University of Virginia Library

The yer of grace, pleynly to descryue,
A thowsand, fourhundryd, fourty & fyue,
Aftyr þe cherche of Romys computacyoun
Wych wyth Iane chaungyth hyr calculacyoun,
Whan phebus (wych nowher is mansonarye
Stedefastly, but ych day doth varye
Hys herberwe among þe syngnys twelue,
As þe fyrste meuer ordeynyd hym-selue)
Descendyd was in hys cours adoun
To þe lowest part by cyrcumuolucyoun
Of þe Zodyac cercle, Caprycorn I mene,
Wher of heythe degrees he hath but fyftene,
And hys retur had sumwhat bygunne.
By wych oo degre oonly he had wunne
In clymbyng, & drow towerd Agnarye—
But in þis mater what shuld I lenger tarye?
I mene pleynly up-on þat festful eue
In wych, as alle crystene men byleue,
Thre kyngys her dylygence dede applye
Wyth thre yiftys newe-born to gloryfye
Cryst, aftyr hys byrthe þe threttende day,
Comyng from þe est in ful royal aray,
By conduct of a sterre wych shone clere:

domina Bowser commitissa Ew Dux Eborum

In presence I was of þe lady bowsere,
Wych is also clepyd þe countesse of hu,
Doun conueyid by þe same pedegru
That þe duk of york is come, for she
Hys sustyr is in egal degre,
Aftyr þe dochesse of york clepyd Isabel,
Hyr fadrys graunhtdam, [wych, soth to tel,]
In spayn kyng Petrys dowtyr was,
Wych wyth a-noþir sustyr, so stood þe caas,
The royal tytle of spayne to englond broht,
And, for þe fyrste sustyr yssud noht
But deyid baren, al stood in þe toþir,
By whhom þe ryht now to þe broþir
Of seyd da[me] Isabelle, to seyn al and sum,
The duk of york, syr Rychard, is come,

Richardus dux Eborum

Wych god hym send, yf it be hys wyl.
But of þis mater no more now spekyn I wyl,
But returnyn ageyn to seyd dame Isabelle,
And of my purpos þe remnanth furth telle.
I saye, whyl þis ladyis foure sonys ying
Besy were wyth reuel & wyth daunsyng,
And oþere mo in þere most fressh aray
Dysgysyd, for in þe moneth of may
Was neuyr [wyth] flouris [whyt], blewe & grene,
Medewe motleyid freshlyere, I wene,
Than were her garnementys; for as it semyd me
Mynerue hyr-self, wych hath þe souereynte
Of gay texture, as declaryth Ouyde,
Wyth al hire wyt ne coude prouyde
More goodly aray þow she dede en[cl]os
Wyth-ynne oo web al methamorphosyos.
I seye, whyl þei þus daunsyng dede walke
Aboute þe chaumbyr, wyth me to talke
It lykyd my lady of hyr ientylnesse
Of dyuers legendys, wych my rudnesse
From latyn had turnyd in-to our language,
Of hooly wummen, now in my last age,
As of seynt Anne, to blyssyd Marye
The modyr, of Margrete & of Dorothye,
Of Feyth & Crystyne, & of Anneys þer-to,
And of þo Eleuene thowsend uirgyns al-so,
And of þat holy & blyssyd matrone
Seynt Elyzabeth, whos lyf alone
To alle wyuys myht a merour be
Of uery perfeccyoun in sundry degre,
Whos holy legend as at þat tyme
I newly had begunne to ryme,
At request of hyr to whom sey nay
I nethyr kan, ne wyl, ne may,
So mych am I boundon to hyr goodnesse,

Elizabetha ver comitissa Oxenfordiae

I mene of Oxenforthe þe countesse,
Dame Elyzabeth ver by hyr ryht name,
Whom god euere kepe from syn & shame,
And of good lyf so hyr auaunce
Here in þis werd wyth perseueraunce,
That, whan she chaungyth hir mortal fate,
Of lyf eterne she may entryn þe gate,
Ther-ynne to dwellyn wythowten endyng.
And whyl [we] were besy in þis talkyng,
My lady hyr hooly & blyssyd purpoos
To me þis wyse þer dede oncloos:
‘I haue,’ quod she, ‘of pure affeccyoun
Ful longe tym had a synguler deuocyoun
To þat holy wumman, wych, as I gesse,
Is clepyd of apostyls þe apostyllesse;
Blyssyd Mary mawdelyn y mene,
Whom cryste from syn made pure & clene,
As þe clerkys seyn, ful mercyfully,
Whos lyf in englysshe I desyre sothly
To han maad, & for my sake
If ye lykyd þe labour to take,
& for reuerence of hyr, I wold you preye.’
At wych wurde, what I myht seye
I stood in doute, for on þe to part
My lytyl experyence in rymy[n]gs art,
My labyl mynde, & þe dulnesse
Of my wyt & þe greth rudnesse
I wele remembryd, & on þe toþir partye
I thowt how hard it is to denye
A-statys preyer, wych aftyr þe entent
Of þe poete is a myhty comaundement;
Wherfore me thoht, as in þis caas,
That my wyt wer lakkyd bettyr it was
Than my wyl, & þerfore to do
My ladyis preyere I assentyd to,
Of my sympyl cunnyng aftyr þe myht,
Vp condycyoun þat she me wolde respyt
Of hir ientyllnesse tyl I acomplysyd
My pylgramage hade, wych promysyd
I to seynt Iamys wyth hert entere
Had to performe þe same yere,
Þere to purchase thorgh penytence
Of myn oolde synnys newe indulgence;
Where men contryth thorgh clere confessyoun
Mown of her synnys han plener remyssyoun
From þe fyrst day, as I kan remembre,
Of Ianuarye to þe last of Decembre
Next folwynge al þe yerys space,
Wych clepyd is þere ‘þe yere of grace’,
Grauntyd, as men mown vndyrgrope,
Ful longe agoon of Calyxt þe pope
Euere to endure, whan seynt Iamys day
On þe sunday fallyth, þis is no nay.
And whan my lady herd had myn entent,
Ful ientylly þer-to she dede assent
Aftyr my desyr, & sothly to seyn
She me pardonyd tyl I come ageyn
From seynt Iamys, yf god wold so.
And I now haue performyd & do
Aftyr myn entent myn pylgrimage,
Applyin I wyl al þe corage
Of my wyt & of my kunnyng
To performen wyth-oute tarying
My ladyis wyl & hir comaundement.
But fyrst I wyl wyth an humble entent
Me conform to þe sage counsel
Of a phylosofyr, wych, as Austyn doth tel,
The prynce is of phylosofyrs alle,
Wurthyly whom men Plate calle,
Wych in hys book of hy Phylosofye
That he entyt[l]yt vn-to Thymye,
Hys dyscyple, seyis on þis wyse:
‘To al men,’ quod he, ‘it is a guyse,
A cerymonye aryit, & a custom
Obseruyd & kept as a relygyoun,
In alle her werkys both more & lesse,
At þe begynnyng wyth humbylnesse
To beseche þe souereyn dyuynyte
In here werk begunne here help to be,
That þei not erre ner do amys.’
Syth þan paynyms obseruyd þis,
Mych more me þinkyth awt we
It to perform wych crystyn be,
And of owr-self mowe no þing do,
In alle oure werkys recours haue to
Our souereyn god wyth humble preyere;
Wherfore, er ferther in þis matere
I do procede, wyth hert & thought
To hym I þus preye þat me made of nought.

