 | A newe Treatyse deuyded in thre [arties |  |
Here begynneth the thyrde parte of this boke/that speaketh of death.
Death is moste dredefull thynge that isIn all the worlde, as the boke wytnesseth this
For there is no quycke thynge lyuynge
That agaynst death is sore dredynge
Fleeth it as long as he may/but at last it is deathes pray
And when death cōmeth, and maketh debate
All thynge he bryngeth, in to another state
For no man may agaynst hym stande
Whyther he come by water, or by lande.
Of thre maners of death.
As Clarckes fynde wryten, theyre dethThre maners of death ben yt men dredeth
One is bodely that after kynde doth wende
And yt other ghostly, that other wtout ende
And bodely death, that kyndly is wrought
Is when body and soule, a sonder is brought
Death is full harde & bytter, as I shall tell you here after
For ghostly death is departynge of synne
Betwene God, and mannes soule within
For ryght as the soule is lyfe of the body
Ryght so the lyfe of the soule is God almyghty
And as the body is without any doubte
Deade as stone, when mannes soule is out
So is the soule of man deade also
When almyghtye God departeth there fro
For where synne is, the deuyll is of hell
And where synne is, God wyll nat dwell
For deedly synne, and the deuyll, and he
In one place, may nat togyther be
And when mannes soule, is bounde with synne
God is thence, and the deuyll dwelleth therin
Than is the soule deade, before God in dede
Whyle synne and the soule, dwelleth in one stede.
Howe a mannes soule is deade throughe synne.
As
a mannes body may be slawe
With wepyn, that to hym may be drawe
So is the soule slayne throughe foule synne
Wherfore God and he departeth at wynne
Than is ghostly death for to drede more
Than any bodely death, thoughe it greue sore
And in as moche, as the soule pryncypally
Is more worthy, than a mannes body
For thoughe a mannes soule, throughe synne be deade
And departed from God in his manheade
Yet it myght euer lyue, and harde payne fynde
But the body is deed anone throughe flesshely kynde
But of bodely death is none agayne tournynge
For of all earthly death, it maketh an endynge
And that is the way, that we must wende
To toye other to payne, that is without ende
Neuertheles yf the soule with synne be slayne
Yet he may throughe grace, be quycked agayne
For God bought it dere, vpon the rode tre
In the ioy of Paradyce, with hym for to be
For all ghostly woundes, that be of synne
May here throughe penaunce, take hele to wynne
And thoughe God euer be ryghtfull and myghtye
Yet he euermore is full of mercye
And to saue mannes soule, more redy is he
Than any man wyll, to his mercye fle
For the lyfe of the soule, pleaseth hym more
Than doth mannes death, as sayth his lore.
With wepyn, that to hym may be drawe
So is the soule slayne throughe foule synne
Wherfore God and he departeth at wynne
Than any bodely death, thoughe it greue sore
And in as moche, as the soule pryncypally
Is more worthy, than a mannes body
For thoughe a mannes soule, throughe synne be deade
And departed from God in his manheade
Yet it myght euer lyue, and harde payne fynde
But the body is deed anone throughe flesshely kynde
But of bodely death is none agayne tournynge
For of all earthly death, it maketh an endynge
And that is the way, that we must wende
To toye other to payne, that is without ende
Neuertheles yf the soule with synne be slayne
Yet he may throughe grace, be quycked agayne
For God bought it dere, vpon the rode tre
In the ioy of Paradyce, with hym for to be
For all ghostly woundes, that be of synne
May here throughe penaunce, take hele to wynne
And thoughe God euer be ryghtfull and myghtye
Yet he euermore is full of mercye
And to saue mannes soule, more redy is he
Than any man wyll, to his mercye fle
For the lyfe of the soule, pleaseth hym more
Than doth mannes death, as sayth his lore.
Nolo mortem peccatoris sed magis conuertatur vt viuat.
I wyll nat the death of a synfull wyghtBut he tourne hym, and do penaunce ryght
Than may a synfull man, that his soule hath slawe
Be tourned to grace, and from dampnacyon be drawe.
Howe in hell is death without ende.
That they shall haue, that there shall dwell
For hell is counted a peryllous place
For there is endeles wo, without any grace
Care and sorowe, that neuer shall lynne
yet may nat the soule dye therin
And it myght dye, as the body doth here
Of all her payne, than delyuered she were
For the death of hell, is euermore lyuynge
And is stronge death, euermore lastynge
Of this death men may rede and loke
In the Psalmes of Dauid in his boke
That speaketh moche, of the paynes of hell
Therfore vpon this matter, I wyll no longer dwell
What maner thynge is death.
