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5. S. Bernard.
SEint Bernard born was at Burgoyne,
In þe castel men calleþ Fountayne,
Of wondur noble kinred
Of gentrie and of goodhed.
His fader was a worþi kniht
Boþe to þe world and to God almiht.
Men called him sir Tecelyn.
He hedde also a modur fyn,
Þat men called tofore hire deþ
Bi þulke dayȝes dame Aaleth.
Seuen children in þat londe
Heo hedde bi hire hosebonde:
Þe sixe weor knaue children, as men saide,
And þe seuenþe was a mayde;
Þe knaue children vchone monkes were,
A nonne bicom heore douhtur deore.
Heo was wont wiþ herte myld,
As sone as heo hedde ibore a child,
Wiþ hire oune hondes deuoutely
Offre hit heo wolde to God almihti.
Hem to norissche heo wolde not lete
Wiþ milk and wiþ oþur mete
Non oþur wommon, witerly,
But al hir oune body:
Heo trouwed wel, wiþouten lees,
Þat, ȝif þat eny goodnes
Hedde ben in þe modur kynde,
Þe child hit schulde best fede and fynde.
Whon þei woxen ouȝt of stature,
Whil heo of hem hedde þe cure
Heo norissched hem raþur to desert
Þen in court to lyue apert:
Wiþ comuyn metes and boystous
Heo hem norissched in heor hous,
For þei schulde not aftur ben aferd
Hardnes to soffre in desert.
In þe castel men calleþ Fountayne,
Of wondur noble kinred
Of gentrie and of goodhed.
His fader was a worþi kniht
Boþe to þe world and to God almiht.
Men called him sir Tecelyn.
He hedde also a modur fyn,
Þat men called tofore hire deþ
Bi þulke dayȝes dame Aaleth.
Seuen children in þat londe
Heo hedde bi hire hosebonde:
Þe sixe weor knaue children, as men saide,
And þe seuenþe was a mayde;
Þe knaue children vchone monkes were,
A nonne bicom heore douhtur deore.
Heo was wont wiþ herte myld,
As sone as heo hedde ibore a child,
Wiþ hire oune hondes deuoutely
Offre hit heo wolde to God almihti.
Hem to norissche heo wolde not lete
Wiþ milk and wiþ oþur mete
Non oþur wommon, witerly,
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Heo trouwed wel, wiþouten lees,
Þat, ȝif þat eny goodnes
Hedde ben in þe modur kynde,
Þe child hit schulde best fede and fynde.
Whon þei woxen ouȝt of stature,
Whil heo of hem hedde þe cure
Heo norissched hem raþur to desert
Þen in court to lyue apert:
Wiþ comuyn metes and boystous
Heo hem norissched in heor hous,
For þei schulde not aftur ben aferd
Hardnes to soffre in desert.
WHon þat wommon meke and mylde
In wombe hedde þe þridde childe,
Þat was icalled afturward
At þe cristendom Bernard,
Heo hedde a sweuene of him, wituring
What he schulde beo in tyme comyng:
Hir þhouȝte þat in hir wombe heo had
A luytel whelp, of mouþ ful glad,
And was as whit as swannes federe,
His bac was rouh eke al to gedere.
And to a good holi man
Þe goode wyf tolde hire sweuene þan,
And he onswerde, as a prophete:
»I schal þe telle what is þi meete:
Þou schalt beo modur of a whelp
Þat schal boþe berke and ȝelp
And also þerto gret noyse make
Aȝeynes enemys for Godus sake,
For þer schal bi tak eto him
Godus hous for to ȝem;
Þat is to sei: wiþouten let
He schal beon a prechour gret
And wiþ þe medecyn of his tonge
Of sunne hele boþe olde and ȝonge,
He schal beo mon of holy churche,
Of grete wondres þer inne worche«.
In wombe hedde þe þridde childe,
Þat was icalled afturward
At þe cristendom Bernard,
Heo hedde a sweuene of him, wituring
What he schulde beo in tyme comyng:
Hir þhouȝte þat in hir wombe heo had
A luytel whelp, of mouþ ful glad,
And was as whit as swannes federe,
His bac was rouh eke al to gedere.
And to a good holi man
Þe goode wyf tolde hire sweuene þan,
And he onswerde, as a prophete:
»I schal þe telle what is þi meete:
Þou schalt beo modur of a whelp
Þat schal boþe berke and ȝelp
And also þerto gret noyse make
Aȝeynes enemys for Godus sake,
For þer schal bi tak eto him
Godus hous for to ȝem;
Þat is to sei: wiþouten let
He schal beon a prechour gret
And wiþ þe medecyn of his tonge
Of sunne hele boþe olde and ȝonge,
He schal beo mon of holy churche,
Of grete wondres þer inne worche«.
WHil he was ȝong and tendre ek,
His hed ook: þat made him sek.
Forte sauen him of þat harme,
Þer com a wommon his hed to charme.
Whon þat he þerof was war,
He criede and made muche far
And bad men schulde hire bidde forþ gon,
For of hir charmes wolde he non.
Þe child anon, witterli,
Þerfore felede Godus merci,
For þe ache was went awey,
And he aros and went to pley.
His hed ook: þat made him sek.
Forte sauen him of þat harme,
Þer com a wommon his hed to charme.
Whon þat he þerof was war,
He criede and made muche far
And bad men schulde hire bidde forþ gon,
For of hir charmes wolde he non.
Þe child anon, witterli,
Þerfore felede Godus merci,
For þe ache was went awey,
And he aros and went to pley.
VPpon a cristemasse niht
To þe churche he wente forþ riht
And abod þer wiþinne;
And whon matyns schulde biginne,
He coueyted wiþ al his miht
To wite what hour of þe niht
Crist vr saueour was bore.
And as he stod in þouht þerfore,
Him þhouȝt he sauh child Jhesus
As he boren was amongus vs,
In þe tyme riht of þe burþe,
As hit hed ben wiþ muchel murþe
Of his modur riht þenne, so dere,
As heo in trauaylyng were.
He leeuede euer aftur þat þat same hour
Jhesus was boren, vr sauiour.
And aftur þat tyme his wit was more briȝt
To knowe and seo wiþ spirituel liht.
Þe sacrament of incarnaciun;
Þen was him ȝiuen deuociun
And deppore wit to vndurstonde,
And copious to beo of tonge in londe.
Afturward þerfore wel sone
Of vr ladi and hire sone
In þe biginning of his makyng
He made a wondur worching,
Þat is: a lessun of gret leornyng,
To vche monnes heryng,
In þe whuche he expouned þe gospel
Missus est angelus Gabriel.
To þe churche he wente forþ riht
And abod þer wiþinne;
And whon matyns schulde biginne,
He coueyted wiþ al his miht
To wite what hour of þe niht
Crist vr saueour was bore.
And as he stod in þouht þerfore,
Him þhouȝt he sauh child Jhesus
As he boren was amongus vs,
In þe tyme riht of þe burþe,
As hit hed ben wiþ muchel murþe
Of his modur riht þenne, so dere,
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He leeuede euer aftur þat þat same hour
Jhesus was boren, vr sauiour.
And aftur þat tyme his wit was more briȝt
To knowe and seo wiþ spirituel liht.
Þe sacrament of incarnaciun;
Þen was him ȝiuen deuociun
And deppore wit to vndurstonde,
And copious to beo of tonge in londe.
Afturward þerfore wel sone
Of vr ladi and hire sone
In þe biginning of his makyng
He made a wondur worching,
Þat is: a lessun of gret leornyng,
To vche monnes heryng,
In þe whuche he expouned þe gospel
Missus est angelus Gabriel.
WHen þe fend kneuh his purpos,
He was aboute destruye his los
And mad him moni a temptaciun
Of chastite, to leue his deuociun.
He was aboute destruye his los
And mad him moni a temptaciun
Of chastite, to leue his deuociun.
VPpon a tyme on a wommon
To loke hire wiþ eȝen liked him þon;
And whon him self he hedde biþouht,
He wox aschamet and nolde hir nouht.
Þerfore to pyne his oune flesch,
Þat was so frele, him þhouȝte, and nesch,
In to a pol þat was froren
He sturte sone in—he was not boren;
So longe forsoþe þer he stood
Forte kele his hote blod,
Þat he was in poynt almost
Forte haue ȝolden vp þe gost.
To loke hire wiþ eȝen liked him þon;
And whon him self he hedde biþouht,
He wox aschamet and nolde hir nouht.
Þerfore to pyne his oune flesch,
Þat was so frele, him þhouȝte, and nesch,
In to a pol þat was froren
He sturte sone in—he was not boren;
So longe forsoþe þer he stood
Forte kele his hote blod,
Þat he was in poynt almost
Forte haue ȝolden vp þe gost.
SOne aftur þe damysel
Þe fend hedde tempted & mad so fel
Þat heo crep in to þe bed
Þer he to slepe hed leid his hed.
Whon he hire feled in þat tyde,
He tornde him to þat oþur syde
Of þe bed, and nouht he seide
Ne made no noyse ne noþur abreyde,
And leet hire haue þat partye
Þat heo com in ate forte lye,
And he him self on slep fyl.
And heo lay stille a luytel whil,
Þen heo groped him atte laste
And put vppon him swiþe faste.
But whon heo sauȝ he wolde not stire,
Þat forsoþe aschomed hire,
And gretliche wondred and aros
And dude hire forþ out of þat clos.
Þe fend hedde tempted & mad so fel
Þat heo crep in to þe bed
Þer he to slepe hed leid his hed.
Whon he hire feled in þat tyde,
He tornde him to þat oþur syde
Of þe bed, and nouht he seide
Ne made no noyse ne noþur abreyde,
And leet hire haue þat partye
Þat heo com in ate forte lye,
And he him self on slep fyl.
And heo lay stille a luytel whil,
Þen heo groped him atte laste
And put vppon him swiþe faste.
But whon heo sauȝ he wolde not stire,
Þat forsoþe aschomed hire,
And gretliche wondred and aros
And dude hire forþ out of þat clos.
EFtsones in his lyf
He was herborwed wiþ an hosewyf.
For he was semely in hire eȝe,
On him heo gan loke and prye,
Heo coueyted inwardliche
He schulde ha knowen hire flescliche.
Heo let maken a bed ful sone,
Him self to liggen in al one.
Whon þat he to bed was brouht,
Þe hosewyf wolde do as heo þouht:
Al wiþ silence and wiþ pes
Vp heo ros, and made no res,
heo ne spared for no grim
In to þe bed to go to him.
Whon he hire feled, he cried out
And seide: »þeues ben her about«.
Þe hosewyf was aferd þan,
Vp heo ros, awey heo ran.
Þe seruauns alle at þat cri
Risen vp wel smartly
And souhten þe hous anon wiþ liht,
But þei ne founden no wiht.
Þe seruauns wente to bedde wel prest
And wenden forte ha taken heore rest—
Saue þe sori hosewyf,
Þat þouhte neuer forte þrif:
To Bernardus bed heo wente eftson.
And he criede »out, out« anon,
»Aryseþ, men, loke ȝe ne blynne,
For þer ben þeoues her inne«.
Þei risen and souhten bisyliche,
Þei founden no mon, treweliche.
Whon vche mon for his best
Was gon to take eftsones rest,
Þe þridde tyme heo wolde ha sayed,
But for fere heo was affrayed,
And, for heo sauh hit nolde not be,
Heo let him ligge in pes, parde.