O souereyn & most blyssyd trynyte,
O god in substaunce, in personys thre,
Fadyr & sone & þe holy gost wyth-al,
Whos myht, wyt & goodnesse is egal,
Al-be-it þat yche of þese thyngys thre
To a dystynit persone appropryat be
For dyuers causys, as clerkys preue,
But yet alle thre, as we bele[u]e,
In uery beyng arn but o thyng
Wych neythyr hath end no begynny[n]g,
Whos mesur noon oþir þan eternyte
May be clepyd, wych in meruelous degre
Both heuene & erthe hast made of nouht,
And alle þe conteyntys in hem hast wrouht,
And aungels in þe emperyal heuyne on hy,
Sunne, mone & sterrys þer-vndyr, & sky,
Herbys, trees, stonys & gresse al-so,
Fysshys & foulys, & al þat longyth to
Eyr, erthe & watyr in hys propyr sper,
The fourt element wych clepyd is fer;
And aftyr al þis, þorgh þi goodnesse,
Man þou formydyst to þi lyknesse,
Indewyng hym wyth natural yiftys thre,
As Mynd, Resoun, Wyl, in swych degre
Þat noon is oþir but dystynctly
They han her operacyouns, & yet essencyally
But oon soule þei ben al thre;
And þis is þe uery ymage of þe;
And moreouyr, pleynly to conclude,
In hym þou prendydyst þi symylytude
Wyth þo fre yiftys clene & pure,
Wych þou addyddyst to þe yiftys of nature,
In hys creacyoun whan þorgh þi grace
A spyryth of lyf þou brethyddyst in hys face.
And aftyr þat, as testyfyyth þe prophete,
Alle þingys þou kest vndyr hys fete,
Sheep, oxyn, & eek þe bestys alle
Of þe felde, what-euere men hem calle,
Bryddys of heuene & fysshys of þe se,
But whan he lost had þis greth dygnyte,
An hym-self deformyd abhomynabylly,
By þe enuye deceyuyd of hys enmy
Clepyd serpent, behemot, or leuyathan,
And many mo wysys þan I now rehers kan,
Thorgh þi greth grace & þi mercy
Thow hym reformyddyst more meruelously
Than in þe begynnyng he formyd fyrst was;
For wych reformyng, so stode þe caas,
The secunde persone euyn of you thre
By your comoun assent took oure freelte,
Here in erthe in a madyns bour,
And mannys aduocat becam & medyatour
Twyn þe fadyr of heuene & mankende;
And so aftyr thre & thretty wintris ende,
By suffraunce of ryht greuous passyoun,
He of mankende maad þe reparacyoun
Suffycyently, for wyth-owtyn doute
The leest drop of blood þa[t] yssuyd oute
Of hys blyssyd body, & hys circumcysyoun,
[F]or euere aftyr suffycyent raunsoun
Had been for al þe werdys wo,
And þow þer were werldys a þousend mo.
But not-for-þan yet wold not he,
So greth to man was hys cheryte,
Wyth lesse raunsoun mankynd by
Than wyth al þe blood of hys body,
And wyth al þe blood of hys hert eek, wh[e]rfore
Al mannys loue þou askyst & no more,
Wyth hertly laude & wyth meke preysyng,
For of our goodys þou nedyst no thyng,
As Dauid seyth in hys professye.
Where-fore, lord, to þe alone I crye
Wych welle art of mercy & of pyte,
And neythyr to Clyo ner to Melpomene,
Nere to noon oþir of þe musys nyne,
Ner to Pallas Mynerue, ner Lucyne,
Ner to Apollo, wych, as old poetys seye,
Of wysdam beryth both lok & keye,
Of gay speche eek & of eloquencye;
But alle þem wyttyrly I denye,
As euere crystene man owyth to do,
And þe oonly, lord, I fle on-to;
Not desyryng to haue swych eloquence
As sum curyals han, ner swych asperence
In vttryng of here subtyl conceytys,
In wych oft tyme ful greth dysceyt is,
And specyally for þere ladyis sake
They baladys or amalettys lyst to make,
In wych to sorwyn & wepyn þei feyn
As þow þe prongys of deth dede streyn
Here hert-root, al-be þei fer þens;
Yet not-for-þan is here centens
So craftyd up, & wyth langwage so gay
Uttryd, þat I trowe þe moneth of may
Neuere fresshere enbe[l]shyd þe soyl wyth flours
Than is her wrytyng wyth colours
Of rethorycal speche both to & fro;
Was neuere þe tayl gayere of a po,
Wych þan enherytyd alle Argus eyne
Whan Marcuryis whystyl hym dede streyne
To hys deed slepe; of wych language
The craft to coueyte where grete dotage
In m[yn] oold dayis & in þat degre
That I am in; wher-fore, lord, to þe
Wyt humble entent & hert entere
In þis conclude I my long preyere:
That I kunnyng may han suffycyently
To seruyn þe deuocyoun of my lady
Aftyr hyr entent, þat is [to] seyne,
That I may translate in wurdys pleyne
In-to oure langwage oute of latyn
The lyf of blyssyd Mare Mawdelyn,
To hyr goostly confourth in especyal,
And of them generally wych it redyn shal;
By wych redyng þat þai may wynne
Fyrst remyssyoun here of al here synne,
Lych as Mary Mawdelyn dede purchace,
And þat aftyr þis lyf þey may [þorgh grace]
To þat blys comyn wher-yn is she.
Sey ych man Amen, pur cheryte.

Of a mary to wrytyn I wyl begynne
The lyf, as god we yeuyn wyl grace.
I mene not mary wyth-owtyn synne,
Wych of al mankynde bare þe solace,
But hyr I mene wych of hyr trespace
In symondys hous whan she cam yn
Padone thorgh penaunce dede purchace,
And clepyd is Marye Mawdelyn.

And wurthyly þis name Marye
To hyr pertenyth, as it semyth me,
For as legenda aurea doth specyfye,
Maria hath þese interpretacyouns thre:
Fyrst it betoknyth ‘a byttyr se’,
‘An illumynere’, or ellys ‘maad lyht’;
And þese thre thyngys in excellent degre
Thys blyssyd Mary maudelyn had ful ryht.

And by þese thre þingys we vndyrstond moun
Þe thre best þingys wych þis mary ches,
As outward penaunce & inward contemplacyoun,
And vpward blys wych neuyr shal ses;
Of wych god seyd wyth-owtyn lees
That þe beeste part to hir ches mary,
Wych euere shal endure & neuere dyscrees,
But wyth hyr abydyn eternally.

The fyrst part wych þat hycht penytence
Be-cause of þe synne, wych is getyng of blys,
Shal hyr be byrefth by no vyolence;
Ner þe secunde, of contemplacyoun, for þat is
Contunyd wyth heuenely [ioy] wych neuere shal mys,
Where fore it may not fayl in no degre;
Nere þe thrydde, of heuene, may sece I-wys,
For þe mesure þere-of is eternyte.

For-as-mych þan as þis mary
The best part chees of penaunce doyng,
‘A byttyr se’ be clepyd ryht conuenyently
She may, me semyth, for in þat thyng
Greth byttyrnesse she felt whan repentyng
Be-hynde cryst she stood shamefastly,
And wyth þe terys shed in hyr wepyng
Hys feet she wessh ful deuouthly.

In þat also þat of inwarde contemplacyoun
The best part she ches in þis lyf here,
To hyr longyth þe secunde interpretacyoun,
Wych is to seyn ‘an illumynere’,
Or ‘a yeuere of lyht’, in wurdys more clere;
For in hyr contemplacyoun she took swych lyht
Wyth wych many oon, as ye aftyr shul here,
In goostly goodnesse she maad shyn bryht.