Death is nought els sothlyBut departyng bytwene the soule & the body
And as I haue somdele before sayde
This may be called a deathes brayde
And a very remembrynge of mannes lyfe
When the soule parteth from the body with stryfe
As ye may knowe in your thought
That kyndely darckenes is to be felt nought
But where that no maner lyght is se
Proprely there is darckenes in euery degre
So that darckenes is byreyuynge of lyght
So is death of lyfe, when a man is hence twyght
Thus fareth death, that all men dredeth moste
When the lyfe fayleth, they yelde vp the ghoste.
Men dredeth death for foure thynges.
Foure
encheasones in bokes I rede
Why men death so moche drede
One is for death is stronge and fell
And hath more payne, than man can tell
Another is, for the syght that he shall se
Of horryble deuylles, that aboute hym shall be
The thyrde is for acompte that he shall yelde
Of all that he hath done in youth and elde
The fourth for he is euer than vncertayne
Whyther he shall wende to blysse or payne
He woteth nat than, howe he shall fare
For death is bytter, and full of care
And so it semeth well, as sayth the boke
For when Chryste dyed in manhed that he toke
And or he dyed vpon the holy rode
For drede of death, he swete droppes of blode
For he wyst, or he to death gan passe
What the harde payne, of bodely death was
Than may we knowe therby full wele
That the payne of mannes death, is harde to fele
And of that death, I may thynke wonder
For all thynge death may breake asonder
As it sheweth by many wayes to vs
Therfore an holy man, in his boke sayth thus.
Why men death so moche drede
One is for death is stronge and fell
And hath more payne, than man can tell
Another is, for the syght that he shall se
Of horryble deuylles, that aboute hym shall be
The thyrde is for acompte that he shall yelde
Of all that he hath done in youth and elde
The fourth for he is euer than vncertayne
Whyther he shall wende to blysse or payne
He woteth nat than, howe he shall fare
For death is bytter, and full of care
And so it semeth well, as sayth the boke
For when Chryste dyed in manhed that he toke
And or he dyed vpon the holy rode
For drede of death, he swete droppes of blode
For he wyst, or he to death gan passe
What the harde payne, of bodely death was
Than may we knowe therby full wele
That the payne of mannes death, is harde to fele
And of that death, I may thynke wonder
For all thynge death may breake asonder
As it sheweth by many wayes to vs
Therfore an holy man, in his boke sayth thus.
Mors soluit omnia.
Death he sayeth, vndoeth all maner thyngeAnd of mannes lyfe, maketh an endynge
Wherfore death is greatly to be dred
As hereafter it shall be more playnely shewed.
Of the fyrste encheason why men dredeth death.
Firste
a man shulde drede death in his herte
For the paynes of death, that be full smerte
That is the last, and also the ende
When the soule from the body shall wende
A sorowfull departynge is that for to tell
For they loue togyther, euermore to dwell
And none of them, wolde from other go
So moche loue, is bytwene them two
And the sadder that two be togyther in loue
As a man and his wyfe, throughe God aboue
The more sorowe, and the longer mournynge
Shall be bytwene them, at theyr departynge
But the body and the soule, with the lyfe
Loueth more togyther, than doth man and wyfe
And whyther that they gone, in good way or euyll
Euer togyther they wolde be styll
But there is encheason, as men may se
Why that they wolde euer togyther be
For encheason that God, throughe his myght and wyt
That body and soule, fyrste togyther knyt
Another is, for that one may nothynge do
But yf that other, wyll helpe therto
The thyrde is, for they shall togyther come
Before our Lorde God, to theyr dome
The fourth encheason is, when they come there
Togyther they shall dwell, without any where
Therfore the more is theyr payne and care
When that one shall from that other fare
And this departynge, may be called death
That flyeth aboute, as doth a mannes breath
Throughe all landes, both farre and nere
And spareth nothynge, for any powere
For prayer ne gyfte, that any man may gyue
Where that death cōmeth, he suffreth no man to lyue
For he ne spareth neyther hye ne lowe
That he ne reueth theyr lyfe in a lytell throwe
So death hath no mercye of no wyght
As saynt Bernarde wytnesseth full ryght.
For the paynes of death, that be full smerte
That is the last, and also the ende
When the soule from the body shall wende
A sorowfull departynge is that for to tell
For they loue togyther, euermore to dwell
And none of them, wolde from other go
So moche loue, is bytwene them two
And the sadder that two be togyther in loue
As a man and his wyfe, throughe God aboue
The more sorowe, and the longer mournynge
Shall be bytwene them, at theyr departynge
But the body and the soule, with the lyfe
Loueth more togyther, than doth man and wyfe
And whyther that they gone, in good way or euyll
Euer togyther they wolde be styll
But there is encheason, as men may se
Why that they wolde euer togyther be
For encheason that God, throughe his myght and wyt
That body and soule, fyrste togyther knyt
Another is, for that one may nothynge do
But yf that other, wyll helpe therto
The thyrde is, for they shall togyther come
Before our Lorde God, to theyr dome
The fourth encheason is, when they come there
Togyther they shall dwell, without any where
Therfore the more is theyr payne and care
When that one shall from that other fare
And this departynge, may be called death
That flyeth aboute, as doth a mannes breath
Throughe all landes, both farre and nere
And spareth nothynge, for any powere
Where that death cōmeth, he suffreth no man to lyue
For he ne spareth neyther hye ne lowe
That he ne reueth theyr lyfe in a lytell throwe
So death hath no mercye of no wyght
As saynt Bernarde wytnesseth full ryght.