Vppon þe morwen, whon hit was day
And he hedde itake his jurnay,
In his sleep what he was dreiht
His felawes asked him, þat niht,
Whi he so faste on þeoues cried,
And þer mihte non beon aspyed.
He seide and swor: »so mot i cheue,
I was biset wiþ a þeoue,
For þe hosewyf of þe hous,
Þer we hedde iherborwed vs,
Mi tresour of chastite
Heo wolde ha boren awey, parde;
To me þat wolde ha ben gret pein:
I schulde hit neuere (ha) rekeuered aȝein«.
He sauh he miht not dwelle siker
Wiþ a serpent wiþouten biker:
He him caste hou he mihte fle,
To lyue in pes and charite.
He was herborwed wiþ an hosewyf.
For he was semely in hire eȝe,
On him heo gan loke and prye,
Heo coueyted inwardliche
He schulde ha knowen hire flescliche.
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Him self to liggen in al one.
Whon þat he to bed was brouht,
Þe hosewyf wolde do as heo þouht:
Al wiþ silence and wiþ pes
Vp heo ros, and made no res,
heo ne spared for no grim
In to þe bed to go to him.
Whon he hire feled, he cried out
And seide: »þeues ben her about«.
Þe hosewyf was aferd þan,
Vp heo ros, awey heo ran.
Þe seruauns alle at þat cri
Risen vp wel smartly
And souhten þe hous anon wiþ liht,
But þei ne founden no wiht.
Þe seruauns wente to bedde wel prest
And wenden forte ha taken heore rest—
Saue þe sori hosewyf,
Þat þouhte neuer forte þrif:
To Bernardus bed heo wente eftson.
And he criede »out, out« anon,
»Aryseþ, men, loke ȝe ne blynne,
For þer ben þeoues her inne«.
Þei risen and souhten bisyliche,
Þei founden no mon, treweliche.
Whon vche mon for his best
Was gon to take eftsones rest,
Þe þridde tyme heo wolde ha sayed,
But for fere heo was affrayed,
And, for heo sauh hit nolde not be,
Heo let him ligge in pes, parde.
Vppon þe morwen, whon hit was day
And he hedde itake his jurnay,
In his sleep what he was dreiht
His felawes asked him, þat niht,
Whi he so faste on þeoues cried,
And þer mihte non beon aspyed.
He seide and swor: »so mot i cheue,
I was biset wiþ a þeoue,
For þe hosewyf of þe hous,
Þer we hedde iherborwed vs,
Mi tresour of chastite
Heo wolde ha boren awey, parde;
To me þat wolde ha ben gret pein:
I schulde hit neuere (ha) rekeuered aȝein«.
He sauh he miht not dwelle siker
Wiþ a serpent wiþouten biker:
He him caste hou he mihte fle,
To lyue in pes and charite.
ÞEn he forsok þe worldly þewes,
To take þe ordre of Sistewes.
Whon his breþeren knewen his þouht,
Þei him forboden he schulde nouht;
But God þat grace þen him sent
Þat he torned heor aller talent
To ben men of religiun,
And moni anoþur wiþ deuociun
He won to God wiþ his techyng
And wiþ his goode lyuyng.
To take þe ordre of Sistewes.
Whon his breþeren knewen his þouht,
Þei him forboden he schulde nouht;
But God þat grace þen him sent
Þat he torned heor aller talent
To ben men of religiun,
And moni anoþur wiþ deuociun
He won to God wiþ his techyng
And wiþ his goode lyuyng.
HE hedde a broþur, þat was a kniht,
Þat of his wordus lette pure liht
And þouȝte þat he spac al in veyn,
Gerard was his nome, certeyn.
Bernard bi wei of charite
Sumwhat meued was, for he
Aftur his counseil nolde nouȝt do,
And to him he seide þo:
»Broþur myn, wiþouten wening
I knowe riht wel þi menyng.
Aftur holichirche seiȝing
Tribulaciun onliche schal ȝiue þe vndurstonding«.
His finger he put þen to his syde:
»Or ouht longe hit schal beotyde«,
He seide, »þe day schal not longe abyde,
Þat a spere schal perse þi syde;
And riht so forþ to þin herte
Whon þou felest hit so smerte,
Þou schalt repente wiþouten fayl
Þou neddest don aftur my counsayl«.
A fewe dayes afturward
Enemys token sire Gerard:
In þe same place stak a spere
Þer his broþur putte his fyngere;
He was ibounden swiþe fast'
And þerto in prisun cast.
Whon seint Bernard herde of þis,
Wiþ him to speke he wente, iwis;
But þei þat hedden him in kepyng
Wolde not soffre heor spekyng.
Þerfore seint Bernard cryed al out,
Þat he mihte here and al þe rout:
»Wite þou wel, broþur Gerard,
Not long tyme her afturward
We schullen to gedere take þe way,
In to an abbeye to dwelle al way«.
Þe same niht riht, as he seet,
Þe fetres fullen fro his feet,
Þe prisun dore eke ful abrod,
And he him self out þerate glod.
Whon to his broþur he was come,
He tolde him al hou he was nome,
And seide: »i kepe no knihtes los,
Ichaue ichaunged my purpos;
I haue trauayled and eke iswonke,
But i þenke to ben a monke«.
Þat of his wordus lette pure liht
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Gerard was his nome, certeyn.
Bernard bi wei of charite
Sumwhat meued was, for he
Aftur his counseil nolde nouȝt do,
And to him he seide þo:
»Broþur myn, wiþouten wening
I knowe riht wel þi menyng.
Aftur holichirche seiȝing
Tribulaciun onliche schal ȝiue þe vndurstonding«.
His finger he put þen to his syde:
»Or ouht longe hit schal beotyde«,
He seide, »þe day schal not longe abyde,
Þat a spere schal perse þi syde;
And riht so forþ to þin herte
Whon þou felest hit so smerte,
Þou schalt repente wiþouten fayl
Þou neddest don aftur my counsayl«.
A fewe dayes afturward
Enemys token sire Gerard:
In þe same place stak a spere
Þer his broþur putte his fyngere;
He was ibounden swiþe fast'
And þerto in prisun cast.
Whon seint Bernard herde of þis,
Wiþ him to speke he wente, iwis;
But þei þat hedden him in kepyng
Wolde not soffre heor spekyng.
Þerfore seint Bernard cryed al out,
Þat he mihte here and al þe rout:
»Wite þou wel, broþur Gerard,
Not long tyme her afturward
We schullen to gedere take þe way,
In to an abbeye to dwelle al way«.
Þe same niht riht, as he seet,
Þe fetres fullen fro his feet,
Þe prisun dore eke ful abrod,
And he him self out þerate glod.
Whon to his broþur he was come,
He tolde him al hou he was nome,
And seide: »i kepe no knihtes los,
Ichaue ichaunged my purpos;
I haue trauayled and eke iswonke,
But i þenke to ben a monke«.
OF ȝeeres two and twenti
Of age Bernard was, witerli,
Whon he wiþ felawes þritti
Tok þe ordre deuoutli
Of Cistewes, þe whuche hous,
And þerof þe constitucioun glorious,
Tofore þat fol fiftene ȝer
Was ifoundet, good and cler;
Þe date of vr lord him selue
A þousund an hundrut and twelue
Was, whon seint Bernard was ischore
Wiþ his breþeren, as i seide bifore.
Of age Bernard was, witerli,
Whon he wiþ felawes þritti
Tok þe ordre deuoutli
Of Cistewes, þe whuche hous,
And þerof þe constitucioun glorious,
Tofore þat fol fiftene ȝer
Was ifoundet, good and cler;
Þe date of vr lord him selue
A þousund an hundrut and twelue
Was, whon seint Bernard was ischore
Wiþ his breþeren, as i seide bifore.
WHon þis children glorious
Wenten out of heor fadur hous
Toward þe hous of Cistewes,
To god, for þei wolde haue gode þewes:
Gy, þat was þe furste childe,
Sayȝ his ȝonge broþur murie and wilde,
Þat Niuard was cald, verreyment,
Pleyȝe him vppon þe pament
Wiþ oþur children of his age,
Þat lusten wel to pleye and rage.
He seide to him: »broþur Nyuard,
Herken þou nou hiderward!
To þe schal falle feld and toun,
Vr lond and vre possessioun«.
Þe toþur þouȝte, þauh he were wyld,
He onswerd noþing as a child:
»A, he seide, heuene ȝe schul haue
And ȝe leue me lond onliche to craue?
Me þinkeþ in my resoun
Þis is non euene diuisioun«.
Wiþ his fadur a luytel while
He dwelled aftur wiþouten gyle,
And aftur þat wiþ deuociun
He suwed his breþeren in to religiun.
Wenten out of heor fadur hous
Toward þe hous of Cistewes,
To god, for þei wolde haue gode þewes:
Gy, þat was þe furste childe,
Sayȝ his ȝonge broþur murie and wilde,
Þat Niuard was cald, verreyment,
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Wiþ oþur children of his age,
Þat lusten wel to pleye and rage.
He seide to him: »broþur Nyuard,
Herken þou nou hiderward!
To þe schal falle feld and toun,
Vr lond and vre possessioun«.
Þe toþur þouȝte, þauh he were wyld,
He onswerd noþing as a child:
»A, he seide, heuene ȝe schul haue
And ȝe leue me lond onliche to craue?
Me þinkeþ in my resoun
Þis is non euene diuisioun«.
Wiþ his fadur a luytel while
He dwelled aftur wiþouten gyle,
And aftur þat wiþ deuociun
He suwed his breþeren in to religiun.
WHon Bernard hed taken his abyt,
In God he hedde so gret dilyt
Þat al his bodiliche witte
Out of vse he hedde flitte,
And al his spiret outurliche
Was rauischt so heuenliche
Þat, whon he hedde iben a ȝer
Wiþ oþur nouices in fer
In an hous wiþinne þe plas
Þat for þe nouices ordeynd was,
He nuste neuere beo his eȝe
Wheþer þeron weore a rof on hiȝe.
In God he hedde so gret dilyt
Þat al his bodiliche witte
Out of vse he hedde flitte,
And al his spiret outurliche
Was rauischt so heuenliche
Þat, whon he hedde iben a ȝer
Wiþ oþur nouices in fer
In an hous wiþinne þe plas
Þat for þe nouices ordeynd was,
He nuste neuere beo his eȝe
Wheþer þeron weore a rof on hiȝe.
IN þe gable ende of þe churche
Ben þreo wyndouwus of noble worche:
Long tyme he went in and out,
And so luytel loked him about
Þat he wende, bi seint Jon,
Þat þer hedde ben but on.
Ben þreo wyndouwus of noble worche:
Long tyme he went in and out,
And so luytel loked him about
Þat he wende, bi seint Jon,
Þat þer hedde ben but on.
ÞE abbot þen of Sistews
Sende monkes to Clereuaus,
Gode men and religious,
Forte builde þer an hous.
Tofore hem alle, God hit wot,
He mad Bernard heore abbot.
Þer long tyme in pouerte
Þei lyueden and wiþ charite,
Þat ofte þei eten bechene leues,
Þat þer growed among þe greues.
Sende monkes to Clereuaus,
Gode men and religious,
Forte builde þer an hous.