In þat þe best part of heuenely blys
Thys mary ches in hir affeccyoun,
Wurthyly ‘illumynyd’ she clepyd is,
For now abouyn in þe celestyal regyoun
Illumynyd she is wyth clere cognycyoun
In hir soule, and aftyr shal fynally,
When complet is þe general resurreccyoun,
Illumynyd bene in hyr gloryous body.

This Mary is also clepyd Mawdelyn
Conuenyently, aftyr Ianuencys decre,
For þis wurd Magdalena, wych is latyn,
By þe interpretacyoun betoknyth þingys thre,
As ‘gylty’, ‘streynghthyd’ & ‘wurthy of degre’;
Wych thre þingys by dew applycacyoun
Mown clerly shewyn what was she
Beforn & yn & aftyr hyr conuercyoun.

Beforn hyr conuercyoun she was gylty
Be of synful lyuyng þe abhomynacyoun,
Dysseuyrd from god & heuenely cumpany,
Dyffamyd also in þe werdys oppynyoun
In Ierusalem & in al þat regyoun;
And bysydyn alle þese myscheuys here,
She bounde was by an oblygacyoun
Wyth þe deuyl to dwellyn in endles fere.

But aftyr þis, in hyr conuercyoun,
Whan she forsuke al hyr fyrst foly,
And hyre repentyd of hyre transgressyoun,
And wyth penaunce purchacyd hyr mercy,
Than was she strenghthyd & made myhty,
For as many delytes as in sundry wysys
Of synnys she hade in hyr body,
So many of hyr-self she maad sacryfysys.

Aftyr hyr conuersyoun eek in goostly grace
How stroung she wex & how myhty,
Who lyst know, he not hens pace
Tyl completly rede be þis story,
Wych both of þe gospel, þat kan not ly,
And of hyr legende to-gydyr is bounde,
And he shal fynde þat, wher wrechydly
Synne regnyd, grace doth superhabounde.

Now, gracyous lady, Mary mawdelyn,
Wych grace aftyr synne copyously founde,
Let not sathanas wyth hys sotyl gyn
Of þem þat þe seruyn þe soulys confounde.
And specyaly, lady, lat þi grace redounde
To dame Isabel, þe countesse of Hu;
Counfort hyr, & kepe hyr both heyl & sounde,

Isabella comitissa Eu.

And alle temptacyouns help hyr to escheu.

Also, lady, to þe humble entent
Of hym uouchesaf for to intende,
Wych at þe seyd ladyis comaundement
To translate hym bysyde þi legende;
Purchase hym grace hys lyf to amende
Er þan he passe from þis outlawry,
And help hem both up to ascende
Aftyr hyr fatal cours to blysse heuenely.

Thys blyssyd Mary Mawdelyn,
To spekyn aftyr werdly dygnyte,
Born was of þe most wurthy kyn
Wych þat tym was in þat cuntre,
For of þe royel blood descendyd she,
Whos fadyr hyht Syre, a man wurthy,
And hyr modyr clepyd was Euchary.

A brothir she had wych vsyd waas
In hys fyrst dayis to ben a soudyour,
Lazarus by name, whom þorgh hys graas
From dethe to lyf rasyd oure saueour
At requeste of hyr & hys herbeiour
Marthe, hyr sustyr as doth testyfye
Ihon in hys gospel, wych wyl not lye.

And þese thre, as seyith þe story,
Twyn hem dyuydyd þe possessyoun
Of here genyturs, Syre & Euchary,
So þat a castel callyd Magdalum
To Mary fel in þere departysoun,
Where-of she namyd was Magdalyne,
As Ianuensys legende doth determyne.

And not oonly þis Marye by successyoun
Thus of fortune surmountyd in dygnyte,
But also þorghoute al þat regyoun
She of naturys yiftys had þe souereynte
And passyd alle wummen [in] excellent bewte,
For, as it semyd to yche mannys syht,
Feyrer þan she no wumman be myht.

Thus þan in hyr were þese thre
To-gedyr ioynyd in greth excellence,
Youthe, abundaunce, & eek beute,
Wych oftyn for lak of deu dylygence
Mynystrys bene vn-to insolence,
And of alle vycys þe bryngers yn,
And so þei were in Mary Mawdelyn.

For al hir youthe in dislauynesse
Of hir body so vnshamefastly
She dispendyd, & in synfulnesse
So comoun she was, þat ful pytously
Hir name she lost, for of foly
So in þe cyte was sprungyn hir fame,
That ‘Marie þe synnere’ þei dede hir name.

Thus long tyme in hir wrecchidnesse
She contunyde & hyr lustys dede pursu,
Tyl at þe laste, thorgh þe mercyfulnesse
Compunct she was of our lord ihesu,
Wych þat lyuyd & tawt uertu,
Thorgh whos doctryne she was in entent
Of hir fore-lyf to makyn a-mendement.

Vp-on wych sone aftyr, as she wele knew,
Whan to mete was bodyn oure saueour
Wyth oon symon leprous, a pharysew,
A precyous oynement swet of odour
She went & bouht, & in þat same oure
The box wyth oynement in hir hand she nam,
And vnbodyn to symondys feste she kam.

And whan she w[as] comyn in-to þe place
Where Ihesu was, for shamefastnesse
Of hir foul lyf, beforn hys face
She nold appere, but dede hir dresse
Behyndyn hys bak, & wyth greth byttyrnesse
And sorwe of hert she gan to wepe,
And fel doun & towert hys fete dede crepe.

Where whan she cam, wyth hert contryte
Terys owte she shede so plenteuously
That hys feet þere-wyth wasshyn she myht,
And so she dede ful deuouthly,
And wyth hyr herys hem wypte dylygently,
And aftyr þat wyth a deuouth entent
Hem anoyntyd wyth þe swet oynement.

And þow wyth hir mouth outwardly
To hym no wurde she dede expresse
In al þis tyme wych so besyly
She shewyd þis meke obsequyousnesse,
Yet, of hyr wepyng by þe grethnesse,
Of hyr herte she shewyd þe corage,
As þow she had vsyd þis language:

‘O moste meke lord, wych knowyst al þinge,
And art of hertys þe inward knoware,
Wych, as it semyth by þi techynge,
Desyryst not þe deth of a synnere
But þat he be conuertyd & lyue lengere,
Thou knowyst wele, lord, as I do wene,
What my wepyng, my syhyng & my sorwe doth mene.

Y am a synnere, & of euery cryme
Wyth spottys defoulyd ful horrybylly,
And so haue I contunyd ful long tyme
Syth wyt & dyscrecyoun fyrst had I;
Reforme me now, lord, for þi mercy,
And in þis greth nede be my socour,
Wych oonly consydryst sorwe & labour.’

Whan symon þis wumman at crystys fete
Thus ocupyed sey, he thowte thys:
‘If he þis were a very prophete,
He shuld weel knowe wyth-oute mys
Wych & what manere þis wumman is;
For a synere she is, & of bad fame
Thorgh-oute þis cyte labouryth hir name.’

But cryst, wych þat knowyth al þinge,
Both wurd & werk & thouht pryuy,
Welyng yeuyn Symund a rebukyng
Of hys temerary doom, ful benygnely
To hym hys chere turnyd & seyd goodly:
‘Symon, sumwhat I haue to sey to the.’
‘Maystyr, what þou wylt, sey anoon!’ quod he.

‘Two detours,’ quod cryst, ‘to oon feneratour
Were whylom, Symund, in a cuntre.
Fyue hundryd pens owht þe toon detour,
The tothyr but fyfty; & for pouerte
Hem both distreynyd, bothen pardonyde he.
Than ask I þe, symon, wych of þese tuo
Dettours þe credytour was moste holdyn to?’