Non miserietur in opie nec reueretur diuiciis nec sapientie, nec moribus, nec etati.
He sayeth that death of pouert no mercye takethNeyther to ryche men, rewarde he hath
Neyther to wysdome, that men can shewe
Neyther to olde men, for theyr dayes be fewe
Death wyll haue neyther reuerence nor fauour
Neyther frendshyp of kynge, ne Emperour
Neyther of bysshop, ne yet of prelate
Neyther of other, what soeuer they be of state
Therfore saynt Bernarde, sayth thus in his wrytynge
For euery man shulde drede deathes cōmynge.
Mortem esse cōmunem, cunctis scito viuentibus.
Understande thou he sayth, that death isTo all cōmon, both to more and lesse
And thus shall death vysyte euery man
And yet what he is, no man dyscerne can
But the payne of death, that all shall fele
As telleth a Phylosopher to vs full well.
He
lykeneth a mannes lyfe vnto a tre
That were waxynge, yf it myght be
Through a mans hert, wt rotes to sprynge
And in euery place, a braunche growynge
And the crop at ye mouth, out come myght
And to eche a ioynte, a roote were dyght
And euery vayne, that is in a mannes body
Had a rote fastened full harde therby
And to euery fynger, and toes also
Were a rote from the tre growynge therto
That in eche lymbe, that is in euery syde
The rotes of the tre, shulde theron betyde
If that tre were so sore pulled out
That the rotes shulde aryse all aboute
Than shulde the rotes, the ioyntes strayne
And eche bone, and synewe also with vayne
Than a more payne, can no man cast
Than this we[illeg.]as longe as it myght last
And yet the payne of death is holde more
And harder in his tyme, than this wore
Therfore euery man before as it is sayde
May greatly drede, the harde deathes brayde
But the moste drede is then all within
If a mannes soule be in deedly synne
And therfore the Prophete, sayth thus in his boke
And warneth vs echone therto to loke.
That were waxynge, yf it myght be
Through a mans hert, wt rotes to sprynge
And in euery place, a braunche growynge
And the crop at ye mouth, out come myght
And to eche a ioynte, a roote were dyght
And euery vayne, that is in a mannes body
And to euery fynger, and toes also
Were a rote from the tre growynge therto
That in eche lymbe, that is in euery syde
The rotes of the tre, shulde theron betyde
If that tre were so sore pulled out
That the rotes shulde aryse all aboute
Than shulde the rotes, the ioyntes strayne
And eche bone, and synewe also with vayne
Than a more payne, can no man cast
Than this we[illeg.]as longe as it myght last
And yet the payne of death is holde more
And harder in his tyme, than this wore
Therfore euery man before as it is sayde
May greatly drede, the harde deathes brayde
But the moste drede is then all within
If a mannes soule be in deedly synne
And therfore the Prophete, sayth thus in his boke
And warneth vs echone therto to loke.
O mors quoth amara memoria tua homini iniusto.
O thou bytter death, and dredefull sayth heFull grysely thynge it is for to thynke on the
And namely to that man, that is full of synne
Wherfore his conscyence, is greued within
Therfore me thynketh a man is nat sly
That maketh nat hym to death redy
For so certayne in earth, is no maner man
That his endynge day, forsoth tell can
Neyther the tyme of death, can nat loke
And so saynt Bernarde sayeth in this boke.
Quid in rebus humanis certius est morte Quid incertius hora mortis inuenietur.
Than is death, that is so sodayne
And what is also more vncertayne thynge
Than is the tyme of deathes cōmynge
Therfore saynt Austyne, the holy man
Sayeth thus in his boke, as I proue can.
Nescis qua hora veniat mors ideo sēper vigila vt cū venerit te patū inueniat & tēpus illius forte nescis vt sēp ideo cēs peratus.
Man thou knowest nat sayeth heWhat tyme deathes cōmynge shall be
Therfore wake as thou haddest euer knowynge
The tyde and tyme of deathes cōmynge
That death fynde the when he shall come
All redy to God and buxome
For thou shuldest nat, perchaunce knowe
The cōmynge of death, to holde the lawe
And in thy conscyence, to make the yare
For when death cōmeth, he wyll nat spare
Than behoueth vs our lyfe so to cast
As euery day of our lyfe, were the last
And euery day vs aredy to make
As we shulde eche day, the death take
And nat abyde, tyll death vs vysyte
For? saynt Austyne in his boke thus doth wryte.