Tofore hem alle, God hit wot,
He mad Bernard heore abbot.
Þer long tyme in pouerte
Þei lyueden and wiþ charite,
Þat ofte þei eten bechene leues,
Þat þer growed among þe greues.
SEint Bernard wok boþe day and niht
More þen monkuynde feire bere miht;
Ofte he wolde pleyne wiþouten bost
And sei: þer was no more tyme lost
Þen while he lay to slepyng;
And euere he made a liknyng
Bytwene slep and monnes deþ:
»Saue onliche a luytel breþ,
A ded mon to God on slep is holde,
A slepyng mon to men is tolde
As good as ded for þe tyme,
Bi niht or day, vndurne or pryme«.
Ȝif þat he herde þerfore on route
Or esyliche ligge wiþ cloþus aboute,
To him hit was so gret offence
Þat vnneþe he mihte his pacience
To constreyne, þat he nolde sei openliche
Þat hit was to wordliche
Or elles to muche loue of flesche,
A mon to kepe him self to nessche.
He tok non hede of no dylyt
Of metes, ne of appetyt,
But onliche to susteyne his kynde,
To serue his God wiþ good mynde,
To mete he went wiþ such entent
As touward his owne turment.
Whon he hedde eten, he wold him biþink
Boþe of his mete and eke of his drynk
Wher he hedde don ariȝt his cure,
Þat he passed not his olde mesure;
And ȝif he parseyued þat he hedde so don,
He him repente wolde anon.
He kepte him so fro glotenye
Þat for þe more partye
Þat he nedde discreciun ne sauour
Of metes ne drinkes ne oþur licour;
Þerfore oþurwhile he wolde drynke
Oyle for watur, and nouȝt þeron þynke,
Whon þat recheles men
Serued him of drinken þen,
Ne hit nas parseyued no more
Til þat his lippes þerof dude glore.
He eet ofte tyme rau blood
In stude of buttur, wiþ good mod,
Whon he was serued rechelesliche:
Þerof he tok hit meokeliche.
He seide þat watur onliche
Sauered him verreyliche,
For þat hit wolde riht weel
His jouwes and his þrote keel.
More þen monkuynde feire bere miht;
Ofte he wolde pleyne wiþouten bost
And sei: þer was no more tyme lost
Þen while he lay to slepyng;
And euere he made a liknyng
Bytwene slep and monnes deþ:
»Saue onliche a luytel breþ,
A ded mon to God on slep is holde,
A slepyng mon to men is tolde
As good as ded for þe tyme,
Bi niht or day, vndurne or pryme«.
Ȝif þat he herde þerfore on route
Or esyliche ligge wiþ cloþus aboute,
To him hit was so gret offence
Þat vnneþe he mihte his pacience
47
Þat hit was to wordliche
Or elles to muche loue of flesche,
A mon to kepe him self to nessche.
He tok non hede of no dylyt
Of metes, ne of appetyt,
But onliche to susteyne his kynde,
To serue his God wiþ good mynde,
To mete he went wiþ such entent
As touward his owne turment.
Whon he hedde eten, he wold him biþink
Boþe of his mete and eke of his drynk
Wher he hedde don ariȝt his cure,
Þat he passed not his olde mesure;
And ȝif he parseyued þat he hedde so don,
He him repente wolde anon.
He kepte him so fro glotenye
Þat for þe more partye
Þat he nedde discreciun ne sauour
Of metes ne drinkes ne oþur licour;
Þerfore oþurwhile he wolde drynke
Oyle for watur, and nouȝt þeron þynke,
Whon þat recheles men
Serued him of drinken þen,
Ne hit nas parseyued no more
Til þat his lippes þerof dude glore.
He eet ofte tyme rau blood
In stude of buttur, wiþ good mod,
Whon he was serued rechelesliche:
Þerof he tok hit meokeliche.
He seide þat watur onliche
Sauered him verreyliche,
For þat hit wolde riht weel
His jouwes and his þrote keel.
AMong his frendus þat he loued wel
He was wont forte tel
Þat al his lernynge of clergye
Was in þenkynge and preying deuoutlye
Among wodus and feldes wy(l)de:
Þer he wolde wake wiþ herte ful mylde;
Ooþur maister hedde he non
But okus and beches, swiþe gret won.
Knowleche he wolde ofte tyme also
To hem þat he louede þo,
Þat, whon he was in meditaciun
Or in preyer wiþ deuociun,
Al maner þing of holy writ
Was vndurput to his wit
Oþur elles expouned verreyli,
Wiþouten eny maistri.
He was wont forte tel
Þat al his lernynge of clergye
Was in þenkynge and preying deuoutlye
Among wodus and feldes wy(l)de:
Þer he wolde wake wiþ herte ful mylde;
Ooþur maister hedde he non
But okus and beches, swiþe gret won.
Knowleche he wolde ofte tyme also
To hem þat he louede þo,
Þat, whon he was in meditaciun
Or in preyer wiþ deuociun,
Al maner þing of holy writ
Was vndurput to his wit
Oþur elles expouned verreyli,
Wiþouten eny maistri.
ONes he biþouhte him on a speche
Þat þe holigost dude him teche,
Þe whuche, þouh he leeued hit wel,
He nedde hit not in mynde eueridel;
Þerfore he þouhte what oþur þing
He mihte take in tretyng.
A vois to him þen gon sey:
»In veyn þou trauaylest, al in fey;
Aftur oþur matere þar þe nouȝt craue,
Til þat þou holde and in muyde haue
Þat furst was put in to þi wit.
Þenk on þerfore and hold wel hit!«
Þat þe holigost dude him teche,
Þe whuche, þouh he leeued hit wel,
He nedde hit not in mynde eueridel;
Þerfore he þouhte what oþur þing
He mihte take in tretyng.
A vois to him þen gon sey:
»In veyn þou trauaylest, al in fey;
48
Til þat þou holde and in muyde haue
Þat furst was put in to þi wit.
Þenk on þerfore and hold wel hit!«
IN cloþing pouerte lyked him euere,
But vnclennesse louede he neuere.
Whon he sauh men wiþ veyn glorie
Haue likyng in heore oune eȝe
Oþur elles in oþur mennes siht,
Þerof forsoþe he wolde lete liht.
Ouþur wiþ herte or wiþ mouþe
A prouerbe þat he riht wel couþe,
He wolde sey on þis manere,
As ȝe mowe nouþe ihere:
»He þat doþ þat doþ no man,
On him wondreþ vche mon þan.«
Þer tofore mony a ȝere
Next his bodi he wered þe here,
As longe as hit priue was;
Aftur þat he wuste men knewe þe cas,
From him awey he dude þe here
And tornede to comun manere.
He his herte neuer cast
Inwardly to lauhwhe so fast,
Þat he nas bisy hit to restreyne
Wiþ al his mihtes and to refreyne.
But vnclennesse louede he neuere.
Whon he sauh men wiþ veyn glorie
Haue likyng in heore oune eȝe
Oþur elles in oþur mennes siht,
Þerof forsoþe he wolde lete liht.
Ouþur wiþ herte or wiþ mouþe
A prouerbe þat he riht wel couþe,
He wolde sey on þis manere,
As ȝe mowe nouþe ihere:
»He þat doþ þat doþ no man,
On him wondreþ vche mon þan.«
Þer tofore mony a ȝere
Next his bodi he wered þe here,
As longe as hit priue was;
Aftur þat he wuste men knewe þe cas,
From him awey he dude þe here
And tornede to comun manere.
He his herte neuer cast
Inwardly to lauhwhe so fast,
Þat he nas bisy hit to restreyne
Wiþ al his mihtes and to refreyne.
HE wolde sey ofte wiþ concience
Þat in þreo þinges stod pacience:
In soffring wrong of vuel word
Of comun mon or of lord;
And in los of vre þing
Meble, ded oþur lyuyng;
And in hurtyng of vre bodi,
Druye strok oþur blodi,
Oþur elles fals enprisonement—
He þat may þeose suffre, is pacient.
Þat he was pacient and wise,
Bi ensaumples he proued on þis wyse:
An apistle to a bisschop he wrot
And him amonested, God hit wot,
Wiþ riht parfyt charite,
A certeyn defaute he schulde fle.
Þe epistle to þe buschop was loþ,
He wrot aȝeyn, as mon al wroþ,—
Þat he him hedde scorned, wel he wende,
Þerfore in þe lettre þat he aȝein sende
He ne seide good day noþur god morn,
But: »saulucȝ and nouȝt þe spiryt of scorn«.
Whon Bernard þis lettre vndurstood,
He wrot aȝein wiþ mylde mood:
»I leeue þat i haue nouht
Þe spirit of scorn, in word ne þouȝt,
Ne corse no mon i can
Or wille to curse, child ne man,
And also nouþur nomeliche
Him þat gouerneþ principaliche
Þe peple and is souereyn—
Þat weore to me a werk of veyn«.
Þat in þreo þinges stod pacience:
In soffring wrong of vuel word
Of comun mon or of lord;
And in los of vre þing
Meble, ded oþur lyuyng;
And in hurtyng of vre bodi,
Druye strok oþur blodi,
Oþur elles fals enprisonement—
He þat may þeose suffre, is pacient.
Þat he was pacient and wise,
Bi ensaumples he proued on þis wyse:
An apistle to a bisschop he wrot
And him amonested, God hit wot,
Wiþ riht parfyt charite,
A certeyn defaute he schulde fle.
Þe epistle to þe buschop was loþ,
He wrot aȝeyn, as mon al wroþ,—
Þat he him hedde scorned, wel he wende,
Þerfore in þe lettre þat he aȝein sende
He ne seide good day noþur god morn,
But: »saulucȝ and nouȝt þe spiryt of scorn«.
Whon Bernard þis lettre vndurstood,
He wrot aȝein wiþ mylde mood:
»I leeue þat i haue nouht
Þe spirit of scorn, in word ne þouȝt,
Ne corse no mon i can
Or wille to curse, child ne man,
And also nouþur nomeliche
Him þat gouerneþ principaliche
Þe peple and is souereyn—
Þat weore to me a werk of veyn«.
AN abbot him toward vppon a day
Six hundred mark him sent of pay,
A newe abbey forte make
In a plas, for Godus sake.
Toward him as hit schulde come,
Þeues þe men hit hedden binome.
Whon seint Bernard wuste of þis,
He seide noþing elles, iwis,
But: »blessed beo God þat þus haþ spared
Of þat charge we schulde ha cared!
But we mosten take þe lihtor heed
Of hem þat hit toke, so God vs speed;
On is for þe Romayns couetyse
Þat hit tok awey on heore wyse,
Anoþur is, for þe grete soun
Of þat moneye ȝaf hem occasiun
Hit to take so, witerly.
God of hem nou haue merci«.
Six hundred mark him sent of pay,
A newe abbey forte make
49
Toward him as hit schulde come,
Þeues þe men hit hedden binome.
Whon seint Bernard wuste of þis,
He seide noþing elles, iwis,
But: »blessed beo God þat þus haþ spared
Of þat charge we schulde ha cared!
But we mosten take þe lihtor heed
Of hem þat hit toke, so God vs speed;
On is for þe Romayns couetyse
Þat hit tok awey on heore wyse,
Anoþur is, for þe grete soun
Of þat moneye ȝaf hem occasiun
Hit to take so, witerly.
God of hem nou haue merci«.