‘I-wys’, quod symund, ‘as it semyth to me,
Aftyr þe iudycyal of uery resoun,
To louyn hys credytour most holdyn was he
Wych of hys dette had most pardoun.
This is plenly, maystyr, myn opynyoun.’
‘Thou answeryst’, quod cryst, ‘ful ryhtfully,
Symon, but now herkyn what seyn shal I.

Symon, I entryd in-to þine hous,
And to myn feet watyr þou youe noon me;
Thys wumman whom þou demyst vycyous,
Syth þat she entryd, as al men may se,
Wyth terys of hyr eyne shede in plente
My feet she hath wasshyn ful deuouthly,
And wyth hyr herys hem wypt dylygently.

Kys profyrdyst me noon, but she my feet
Hath kyssyd ful oft; nere myn heed to
Oyle puttyst þou noon, but wyth oynement swet
Anoyntyd she hath my feet both two.
And for she þus hath þis dede do
And so many loue tokynnys shewyd to me,
Many synnys to hyr forgeuyn now be.’

And whan she þus on-to þe pharysewe
Excusyd was by cryst ful curteysly,
Alle þingys left, she dede hym sewe
Wher-so-euere he went ful deuouthly.
And for she ryche was habundaunthly,
She mynystyrd hym & hys in þere nede,
As in lukys gospel pleynly men may rede.

And þus aftyr by processe successyfly
Wyth cryst she grew in swych famyliaryte,
That hyr he chershyd ryht syngulerly,
And wyth hyr sustyr oftyn herberwyd was he,
Wych for hym & hys kepte hospytalyte,
I mene marthe, from þe flyx whom he dede cure
Wych twelue yere to-gedyr on hyr dede dure.

Thys was in Bethanye, where to-gedyr dede dwelle
Marthe & Marye & hyr brothir Lazarus,
Whethyr ful oftyn, as þe gospelys kun telle,
To hys herberwe turnyd oure lord Ihesus,
For in þe cyte of Ierusalem he was odyous,
Where ful seldom he ony coude fynde
Wych hym to herberwe wold be so kynde.

O how blyssyd & happy was þat hous
In wych to takyn hys hospytalyte
Vouchyd-saf þat lord most gracyous!
Ful blyssyd also were þei al thre
Wych chosyn wern hys hostys for to be,
And hym to fedyn in hys bodyly nede
Wych aungels fedyth wyth hys godhede.

Lo, þus may we seen how euere mercyful
God is, & synners ful besy to saue,
By þis wumman in specyal, wych synful
Fyrst was, & aftyr dede mercy craue,
Thorgh wych not oonly she dede haue
Of hyr greth synnys a remyssyoun,
But also she atteynyd to hy perfeccyoun.

And not oonly she atteynyd to perfeccyoun
Of hooly lyf, but eek so syngulerly
To cryst she extendyd hyr affeccyoun,
That where-euere he was she drew hym ny
And lystnyd hys wurdys ful deuouthly;
Where-fore whan ony wythe hyr dede acuse,
Euere redy was cryst hyr to excuse.

Example vs shewyth in hys gospel
Seynt Luke, seyng þat oure lord gracyous
Ihesus whylom entryd in-to a castel,
And Martha hym receyuyd in-to hyr hous.
But Marye hyr sustyr was so desyrous
Hys wurdys to here, þat for deuocyoun
Euene at hys feet she hyre set doun.

Where whan Marthe, wych dede besynesse
Cryst to seruyn, hyr syttyng sey so,
She began to acusyn hyr ydylnesse
And seyd, ‘o lord, chargyst þou not, lo,
How me my sustyr suffryth a-lone to do
Al thyng? I prey þe byd hir up ryse
And helpyn me to doon to þe seruyse’.

But cryst, wych iuge was interpellat,
As seyith seynt Austyn in a sermoun,
Anoon be-cam Maryis aduocat,
And a-geynys hyr sustrys acusacyoun
He fonde a resonable excusacyoun;
And anoon to Marthe in hyr besynesse
Hys entent þis wyse he gan to expresse:

‘Martha, Martha,’ quod he, ‘þou art besy,
And a-boute many þingys troublyd ful sore;
But oon þing sykyr, Marthe, is necessary,
Wych Mary hath chosyn: to lestyn my lore,
Wych neuere shal fayle; wete weel þerefoor
That þe bettyr part sothly chosyn hath she,
Wych takyn from hyr shal neuere be.’

Be þis processe we seen þat þe ocupacyoun
Of actyf lyf in þis mortalyte,
To þe lyf of inward contemplacyoun
May in no wyse paryfycat be;
Wych two lyuys fyguryd fynde we
In þese two sustres, Marthe & Marye,
As up-on Ihon seynt Austyn doth testyfye.

Marthys lyf wyth greth byttyrnesse
Medlyd is, but þe lyf of marye
Is enbaumyd al wyth swetnesse;
Yet bothen ben good, as doth dyscrye
The exaunple beforn, wherfore enuye
Betwyn þem tweyn owyth no more to be
Than is betwyn a posatyue & a comparatyue degre.

More-ouyre, to shewyn þe syngulerte
Of loue wych haddyn ryht specyally
Of god past oþire þese personys thre,
Seynt Ioon in hys gospel seyth þus pleynly:
‘God louyd Marthe,’ quod he, ‘& hyr sustyr Mary,
And Lazer þe broþir of þem bothe tweyne.’
No wytnesse of loue may be more pleyne.

But yet in loue among þese thre,
To spekyn aftyr degrees of comparysoun,
Mary stood in þe superlatyue degre,
As by processys folwyng we shul see moun,
Both beforn & aftyr þe resurreccyoun;
Beforn, in þe myracle whan cryst from helle
Lazer dede clepyn, as Ioon doth telle.

Whan Lazarus langwyryng in bethanye
Lay seek, & cryst þane was absent
By-yunde Iordan oute of Iewerye,
Marye & Marthe a massagere sent
Thedyr to hym wyth þere entent,
Vndyr þis forme & by þese wurdys:
‘Loo, he whom þou louyst, lord, ryht seek is.’

And in þis mene tym lazer dede dye,
And þan cryst þus seyd to hys dyscyplys:
‘Lazarus oure frende slepyth sothlye.
Lat us go wake hym’; þan þe seyd þis:
‘If he be a-slepe he safe ynowe is.
What shulde we do þere? hast þou forgete
How þe to be sleyn þe Iewys do threte?’

Than cryst hem tolde euene opynly
That Lazarus deed was, in wurdys pleyn;
Wherfore returnyn on-to Iewery
He wold, hym for to clepyn ageyn
From dethe to lyf, þis is certeyn.
And anoon furth-wyth he dede hym hye
Euen in þe ryht weye to bethanye.

But for to drawyn to þe conclusyoun
Of oure entent & to leuyn many a circumstaunce,
Marthe fyrst met hym wyt-owte þe toun,
And hadde wyth hym a long dalyaunce,
But Marye was at home in hyr careful traunce
Tyl of crystys comyng she warnyd waas,
And þan to hym she went a ful greth paas.

Whan she hym saw, ful sore wepyng
She seyd þus: ‘lord, yf þou hadyst here be,
My brothyr, as pleynly is my trowyng,
Had not be deed as now is he.’
And whan cryst hyr sey wepyng, for uere pyte
He wept also, & to hyr þus seyd:
‘Wher is þe place wych ye hym in leyd?’

Whedyr whan he was come þei dede seye,
Stondyng ful euene by þe grauys brynke,
‘Syre, four dayis ben past syth he dede deye,
Wherfore we trow þe body doth stynke;
And so but veyn were, as we now thynke,
Ony more to doon.’ ‘yet,’ quod he anoon,
‘From of þe graue remeuyth þe stoon.’