Latet nobis vltimus dies vt obseruerentur bene ceteri dico Raro enim perantur remedia, cum mortis venerūt pericula.
The last day of man here sayeth heFor all other dayes, better kept shulde be
For men ordeyneth remedye to late
When perylles of death standeth at the gate
And in the same state, that he is than
He shall be demed when he is gone
Shulde nat abyde, deathes cōmynge
But make hym redy, or he death fele
And than after kepe hym selfe wele
For when death is to the gate come
Than to late hath he his warnynge nome
For death from a man, his mynde byreueth
And no kyndely wyt in hym byleueth
For than shall he fynde suche payne and drede
That he shall thynke vpon no mysdede
But in this payne, and in nothynge elles
As the holy man, saynt Austyne telles.
Timor mortis totam vitam sibi vendicat vt de peccatis tunc libeat cogitare. &c.
Drede of death he sayeth, when he assayleth a manChaungeth the soule, and maketh the body wan
So hym luste than to haue no thought
Of the synnes, that he hath here ywrought
Therfore euery man amende hym here
Or death come and sende his messengere
And yf a man wyll before beware
Than of all synnes, death shall fynde hym bare
His messenger, well may be called syckenes
That goeth before, and bryngeth hym indystres
For syckenes ofte tymes, pyneth a man so
That for great syckenes his mynde is go
For than may he thynke, vpon nothynge elles
But vpon the payne, that vpon hym dwelles
But when death cōmeth to hym soone afterwarde
Than paynes shall he fele, that be more harde
For than shall he be set in suche drede
So that of hym selfe, he taketh lytell hede
Whyles that he myght, haue God in thought
Therfore he shall then lese clene his mynde
And thus we may in saynt Austyne fynde.
Hac animaduersione percuititor peccator vt moriens obliuiscatur sui qui dum viueret oblitus est dei sui.
The synfull man he sayeth, as it is wryteWith the payne of death, shall be ysmyte
That for the payne, that in hym shall fall
Forgetteth hym selfe, when he hence shall
For whyle that he lyued, at his owne wyll
He forgate God, and his hestes wolde nat fyll
And also synnefull men, haue here no grace
To haue repentaunce, neyther tyme ne space
Thus shall he dye, and so lese heauen blysse
And be put in to payne, without any lysse
For they be vnkynde, and to God vncurtayes
Therfore saynt Dauid, in the Psalter thus sayes.
Uos autem sicut homines moriemini, & sicut [illeg.] de principibus cadetis.
And sayeth thus to men, ye shall dye allAnd as on of the prynces ye shall fall
That is ye shall dye in the same manere
As all men dyed in this worlde here
And as the gostes, that fell from heauen
And were put to hell, with an horryble steuen
Therfore to euery man, it were wysdome
To amende hym of synnes, or death come
And haue God in mynde, whyle his lyfe is
As the Prophete cōmaundeth, and sayeth this.
Memento creatoris tui antequā veniat tempus visitationis tue.
Hym that made the fyrste of nought
Whyle thou lyuest, and or thy tyme be
When God with death, wyll vysyte the
For death clene mannes mynde breketh
And therfore saynt Dauid to God thus speaketh.
Domine non est in morte qui memor sit tui.
Lorde he sayth, that man alyue is noughtThat in tyme of death, hath nat the in thought
But men may vnderstande therby
The death of soule, throughe synne namely
For the man that of God myndeles is
It semeth in soule, that he deade is
For God vysyteth vs by euery maner way
Where that the tokens of death fele we may
For yf we coulde vs well vnderstonde
The tokens of death, eche day doth vs fonde
Wherfore me thynketh, all that here semeth
Is more deade than alyue, as wyse men demeth
For the boke telleth, and wytnesseth before
That a man anone as he is bore
Begynneth towarde his death to drawe
And with dyuerse euylles, often is gnawe
As angers and syckenes, that falleth all day
The whiche deathes throwes, call we may
And in other wayes, and perylles many one
That oft greueth men, in flesshe and in bone
Than is our byrth here but abydynge
A bodely death, that is our endynge
For the longer, that a man waxeth olde
The more may this lyfe death be colde
Than semeth our lyfe here nothynge elles
And to that other lyfe, come we nought
Tyll death this lyfe, to ende hath brought
But when death of our lyfe, hath made an ende
Than knowe we nought, whyther for to wende
Whyther that we shall to well other to wo
But certes to that one we shall go
And to good men, than death is the way
To the ioy of heauen, that lasteth ay
And to the wycked men, that passeth that entre
In the payne of hell, they shall euer be
Therfore saynt Dauid the holy prophete
Thus speaketh to God, with wordes swete.