VPpon a tyme he was at hom,
A chanoun ruleer to him com
And made to him a gret preyer,
A monk þat he wolde him scher.
Seint Bernard him onswered, in certeyn,
And bad him go to his churche aȝeyn.
Þe chanoun him þenne gon vbbreyd
And on þis maner to him seid:
»Wherto wiþ so gret deuociun
Hastou comendet þi religiun
In þi bokes, as a clerk,
And to him þat coueyteþ þat werk
Graunte hit þou nult for noþing?
I holde hit but a fodyng.
Wolde God in hond i hade
Þe bokes þerof þat þou hast made:
Ful vuel þauh hit schulde þe dere,
Forsoþe i wolde hem al totere!«
Seint Bernard seide in good fey:
»In no bok, i dar wel sei,
Þat euer i made, þat þou sauh ȝite,
Þou raddest neuure þeron iwrite
Þat þou mihtest not beo parfyt
In þi cloystre, ȝif þou heddest delyt;
Of mennes maners amendyng,
And not þe places chaungyng
I haue comendet in my bokus,
Vppon hem hose riht lokus«.
Þe chanoun was ȝong and hot of blod,
And, as a mon þat waxen weore wod,
He smot seint Bernard vndur þe chek,
Þat he wox red and aferd ek.
Þei þat stoden abouten hem þan
Wolden ha risen vppon þat man,
But Godus seruaunt wiþouten blame
Hem forbad on Godus name
Þat þei schulde him non harm do
But let him passe feire hem fro.
Whon þat nouices schulden ben schorn,
To hem he wolde seye biforen:
»Ȝif þat ȝe heȝe nou bisyliche
To þing þat beon wiþinne, deuoutliche,
Ȝor bodies wiþouten loke þei beo laft
From þe world and al his craft,
Þat ȝe com fro, and comeþ in
Onliche in spirit, wiþouten gin;
For, ȝif ȝe take good hede of þis,
Þe flesch profyteþ noþing iwis«.
A chanoun ruleer to him com
And made to him a gret preyer,
A monk þat he wolde him scher.
Seint Bernard him onswered, in certeyn,
And bad him go to his churche aȝeyn.
Þe chanoun him þenne gon vbbreyd
And on þis maner to him seid:
»Wherto wiþ so gret deuociun
Hastou comendet þi religiun
In þi bokes, as a clerk,
And to him þat coueyteþ þat werk
Graunte hit þou nult for noþing?
I holde hit but a fodyng.
Wolde God in hond i hade
Þe bokes þerof þat þou hast made:
Ful vuel þauh hit schulde þe dere,
Forsoþe i wolde hem al totere!«
Seint Bernard seide in good fey:
»In no bok, i dar wel sei,
Þat euer i made, þat þou sauh ȝite,
Þou raddest neuure þeron iwrite
Þat þou mihtest not beo parfyt
In þi cloystre, ȝif þou heddest delyt;
Of mennes maners amendyng,
And not þe places chaungyng
I haue comendet in my bokus,
Vppon hem hose riht lokus«.
Þe chanoun was ȝong and hot of blod,
And, as a mon þat waxen weore wod,
He smot seint Bernard vndur þe chek,
Þat he wox red and aferd ek.
Þei þat stoden abouten hem þan
Wolden ha risen vppon þat man,
But Godus seruaunt wiþouten blame
Hem forbad on Godus name
Þat þei schulde him non harm do
But let him passe feire hem fro.
Whon þat nouices schulden ben schorn,
To hem he wolde seye biforen:
»Ȝif þat ȝe heȝe nou bisyliche
To þing þat beon wiþinne, deuoutliche,
Ȝor bodies wiþouten loke þei beo laft
From þe world and al his craft,
Þat ȝe com fro, and comeþ in
Onliche in spirit, wiþouten gin;
For, ȝif ȝe take good hede of þis,
Þe flesch profyteþ noþing iwis«.
50
HIs fadur, þat Tecelyn hedde to nome
And al one was laft at home,
To þe munster þen he went
And dwelled toward þat couent,
And afturward soone in good elde
To God of heuene þe gost he ȝelde
He hedde a suster þat tyme also,
Þat wedded was and riche þerto:
Vppon a day wiþ gret delyte
Heo wente hire breþeren to visyte.
Whon heo to þe abbey com,
Heo fond hire breþeren alle atom;
But, for heo com in stout aray,
Wiþ moni men, and hire self gay,
Seint Bernard wolde hire not se,
As a þing of horriblete,
And seide: heo was lyk þe deueles nette,
To take mennes soulus þat were isette.
On of hire breþeren was porteer,
And he hire seide: »what dostou heer?
Þow art lyk a toord, he seide,
Þat in a feir cloþ weore leyde«.
Whon heo sauh al in certeyn
Non of hire breþeren coomen hire aȝeyn,
Weopynge heo seide þan:
»Þauh i beo a sunfol womman,
For suche Crist dyede for his pite
And he may haue merci on me;
And for i knowe my sunfolhede
Boþe in word, þouȝt and dede,
I com gode men forte seche,
Me to counseyle and to teche.
And þouȝ my broþur my bodi foule
Dispise, ȝit schulde he not my soule
Bustousliche þus nou forsake,
But as Godus seruaunt hit to him take.
Let him come and comaunde me:
I schal hit do, what euer hit be«.
Whon he herde of þis biheste,
To hire he wente wiþouten cheste
And tok wiþ him his breþeren alle,
Whon he hed beden hem forþ calle.
Seint Bernard wuste wel bi Godus lawe
Þat heo miht not hire wiþdrawe,
Whil þat hire lasted þe lyf,
From him þat hedde hire taken to wyf;
Þerfore wiþ god mekenesse
He hire forbed þe bisynesse
Of þis world and eke þe blis
Þerof—forsoþe, nouht hit nis!—
And comaundet hire for Godus sake
Ensaumple of hire modur take
And suwen hire in good liuyng,
In preyers and in fastyng.
Heo torned hir hom hiȝingliche
And chaunged was al sodeynliche:
He tok non hede þat heo was wyf,
But ladde holy hermites lyf,
As þauȝ þe world heo hedde forsake
And to God hire al bitake.
Atte last wiþ mony a preyere
Heo ouercom hire hosebonde dere,
Þat he ȝaf hire leue feir and wel
In an abbey for to dwel;
A nonne þerinne heo was ischore
And serued God so euermore.
And al one was laft at home,
To þe munster þen he went
And dwelled toward þat couent,
And afturward soone in good elde
To God of heuene þe gost he ȝelde
He hedde a suster þat tyme also,
Þat wedded was and riche þerto:
Vppon a day wiþ gret delyte
Heo wente hire breþeren to visyte.
Whon heo to þe abbey com,
Heo fond hire breþeren alle atom;
But, for heo com in stout aray,
Wiþ moni men, and hire self gay,
Seint Bernard wolde hire not se,
As a þing of horriblete,
And seide: heo was lyk þe deueles nette,
To take mennes soulus þat were isette.
On of hire breþeren was porteer,
And he hire seide: »what dostou heer?
Þow art lyk a toord, he seide,
Þat in a feir cloþ weore leyde«.
Whon heo sauh al in certeyn
Non of hire breþeren coomen hire aȝeyn,
Weopynge heo seide þan:
»Þauh i beo a sunfol womman,
For suche Crist dyede for his pite
And he may haue merci on me;
And for i knowe my sunfolhede
Boþe in word, þouȝt and dede,
I com gode men forte seche,
Me to counseyle and to teche.
And þouȝ my broþur my bodi foule
Dispise, ȝit schulde he not my soule
Bustousliche þus nou forsake,
But as Godus seruaunt hit to him take.
Let him come and comaunde me:
I schal hit do, what euer hit be«.
Whon he herde of þis biheste,
To hire he wente wiþouten cheste
And tok wiþ him his breþeren alle,
Whon he hed beden hem forþ calle.
Seint Bernard wuste wel bi Godus lawe
Þat heo miht not hire wiþdrawe,
Whil þat hire lasted þe lyf,
From him þat hedde hire taken to wyf;
Þerfore wiþ god mekenesse
He hire forbed þe bisynesse
Of þis world and eke þe blis
Þerof—forsoþe, nouht hit nis!—
And comaundet hire for Godus sake
Ensaumple of hire modur take
And suwen hire in good liuyng,
In preyers and in fastyng.
Heo torned hir hom hiȝingliche
And chaunged was al sodeynliche:
He tok non hede þat heo was wyf,
But ladde holy hermites lyf,
As þauȝ þe world heo hedde forsake
And to God hire al bitake.
Atte last wiþ mony a preyere
Heo ouercom hire hosebonde dere,
Þat he ȝaf hire leue feir and wel
In an abbey for to dwel;
51
And serued God so euermore.
VPpon a tyme seint Bernard
Was itaken wiþ seknesse hard,
Þat hit was a comuyn sawe
Toward þe deþ þat he dude drawe.
His spirit rauisched was anon
Tofore God, sittinge in tron,
And þer was al redi þe fend Sathan,
Þat him þere accused þan.
Whon þat he his tale hedde told,
Seint Bernard dredde not, but was bold
And seide: »for myn vnworþines
Of meryt oþur of goodnes
I knowleche wel I may not craue
Þe kyngdom of heuene for to haue;
But for my lord haþ double riht
To þat kyngdom so ful of liht:
Bi wei of heritage of his fader
And bi merit of his passion togeder,
He is wel payed of þat one,
Þe toþur he me ȝaf as Godus sone«.
Þe fend confuis wente awey þan,
Þe spirit aȝein to þat man
Turned: and þerwiþ he awoke
And lyfliche aboute him he gon loke.
Was itaken wiþ seknesse hard,
Þat hit was a comuyn sawe
Toward þe deþ þat he dude drawe.
His spirit rauisched was anon
Tofore God, sittinge in tron,
And þer was al redi þe fend Sathan,
Þat him þere accused þan.
Whon þat he his tale hedde told,
Seint Bernard dredde not, but was bold
And seide: »for myn vnworþines
Of meryt oþur of goodnes
I knowleche wel I may not craue
Þe kyngdom of heuene for to haue;
But for my lord haþ double riht
To þat kyngdom so ful of liht:
Bi wei of heritage of his fader
And bi merit of his passion togeder,
He is wel payed of þat one,
Þe toþur he me ȝaf as Godus sone«.
Þe fend confuis wente awey þan,
Þe spirit aȝein to þat man
Turned: and þerwiþ he awoke
And lyfliche aboute him he gon loke.
HE abstined him so wondurliche
And trauailed and waked so bisyliche,
His bodi he brouhte so lowe eke:
Þat continueliche he was so neiȝ seke,
In so muchel þat vnneþe
Him serue nolde his oune breþe,
Þe couent forte suwe þo,
To þe chirche whon þei schulde go.
And trauailed and waked so bisyliche,
His bodi he brouhte so lowe eke:
Þat continueliche he was so neiȝ seke,
In so muchel þat vnneþe
Him serue nolde his oune breþe,
Þe couent forte suwe þo,
To þe chirche whon þei schulde go.
VPpon a tyme wiþ seknesse stronge
He was itaken, þat heold him longe;
His breþeren for him preyed so faste:
He fond him amendyng atte laste.
Aboute him he gedred hem euerichon
And to hem alle he seide anon:
»Wherto, my breþeren dere,
A wrecched mon holde ȝe þus here?