And whan þe stoon was of he gan to pleyne
And to be troblyd in spyryht ful meruelously,
And up to heueneward lyftyng hys eyne,
Wyth a greth voys he þus dede crye:
‘Lazer, come owte!’ and anoon hastyly
He owt cam bounde, & hys discyplys to
Cryst hym delyueryd hys bondys to vndo.

A ful wundyr sychte yt was to se
That he foure dayes wych deed had leyn,
And sempt, as is seyd, stynkyng haue be,
Shuld þus to lyue be reysyd ageyn;
But in þis mater is no more to seyn
But þat swych merueyls loue kan do:
Quia fortis ut mors est dileccio.

And soon aftyr þis, at a super
In symoundys hous whan Ihesu was,
And oon of þe sytters was seyd Lazer,
And Martha dede mynystryn in þat plaas,
Marye, enflawmyd wyth goostly graas,
Anoon wyth a ful precyous oynement
Crystys feet to a-noynte deuouthly went.

And whan she hys feet anoyntyd had weel,
And he þerwhylys dede syttyn ful stylle,
Vp-on hys heed she poryd þe toþir deel,
Whos odour alle þe hous dede fylle.
Quod Iudas, ‘þis oynement why do ye spylle,
For thre hundryd pens wych myht sowld be
And delt to pore men in þis cyte?’

And anoon cryst, Marye for to saue
From blame, vsyng hys aduocacye,
Seyd þus: ‘pore men ye alwey shul haue
Wyth you, syres, but not me sothlye;
Wher-fore þis wumman wych deuouthly
Me to anoynt dede hir besy cure,
A mysterye hath shewyd of my sepulture.

Where-fore I wyl þat ye wel knowe,
Hereaftyr whan þe gospel shal be
Thorgh-owte þe werd by prechours sowe,
Than shal it be seyd in many a cuntre
That þis she dede in wurshype of me.’
Lo, þus þat iudas seyd hir to confounde,
Cryst to hyr laude it made redounde.

See now þan how þis perfyth creature
Conioynyd was on-to hyr creatur,
Of trewe loue þorgh affeccyoun pure,
And eek he to hyr in syngulere amour;
For nere of hys lyf in þe last our,
Euen but a lytyl beforn hys passyoun,
Of hyr he made þis specyal commendacyoun.

More-ouyr aftyr þis, whan cryst was take
And cruelly naylyd up-on a tre,
And alle hys dyscyplys hade hym forsake,
So feruent to hym was hyr cheryte
That for no feer she fro hym wold fle,
But euere on hym she was waytyng,
Tyl he beryid was euyn in þe euenyng.

And whan he was beryid, wyth greth murnyng
She went swete oynementys for to bye;
And aftyr þe sabat þe next morwenyng
On-to þe sepulcre she gan hyr hye,
And wyth hyr went a-nothyr Marye;
And of here þedyrgoyng þis was þe entent,
Crystys body to anoynt wyth here oynement.

But whan þei come þer & he was goon,
As an aungel hem tolde þat same tyde,
And alle o[þ]ir wentyn a-wey a-noon,
She al oonly þere dede abyde,
And in þe graue ful oftyn on euere syde
She lokyd besyly wyth a wepyng yhe
If hyr loue onywhere she myht aspye.

And for-as-myche as she so parseueraunth was
In abydyng whan oþir wentyn a-weye,
Therfore she had þat specyal grace
That fyrst of alle owre lord she seye,
Apperyng, as hym had lyst to pleye,
In þe lyknesse of a gardenere;
But whan he seyd ‘Marya’, she knew hys chere.

And whan she hym knew, on-to hys feete
Wyth ful glad hert she doun dede falle,
And wold hem han kyssyd but he nold hyr lete,
But þus seyd, ‘Marye, þe not appalle;
And go sey Petyr & my dyscyplys alle
That I am up rysyn, as þou doost se,
And shal beforn hem goon in-to Galyle.’

Lo, þus & many ano-þir wyse,
As in þe gospelys men mown aspye,
And myche bettyr þan I now kan deuyse,
Pryuylegyd was þis blyssyd Marye
Wyth synguler chershyng of hyr loue, Messye,
Both in hys lyuyng & in hys passyoun,
And from deth to lyf aftyr hys resurreccyoun.

Nowe I haue shewyd, aftyr þe gospel,
O þis Maryis lyf a greth party;
Of þe remnaunht furth now wyl I tel,
Lych as Ianuence yt doth dyscry,
If grace my wyt & my penne do gye,
And god also my state so longe
Tyl yt be doon vouchesaf to prolong.

But er þan I ferþer in þis matere
Wych I haue promyssyd do procede,
I þe beseche, Marye, wyth hert entere,
Purchase me grace bettyr lyf to lede
Than I do yet, & þat lady spede
In all hyr werkys & get hyr blysse
Wych of þis wrytyng cause princypal ysse.

The fourtende yere by trewe computacyoun
Aftyr cryst was rysyn from deth to lyue,
Whan Steuene wyth stonys had throw doun
The iewys, as Ianuence doth dyscryue,
And owte of iewrye crystys dyscyplys dede dryue,
Ful many a cuntre þe dede seche,
Goddys wurdys þer-in to sowe & teche.

And in þe tyme of þis persecucyoun, lo,
Lych as seyd Ianuence doth telle,
Oon of þe seuenty dyscyplys & two
In Ierusalem wyth apostyls dede dwelle,
To whom by petyr, as it befelle,
Commyttyd was Marye Mawdelyn;
And þis dyscyplys name was Maxymyn.

And wyth þese two were, þe soth to telle,
To-gedyr assocyid in oo cumpanye,
Lazer & Marthe & eek Marcelle,
Hyr handmaydyn, & blyssyd Cedonye,
Wych as þe gospel doth descrye
Blynd was from hys natyuyte,
And cryst hym meruelously made to se.

These alle to-gedyr & many anoþir
Of crystene men, by the cruel decre
Of iewys, wyth-owte sterne or rothyr
In a shyp were set up-on þe se,
To þat entent þei drynklyd shuld be;
But as goddys prouydence hem dede gye
Alle saf to Marsilye þei dede applye.

Whedyr whan þei cam, wyth humble entent
They þankyd god of þare passage,
And euene furth-wyt to londe þei went;
But þam wold no man grauntyn hostage.
Where-fore þei tokyn her herbergage
In a porche, tyl þat bettyr myht be,
Of a temple of þe folk of þat cuntre.

And whan blyssyd Mawdelyn dede se
Mych folk þiddyr comyn to sacryfyse
To þere ydols, ryht anoon she
Wyth a plesaunth chere up dede ryse,
And wyth a feyr face in dysert wyse
She hem reuokyd from hyr ydolatrye,
And prechyd hem cryst most stedefastlye.

Alle þat hir herdyn awundryd were,
What for hyr beute on þat o party,
And for þe facundye wych she oysyd þere,
And for þe swetnesse eek of hyr eloquency,
Wych from hyr mouth cam so plesauntly
Þat þei haddyn a uery delectacyoun
Stylle to stondyn & here hyr predycacyoun.

And no wundyr þow þat mowth sothly
Wych so feyr kyssys & so swete
So oftyn had bredyd & so deuothly
Vp-on cryst oure saluatourys feet,
Dyuers tymes whan she hym dede mete,
Past oþir swych grace had in fauour
Of goddys wurde to shewe þe sauour.

Soon aftyr þis, on-to þat phane
The prynce & hys wyf of þat cuntre
Come to sacryfyse to dyane,
That a chyld hem send wold vouchesaf she;
And whan Mary Mawdelyn þis dede se,
Of cryst she hem made a long sermoun,
And counselyd hem to leue þere superstycyoun.