Qui evaltas me de portis mortis vt [illeg.] laudes tuas.
Lorde almyghty God, forsoth thou arte heThat from the gates of death, hast take me
So that I may tell passynge all thynges
The great multytude of thy praysynges
In the holy gates of thy doughter Syon
That gate as Clarckes telleth, that can theron
Is holy Churche, that God fyrste cheace
Throughe the whiche, men cōmeth to the gate of peace
And by the gates of death, as we may se
The bytter death of hell, vnderstande may be
From that same place, God kepe vs nyght and day
And graunt vs his loue, as he well may
Therfore we shulde hym serue, and his wyll worche
In the trewe beleue of holy Churche
So that we may, than afterwarde wende
To the cytie of peace, that hath none ende
But all men that shall to that place come
Hence shall wende throughe death all and some
That lyueth here in earth after Goddes wyll
And in suche holy lyfe stedfastly dwelleth
As saynt Austyne the holy man, in a boke telleth.
Mala mors illi putanda non est, quem in vita sua boni actus processerunt.
He sayeth men shulde nat, to them euyll death weneThat in good dedes, wolde his lyfe mene
For nothynge maketh a man so hye of boste
As euyll dedes that foloweth the death moste
For all be deedly, that synne wyll do
And therfore saynt Austyne, sayeth thus therto.
Non potest male mori qui bene viverit & viv bene moritur qui male viverit.
He sayeth, he may no euyll death haueThat lyueth on earth throughe Goddes lawe
But vnneth may men by any reason
Dye in good death, that leadeth his lyfe in treason
But that man, that hateth this lyfes lykynge
Dare neuer drede of deathes cōmynge
For after his death here, no payne hym deres
As Caton wytnesseth in this verse.
Non metuit mortem qui sit contempnere vitam.
He sayeth, he that can this lyfe despyseShall nat drede death, in no maner wyse
For so dyd martyres, that theyr death sought
For after this worlde, nothynge they wrought
And also holy men, wylled to death be dyght
To dwell in heauen, with God almyght
As the bokes of theyr lyues, telleth to vs
For so dyd an holy man, that sayeth thus.
Cupio dissolui & esse cum christo.
Out of this lyfe, and be with Chryste without ende
For holy men, thought here this lyfe
Was nothynge els, but sorowe and stryfe
Therfore they coueyted, the ende of theyr day
As sayeth an holy man, as I tell may.
Melius est dies mortis quoth dies natiuitatis.
He sayeth, better is the day of death aloneThan the day of byrth, that is full of mone
For a good man dyeth, for to go vnto rest
Theyr lyfe is endeles, and ioy alther mest
When the soule from the body shall begon
As in Apocalyps, wytnesseth saynt Iohn̄.
Beati mortui qui in domino moriuntur.
Blessyd be all they, in dede and in wordeThat dyeth here in earth, in the honour of our lorde
For all that men seth in good lyfe ende
They dye with God, and to hym shall wende
Into the ioy of heauen, that is on hyghe
Well is hym that throughe death, that stede may nyghe
And doubteles, thoughe holy men dyed here wele
Yet the paynes of death they shall fele
But when they shall, a newe lyfe wynne
When the body and soule, departeth atwynne
Somedele they shall than haue drede
Throughe mankynde, and throughe manhede
Syth that Chryste dred death in his passyon
Throughe kynde of his flesche, as it was reason
Than ought a man both lesse and more,
The bytter paynes of death, drede full sore.
The .ij. encheasō why mē dredeth death.
The
seconde encheason is, as I in boke rede
Why that death is so greatly to drede
For the dredfull syght of many foule fendes
That a man shal se than, & few other frendes
When that at this lyfe here draweth to ye ende
And woteth nat whyther he shall with them wende
For when the lyfe of a man, is in doubte
Than wyll deuylles come hym aboute
To take the soule, with them away
Into the payne of hell, and that is theyr pray
For as wode Lyones, they shall than fare
And on hym grenne, rore and stare
And horryble rollynge, and on hym blere
And with hydeous lokes, to make hym fere
And so they wyll stande, at his endynge
If that they myght, in wanhope hym brynge
Throughe suche thretnynge, as they wyll than make
And throughe drede, that they shall take
Throughe hydeous syghtes, that they then wyll shewe
The horryble company, that stande shall in rewe
And therfore the prophete saynt Ieromye
Wytnesseth these wordes in his prophecye.
