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Here begynnyth þe lyf of seynt feyth.

Whylom whan fers dyoclycian
Exercisyd hys cruel tyrannye,
Wyth his cursyd compere, maximyan,
Many a cristyn man he made to dye;
For where þat ony þai myht aspye,
Wyth-owtyn eþir mercy or pyte
Them to be sleyn was her decre.
For wych cause in-to ych cuntre
They sent abouten thorgh here empere
Cruel mynistrys of iniquite,
Aftyr crystys seruauntys for to enquere
Wych, wher þai myht of ony here,
Anoon to þere emperour they hem sent
Er ellys hym slow wyth dyuers turment.
Among wych alse was oon dacyan,
Oon of þe cruellest, as I do rede,
For so fulfyllyd he was wyth sathan,
That alle hys ioy was blood to shede
Of cristene men, whare-fore grete mede
He profyrde alle þo þat hym wolde brynge
Of cristyne men ony manere tydynge.
Thys cruel tyraunth in hys woodnes
Fro cuntre to cuntre whyrlyd fast aboute,
And made alle men both moor & les
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To hys fals goddys to knelyn & loute,
And who-so nolde, þis is no doute,
To hys commaundementys redyly obeye,
Wyth hard torment he hem maad to deye.
In þis mene tyme, as he dede kum
In-to spayne þat royal cuntre
A cyte he entryd clepyd agennum,
Wher ryght anoon informyd was he
How a maydyn þer was in þat cyte,
Feyth be name, wych wold no wyse
Goddys honouryn but hem dede despyse.
Thys mayd born was of nobyllest blood
Of al þat cyte as touchyng nature;
And thow she fayre were, she also was good,
And in al hir werkys both clene & pure,
Of contenaunce sad and of chere demure,
Neythir in worde nere dede wantoun nere nyce,
For no þing she hatyd but oonly wyce.
No wundyr for she wel was applyid
To cristys scole in hir tendir age,
And in þe feyth groundly edyfyd
Be hem þat were both wyse & sage,
So þat from it mycht noon outrage
In no wyse hir hert do bryng,
For aftyr hir name was hir lyuyng.
Feyth was hir name, & feythfully
In cryst ihesu euyr trustyd she
Wyth dowwys sympylnesse syngulerly
Louyng & wyth turturis chastyte;
And for she nold lesyn hir virgynyte
Oonly she chese, to be crystis wyfe
And neuyr noon oþirs, to lesyn hir lyfe.
For pleynly þis she trustyd welle,
That þow she lost hir lyfe temporal,
For cristys sake, hit shuld no delle
Hir hurten, for she lyf eternal
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Shuld han þer-fore & immortal,
To wych fynally þat she myht atteyne,
Refusyn she nold noon erthly peyne.
Worldly wurshyp she set at noght,
And rychesse as dung she dede despyse,
For god to seruyn was al hir þoght,
And flehsly lustys she nold appryse
But hem forsuk, & in no wyse
She wold here ydols goddys calle,
But deuelys dennys she clepyd hem alle.
Whan þis tyraunth of hir dede here,
Dacyan, fulfyllyd wyth malyncoly,
Be-forn hym chargyd she shuld appere,
And anoon hys men hir sowht bysely,
But she hir offryd to hem frely,
And þow þai hir fersly furth led
Yet of hem she was no þing adred.
But whan she shuld to þe presence
Off dacyan be broght, wyth hert entere
A tokyn of þe cros hir to defence
She maad, & wyth a deuouth chere
Wyth mouth & hert she maad þis prayere:
‘Lord þat regnyst in heuene aboue,
Thys our me stedefast kepe in þi loue!
Of eloquens, lord, yif me habundaunce
Be-forn þis tyraunth whan I am broght,
And in þi feyth myht & constaunce,
And by his tyrannye to set ryght noht,
A[n]de also þat neythir in wurd no þought,
Thow he me assayle wyth greuous turme[n]t,
To here desyre þat I neuir consent.’
And whan she to þe presence of þe tyraunth
Was broght, & stood beforn hys syht
Wyth debonayr & wyth sad semblanht,
Anoon he hir askyd what she heht,
And she hym answerd euyn forth ryht:
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‘Feyth clepyd I am, & euyr haue be
From þe tym of my fyrst natiuyte.’
