyr brynge.
And whan Lucye hym stondyn þus saw musyng,
She dede þus crye: ‘o wrecchyd Pascaas,
Why art þou so tormentyd in þis caas,
Wych ynne þi-self wyth malycyusnesse
So grethly doth þine herte oppresse?
Why art þou of coloure so pale, & heu?
Syth þou hast prouyd how by þe vertu
Of þe holy gost I hys dwellyng-place
And hys temple am made, by a specyal grace.
Leue þine erroure & yiue credens.
And yf þou ne wylt, fast hy þe hens.
What shuldyst þou lenger here abyde?’
Whan he þis herd, ful loude he cryde
For uery angwyssh euene of hys herte.
And anoon he chargyd men to sterte
Feyr for to fecche, &, yt to encrees,
He bad hem bryng wax, pych & grees,
And makyn a feer hyr round aboute.
And of þe tormentours al þe route
To executyn were myry & glad
Al þat cruel Paschasye bad.
And whan þe feer began to glowe,
Vp-on hyre he bad men throwe
Feruent oyle ful fast boylyng.
And whan performyd was al þis thyng,
In þe myddys stondyng of þe leye,
Lucye stedefastly þus dede seye:
‘I haue besowt my lord Ihesu
That þis feer mow no vertu
Or power haue to touche me,
For two causys: oon ys þat þe
The more anguysshyd I myht make,
Anothyr ys of deth to take
Awey from crystene men þe fere,
And to suffraunce of passyoun þe myhtyer.’
And whan pascasyis frendys stondyng by
Herde þese wurdys, þei wer angry,
And euene lych wood men þe ferd,
For in hyr throte þei shouyn a swerd,
Hyr sone desyryng to confounde.
But not-wythstondyng þat greuous wounde
She kept hyr speche, and þus pleynly
To þe feythful she seyd þat stood hyr by:
‘Syrs, be ryht glad, for I telle you
To crystys cherche pees ys yeue now;
For deed þis daye ys Maxymyan,
And from hys regne ys kast Dyoclycyan.
More-ouyr I wyl ye knowe, sothly,
That as Agas for Tagatence so am y
Thorgh goddys grace ordeynyd to be
A medyatryce for þis cyte.
Thankyth hertyly god of hys goodnesse,
That lyst for you so wele to dresse
And aftyr greth sorwe send mery tydyng.’
And whyl she þis wyse stood talkyng,
Pascasye takyn & boundyn myhtyly
The romayns mynystrys brouht þer forby
To Romeward, for þei relacyoun
Haddyn þat he greth depopulacyoun
Had maad [in] the prouynce of Cecyle.
Wher whan he cam, wyth-yn short whyle
Acusyd, conuyct, & iugyd was he
Of þe senate hefdyd for to be.
And so home to helle he dede hym hye.
But not-for-þan, seyd blyssyd Lucye
Neythyr deyid ner meuyd from þat grounde
In wych she took hyr deedly wounde
Tyl prestys comyn & wyth holy entent
Mynystryd had hyre þe sacrament
Of crystys body, & tyl eek alle men
W[y]ch stood be-syde had answerd amen.
And þan anoon she dede comende
To god hyr soule, & forth it sende
To heuene blysse þourgh goddys grace;
Whos body was beryid in þe same place,
And þere-ouyr a cherche made hastyly,
In wych yt ys shrynyd ful reuerently,
Abydyng þe daye of þe greth assyse;
In wych, O Lucye, in humble wyse
I the beseche þat þe translatour
Of þi legende for hys labour
By mene of þe, wych clepyd art lyht
Aftyr þi name, may haue a syht
Of þe greth lyht & eek bryhtnesse
Of hym þat sunne ys of ryhtwysnesse,
And illumynyth wyth hys grace alle men,
Whom onys to seen ys ioye. AmeN.

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