Why that death is so greatly to drede
For the dredfull syght of many foule fendes
That a man shal se than, & few other frendes
When that at this lyfe here draweth to ye ende
And woteth nat whyther he shall with them wende
For when the lyfe of a man, is in doubte
Than wyll deuylles come hym aboute
To take the soule, with them away
Into the payne of hell, and that is theyr pray
For as wode Lyones, they shall than fare
And on hym grenne, rore and stare
And horryble rollynge, and on hym blere
And with hydeous lokes, to make hym fere
And so they wyll stande, at his endynge
If that they myght, in wanhope hym brynge
Throughe suche thretnynge, as they wyll than make
And throughe drede, that they shall take
Throughe hydeous syghtes, that they then wyll shewe
The horryble company, that stande shall in rewe
And therfore the prophete saynt Ieromye
Wytnesseth these wordes in his prophecye.
Omnes amici eius apprehenderunt eam interangustias.
He sayeth, that amonge his anguysshes greatHis ennemyes shulde hym take, and nought let
Than is no wonder, thoughe the deuylles come
To the synfull man, when death hath hym nome
As the deuyll to saynt Bernarde came at the last day
To brynge the holy man, into great afray.
Howe the deuyll came and appered vnto saynt Bernarde.
When he drewe to his deathwarde
That the deuyll of hell, so horryble of hewe
Asked of saynt Bernarde, wt wordes fewe
Wherfore he asked the kyngdome of heuen
Syth he had gylt in the synnes seauen
Then answered saynt Bernarde to hym this
That I am nat worthy, I wote ywis
Throughe myne owne synnes, it for to haue
When I shall hence wende to my graue
But throughe my lorde Iesus full of myght
That all thynge gouerneth, as it is ryght
As throughe ryght of his fathers herytage
And also for chrysten mennes auauntage
And throughe ryght of his harde passyon
That he suffred here, for our saluacyon
That herytage frely, he graunted me
And also that other parte to hym shulde be
Of whose ryght, I aske that heauen ryche
After his mercye, that nothynge is lyche
When the deuyll harde hym thus say
As ouercome he went his way
And anone saynt Bernarde, when this was done
Came agayne to his mynde, that erst was gone
And anone dyed afterwarde tho
And euen his soule to blysse gan go
But it is more wonder all for to tell
Why that God suffreth, the deuyll of hell
To appere to hym, that is of myght moste
Whan that he dyed, and gaue vp his ghoste
For the great Clarckes, wytnesseth it
In theyr owne bokes, that be of holy wryt
Suffre the deuyll of hell, to appere to vs
In tyme of death, at our last ende
When we shall all hence wende
But a stronge payne, to vs that shall be
The great syght of deuylles, that than we shall se
For they be so horryble, as telleth the boke
And so blacke, and dredefull vpon to loke
So that all maner of men, that I may deuyse
Of the foule syght of them, may sore agryse
For all maner men, that be in earth alyue
So horryble a syght, can neuer descryue
Nor none so queynte a payntour, yt myght brynge to passe
Neyther man so wytty, neuer yet was
That coulde ought ymagyne, of theyr horryblenes
Other paynte any poynte after theyr lykenes
For theyr shape in this worlde, may no man make
Ne se the same fourme, that they haue take
But yf the deuylles, had of God so large powere
In theyr owne fourme, to shewe them here
Lese they shulde theyr mynde, and be sore agast
For cause that they be into suche fourme cast
But so hardy man was neuer yet none
That lyued in earth, in flesshe and bone
If he sawe the deuyll, in his fourme aryght
That he ne shulde for drede of that foule syght
Anone ryght to dye, other to lese his wyt
As soone as he had beholden it
But in the same fourme, as I tell can
Se them neuer here no lyues man
But onely to them, that death is nere
For God hath bynome them theyr powere
Further then our lorde God, hath gyuen them leue
But anone as death asayleth a man
In the foulest fourme, they wyll appere than
For bycause that euery man, dredynge shulde be
Agaynst the same tyme, that he shulde them se.
But to you all, I wyll tell sothly
Wherfore the deuylles be all so gresely
For when that they were Aungels bryght
As tho ye be in heauen, before Goddes syght
And from ye place, throughe synne they fell
And anone bycōmen foule fendes of hell
And were horryble fygured throughe synne
And so they were all wrapped therin
For yf synne ne were, they had be styll
Bryght Aungelles, as they were throughe Goddes wyll
And nowe they be horryble, and vnsemely
And that was throughe synne of pryde onely
Than is synne fouler, and more lothsome
Than is the deuyll, that from hell may come
For Clarckes telleth it, that be of cōnynge
That synne is so foule, and so horryble a thynge
That yf a man myght se, before hym his synne
In the same lykenes, that he falleth in
He shulde rather than for drede it fle
Than any deuyll of hell, that he myght se
Than is the soule of a synfull man within
Fouler than the deuyll, yf he be in synne
Therfore a man shulde, where that he wendes
More drede synne, than any syght of fendes
That shall come to hym, at his endynge
For his synnes in dyspayre hym to brynge
Ne take no repentaunce here in his lyfe
For vs behoueth euerychone, in Goddes owne syght
yelde our accomptes of wronge and of ryght
And of all thynges, that euer we haue wrought
Both in werke, and in wyll, and euery mysthought.