But at þat tyme, þe soth to seyn,
Maryis wurdys auaylyd no thyng,
For as þei cam þei hom ageyn
Wentyn, obstynate in here errour stondyng.
And not longe aftyr, whyl slepyng
Was þis lady, to hyr appere
Dede Mawdelyn, seyng on þis manere:

‘Why is þat þine husbonde & þow here
In rychesse habounde þus plenteuously,
And in hungyr & colde goddys seyntys dere
Ye suffre to perysshyn myscheuously?’
And hyr dede thretyn þat she trewly
Shuld hyr repent, but she wolde meue
Hyr husbonde þere myschef to releue.

But she ne wold for no thyng
To hyr husbonde tellyn hyr vysyoun;
Wherefoor, on þe next nyht folwyng,
Whan she dede slepe as she was woun,
In alle wysys to hyr lych apparycyoun
Mary Mawdeleyn made & in conform degre,
But yet to hyr husbonde tellyn nolde she.

And for she ne wolde hyr byddyng do,
The thrydde nyht Mary dede appere,
Whyl þei dede slepe, to hem both two,
Angrely & wyth a brynnyng chere
As alle þe hous had been afere;
And on hem lokyng wyth a ferful eye,
To hem both to-gedyr þus dede seye:

‘Art þow a-slepe, o tyraunth cruel,
And a membre of þi fadyr sathanas,
Wyth þis serpent þi wyf wych nold tel
To þe my wurde as she bodyn was,
For she þe nolde heuyin wyth þe caas?
Where-fore, syth she my erand ne wold do,
I now appere to-gedyr to you both two.

What resoun is þis, þou cursyd enmy
Of crystys cros, þat þow fed shalt be
Wyth dyuers metys þus dylyccatly,
& aftyrward þus esyly to restyn þe,
And goddys seruauntys þou doost se
Wyth hunger & myschef beforn þine eye
Perysshyn? wherfore þou shalt abye.

Thou lyist here in a statly paleys,
Bewrappyd in clothys of sylk & gold,
And þei lyin in ful sympyl hurdeys,
And lykly for to be deed for cold.
And þow ne lyst onys it to behold,
Ner of hem to haue reuthe ner pyte,
Al-be-it yche day yt ys told to the.

Wenyst þou for to askapyn fre
And peynlees for þis greth trespaas?
Nay, pleynly, tyraunth, I warn þe
Thou stondyst in a ful perlyous caas,
And art lykly to cryin eueremore allaas,
Les to myn wurdys at þou attende
And of þi mysreule þe sone amende.’

Whan blyssyd Marye þis wyse had seyd,
She went hyr wey, & þe matrone
Sodeynly oute of hyr slepe abreyd,
And sore began to syhyn & grone.
And to hyr husbonde, wych eek made mone
For þe same cause, wyth-owte lettyng
Euene þus she seyde, for drede quakyng:

‘What chere wyth yow, syre? dede ye owt se
Thys syht þat I had in my visyoun?’
‘Ya, ya, wyf! & þat causyth me
To be now in greth trybulacyoun.
I ne woot what best we do moun:
Whyddyr to be reulyd aftyr hyr byddyng,
Or ellys stylle to kepe oure owlde lyuyng.’

‘I-wys, syre,’ quod she, ‘myn opynyoun
Is þis, þat bettyr it is to obeye
Than to fallyn in-to þe indignacyoun
Of hyr god, & myscheuously deye.’
‘Be yt so þan,’ he anoon dede seye.
And aftyr to here hous þei hem dede lede,
And mynystryd hem alle þat þei had nede.

Whan Mary soon aftyr up-on a day
Prechyd, þe prynce hyr askyd opynly:
‘Trowyst þat þou defende may
The feyth wych þou techyst so besyly.’
‘Ya, þat I may,’ quod Marye pleynly,
‘Be dayly myraclys & by wytnesse I-wys
Of oure maystyr Petyr, wych at Room is.’

Than þus quod þe prynce & hys wyf also:
‘Lo, we be redy in al þinge to obeye
What-euere þou comaunde us to do,
Vp-on a condycyoun þat we þe seye.
That is to seyn, yt þow wylt preye
Thy god to us þat a chyld be bore
To been oure eyr; we ask no more.’

‘I-wys,’ quod Marye, ‘& in þis matere
As for þis þing shal no lettyng be.’
And anoon she gan wyth hert entere
For hem to preyin, & herd was she;
And wyth-yn short whyle, as men myth se,
Thys lady conceyuyd & wyth chylde was,
Wych to þem bothe was greth solaas.

Whan þis prynce wyth chyld hys wyf seye,
He hym dysposyd fully for to beleue,
And to Petyr he purposyd to take þe waye,
Maryis doctryne þat he myht preue.
Vp-on wych purpoos to takyn hys leue
To hys wyf he went wyth deuouth chere;
And she hym answerd on þis manere:

‘A, good syre, what woldyst þow do?
Woldyst þou þus now forsakyn me
In þe plyht þat I am now come to?
Nay, nay, certeyn yt may not be,
For douthles I wyl goon furth wyth þe
And partener been of þine euenture,
As longe as þe lyf in my body wyl dure.’

‘Nay sekyr, wyf, so may it not be,’
Quod þe prynce, ‘in þe plyht ye arn yn now;
For many greth peryls ben in þe se,
And many a wawe þer-yn rysyth row.
Wherfore beth at hoom & restyth yow,
And I shal goon for us both two
Thys holy pylgrymage for to do.’

But not-for-þan, as it is þe guyse
Of wummen, she nold hyr purpose lete;
Wherfore ful oft in most humble wyse
Sore wepyng she fel doun to hys fete,
And neuere wold sece tyl he hyr dede hete
Wyth hym to goon, & þan ful mery
She was, & anoon she hyr maad redy.

And as soon aftyr þan as was redy
Her shyp & al þat longyd þere-to,
In þe gouernaunce of blyssyd Mary
Al þat þei haddyn þei dede do;
And she þe shuldrys of hem both two
Of crystys cros wyth a tokne dede sygne,
That þe deuyl hem ageyns shuld not malyngne.

And whan þei saylyd had but o day,
And in here seyl þe wynde ful blew,
Er þei were war a sodeyn affray
And a greth tempest up-on hem grew,
So þat alle men noon othir knew
But þat þai must nedys perysh & dye,
And for uery fere þey loude dede crye.

And whyl þei were in þis dystresse
And wyth tempest possyd to & fro,
So greth anguesh cam to þe princesse
That chyld she hadde in þat greth wo.
And þerwyth þe prince to hyre dede go;
And whan he cam, he hyr deed fonde,
And þe chyld lying vndyr hyr ryht honde.

And anoon þe chylde began to crye,
Desyryng to han had sum solaas
Of hys modrys pappys, but þo wer drye,
For wythowtyn doute she deed was.
And whan þe prince sey þis pytous caas,
He sorwyd & wepte ful byttyrly,
And þerwyth þus cryid ryht pytously:

‘Allas, allas wrecche! what shal I do?
A chyld I desyryd, but infortunatly
For chyld & modyr lost arn both two.
Allas, also, allas! why dye not I?’
And þerwyth þe shypmen gun to cry,
‘Throwe oute þis body in-to þe se,
Or ellys by lyklynesse alle perycsh shul we!

For þis certeyn we alle wele knowe,
Whyl yt here-in ys þe tempest nyl cece.’
And as þei it hent oute for to throwe,
The prince a-mong hem anoon dede prece,
And seyd, ‘syrys, I beseche you of sum relece;
And þow ye ne han mercy on hyr nere me,
Yet of þe yung infaunth hath sum pyte.