Ȝe ben strengore þen I,
Þerfore ȝe han þe mastri
Wiþ ȝor preyere touward our God.
I preiȝe ow alle wiþ mylde mood:
Spareþ me, i preye ou, spareþ me nou
And leteþ me passe hennes from ȝou!«
He was itaken, þat heold him longe;
His breþeren for him preyed so faste:
He fond him amendyng atte laste.
Aboute him he gedred hem euerichon
And to hem alle he seide anon:
»Wherto, my breþeren dere,
A wrecched mon holde ȝe þus here?
Ȝe ben strengore þen I,
Þerfore ȝe han þe mastri
Wiþ ȝor preyere touward our God.
I preiȝe ow alle wiþ mylde mood:
Spareþ me, i preye ou, spareþ me nou
And leteþ me passe hennes from ȝou!«
OFte forsoþe wiþ good hope
He was chosun to beo bisschope,
But specialiche of citees tweyn:
Ianuesse and Melayn;
And whon þei asked his assent,
He onswered þus, verreyment:
»Seruaunt, he seide, am I non,
But I am deputet nou al on
To þe seruyse of oþur men,
Þat as worþi as I ben«.
Bi counseil of seint Bernard þan
Þei wolde chese hem anoþur man.
He was chosun to beo bisschope,
But specialiche of citees tweyn:
Ianuesse and Melayn;
And whon þei asked his assent,
He onswered þus, verreyment:
»Seruaunt, he seide, am I non,
But I am deputet nou al on
To þe seruyse of oþur men,
Þat as worþi as I ben«.
52
Þei wolde chese hem anoþur man.
VPpon a tyme wiþ good delyte
He rod out to visyte
Þe freres of Charthous—
Þat is an ordre glorious.
Þer wiþ gret deuocioun
He tauht hem good edificacioun.
But o þing þer was of liht repreue
Þat þe prior of þe hous gon meue:
Þat þe sadel semed al forlet
Þat seint Bernard inne set.
Þis þe prior tolde to
On of his breþeren þo,
And he þenne to seint Bernard
Spak þerof afturward.
Seint Bernard þerof wondur had
And þe sadul bringe to him he bad;
He hedde riden fro Cleruous
Til he com to Charthous,
What maner sadel he rod inne
Wuste he neuere, more ne mynne.
He rod out to visyte
Þe freres of Charthous—
Þat is an ordre glorious.
Þer wiþ gret deuocioun
He tauht hem good edificacioun.
But o þing þer was of liht repreue
Þat þe prior of þe hous gon meue:
Þat þe sadel semed al forlet
Þat seint Bernard inne set.
Þis þe prior tolde to
On of his breþeren þo,
And he þenne to seint Bernard
Spak þerof afturward.
Seint Bernard þerof wondur had
And þe sadul bringe to him he bad;
He hedde riden fro Cleruous
Til he com to Charthous,
What maner sadel he rod inne
Wuste he neuere, more ne mynne.
ON a tyme his wey lay
Al a dayes jurnay
Bi þe lake of Lausan,
Þat knoweþ wel mony a man.
He wente so þer al in þouht
Þat þe lake sauh he nouht.
At niht whon his felawes eke
Of þat lake gunne to speke,
He hem asked for his oune sake
Þei schulde him telle wher was þe lake.
Whon þat þey so asken him herde,
Þey wondred muchel whi he so ferde.
Al a dayes jurnay
Bi þe lake of Lausan,
Þat knoweþ wel mony a man.
He wente so þer al in þouht
Þat þe lake sauh he nouht.
At niht whon his felawes eke
Of þat lake gunne to speke,
He hem asked for his oune sake
Þei schulde him telle wher was þe lake.
Whon þat þey so asken him herde,
Þey wondred muchel whi he so ferde.
ÞE heiȝenes of his name
Wiþ meknes of herte he ouurcame;
Al þe world miht him not reise:
So he him self wolde dispreyse.
Of men he was holden mest,
But he him self heold aller lest;
Eueri mon wolde him putte forþ,
But he huld him self lest worþ.
Ofte tyme he wolde knowleche
Þat, whon he herde of him gret speche
And was among most honour
And in þe peples feire fauour,
Bi him self he þhoute riȝt wel
As mon þat weore chaunged eueridel,
And he him self hedde such entent
Þat he huld him as absent,
And trouwed hit hedde ben a sweuen
Þat falleþ on him þat slepeþ at euen.
But whon he was among symple men,
As his breþeren weoren þen,
Þat he mihte vse his mekenes
Wiþ frendschipe and goodnes:
Þen he wolde be wondur glad,
As mon þat to lyf beo turned had.
Euere a mon mihte him fynde
Preyinge or redyng or writynge
Or in good meditacion
Or to his breþeren in edificacion.
Wiþ meknes of herte he ouurcame;
Al þe world miht him not reise:
So he him self wolde dispreyse.
Of men he was holden mest,
But he him self heold aller lest;
Eueri mon wolde him putte forþ,
But he huld him self lest worþ.
Ofte tyme he wolde knowleche
Þat, whon he herde of him gret speche
And was among most honour
And in þe peples feire fauour,
Bi him self he þhoute riȝt wel
As mon þat weore chaunged eueridel,
And he him self hedde such entent
Þat he huld him as absent,
And trouwed hit hedde ben a sweuen
Þat falleþ on him þat slepeþ at euen.
But whon he was among symple men,
As his breþeren weoren þen,
Þat he mihte vse his mekenes
Wiþ frendschipe and goodnes:
Þen he wolde be wondur glad,
As mon þat to lyf beo turned had.
Euere a mon mihte him fynde
Preyinge or redyng or writynge
53
Or to his breþeren in edificacion.
VPpon a tyme he stod vp to preche
To þe peple, and hem dude teche;
Men herden him bisyliche
And token his wordus deuoutliche.
Whil he þus was in his predicacion,
Þer ful on him such a temptacion
Þat to him self: him þhouȝte, he seide,
As he auctorites forþ leide:
»For þou prechest nou in þe best
And þe herkneþ nou boþe mest and lest,
On þe to loke þei ben bolde,
Of hem alle wys þou art holde«.
Whon he biþouȝt him vppon þis,
Temptacion he hit heold iwis,
A luytel while stille he stod
And biþouȝt him on his mood
Wher him weore bettere forþ to sey
Or elles let of and go his wey.
Þorwh Godus help, þat nul not fayle,
Anon riht of good counsayle
To þe temptour softeliche
He seide þeos wordus wyslyche:
»Beo þe made I not my biginninge,
Ne for þe nul I make non endynge«,
And forþ þen aftur deuoutliche
He prechede þe peple bisyliche.
To þe peple, and hem dude teche;
Men herden him bisyliche
And token his wordus deuoutliche.
Whil he þus was in his predicacion,
Þer ful on him such a temptacion
Þat to him self: him þhouȝte, he seide,
As he auctorites forþ leide:
»For þou prechest nou in þe best
And þe herkneþ nou boþe mest and lest,
On þe to loke þei ben bolde,
Of hem alle wys þou art holde«.
Whon he biþouȝt him vppon þis,
Temptacion he hit heold iwis,
A luytel while stille he stod
And biþouȝt him on his mood
Wher him weore bettere forþ to sey
Or elles let of and go his wey.
Þorwh Godus help, þat nul not fayle,
Anon riht of good counsayle
To þe temptour softeliche
He seide þeos wordus wyslyche:
»Beo þe made I not my biginninge,
Ne for þe nul I make non endynge«,
And forþ þen aftur deuoutliche
He prechede þe peple bisyliche.
A monk ones he hedde wiþ him.
Þat in þe world was sum tym
A ribaut and a pleyer grete,
Whon þat he mihte wiþ felawes mete.
Þe deuel him tempted so, certeyn,
þat to þe world he wolde go ȝeyn.
Whon Bernard sauh he wox so bolde
Þat he him noþing mihte wiþholde,
He asked him, as he hedde iþriue!
Hou he schapt him forte lyue.
Anon he onswerd and gon to seye:
»At þe echesse i con wel pleye:
Þerwiþ schal I liue riht wel
And winne þat me nedeþ eueridel«.
Seint Bernard þen gon to him seye:
»Ȝif i take þe þe chef moneye,
Wiþ to pleye, woltou be my feer
And come aȝein ȝer bi ȝer
And parte wiþ me half þi wynnyng
And take þe toþurdel to þi liuyng?«
Whon he þat herde, he was ful glad
And þerof wiþ him god couenaunt mad.
Seint Bernard in hyȝing
Comaundet him twenti schilyng.
He þenne þerwiþ went his wey,
Wiþ his felawes in þe world to pley.
Seint Bernard dude þis, for certeyn,
Forte make him come aȝeyn:
And so hit ful þe nexte ȝere,
Anon riht as ȝe schul here.
Þis mon went aboute faste to pleye,
And lost faste his moneye,
Atte laste he lost al togedere
And leue hedde to pley him wiþ a fedre.
To þe abbey ȝate þen he went,
As a mon worþi beo schent.
Whon seint Bernard þerof herde,
Ful gladly out to him he ferde
And huld his lappe abrod, lauȝwhyng,
And asked him half his wynnyng.
He seide: »fadur, nay nay,
But I haue lost vr chef monay.
I preye ow for charite,
For þat moneye tac nou me«.
Seint Bernard of his godnesse
Seide þus to him wiþ mekenesse:
»Seþþe hit is so, beter me is
Take þe, þen leose al at onus«.
Þat in þe world was sum tym
A ribaut and a pleyer grete,
Whon þat he mihte wiþ felawes mete.
Þe deuel him tempted so, certeyn,
þat to þe world he wolde go ȝeyn.
Whon Bernard sauh he wox so bolde
Þat he him noþing mihte wiþholde,
He asked him, as he hedde iþriue!
Hou he schapt him forte lyue.
Anon he onswerd and gon to seye:
»At þe echesse i con wel pleye:
Þerwiþ schal I liue riht wel
And winne þat me nedeþ eueridel«.
Seint Bernard þen gon to him seye:
»Ȝif i take þe þe chef moneye,
Wiþ to pleye, woltou be my feer
And come aȝein ȝer bi ȝer
And parte wiþ me half þi wynnyng
And take þe toþurdel to þi liuyng?«
Whon he þat herde, he was ful glad
And þerof wiþ him god couenaunt mad.
Seint Bernard in hyȝing
Comaundet him twenti schilyng.
He þenne þerwiþ went his wey,
Wiþ his felawes in þe world to pley.
Seint Bernard dude þis, for certeyn,
Forte make him come aȝeyn:
And so hit ful þe nexte ȝere,
Anon riht as ȝe schul here.
Þis mon went aboute faste to pleye,
And lost faste his moneye,
Atte laste he lost al togedere
And leue hedde to pley him wiþ a fedre.
To þe abbey ȝate þen he went,
As a mon worþi beo schent.
Whon seint Bernard þerof herde,
54
And huld his lappe abrod, lauȝwhyng,
And asked him half his wynnyng.
He seide: »fadur, nay nay,
But I haue lost vr chef monay.
I preye ow for charite,
For þat moneye tac nou me«.
Seint Bernard of his godnesse
Seide þus to him wiþ mekenesse:
»Seþþe hit is so, beter me is
Take þe, þen leose al at onus«.