Of the thyrde encheason why men dredeth death.
The thyrde encheason, is to our vnderstandyngeWhy euery man dredeth deathes cōmynge
For all thynge shall be shewed and sene
Both good, euyll, foule, and also clene
And there ben rehersed, as the boke telleth ryght
Bytwene foule fendes, and Aungelles bryght
Than shall they despute there, all our lyfe
With great sorowe, both care and stryfe
For in the same tyme, all thynge shall be knowen
And in the same day, nothynge ben hydden
But onely synne, that is clensed here
And all good dedes done in good manere
Than shall we all there, both here and se
All maner pryuyties, that euer wrought we
And therfore God sayeth in his Gospell
In the same maner, that I wyll you tell.
Nichil opertum quod non reuelabitur.
There is no maner of thynge here so hyddenThat ne shall than be shewed and knowen
And styll there abyde must we
Tyll there all our lyfe clene examyned be
Therfore saynt Ancelme, as the boke telleth vs
Speaketh to the soule sharpely thus
When thou from thy body departe shall atwyn
For than behoueth the acomptes to yelde
Of all that thou hast done in youth and in elde
From the begynnynge, that thou couldest wyt
Unto the last day, for thou myght nat flyt
And than shall wel away, forsoth be thy songe
For thou hast spended thy lyfe here in wronge
And than shall all thy synnes here ben shewed
Whyther so that thou be lered other lewed
Of whiche synne, thou shalt more drede
Than of all the deuylles, that thyther the wyll lede
And thus shall euery man, at his endynge
There be brought to an harde rekenynge
For no synne than to hym shall be vntolde
Be it neuer so pryue, other kept in holde
And I fynde wrytten, thre causes why
That no man may trust than sykerly
Upon his good dedes, that he hath done here
And the causes why, be good to lere
One is that all thynges, that good be
From God they come, and nat from the
So that all good dedes, that here be wrought
Be Goddes owne dedes, and ours ryght nought
But all our synnes, that we may do knowen
Cōmeth all from our selfes, and they be our owne
And an other cause there is also
For bycause that we be redy euermo
An hondred tymes rather to do synne
Than once a good dede here to begynne
And thus we may acompte, reken, and rede
An hondred synnes agaynst one good dede
For oft tymes our dedes be done with wronge
And nat in good maner, as they ought to be
And perchaunce they be done out of charyte
And therfore our good dedes, pure good are nought
But saynt Austyne sayth, our euyl pure euyl are wrought
Omnes iniusticie nostre quasi pannus menstruatus.
He sayeth, our good dedes may be seneAs a cloth defouled with thynge vnclene
Therfore for certayne knoweth no maner man
Howe he shall fare, when he his way take can
But we shall byleue without any maner drede
That euery man shall haue after his owne dede
But therof be we nat syker in our lyfe dayes
As wytnesseth an holy man, and in this maner sayes.
Nescit homo vtrum sit dignus, pro actibus suis amore vel odio.
He sayeth for certayne, a man knoweth noughtThoughe he haue here, neuer so moche good wrought
Whyther that he be worthy after his dede
To haue the loue of God, other els hatred
And also Isodore, as the boke telleth vs
Accordeth well therto, and sayeth all thus.
Seruus dei dum bonum agit, vtrum sit ei ad bonum incertus est. &c.
He sayeth, the man that is Goddes seruauntThat to all goodnes, maketh his haunt
Yet is he nothynge certayne in thought
Whyther it be good to hym, other it be nought
Wherfore our lyuynge is here full harde
As wytnesseth the holy man, saynt Bernarde.
Quis potest hic vitam suam ducere sine tribulatione & dolore.
He sayeth, who may here this lyfe ledeWithout trybulacyon, anger, and drede
Therfore saynt Bernarde, sayeth thus here
And speaketh of mannes lyfe, in this manere.
Terret me tota vita mea que diligentur discussa apperet michi aut peccatum, aut sterilitas, aut res sunilata et imperfecta. &c.
Saynt Bernarde, the holy man sayeth thisAll my lyfe here, sore greueth me ywis
For yf it well and euen dyscussed be
Nothynge elles it semeth to me
But synne that the soule moste dereth
Other barayne thynge, that no fruyte bereth
And yf any fruyte myght theron seme
It must thus be sayde, ryghtly to deme
Other a faynynge thynge, to shewe in syght
Other a thynge that is done nought by all ryght
So it may for nothynge ben forth brought
To please almyghty God, that made vs all of nought
So that all a mannes lyfe, is with sorowe lad
Therfore no wonder, thoughe a man selde be glad
What may a synfull man say therto
Syth he that was an holy man of lyfe euermo
Coulde no maner fruyte in hym selfe se
Than may another man, drede and sory be
Of this lyfe here, that euer is so vnclene
In the whiche there may no fruyte be sene.