Suffryth, syrys, a whyl for goddys sake,
Ne hap þe wumman in ony kothe be,
And may returne & geyn lyf take.’
And whyl he þus seyd, he dede se
Not fer an hyl, & þan þouht he,
‘Bettyr it is yundyr þem both to graue,
Than fysshys to her pray þem shuld haue.’

And not-wythstondyng þat wyth wattry yhe
The shypmen he preyid & yaf hem yiftys also,
Onneyth þei wolde to hys entent them plye;
And whan he þat hyl was comyn on-to,
He ful sore laboryd yt for to vndo,
Hem to haue beryid aftyr hys entent,
But entryn þer myht noon instrument.

And whan he sawe þat it wold not be,
Hys wyfys deed body he dede down leye
Wrappyd in hyr mentyl, vndyr a tre,
And on hyr brest þe chyld wyth a wepyng eye;
And er he þens dede takyn hys weye,
As deuouthly as he coude best deuyse,
He knelyd doun & preyid euene þis wyse:

‘O Mary Mawdelyne, to my perdycyoun
And to encres of my wrecchydnesse
To Marcyle cuntre why dedyst þou com,
Me for to puttyn in swych dystresse?
Askyd þou of þi goddys goodnesse
For þis skyl a chylde on-to my wyf,
That þus þei bothe shuld lesyn her lyf?

I woot neuere; but þis wot I wele,
That she deed is as I now se
And so shal þe chyld in ful short seel,
For he nowt hath wyth fostryd to be.
Nertheless, syth I hym had by the,
Lych as I haue doo al my noþir þing,
I commytte hem to þine & þi goddys kepyng.

And yf he be myhty, as þou dost teche,
The modrys soule he haue in hys memory;
And thorgh þine preyers I louly beseche,
That þe chyld not perysh, shew he mercy.’
And wyth þe mantel hem both he dede wry;
And nowht oo wurd more myht he seyn
For sorwe, but went to þe shyp ageyn.

And aftyr whan he to londe dede come,
On hys iourney he fast furth went
Seynt Petyr for to sekyn in Rome.
And whan Petyr hym sey, he hys entent
Of hym dede aske, & what þat ment,
Hys merke, & whens he cam & why;
And he told Petyr al euene by & by.

Whan petyr had herd al þi processe,
‘Pees be to þe,’ he seyd, ‘wyth pacyence.
Thow art wolkome, for in sothfastnesse
To holsum counsel þou hast [y]oue credence.
And be not heuy of þi wyfys absence,
Thow she & hyr chyld a whyl do slepe;
For god is strong ynow þem both to kepe.’

And aftyr þis, to confermyn hys holy entent
Ant to stablysshyn hym in hys new grace,
To Ierusalem wyth hym seynt Petyr went;
And þere, to encres of hys gostly solace,
He hym led & shewyd hym euere place
Wher cryst prechyd & suffryd & roos ageyn,
And wher of hys dycyplys he was last seyn.

And whan he in pylgrymage & in preyer,
And in lernyng of þe feyth dylygently,
Owt of hys cuntre had be ful two yer,
He homward ayen ful deuouthly
Hys iourne took; and caswelly
To þe hyl he neyhyd wher he dede leye
Hys wyf, wych owtward pytously dede deye.

And he þe shypmen preyid hertyly,
And hem yaf greth yiftys also,
To rydyn on ankyr a whyl þer-by,
Whyl he þe hyl seyd myht go to,
To se what was wyth hys wyf do
And wyth hys chylde, & þei folwyd hys wyl,
And in a boot hym launchyd on-to þe hyl.

And as he toward þe hyl dede go,
A lytyl chyld al nakyd rennyng
On a clyf he perseyuyd to & fro,
On chyldryns wyse besyly pleying,
And smal stonys on-to þe see castyng;
And as mery he semyd to be & as glad
As þow he mo felaas had had.

And þis same chyld was certeynly
Hys sone, whom by specyal grace
Blyssyd Marye Mawdelyn meruelously
Had þo two yer fostryd in þat place.
And whan þe chyld perseyuyd hys fadrys face,
As he þat beforn had neuyr seyn men
For feer a-wey he fast dede ren.

And streyht þedyr wher hys modyr dede lye,
As he was wone to doon he went,
And wyth hir mantyl he dede hym wrye,
And in hys mowth anoon hyr pappe he hent
And began to sowkyn in besy entent.
And þe prince, ameruaylde sore of þis caas,
Ful fast hym hyid tyl he þere was.

And anoon as he þiddyr cam
And fond þe chyld lyn & sowkyn,
In bothyn hys armys he it up nam,
And on hys kneys he dede doun knelyn,
And wyth al hys hert to Mary Mawdelyn,
And as deuouthly as koude best deuyse,
He yaf hyr thankyng on þis wyse:

‘O blyssyd Mary Mawdelyn,
Honour, laude & wurshepe to þe,
Wych þis two yere þis tendyr chyld myn
Hast oonly of þi benygnyte
Kept & fostryd in þis wundyr degre!
Weel hast þou shewyd, blyssyd lady, her
That grace fer passyth naturys power.

More-ouyr, blyssyd lady, in no maner
Myht I haue, me thynkyth, more felycyte
Than þat my wyf wych deed lyith her
From deth to lyf myht reuyguryd be,
And wyth me returne to my cuntre,
Wych þe to moun I haue ful confydence
Of my chyldys kepyng by experyence.’

And as he hys preyer þus dede make,
Hys wyf anoon began up to ryse,
Lych as from slepe she had do wake;
And as deuouthly as she koud deuyse
To mary Mawdelyn she seyd þis wyse:
‘Greth is þi meryth in goddys syht,
O blyssyd lady, & so is eke þi myht.

Gramercy, lady, wych me helpyng
Where, þorgh þi greth grace & cheryte,
In alle þe pressurs of my chyldyng,
And my mydwyf eek vouchyddyst-saf to be;
And more-ouyr þorgh þi benygnyte
In yche nede to me were as redy
As euere was handmayde to hyr lady.’

Whanne þe prynce þese wurdys dede here,
Grethly abasshyd he made þis cry:
‘Art þou alyue, myn owyn wyf dere?’
‘Ye, syre, þat I am,’ quod she, ‘suthly,
And now fyrst ageyn hedyr comyn am I
And haue made an ende of þe vyage
Wych þou hast doon, & þe sam pylgrimage.

For lych as seynt Petyr lede þe
To Ierusalem, & shewyd þe euery place
Wher cryst prechyd in oure freelte,
Wher he deyid & roos & hens dede pace;
So blyssyd Mawdelyn of hir good grace
Wyth yow me led & shewyd yche deel,
Wych in my mende I prendyd haue weel.’

And anoon to rehersyn she began
Hyr husbondys iourne euene by & by,
And what þe seyde & where & whan,
And faylyd in no poynt substancyally.
An þan aftyr to god þankyng hertly
To shyp þei went, & wythynne short whyle
They meryly applyid on-to Marsyle.

And anoon as þei wer comyn to londe
And gunne to entryn into here cyte,
Wyth hyr dyscyplys Mary þei fonde
Prechyng þe peple, as wone was she,
And þe prynce & hys wyf wyth greth humylyte
Sore wepyng to hir fete doun fel,
And al her iourne opynly dede tel.

And aftyr þis anoon þei baptysyd were
Of blyssyd Maxymyn ful deuouthly,
And alle ydols templys wych were þer
Þei dystroyid furth-wyth, & dylygently
They madyn up cherchys euene by & by,
And wyth oon assent þei chosyn to be
Blyssyd Lazer bysshop of þat cyte.