SEint Bernard to a place wolde go,
Vppon his hors he set him þo.
Beo þe wei as he rod,
He mette wiþ a boistes mon of mod;
Forþ wiþ him þen gon he walke,
Of diuerse maters þei gunne to talke.
Atte laste, wiþouten fable,
Þei speken hou a mon schulde beo stable
And þenke vppon non oþur þing,
Whyl he weore in his preying.
Þe cheorl þerof hedde dispyt
And bad he schulde him nouȝt edwyt,
He seide his herte was al stable,
»And forte preye hit is nouȝt able,
But hit beo wiþouten eny lettyng
Of eny oþur maner þyng«.
Seint Bernard caste þenne anon
To ouercome his presumpcion;
»Þat i schal seo«, he seide, »parde!
Wiþdrauh þe sumwhat from me.
Þi pater noster loke þou biginne
Wiþ al þe entent þat þe is inne;
And ȝif þou mowe wiþ stable mende
Wiþouten lettyng make an ende,
Þe hors, forsoþe, þat i on sit,
Ȝif þou soþ seye, þow schalt haue hit!
Þou schalt bihote me bi þi fey
Þat þou schalt þe soþe sey«.
Þen wox he a wel glad monne,
His hors he wende he hedde wonne.
Hardiliche he wente him fro,
His pater noster bigon he þo
Wiþ as god wille and talent
As he couþe, and good entent.
He nas vnneþe þe middel ipast,
Þat in his herte anon he cast
Wheþer he mihte þe sadel craue
Wiþ þe hors þat he schulde haue.
Whon he abreid out of þat þouht,
He wuste wel he was worþi nouht.
He wente forþ to þat holy mon
And tolde al to gedre þon
What mater ful in his mende,
His pater noster or he mihte ende,
And ȝaf him to deuocioun,
Forsok eke his presumpcioun.
Vppon his hors he set him þo.
Beo þe wei as he rod,
He mette wiþ a boistes mon of mod;
Forþ wiþ him þen gon he walke,
Of diuerse maters þei gunne to talke.
Atte laste, wiþouten fable,
Þei speken hou a mon schulde beo stable
And þenke vppon non oþur þing,
Whyl he weore in his preying.
Þe cheorl þerof hedde dispyt
And bad he schulde him nouȝt edwyt,
He seide his herte was al stable,
»And forte preye hit is nouȝt able,
But hit beo wiþouten eny lettyng
Of eny oþur maner þyng«.
Seint Bernard caste þenne anon
To ouercome his presumpcion;
»Þat i schal seo«, he seide, »parde!
Wiþdrauh þe sumwhat from me.
Þi pater noster loke þou biginne
Wiþ al þe entent þat þe is inne;
And ȝif þou mowe wiþ stable mende
Wiþouten lettyng make an ende,
Þe hors, forsoþe, þat i on sit,
Ȝif þou soþ seye, þow schalt haue hit!
Þou schalt bihote me bi þi fey
Þat þou schalt þe soþe sey«.
Þen wox he a wel glad monne,
His hors he wende he hedde wonne.
Hardiliche he wente him fro,
His pater noster bigon he þo
Wiþ as god wille and talent
As he couþe, and good entent.
He nas vnneþe þe middel ipast,
Þat in his herte anon he cast
Wheþer he mihte þe sadel craue
Wiþ þe hors þat he schulde haue.
Whon he abreid out of þat þouht,
He wuste wel he was worþi nouht.
He wente forþ to þat holy mon
And tolde al to gedre þon
What mater ful in his mende,
His pater noster or he mihte ende,
And ȝaf him to deuocioun,
Forsok eke his presumpcioun.
HE hedde ischoren his kinnes man,
Þat frere Robert men called þan:
Þat men brouhten aftur in such deuocion
Þat he wente to þe abbey of Cloun;
He wende he hedde idon riht wel,
And was bigyled eueridel.
His fadur was war of þat gyle
And suffrede hit a luytel whyle,
But he him biþouȝte atte laste
And him to reuoken þen he caste
To þe abbeye, as he wel wust,
Þer þat he was ischoren furst.
As Bernard a lettre gon to endyte,
Anoþer monk also hit to write:
As þei seten þer oute, in certeyn,
Þer fel a gret drift of reyn;
He þat þe lettre a writen scholde,
For fere togedere he gan hit folde.
To him þen seyde seint Bernard:
»Loke þou beo noþing aferd
To write forþ, as a clerk,
For þis nou Godus werk«.
Among al þe reyn þe lettre he wrot:
Þeron ful no drope, God hit wot,
Hit reyned aboute oueral,
But þeron ful nouþur gret ne smal.
Þat frere Robert men called þan:
Þat men brouhten aftur in such deuocion
55
He wende he hedde idon riht wel,
And was bigyled eueridel.
His fadur was war of þat gyle
And suffrede hit a luytel whyle,
But he him biþouȝte atte laste
And him to reuoken þen he caste
To þe abbeye, as he wel wust,
Þer þat he was ischoren furst.
As Bernard a lettre gon to endyte,
Anoþer monk also hit to write:
As þei seten þer oute, in certeyn,
Þer fel a gret drift of reyn;
He þat þe lettre a writen scholde,
For fere togedere he gan hit folde.
To him þen seyde seint Bernard:
»Loke þou beo noþing aferd
To write forþ, as a clerk,
For þis nou Godus werk«.
Among al þe reyn þe lettre he wrot:
Þeron ful no drope, God hit wot,
Hit reyned aboute oueral,
But þeron ful nouþur gret ne smal.
IN a munstre þat he hedde mad,
And a couent of beryng sad,
Hit biful þat mony anuyȝes
þey hedden þerin þorwh noumbre of fliȝes.
Whon þat com to Bernardus ere,
»I hem curse«, he seide, »al in fere«.
Vppon þe morwe alle weore founde
Ded liggyng vppon þe grounde.
And a couent of beryng sad,
Hit biful þat mony anuyȝes
þey hedden þerin þorwh noumbre of fliȝes.
Whon þat com to Bernardus ere,
»I hem curse«, he seide, »al in fere«.
Vppon þe morwe alle weore founde
Ded liggyng vppon þe grounde.
VPpon a tyme þe pope him sent
To Melan to þis entent,
Þer to dwelle a luytel whyle,
Hem and heore chirche to reconcyle
Þat dwelleden in þat cite,
For þey hedden trespassed, parde.
Þat dede he dude deuoutelye
And was tornd aȝeyn to Papye.
In þat cite þer was a mon
Þat hedde to wyf an old wommon
Þat þe fend so cumbred had
Þat heo was verrey wod and mad.
In hope of hele to seynt Bernard
He hire brouhte afturward.
Anon riht in þat tyde
Bi þe wommones mouþ he gan chide
To seint Bernard and gan to seyn:
»Þou schalt not putte me out aȝeyn
Out of þis luttel schepes bodi,
Þat gnaweþ lekes a(n)d weodes wiþ foly«.
Seint Bernard bad hem deuoutely
Þat to þe churche of seint Syri
Þei schulde hire lede tofore þat mele,
Þer þat heo mihte geten hire hele.
But seynt Syri on Godus part
Þouhte to do worschipe to seint Bernard,
And lete hire passe as heo com.
And þei tornd alle aȝein hom,
And aȝeyn to seint Bernard
Þey hire ladden afturward.
Þe fend seide þan wiþ gret schout:
»Seint Syri me naþ not cast out,
Ne Bernard schal neuer þe mo«.
Seint Bernard onswered anon riht þo:
»Nouþur Syry ne Bernard þe schal out cast,
But Jhesus Crist atte laste«.
Seint Bernard made his orisoun
To God wiþ gret deuocioun:
Anon þe fend þen gon to sey:
»Ful fayn wolde i go my wey
Out of þis luytel croume brid
Þer mony day i haue me hid,
For nou i suffre muche wo,
And fayn wolde I henne go,
But I may not haue mi miht
For þe grete lord of riht«.
Seint Bernard þenne asked þis word:
»Who is þat ilke grete lord?«
Þe fend onswerde wiþ foul breþ:
»Hit is Jhesus of Nazareþ«.
»Bernard him asked for þe nones:
»Sauh þou him euere? sei me at ones!«
And he onswerde þenne aȝeyn:
»Ȝe, ȝe haue i him seyn«.
»Where?« quaþ Bernard, »tel me þis!«
And he onswered and seide: »in blis«.
»In blis«, quaþ Bernard, »hastou be?«
»Ȝe, wite þou þat riht wel! »quaþ he.
»Hou«, quaþ Bernard, »ful þou þer fro?«
»Wiþ Lucifer«, quaþ he, »and moni mo«.
Alle þeose wordus brode and couþ
Þe fend spac wiþ þe wommones mouþ.
Bernard seide: »þen tel me þis,
Woldustou not gon aȝein to blis?«
He made a mouwe, þat foule mate,
And seide: »nouþe hit is to late«.
Þorwh preyere of seint Bernard þan
He went out of þat womman.
But as sone as Bernard was gon,
In to þe wommon he wente anon.
Hire hosebonde þenne anon riht
Aftur him ran wiþ fot liht
And tolde him in þat plas
Hou þat þe fend icomen aȝeyn was.
Seynt Bernard him tok a luyte bok,
A scrouwe iwriten on to lok,
And bad him byde not to longe
Aboute hire nekke hit forte honge.
And þat scrouwe was no more ne min
But þeose wordus on latin:
To Melan to þis entent,
Þer to dwelle a luytel whyle,
Hem and heore chirche to reconcyle
Þat dwelleden in þat cite,
For þey hedden trespassed, parde.
Þat dede he dude deuoutelye
And was tornd aȝeyn to Papye.
In þat cite þer was a mon
Þat hedde to wyf an old wommon
Þat þe fend so cumbred had
Þat heo was verrey wod and mad.
In hope of hele to seynt Bernard
He hire brouhte afturward.
Anon riht in þat tyde
Bi þe wommones mouþ he gan chide
To seint Bernard and gan to seyn:
»Þou schalt not putte me out aȝeyn
Out of þis luttel schepes bodi,
Þat gnaweþ lekes a(n)d weodes wiþ foly«.
Seint Bernard bad hem deuoutely
Þat to þe churche of seint Syri
Þei schulde hire lede tofore þat mele,
Þer þat heo mihte geten hire hele.
But seynt Syri on Godus part
Þouhte to do worschipe to seint Bernard,
And lete hire passe as heo com.
And þei tornd alle aȝein hom,
56
Þey hire ladden afturward.
Þe fend seide þan wiþ gret schout:
»Seint Syri me naþ not cast out,
Ne Bernard schal neuer þe mo«.
Seint Bernard onswered anon riht þo:
»Nouþur Syry ne Bernard þe schal out cast,
But Jhesus Crist atte laste«.
Seint Bernard made his orisoun
To God wiþ gret deuocioun:
Anon þe fend þen gon to sey:
»Ful fayn wolde i go my wey
Out of þis luytel croume brid
Þer mony day i haue me hid,
For nou i suffre muche wo,
And fayn wolde I henne go,
But I may not haue mi miht
For þe grete lord of riht«.
Seint Bernard þenne asked þis word:
»Who is þat ilke grete lord?«
Þe fend onswerde wiþ foul breþ:
»Hit is Jhesus of Nazareþ«.