‘Feyth,’ quod he, ‘what is þi feyth
And þi byleue? telle me hastyly.’
‘Crystyn I am, for-suth,’ she seyth,
‘And cristys seruaunth I am treuly,
And haf be syth dyscrecioun fyrst had I,
Whos spouse to ben I haue me take,
And neuyr for oþir wyl I hym forsake.’
Whan dacyan þis herd, wyth chere symulat,
And half smylyng as hym had lyst to playe,
‘Fayre Feyth,’ he sayde, ‘be not obstynat,
But wysly lyst what I þe seye.
I wyl þe councellyn al a-noþir weye,
Wych to þi beute & to þi byrth, I-wys,
And eek to þi youthe more spedful is.
Yf algate chastyte þou wylt han
Of body, fyrst do cryst forsake,
And þan þe offre to seruyn dyan,
Lych the in kynde, & clothys blake
Vse in hyr temple, & I þe shal make
[S]o hye in worshype & ryches growe
That men to þe shul goon ful lowe.’
‘By þi promissys ne by þi feyr speche
Pleynly I set ryht noht,’ quod she;
‘For, as holy fadrys doctryne doth teche,
Noht ellis your goddys but deuyllys be.
Where-fore I merueyle þat þou counselyst me
Very god & hys treu feyth despyse,
And to fals goddys to do sacrifyse.’
Wyth þis answere he wex ful wroth,
A[n]d specyally þat she hys goddys dyde calle
Deuelys, & swore a full greth oth
That, but she wold doun prostrate falle
And doon sacryfyse to hys goddys alle,
Wyth newe tormentys wych neuyr were seye
Beforn, he makyn hir shuld to deye.
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But feyth, wych foundyd in stabylnesse
Was, & of many gloryous martyrys
Exeaunp[l]ys strenghthyd, & sekyrnesse
Had þorgh hoope [of] euyrlestyng blys,
Ful stedfastly yaf ansuere þis,
Þat for crystys sake al suche turmentrye
She glad wold suffre & deth eek treulye.
Euene wyth þis he wood was,
And wyth þe rage of woodnesse ouyrled
He commaundyd þat to a bed of bras
Wyth-out tarying she shuld be led,
And in four partys þere-on be spred,
And wyth strong chenys þer-to be fast bounde,
And greth fyer made vndyr, hir to confounde.
Whan she was broght where þis torment
Of bras stood ful hoot brennyng,
Wylfully Feyth þer-up-on went,
And summe anoon wyth-out lettyng
There-to hir bounde, & summe dede bryng
Pannys wyth colys, summe oyle & grese
There-jnne dede cast, hir peyn to encrese.
Summe wyth forkys of yryn ful strong
On þe grydyl hir turnyd up & doun,
Summe blewe so sore þat þe flaume up sprong
Aboutyn hyr sydys euyn in-vyroun;
Was noon þat had of hyr compassyoun
Saf oonly þai wych þat stood bysyde,
Wych for uery pyte here face dede hyde.
And meny of hem þus dede crye:
‘O fers & cruel tormentourys,
We kun in no wyse conceyuyn why
Thys blyssyd mayde wyth so sherp shourys
Ye doon assayle, & wyth so gret dolours
Ye besyin you to makyn hir to sterue
But for she god in heuene doth serue.
O vnpetousnesse! o vnryhtful
Domys! & o peruers entent!
To us it semyth ryht vnskylful
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That þis seruaunth of god, þis innocent,
Shuld be slayne wyth swych torment,
Wyth-out reward of hir tendyr age
Or þe hy wurthynes of hir lynage.
And yf ye lyst to wete what we wyl do,
Vttyrly we forsakyn al ydolatrye,
And feythis god we wyl turn to,
For whom we be redy wyth hir to dye,
And al your fals goddys we defye,
Wych aftyr hir doctryn, as we beleue,
Mown neþir helpyn men nere greue.’
Whan þis was tolde vn-to dacyan,
He yaf þis sentens in þat stounde,
That heuedyd of hem schuld ben ych man;
And anoon many a body was throwe to grounde
Heedles, & Feyth þe moor to confounde,
And to þe encres of hir tormentrye,
Al þis was doon beforn hir eye.