Whan þis was doon þei went þens,
Blyssyd Mawdelyn & hir company,
And come to a cyte clepyd Aguens,
Wych, wyth myraclys shewyde plenteuously,
To cryst was conuertyd ryht redyly,
And Maxymyn bysshop of þat cyte maad;
Wych doon, blyssyd Mawdelyn was glaad;

For from hens-forward hyr hert was set
To yeuyn hyr oonly to contemplacyoun,
And al þing forsake þat myht hyr let;
For wych entent, by an heuenly inspyracyoun,
In a wyldyrnesse she took hyr habytacyoun
Ordeynyd by aungelys in a bareyn plaas,
Wher thretty wyntyr she vnk[n]owyn was.

In wych place was growyng no tre,
Ner herbe, ner watyr, ner no solace
To hyr bodyly counfort in no degre;
And þis was oonly to shew þat grace
Of oure saueoure so hyre dede enbrace,
That he hyr wold in euerych nede
Wyth heuenely fode alone do fede.

For euery day in þat desolat plaas
Seuene sythys in-to þe eyr ful hye
Wyth aungelys handys she up lyftyd was,
And wyth hyr bodyly eerys heuenely armonye
Ther she herd, wyth wych melodye
In body & soule she fede was so wele
Þat of bodyly food she nedyd no dele.

And in þis mene tyme it so befelle
That a prest, desyryng to lyue solytaryly,
But twelue furlong he made a selle
From þat place where dwellyd Mary,
And þer he hym ocupyid ful holyly
In studye of deuouth contemplacyoun,
Whom god þer shewyd þis reuelacyoun:

Hym þought he sey wyth hys bodyly yhe
Aungels come doun in greth bryhtnesse,
And beryn up a body abouyn þe skye,
Of melodyous song wyth greth swetnesse;
An whan an our or more, as he dede gesse,
Thay þer had ben meryly syngyng,
To þe seyd place þei it doun dede bryng.

And whan þe prest had seyn þis syht,
Desyryng to knowyn ful feruently
What þing it was, yf it be myht,
Purposyd hym to go þe place more ny;
But fyrst he prayid god deuouthly
Th[a]t in hys iourne he hym wold spede,
And to þat place þe ryht wey hym lede.

But whan he þus forthward was goon,
And to þe place gan to comyn as ny
As a man myht haue kast a stoon,
Hys leggys to faltryn gunne sodeynly,
That he no ferthyr goon myth sothly,
But for to return homwerd ageyn
Hys leggys wer myhty I-nowe certeyn.

And whan he assayid had þus fro & to
Dyuers sythys, & it wold not be,
Hym þought it was not for to do,
Thyddyrward to presyn as in þat degre,
For it to knowyn vnworthy was he
As hym semyd, wherfore ful hye
In þe name of oure sauyour he þus dede crye:

‘I coniure þe by þe uertu pure
Of god, þou þat art dwellyng
In þat kaue, yf a resonable creature
Thou be, let me haue knolechyng
What þou art wyth-oute feynyng!’
And þis thryis seyd, Mary ageyn
To hym þus answerd in wordys pleyn:

‘Come hedyr more nere, & of euere thyng
Wych þi soule desyryth inuereyd to be,
Thou shalt han suffycyent certyfying,
As mych as it nedyth to be k[n]owyn of þe.’
And anoon ful feerfully furth went he;
But vnneth he goon had half þe waye,
That þus to hym Mary efthsonys dede saye:

‘Hast þou ony mynd in þe gospel
Of oon Marye, most famous synnere,
Wych as Luk pleynly doth tel,
Crystys feet wysh wyth many a tere,
And aftyr hem wypt wyth hir owyn here,
And so of hir synnys by goddys grace
Plenere indulgence she dede purchace.’

‘Thys,’ quod þe prest, ‘I haue good mynde,
An thretty wyntyr ben passyd & mo,
As in holy chyrche we wr[i]ttyn fynde,
Syth she mennys cumpany departyd fro.’
‘I am þat same,’ quod Marye tho,
‘And in þis place her solytaryly
Alle þis tym vnknowyn dwellyd haue I.

And lych as þou were suffryd to se
Yistyrday, ryht cotydyanly
Aungelys lyftyn seuene sythys up me,
And han doon syth fyrst hedyr cam I.
And for now it plesyth oure lordys mercy
Me up to take to contynuel b[l]ys,
To blyssyd Maxymyn go tel al þis.

And moreouyr I wyl þou hym sey also
That on esterne day next folwyng,
Whan he up rysyth, as he is wone to do,
To matynys in þe grey morwenyng,
To hys oratorye he go wyth-oute lettyng,
Wher by holy aungelys mynystery
He me brouht shal fyndyn ful redy.’

And whan þe prest þis voys herd had,
Lych þe voys of an aungel clere,
Thow he nouht sey yet ful glad
He was to ben þe massager
Of so holy & of so blyssyd mater,
And to Maxymyn he went redyly
And dede hys erand euene by & by.

Whan Maxymyn herd had al thys
Of þe prest, on-to oure saluatour
Wyth al þe entent of hys hert I-wys
He yaf þankyng, laude & honour;
And þe day assygnyd & eek þe our,
In his oratory Mary he fonde stondyng
Among aungels handys wych hyr þedyr dede bryng.

And on þis wyse was hyre stondyng,
From þe erth fully two cobytys space
Aungelys handys hir up holdyng;
And so greth bryhtnesse was in hir face,
That esyere yt was þe sonnys compace
In þe clerest day to beholdyn & se
Than þe bryhtnesse of hyr beute.

Maxymyn þis seyng abasshyd was
To behold þe bryhtnesse of hyr cher,
And anoon to hym she turnyd hyr faas
And seyd, ‘fadyr, beth not in dwer;
But boldely, fadyr, comyth to me ner.
I am your doughtyr; why do ye fle?
Wherfore, fadyr, dreedles comyth to me.’

And whan gadyrd was al þe clergy,
And þe seyd preste present was þer,
Of þe bysshyp she receyuyd crystys body,
Out shedyng many a wepyng ter.
And euene furth-wyth wyth-owtyn fer
Beforn þe auter she hyr down dede leye,
And wyth-owte ony peyne she þere dede deye.

And whan furth passyd þe soule waas
Of þis blyssyd wumman & most holy,
A ful redolent odour in þat same plaas
Euene forwyth grew sodeynly,
Wych seuene dayis aftyr lastyd contunelly,
Wher-by many oon of þer sekenesse
Were curyd, thorgh meryth of hyr goodnesse.

And aftyr þis blyssyd Maxymyn
The body ther beryid deuouthly
Of þe apostelesse Marye Mawdelyn,
Wyth oynement anoyntyng, smellyng swetly.
And whan he shuld deyin, euene hyr by
He chargyd hys body beryid to be;
And so it was wyth greth solemnyte.

But long tym aftyr, whan þe yere of grace
On seuen hundryd ran & fourty & nyne,
Translatyd was from þis seyd place
Thys holy apostelesse, Marye Mawdelyn,
To vizelyac, & þer leyd in shryne
By oon clepyd Gyrard, a lord in burgundye,
Wher as men wene she yet doth lye.

Now, gloryous apostolesse, wych aboue þe skye
Crownyd art in blysse in þe heuenely regyoun,
Thy seruauntys in erthe gouern & gye,
And eueremore hem kepe vndyr þi proteccyoun,
And of her synnys hem purchase remyssyoun;
And whan here mortal fate doth hem hens sende,
To þe ioye hem bryng wych neuere shal haue ende.

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