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1

LEGENDYS OF HOOLY WUMMEN

Prologus

Two thyngys owyth euery clerk
To aduertysyn, begynnyng a werk,
If he procedyn wyl ordeneelly:
The fyrste is ‘what’, the secunde is ‘why’.
In wych two wurdys, as it semyth me,
The foure causys comprehendyd be,
Wych, as philosofyrs vs do teche,
In the begynnyng men owe to seche
Of euery book; and aftyr there entent
The fyrst is clepyd cause efficyent,
The secunde they clepe cause materyal,
Formal the thrydde, the fourte fynal.
The efficyent cause is the auctour,
Wych aftyr hys cunnyng doth hys labour
To a-complyse the begunne matere,
Wych cause is secunde; and the more clere
That it may be, the formal cause
Settyth in dew ordre clause be clause.
And these thre thyngys longyn to ‘what’:
Auctour, matere, and forme ordinat.
The fynal cause declaryth pleynly
Of the werk begunne the cause why;
That is to seyne, what was the entent
Of the auctour fynally, & what he ment.
Lo! thus ye seen mown compendyously
How in these two wurdys ‘what’ & ‘why’,
Of eche werk the foure causys aspye
Men mown, requyryd be philosophye.
But to oure purpoos: if be ‘what’ or ‘why’
Be questyounn maad of thys tretyhs pleynly
As for the fyrste, who so lyst to here,
Certeyn the auctour was an austyn frere,
2

Whos name as now I ne wyl expresse,
Ne hap that the vnwurthynesse
Bothe of hys persone & eek hys name
Myht make the werk to be put in blame,
And so, for hate of hym and eek despyht,
Perauenture fewe shuld haue delyht
It to redyn, and for this chesoun
Throwyn it in the angle of oblyuyoun.
And yet me thinkyth it were pete
That my werk were hatyd for me;
For this, I suppose, alle men weel knowe:
No man the rose awey doth throwe
Althow it growe vp-on a thorn;
Who is so nyce that wil good corn
Awey caste for it growyth in chaf?
Men also drynkyn ale and lef the draf,
Albe-it that ale thorgh draf dede ren.
Gold eek, as knowe weel alle wyse men,
In foul blak erthe hath hys growyng,
And yet is gold as a precyous thyng
Streyhtly be-schet in many a cophyr.
A margerye perle, aftyr the phylosophyr,
Growyth on a shelle of lytyl pryhs,
Yet is it precyous; and no man whyhs
The verteuous crepaude despyse lest,
Thow a todys crowne were hys fyrst nest.
And to thys manyfold of nature
Exaunplys acordyth weel scrypture;
For, as the old testament beryth wytnesse,
The sone hys fadrys wykkydnesse
Shal not bere, but if he it sewe;
And if he do, thanne is it dewe
That he be partenere in peyne
As he was in blame, thys is certeyne.
Wherefore, if my werk be sure,
Lete not disdeyn it disfigure
Of the auctour, I lowly beseche;
For sekyr that were a symple wreche,
As a lytyl to-forn now here seyd is,
3

Te slee the chyld for the fadrys mys.
The matere wych I wil of wryte,
Althow but rudely I kun endyte,
Is the lyf of blyssyd Margarete,
Virgyne & martyr, whom dede hete
The loue of Ihesu in hyr tendyr age
So feruently, that for al the rage
Of fers Olibrius, and hys tyrannye,
Than cryst forsaken she had leuere dye,
As pleynly declaryth hyr legende,
As they shul heryn wych lyst attende.
The forme of procedyng artificyal
Is in no wyse ner poetycal
After the scole of the crafty clerk
Galfryd of ynglond, in his newe werk,
Entytlyd thus, as I can aspye,
Galfridus anglicus, in hys newe poetrye,
Enbelshyd wyth colours of rethoryk
So plenteuously, that fully it lyk
In May was neuere no medewe sene
Motleyd wyth flours on hys verdure grene;
For neythyr Tullius, prynce of oure eloquence.
Ner Demostenes of Grece, more affluence
Neuere had in rethoryk, as it semyth me,
Than had this Galfryd in hys degre.
But for-as-meche as I neuere dede muse
In thylk crafty werk, I it now refuse,
And wil declaryn euene by and by
Of seynt Margrete, aftyr the story,
The byrthe, the fostryng, and how she cam
Fyrst to the feyth and sythe to martyrdam,
As ny as my wyt it kan deuyse
Aftyr the legende; & sythe what wyse
Be whom. & how oftyn she translated was
And where now she restyth, & in what plas,
As I dede lerne wyth-owte fayle
4