Of the fourth encheason why men dredeth death.
Why men dredeth death, yt is so bytter & fell
Is for a mā knoweth nat whyther to wende
To ioy other to payne, after his lyfes ende
For so wyse a man, was neuer yet none
That wyst when to death, he shulde gone
Ne whyther he shulde from hence fare
To ioy without ende, or els to care
For when deuylles and the Aungelles bryght
Hath desputed our lyfe aryght
Whyther that God wyll vs dampne or saue
For than our dome we shall haue
And whyther that we shall to ioy, or payne
And therfore in certayne putteth vs saynt Austayne.
Bene de die nouissimo vnusquisque pensare debet quia vnumquem in eodem statu quo inuenerunt eum suus nouissimus dies: talis eum dominus iudicabit in nouissimo iudicio. &c.
Euery man he sayeth, that hence shall awayShulde haue drede of his last day
For in what maner state, that he than be founde
In suche he shall be demed, in a lytell stounde
Therfore the last day, that may vs befall
Our day of dome, we may well call
But at our last day, when Goddes sone shall come
Than with our bodyes, vp we shall be nome
Before our Lorde God, that almyghty kynge is
That all thynge shall deme that day ywis
For all bodyes shall wende into that place
Where soules shall be demed, throughe Goddes grace
And other they shall haue full ioy yfere
Other full payne, when they be there
Whyther that they wende to heauen, other to hell
But here in earth, shall the bodyes all
Abyde tyll the day of dome shall fall
And that day shall be full streyght and harde
As this boke telleth soone hereafterwarde
But the synfull soule, goeth than to hell
There without ende in payne for to dwell
But the good soule than goeth full euen
Without any lettynge, into the blysse of heauen
But many a soule, that God wyll saue
He graunteth them mercye, that it wyll craue
For in the blysse of heauen, may no soule be se
But he for his synnes penytent before be
Other here doth penaunce, as Clarckes telleth
With a contryte herte, who God forgyueth
And when mannes soule, is clensed well
Of all deedly synnes, and also of venyell
Throughe penaunce here done, and also al mysdede
Aungelles full soone to heauen shall hym lede
Or els when it is passed from the body away
Into the payne of hell, that shall last ay
Therfore euery man, that can wysdome
Shulde here beware, or that death come
And make hym all redy, and clense hym clene
Of all maner of synnes, that none be sene
So that death hym fynde clene of all
When the body and soule departe shall
And euermore thynke, vpon his lyfes ende
Whyle that he lyueth here, or he hence wende
And so he may hym kepe, from the deuylles seruyse
And thus teacheth vs all, Salomon the wyse.
In omnibus operibus tuis memorare nouissima tua.
He sayeth thynke euery man, on thyne endynge day
If that thou thynkest, almyghty God to pay
Euer when thou thynkest any thynge begynne
Than shalt thou nat fall into any maner synne
And thynke that thou shalt dye, and knowest neuer whan
Nother in what state thou myght be than
Therfore vpon the morne, when thou seest lyght
Thynke that thou mayest dye, longe or it be myght
And when thou goest to bed, yf thou be wyse
Thynke that thou shalt dye, haply or thou aryse
For saynt Austyne the holy man, sayth thus in his boke
Let euer thyne herte, thyne last day loke.
Nowe haue ye harde, this treatyse yrade
If that thou thynkest, almyghty God to pay
Euer when thou thynkest any thynge begynne
Than shalt thou nat fall into any maner synne
And thynke that thou shalt dye, and knowest neuer whan
Nother in what state thou myght be than
Therfore vpon the morne, when thou seest lyght
Thynke that thou mayest dye, longe or it be myght
And when thou goest to bed, yf thou be wyse
Thynke that thou shalt dye, haply or thou aryse
For saynt Austyne the holy man, sayth thus in his boke
Let euer thyne herte, thyne last day loke.
And this in your conscyence openly sprade
For the loue of our lorde Iesu
Pray for hym that this boke drewe
And for hym also, that redeth it here
Whyther so be that he go ferre other nere
As for the moste synfull man, that lyueth by breade
That God forgyue hym his synnes, or he be deade
And that God saue them both, from all wyckednes
And mayntayne theyr lyues in all goodnes
And brynge them both to that ioyfull place
To endles ioyes, in syght of Goddes face
Unto that same ioy, he vs brynge
That for our loue, maked all thynge
Sende vs to that ioy, that is fayre and bryght
Where euer more is day, and neuer nyght.
Amen.
FINIS.
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