»Bernard him asked for þe nones:
»Sauh þou him euere? sei me at ones!«
And he onswerde þenne aȝeyn:
»Ȝe, ȝe haue i him seyn«.
»Where?« quaþ Bernard, »tel me þis!«
And he onswered and seide: »in blis«.
»In blis«, quaþ Bernard, »hastou be?«
»Ȝe, wite þou þat riht wel! »quaþ he.
»Hou«, quaþ Bernard, »ful þou þer fro?«
»Wiþ Lucifer«, quaþ he, »and moni mo«.
Alle þeose wordus brode and couþ
Þe fend spac wiþ þe wommones mouþ.
Bernard seide: »þen tel me þis,
Woldustou not gon aȝein to blis?«
He made a mouwe, þat foule mate,
And seide: »nouþe hit is to late«.
Þorwh preyere of seint Bernard þan
He went out of þat womman.
But as sone as Bernard was gon,
In to þe wommon he wente anon.
Hire hosebonde þenne anon riht
Aftur him ran wiþ fot liht
And tolde him in þat plas
Hou þat þe fend icomen aȝeyn was.
Seynt Bernard him tok a luyte bok,
A scrouwe iwriten on to lok,
And bad him byde not to longe
Aboute hire nekke hit forte honge.
And þat scrouwe was no more ne min
But þeose wordus on latin:
In nomine domini nostri Jhesu Cristi precipio tibi, demon, ne hanc mulierem amodo contingere presumas—
Þat is to sei vnto þe ende:
»I þe comaunde, þou foule fende,
In vr lord Jhesu Cristes name,
Þis wommon þat þou ne touche ne tame—
No more loke þou beo so hardi«.
Whon þe hosbonde hedde so don soþly,
Þe fend nas so hardi afturward
To come aȝein, for seint Bernard.
»I þe comaunde, þou foule fende,
In vr lord Jhesu Cristes name,
Þis wommon þat þou ne touche ne tame—
No more loke þou beo so hardi«.
Whon þe hosbonde hedde so don soþly,
Þe fend nas so hardi afturward
To come aȝein, for seint Bernard.
57
AT Aquitayne was a wommon
Þat a fend hedde so bigon
And idon so gret anuye,
Þat wiþ hire he dude lecherye—
Such a fend, as þe bok telleþ vs,
Is icalled Incubus.
Sixe ȝer so he hire schent
And dude wiþ hire his talent.
Hit bifel vppon a day
Seint Bernard was comen to þat cuntray.
Þe fend hir bad »beo not so hardi
Seint Bernard þat þou come not nyȝ«;
He seide hit schulde hire profyte nouht,
And seide he hedde cast in his þouht
Þat, ȝif þat heo wente to him,
He wolde to hire beo ful grim
And, riht as he hedde loued hire wel,
He wolde hire pursuwe fers and cruel.
But neuerþeles þe wommon þon
Wente to þat holy mon
And wiþ seruhfol wepyng
Tolde him þe maner of doyng.
»Wommon, he seide, in þe nome of þe trinite
Tac nou here my staf to þe
And in þi bed loke þou hit lay;
What he may do þenne, let him assay«.
Þe wommon to bedde wente þat niht
And leide þat staf bi hire doun riht.
Þe fend þenne com anon,
Riht as he was iwont to don,
But he nas not so hardi
Hire bed to neihe, to ligge hire by,
But he hir manased þenne anon
Heo schulde abugge, wer Bernard gon.
Whon heo to seint Bernard tolde þis,
He called þe peple togedere iwis
And bad þat vche mon schulde fonde,
A brennynge candel holde in his honde.
Þer wiþ candel, bok and belle
Þey corsud þe foule fend of helle
And comaunded him in Godus name
He schulde no more hir neihȝe ne blame.
Þus was þe wommon wiþ good entent
Delyuered of þat encumbrement.
Þat a fend hedde so bigon
And idon so gret anuye,
Þat wiþ hire he dude lecherye—
Such a fend, as þe bok telleþ vs,
Is icalled Incubus.
Sixe ȝer so he hire schent
And dude wiþ hire his talent.
Hit bifel vppon a day
Seint Bernard was comen to þat cuntray.
Þe fend hir bad »beo not so hardi
Seint Bernard þat þou come not nyȝ«;
He seide hit schulde hire profyte nouht,
And seide he hedde cast in his þouht
Þat, ȝif þat heo wente to him,
He wolde to hire beo ful grim
And, riht as he hedde loued hire wel,
He wolde hire pursuwe fers and cruel.
But neuerþeles þe wommon þon
Wente to þat holy mon
And wiþ seruhfol wepyng
Tolde him þe maner of doyng.
»Wommon, he seide, in þe nome of þe trinite
Tac nou here my staf to þe
And in þi bed loke þou hit lay;
What he may do þenne, let him assay«.
Þe wommon to bedde wente þat niht
And leide þat staf bi hire doun riht.
Þe fend þenne com anon,
Riht as he was iwont to don,
But he nas not so hardi
Hire bed to neihe, to ligge hire by,
But he hir manased þenne anon
Heo schulde abugge, wer Bernard gon.
Whon heo to seint Bernard tolde þis,
He called þe peple togedere iwis
And bad þat vche mon schulde fonde,
A brennynge candel holde in his honde.
Þer wiþ candel, bok and belle
Þey corsud þe foule fend of helle
And comaunded him in Godus name
He schulde no more hir neihȝe ne blame.
Þus was þe wommon wiþ good entent
Delyuered of þat encumbrement.
ÞE pope him sende, in certayn,
In to þe prouince of Aquitayn,
Þe duyk þerof, þat corsud was,
To reconcyle: þat was þe cas—
And meke to beo to holy churche.
But he forsok þat werk to worche.
Seint Bernard to þe auter went,
To make þe holi sacrament,
And, while his masse he was aboute,
Þe corsud duyk stod þe churche wiþoute.
Whon þe masse was come so neih
Þat Bernard seide Pax domini,
Goddus bodi he tok þen
And leyde vppon þe paten,
Wiþ furi face and brennyng eȝe
He bar hit to þe duyk in heiȝe,
To him þenne þeos wordus he spake
And seide: »vre wordus and us þou hast forsake,
We haue þe preyed, þou wolt not here.
Þerfore loke and seo nou heere
Þat maydenes sone is and lord ful riht
Of holichurche, and God of miht,
Þat þou hast pursuwed so longe.
Aske merci and vndurfonge:
Heer is þi juge, seo and fele,
To whom on kneo vche mon schal knele;
Heer is þi juge hol and sum,
In to whos hond þi soule schal cum.
Him nou forsake oþur dispyse
Þou wolt not on þe same wyse
As þou hast herbifore
Hem þat to þe han spoken herfore!
For Goddes seruauns þou wolt not here,
I haue þe brouht him self, þi lord, lo here!
Ȝif þat þou maiht wiþ eny riht
Wiþstonde, let seo nou al þi miht!«
Þe duyk wox þenne swiþe sore aferd
And qwok, hond, foot and berd,
Doun at his feet þer he fil,
Meoke, to suffre al maner skil.
Seint Bernard þenne, as he stod,
Put him a luytel wiþ his fot
And bad him rise, wiþ good reuerence
To here Godus sentence.
Þe emperour ros vp wiþ gret fere
And herkned wel wiþ herte and ere
Al þat euere seint Bernard bad,
And parfourned hit wiþ herte ful sad.
In to þe prouince of Aquitayn,
Þe duyk þerof, þat corsud was,
To reconcyle: þat was þe cas—
And meke to beo to holy churche.
But he forsok þat werk to worche.
Seint Bernard to þe auter went,
To make þe holi sacrament,
And, while his masse he was aboute,
Þe corsud duyk stod þe churche wiþoute.
Whon þe masse was come so neih
Þat Bernard seide Pax domini,
Goddus bodi he tok þen
And leyde vppon þe paten,
Wiþ furi face and brennyng eȝe
He bar hit to þe duyk in heiȝe,
58
And seide: »vre wordus and us þou hast forsake,
We haue þe preyed, þou wolt not here.
Þerfore loke and seo nou heere
Þat maydenes sone is and lord ful riht
Of holichurche, and God of miht,
Þat þou hast pursuwed so longe.
Aske merci and vndurfonge:
Heer is þi juge, seo and fele,
To whom on kneo vche mon schal knele;
Heer is þi juge hol and sum,
In to whos hond þi soule schal cum.
Him nou forsake oþur dispyse
Þou wolt not on þe same wyse
As þou hast herbifore
Hem þat to þe han spoken herfore!
For Goddes seruauns þou wolt not here,
I haue þe brouht him self, þi lord, lo here!
Ȝif þat þou maiht wiþ eny riht
Wiþstonde, let seo nou al þi miht!«
Þe duyk wox þenne swiþe sore aferd
And qwok, hond, foot and berd,
Doun at his feet þer he fil,
Meoke, to suffre al maner skil.
Seint Bernard þenne, as he stod,
Put him a luytel wiþ his fot
And bad him rise, wiþ good reuerence
To here Godus sentence.
Þe emperour ros vp wiþ gret fere
And herkned wel wiþ herte and ere
Al þat euere seint Bernard bad,
And parfourned hit wiþ herte ful sad.
VPpon a tyme, al in certayn,
In to þe kyngdom of Germayn
Seint Bernard tok þe wey forþword,
For to seese a gret disscord
Þat was þer amongus hom.
And whon þa(t) he þider com,
Þe erchebisschop aȝein him sent
A worþi clerk of good entent,
Him to welcome curteisliche
In to þat ilke bisschopriche.
Whon þe clerk seynt Bernard mette,
Loueliche þenne he him grette
And seide: his lord him sente had,
Him to welcome wiþ herte glad.
Seint Bernard onswerd wiþ dim entent:
»Anoþur lord, sire, þe haþ sent«.
Þe clerk wondred gretly þo
Of his wordus, whi he seide so,
And seide: »sire, al wiþ good hope
From my lord þe erchebisschope
I am sent ow aȝayn,
Þat of ȝor comynge is riht fayn«.
Seint Bernard seide ȝit eftsonus
Qweynte wordus for þe nonus:
»Þou art bigyled, sone dere,
For a grettore lord wiþouten were
Sent þe to me aftur his list:
Þat is vr lord Jhesu Crist«.
Whon þe clerk þis vndurstod,
He onswerde wiþ milde mod:
»Wenestou a monk þat i wolde be?
God hit forbeode þat falle on me!
Hit com neuer ȝit in my þouht,
Ne in myn herte falle schal hit nouht«.
But as þei wolken bi þe wey,
Seint Bernard tornde his herte, in fey,
þat he þe world þenne al forsok
And habyt of monk of him he tok.
In to þe kyngdom of Germayn
Seint Bernard tok þe wey forþword,
For to seese a gret disscord
Þat was þer amongus hom.
And whon þa(t) he þider com,
Þe erchebisschop aȝein him sent
A worþi clerk of good entent,
Him to welcome curteisliche
In to þat ilke bisschopriche.
Whon þe clerk seynt Bernard mette,
Loueliche þenne he him grette
And seide: his lord him sente had,
Him to welcome wiþ herte glad.
Seint Bernard onswerd wiþ dim entent:
»Anoþur lord, sire, þe haþ sent«.