Op-on thylke syde of þe seyde cyte
Where phebus & hys ark meredyonal
The shadwe doth throwe of euery tre,
Of euery tour & of euery wal,
That is to seyne in þe plage septentrional,
Ne[þ]m[o]st þe pool, wych shypmen doth guyde,
Stant an hy hyl þe wallys euene besyde.
Thys hyl is craggy & eke cauernous,
Ful of trees & busshys, wych up to stye
For þer thyknesse is full laboryous,
Wyth-out weye or path men for to gye.
But who-so þere be weel may aspye
All þat is opynly in þe cyte doo,
Yf he dylygently wyl attende þer too.
In seyd hyl, fleyng þe persecucyoun
Of cruel decyan, in kauys ful wyde
Many a man þat tyme out of þe toun
As for a mene whyle hem dede hyde,
Of wych many oon, þat same tyde
Þat feyth dyde suffryn hir tormentrye,
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Stodyn & beholdyn yt by & bye.
Amonge wych stood oon callyd Caprasius,
Of nobyl blood & but yunge of age;
And whan he saw Feyth tormentyd þus,
He knelyd doun & upward hys vysage
He dede lyfte, & wyth deuouth corage
He preyid þus: ‘lord, for þi mercy,
Yiue feyth of dacyan þe victory.
And also, lord, yf it noon offence
Be to þi goodnesse, I desyre moor:
Syth ffeyth suffryth so greth uyolence
Of peyn & is tormentyd so sore,
What reward shal she han þere-fore
Here-aftyr, & wheþir in þis tormentrye
She ony counfort felyth or remedye.’
Whan þus endyd had hys preyere,
A feyr whyte dow beforn hys syht,
Commyng from heuen, þere dede appere,
Beryng a croun of gold ful bryht,
Set ful of gemmys þan þe sunne moor lyht,
Wych, as hym þouhte, þeddyr dede flye
Where ffeyth lay wrappyd in tormentrye.
And ouyr hir as she dede houyn flekerynge
Hyr wyngys softely she gan to shake,
And wyt þe deu wych of hem dede sprynge
The reed colys anoon wexyn al blake,
And þerewyth Feythys peyns gunne slake,
And wyth þe deu wych on hir dede falle
Perfythly curyd were hir woundys alle.
And anoon she clad was in a gowne
And a mantel snow-wyht, ful solemnely,
And þan þe dowwe þe gloryous crounne
Set on hir heed, wych shoon heuenly,
And whan alle þis was doon she sodeynly
Took hir flyht & to heuene ageyn
Returnyd, & was no more þere seyn.
Whan Caprasius alle þis sey doon,
Vp-on þe grounde deuouthly knelyng,
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From hys preyere he roos up ful soon,
And þankyd god of þis tokny[n]g,
Whereby he conseyuyd wythout doutyng
T[h]at, wyth pacyence suffryd, peyn temporal
Is þe ryht weye to ioye eternal.
And as he roos, þe hyl sodeynly
Wyth hys ryght hand he dede smyte,
And anoon þer sprang meruelously
A wel ful of watyr clere & bryht,
Of wych þe taste hath so greth myht
That what seeknes ony man feel
By þis martyris merytys he shal han heel.
Aftyr þis wyth ryht ful glad chere
From þe hyl a-loon he ran doun,
And vnware to alle he cam nere
Where feyth dede suffryn passyoun,
And opynly he made þis confessyoun
That cryst is god & noon but he,
And al oþir goddys deuyls be.
And anoon þis tyraunth dede commaunde
Hym to be presentyde be-forn hys syht;
And whan he was comme, þis demaunde
He askyd of hym, what þat he hyht,
Hys byrth, hys kyn, & anoon ryht
Thys blyssyd Caprasius wyt-out feer
To hys demaund þus dede ansuere:
‘Fyrst I knouleche, as for most worthy,
That crystnyd I was in a funt of stoon
Of a prest, & Caprasius clepyd was I,
Wherfor fals goddys wyl I worshyp noon,
But hym I serue wych knytter is in oon
Of iewys & paynyms, criyst ihesu,
For whom þis virgyn þou dost pursu.’