Þe clerk wondred gretly þo
Of his wordus, whi he seide so,
And seide: »sire, al wiþ good hope
From my lord þe erchebisschope
I am sent ow aȝayn,
Þat of ȝor comynge is riht fayn«.
Seint Bernard seide ȝit eftsonus
Qweynte wordus for þe nonus:
»Þou art bigyled, sone dere,
For a grettore lord wiþouten were
Sent þe to me aftur his list:
Þat is vr lord Jhesu Crist«.
Whon þe clerk þis vndurstod,
59
»Wenestou a monk þat i wolde be?
God hit forbeode þat falle on me!
Hit com neuer ȝit in my þouht,
Ne in myn herte falle schal hit nouht«.
But as þei wolken bi þe wey,
Seint Bernard tornde his herte, in fey,
þat he þe world þenne al forsok
And habyt of monk of him he tok.
VPpon a tyme þorwh Goddus miht
Seint Bernard hed schoren in a kniht
Þat in werres tofore hedde iswonke
And þenne was bicome a monke.
Hit bifel sone afturward
Þat, as he folewed seint Bernard,
Sodeynliche ful him vppon
A wonder gret temptacion,
Þat made him wondur sori
And of cher ful dreri.
On of his breþeren asked him þo
What him mihte beo, to loke so.
He onswerde wondurliche
And seide: »i wot wel sikerliche,
Heraftur schal i not, parde,
Neuer in herte muri be«.
Þat oþur monk in gret hiȝing
Tolde seint Bernard his seying.
Bernard preyed God wiþ deuocion
His monk delyuere of þat temptacion.
Anon þe monk wox al muri
Þat tofore was so sori,
And gladdore of chere þen eni oþur.
Þen a monk, on was his broþur,
Blamed him for his heuynes
And bad him þenke on holynes.
»I seyde and onswerde sum tyme to þe
Þat i schulde neuer glad be,
But nou i sey, sikerly,
In herte schal i neuer beo sori«.
Seint Bernard hed schoren in a kniht
Þat in werres tofore hedde iswonke
And þenne was bicome a monke.
Hit bifel sone afturward
Þat, as he folewed seint Bernard,
Sodeynliche ful him vppon
A wonder gret temptacion,
Þat made him wondur sori
And of cher ful dreri.
On of his breþeren asked him þo
What him mihte beo, to loke so.
He onswerde wondurliche
And seide: »i wot wel sikerliche,
Heraftur schal i not, parde,
Neuer in herte muri be«.
Þat oþur monk in gret hiȝing
Tolde seint Bernard his seying.
Bernard preyed God wiþ deuocion
His monk delyuere of þat temptacion.
Anon þe monk wox al muri
Þat tofore was so sori,
And gladdore of chere þen eni oþur.
Þen a monk, on was his broþur,
Blamed him for his heuynes
And bad him þenke on holynes.
»I seyde and onswerde sum tyme to þe
Þat i schulde neuer glad be,
But nou i sey, sikerly,
In herte schal i neuer beo sori«.
IN Irelond dwelled, sikerly,
A bisschop, was called seint Malachi,
Þat seint Bernard louede wel
And endyted his lyf eueridel.
Whon seint Malachi ded was,
Bernard for him song an heiȝ mas—
Of Requiem i trouwe hit were,
For a miracle þat ful þere.
God schewed to Bernard iwis
Þat Malachi was in blis,
And enspired him of an orisoun,
To seyn at his post-comoun.
Aftur þe post-comoun was isonge,
He chaunged his orisoun wiþ his tonge
Of Requiem þat he schulde seie,
And seide of seint Malachie:
A bisschop, was called seint Malachi,
Þat seint Bernard louede wel
And endyted his lyf eueridel.
Whon seint Malachi ded was,
Bernard for him song an heiȝ mas—
Of Requiem i trouwe hit were,
For a miracle þat ful þere.
God schewed to Bernard iwis
Þat Malachi was in blis,
And enspired him of an orisoun,
To seyn at his post-comoun.
Aftur þe post-comoun was isonge,
He chaunged his orisoun wiþ his tonge
Of Requiem þat he schulde seie,
And seide of seint Malachie:
Deus qui beatum Maluchiam sanctorum tuorum meritis coequasti, tribue quesumus ut qui preciose mortis eius festa agimus uite quoque imitemur exempla, per Cristum.
Þe chauntur hedde gret wondring
Þat he fayled of his seying,
And made signe, as he stod a ferre:
Of his orisoun he dude erre.
And he seide: »i wot wel
Þat i erre neuer a del«.
Þe chauntur ful adoun al mete
To þe grounde, to cusse his fete.
Þat he fayled of his seying,
And made signe, as he stod a ferre:
60
And he seide: »i wot wel
Þat i erre neuer a del«.
Þe chauntur ful adoun al mete
To þe grounde, to cusse his fete.
ONus in a lenton tym
Men of Tirone visyted him.
Þen he hem preyed goodliche
Þei schulde hem abstine deuoutliche
Vppon heiȝe feste dawes
From vanytes and nice plawes.
But þei nolden on none maner
Graunten him his preyer.
Þenne he comaundet hem þe wyn,
Such as he hedde, good and fyn.
And whon þat þe coupe was brouht,
He seide, as hit was in his þouht:
»Drynkeþ nou ȝor soules drynke!«
Þen on þat word þei gonne to þenke.
Whon þei hedden dronke sweteliche,
Þei weoren al chaunged, verreiliche:
Of wyldenesse tok þei non hede,
But serued God, to gete hem mede.
Men of Tirone visyted him.
Þen he hem preyed goodliche
Þei schulde hem abstine deuoutliche
Vppon heiȝe feste dawes
From vanytes and nice plawes.
But þei nolden on none maner
Graunten him his preyer.
Þenne he comaundet hem þe wyn,
Such as he hedde, good and fyn.
And whon þat þe coupe was brouht,
He seide, as hit was in his þouht:
»Drynkeþ nou ȝor soules drynke!«
Þen on þat word þei gonne to þenke.
Whon þei hedden dronke sweteliche,
Þei weoren al chaunged, verreiliche:
Of wyldenesse tok þei non hede,
But serued God, to gete hem mede.
ATte laste þe day com neiȝe
Þat seint Bernard schulde on dyȝe.
To his breþeren þen he gon say:
»Þreo þinges loke ȝe kepe al way,
Þat I haue kept in my liuyng,
As I leeue to my wityng:
I nolde neuere sclaundre more ne lesse
And, ȝif eny aros, I wolde hit cesse;
I ȝaf lasse credence to myn owne wit
Þen to oþur mennes ȝit;
And ȝif þat me hurted eny mon,
Veniaunce þerof asked i non.
Loke þat ȝe kepen wel also
Þeos þreo same þinges euermo,
Þat is: charite and mekenesse
And pacient beo to more and lesse.
Þeos þreo þinges i leue to ȝou,
Þerfore kepeþ hem riht wel nou!«
Þat seint Bernard schulde on dyȝe.
To his breþeren þen he gon say:
»Þreo þinges loke ȝe kepe al way,
Þat I haue kept in my liuyng,
As I leeue to my wityng:
I nolde neuere sclaundre more ne lesse
And, ȝif eny aros, I wolde hit cesse;
I ȝaf lasse credence to myn owne wit
Þen to oþur mennes ȝit;
And ȝif þat me hurted eny mon,
Veniaunce þerof asked i non.
Loke þat ȝe kepen wel also
Þeos þreo same þinges euermo,
Þat is: charite and mekenesse
And pacient beo to more and lesse.
Þeos þreo þinges i leue to ȝou,
Þerfore kepeþ hem riht wel nou!«
MIracles he wrouht in toun and felde,
An hundred and sixti munstres he belde,
Bokus and tretes he compyled
And mony a mon he reconcyled.
Heer in þis world liuede he
Aboute sixti wintres and þre.
He lafte þis lyf and speche of word
In þe ȝeer of þe date of vr lord
A þousund and hundred fifti and þre,
And from his breþeren passed he,
To God, þat is of mihtes most,
Deuoutliche he ȝald þe gost.
Aftur þat he was ded, iwis,
To mony a mon he schewed his blis.
An hundred and sixti munstres he belde,
Bokus and tretes he compyled
And mony a mon he reconcyled.
Heer in þis world liuede he
Aboute sixti wintres and þre.
He lafte þis lyf and speche of word
In þe ȝeer of þe date of vr lord
A þousund and hundred fifti and þre,
And from his breþeren passed he,
To God, þat is of mihtes most,
Deuoutliche he ȝald þe gost.
Aftur þat he was ded, iwis,
To mony a mon he schewed his blis.
TO an abbot of an abbay
He apered: þat he wel say—
And bad him anon riht þare
Him to suwe he schulde not spare.
Þe abbot dude as he him bad,
And forþ wiþ him þen he him lad.
Þenne sone aftur hit biful
Þat þei comen to a gret hul.
Seint Bernard seide: »to me entende,
Vppon þis hul i mote astende,
But i þe telle wiþouten weer
Þou most dwelle stille riht heer«.
Þe abbot him asked þenne, wharto
He wolde steih vp on þat hul so.
Þen he seide: »ȝif þou wolt here,
Þider i go nou forte lere«.
Þe abbot him askede wiþ wondring:
»Fadur, what neodeþ þe of leornyng?
We trouwen þat of connynge
Beo not such anoþur lyuynge«.
And he onswerde wiþ pacience:
»Heer nis no verrey science,
Ne no verrey knowyng
Wel neih of no maner þing;
Aboue of science is al fulnes,
Aboue is verrey knowyng of soþnes«.
Whon þat he him þus hedde told fore,
Þe abbot of him seih no more.
He tok good hede what day þat was,
To wite what wolde falle of þat cas.
And he fond soþly atte last
At þat same day seint Bernard fast
Out of þis world to God aboue,
Of whom euere he hedde set his loue.
Mo miracles þen mon may telle
God wrouhte for him, as clerkes wite wel.
God for þe loue of seint Bernard
Of heueneriche blisse ȝeue us part!
He apered: þat he wel say—
And bad him anon riht þare
Him to suwe he schulde not spare.
Þe abbot dude as he him bad,
And forþ wiþ him þen he him lad.
Þenne sone aftur hit biful
61
Seint Bernard seide: »to me entende,
Vppon þis hul i mote astende,
But i þe telle wiþouten weer
Þou most dwelle stille riht heer«.
Þe abbot him asked þenne, wharto
He wolde steih vp on þat hul so.
Þen he seide: »ȝif þou wolt here,
Þider i go nou forte lere«.
Þe abbot him askede wiþ wondring:
»Fadur, what neodeþ þe of leornyng?
We trouwen þat of connynge
Beo not such anoþur lyuynge«.
And he onswerde wiþ pacience:
»Heer nis no verrey science,
Ne no verrey knowyng
Wel neih of no maner þing;
Aboue of science is al fulnes,
Aboue is verrey knowyng of soþnes«.
Whon þat he him þus hedde told fore,
Þe abbot of him seih no more.
He tok good hede what day þat was,
To wite what wolde falle of þat cas.
And he fond soþly atte last
At þat same day seint Bernard fast
Out of þis world to God aboue,
Of whom euere he hedde set his loue.
Mo miracles þen mon may telle
God wrouhte for him, as clerkes wite wel.
God for þe loue of seint Bernard
Of heueneriche blisse ȝeue us part!
AMEN.
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