‘I haue reuth of þe,’ quod dacyan,
‘That þou doost so erren in þi byleue;
And for þou art so feyr a yungman,
Me were full loth þe for to greue;
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And þat þou erryst I þus do preue,
For of hys dyscyple cryst was betrayid,
And a cros wyth torment to deth afrayid.
And on swych oon þat for hys synne
Thus was tormentyd to settyn affyance,
I hold greth errour, wher-fore yete blynne,
And of þi mysbeleue haue repentaunce,
And of þi wysers lern bettyr gouernaunce,
And wurshyp þo goddys wych dede [not] dye,
And crucyfyde cryst wytterly dyffye.
And yf to my counsel þou wylt assente,
And be reulyd lych as I shal seyn þe,
On[to] þe emperours I þe wyl present,
Were þou þorgh þere famylyaryte
Shal mounn commyn to greth dygnyte,
To wurthy estaat & to hey honour,
And to be lord of many a castel & tour.’
But Caprasius by alle þese profyrs hye
Of wurshyp, welt, or of dygnyte,
Wych dacyan hym hycht, he set not a flye,
In crystys feyth rotyd so wel was he.
‘In hys paleys to duel leuyr is me,’
Quod he, ‘wych alle þingys wroght,
And al mankynde onys fulle dere boght.
Hym I loue & serue most singulerely,
But þow wyth vayn hope, o dacyan,
Inebryat, settyst ryht noht hym by,
Illudyd by þi goddesse clepyd dyan,
Wych þe helpyn neyþir may nere kan;
For wundyr were þat eþir styke or stoon
Shuld lyf grant & þe self haue noon.
And for-as-mych as þou counsellyst me
To doon a-mys, euyn þer-ageyn
Moor heleful counsel I wyl yiue þe,
By wych þou mayst escheu þe peyn
That þe is ordeynyd endles certeyn.
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Wurshepe my god & forsaak synne,
And þou shalt han ioye wych neuer shal blyn.’
‘Yet leue al þis foly,’ quod dacyan,
‘And to wurshype my goddys fast þe hye,
Or ellys swych peynys as þou seste han
Thys rebel Feyth sekyr I wyl aplye
To þe anoon, I þe behete suthlye.
Werfore yete folwe þe counsel of me,
And to wurshyp I wyl enhaunsyn þe.’
‘Alle þi greth profyrs,’ quod Caprasius,
‘I wyl þou knowe þat I set not by,
For I trust fully þat my lord ihesus
Me to avaunce is moost myhty,
Trewe in wurdys & in werkys holy,
Wych he[t]yth hys seruauntys in ioye to dwelle,
And to hys rebellys þe peyn of helle.
And þat Feyth whom þou tormentyst here
Shal ioyin & be glad euerelestyngly,
Whan þou shalt walwyn in helle feere,
And euyrmoor wepyn & be sory;
At whos exaunple I am redy
Swych peyn to suffre as lytyl dure,
And endles ioye þer-fore be sure.’
Whan dacyan sey of Capracys herte
The steedfastnesse, & þat for no þing
From crystys feyth he hym myht peruerte,
Nethir by behestys ne by thretyng:
‘I wyl no lengere,’ quod he, ‘vsyn þis doyng,
Ne hap þat in swych uerbal batayle
I be ouyr-commyn & he do preuayle.
Wherefore, o tormentours, I charge you
That ye þis rebel wyth peynys assayle,
And sparyth hym not, for he is yung & tou,
On euere syd makyn hys blood out hayle.’
And anoon þei hym betyn tyl þei dede fayle,
And in alle his peynys he euyr dede cry
Wyth ryht glad chere, ‘Ihesu, gramercy.’
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And to þe peple about he dede preche & seye:
‘Serys, dredyth not, I counsel yow,
Thys tyraunth, ner hym neuere doth obeye,
Whos powyr lastyth but a whyl now
And shal passyn a-wey, no man wot how;
But dredyth hym wych body & soule may
Throwyn in-to peyn wych lastyth ay.’
And at þese wordys of exortacioun,
The peple besyde wept pytously,
And seyng þis cruel examynacyoun
Alle wyth o voys ful loude dede cry:
‘O vnpetouse men & wyth-out mercy,
Why vexe ye wyth so cruel torment
This blyssyd man, þis holy innocent?’
For þis specyal prerogatyf had he
Þat amyable he was to euery man
Wych on hym lokyd, for bryht of ble
He was, & of colour neþir pale ne wan;
And þat soor greuyd cursyd dacyan,
So constaunth he was þat no peyne
Myht in no wyse makyn hym to pleyne.
And whyl þat feyth & seyd Caprasius
Thus turmentyd were fulle cruelly,
Two brethyrn, Primus & Felicianus,
Among oþir peple stoden euyn by,
And whan þei hem seyn suffryn mekely
There peynys, on cryst þei dede beleue,
And alle fals goddys in hert repreue,
And thought þei myht no bettyr do
Than to be ioynyd to þem tweyne;
And euyn furth-wyth þei runne hym to
And alle her hert opynly dede seyne,
And anoon þei applyid were to peyne;
And þus þese four, togedyr knyt sothly,
Of furyous dacyan had þe victory.
And whan he sey ych oþir counforte
In þer peyn, & eke uerteously
To perseueraunce alwey exhorte,
He wex nere wood for malyncoly,
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And bad to a temple wych stood faste by
They shuld be lede, þere to sacryfyse,
Or ellys to bene hefdyd in hasty wyse.
But to þe temple whan thei were brouht,
For no man þei wold do sacryfise
But to þat lord þat alle þing wrouht,
Redy to deyin in hys seruyse.
Wherfore hefdyd, as dede deuyse
Dacyan, þei were wyth-out lettyng,
And so went to ioye þat is euyr-lestyng.
And whan þese four þus heuedyd were,
The cursyd paynyms ful cruelly
In þe felde her bodyes left þere
For to be deuourryd, ful vnpytously,
Of bestys; but whan nyht cam, priualy
Crystyn men dedyn alle here dylygence
Them to beryin wyth greth reuerence.
Nertheles but symple was þe place
Ful meny yerys where þei dede lye,
Wherfore whan sesyde þorgh goddys grace
Was in þat cuntre al paynymry,
And cryst hys Feyth dede claryfye,
A bysshope was styryd of deuocyoun
Of þem to makyn a translacyoun.
Hym þoght it was ful expedyent
For þe comoun profyth of þat cyte,
To make a chyrche from þe fundament,
Wych in honoure of feyth shul halwyd be.
Wych to perform dyfferryd he
Ful longe, hymself vnworthy þinkyng
To be mynystyr of so holy a thyng.
Thys bysshopys name was Dulcidius,
A man of ryht syngulere perfeccioun,
Wych in hys slepe was monystyd þus:
‘Dyffere no lengere þin entencyoun;
But hastyly it put in execucyoun;
For by þat dede þou mayst purchase
Both to þe & to þi cyte grace.’
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And anoon he made a congregacyoun
Of monkys & clerkys whom he dede tel
Clerly alle hys reuelacyoun
And euene pleynly as it befel,
And þai hym youyn al counsel
It to performe, & holpyn þere-to,
And in short tyme it was do.
And whan it complet was perfytly,
Seynt feythys body he dede up take
And þedyr he trans[l]atyd reuerently,
And made þer a mynystir of munkys blak,
Where god shewyd hath for Feythys sake
Ful meny myraclys, þis is no nay,
And yet doth sheu from day to day.
Now, blyssyd feyth, uery feythfulnesse,
Purches alle þem þat þe do serue,
And of feyth perseueraunt stedfastnesse,
Whom from alle myschef ay do preserue,
Nere suffre hem neuyr in syn to sterue,
But from þis owtlaury whan þei shuld pace
Graunt þem to dyen in fynial grace.
And specyaly, lady, for þi passyoun,
Shewe hem þe grace of singulere fauour
Wych in-to ynglyssh of pure deuocyoun
Of þi legend was þe translatour.
Graunth hym, lady, in hys last our
Of lyuyng, so to be clensyd fro synne
Wych on þi day to lyuyn fyrst dyde begyn.
Amen mercy ihesu & gramercy.
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