The laste tyme I was in Itayle,
Bothe be scripture and eek be mowthe;
Wych story is no-thyng vnkowthe
At mownt Flask—who me not leue,
Lete hym go thedyr & he shal it preue—
On thys half Rome ful fyfty myle
Or ellys more, where men begyle
The wery pylgrymys kun ful wel
Wyth Trybyan in stede of Muskadel;
Where from Rome homward ageyn
Whil I was taryed wyth greth reyn
Thys blyssyd virgyne I dede visyte,
And al the processe I dede owt wryte
Wych I purpose now to declare
On ynglysh, & it brout wyth me to Clare.
But who-so wyl aske me fynally
Of thys translacyoun the cause why
In to oure language, I sey causys two
Most pryncypally me meuyd ther-to.
The fyrst cause is for to excyte
Mennys affeccyoun to haue delyte
Thys blyssyd virgyne to loue & serue,
From alle myscheuys hem to preserue,
Aftyr the entent of hyr preyere
Beforn hyr deth, as ye aftyr shul here.
And no man wundyr thow I diligence
Do to plesyn the wurthy excellence
Of thys holy maydyn, for euene by
Wher I was born, in an old pryory
Of blake chanons hyr oo foot is,
Bothe flesh and boon, I dare seyn this,
Where thorgh a cristal bryht and pure
Men may behoden eche feture
Ther-of, saf the greth too only
And the hele, wych in a nunry
Been, Redyng clepyd, as they there seyn.
But as for the foot, this is certeyn,
5

Many a myracle hath ther be shewyd
Bothe on lernyd & eek on lewyd.
And specyally if wyth broche or ryng
The foot men towche at here partyng
Vp-on the bare, and wyth hem it bere,
If they ben in ony dreed or fere
To myscheuyn, lete hem be-hete
Thedyr to bere and there to lete
The same thyng that towchyd the fote,
And they shul sone han helthe & bote,
If they it doo wyth good deuocyounn.
Thys is fully myn opynyounn.
For treuly, vp-on my conscyence,
I had herof good experyence
Not mykyl past, yerys fyue,
Whan lytyl from venyse me dede dryue
A cruel tyraunth in-to a fen
Owt of a barge, and fyue mo men;
Wher I supposyd to haue myscheuyd,
Had not me the grace releuyd
Of god, be the blyssyd medyacyoun
Of thys virgyne, aftyr myn estimacyoun.
For sone aftyr I had be-hyht the ryng,
Wyth wych I towchyd at my partyng
Hyr foot bare, to bryngyn ageyn,
I was releuyd ryht sone certeyn.
Now blissyd mote be that holy virgyne
Wych to synful preyers lyst hyr ere enclyne!
And thys is oo skyl why I am steryd the more
Hyr lyf to translate, as I seyde to-fore.
Anothyr cause wych that meuyd me
To make thys legende, as ye shal se,
Was the inportune and besy preyere
Of oon whom I loue wyth herte entere,
Wych that hath a synguler deuocyoun
To thys virgyne of pure affeccyoun.
He me requyryd wyth humble entent
Whos request to me is a comaundement
That yif I hym louyd I wold it doo.
6

I durst not hastyly assente hym to
(Weel knowyng myn owyn infyrmyte)
Tyl I had a whyle weel auysyd me.
And thanne the yeer of grace a thowsend treuly
Foure hundryd and also thre and fourty,
In the vigylye of the Natyuyte
Of hyr that is gemme of virgynyte,
The seuenete day euene of Septembre,
Whan I gan inwardly to remembre
Hys request growndyd in pete,
Me thowt it were ageyn cheryte
Hys desyr lengere for to denye.
And yet I sore feryd me of enuye,
Wych is euere besy and eek diligent
To depraue priuyly others trewe entent;
Wherfore, hyr malyhs to represse,
My name I wil not here expresse,
As toforn is seyd; wherfore I preye
And requere eek, if I it dare seye,
Yow, sone and fadyr, to whom I dyrecte
This symple tretyhs, that ye detecte
It in no wyse wher that vylany
It myht haue, and pryncypally
At hoom at Caunbrygge in your hows,
Where wyttys be manye ryht capcyows
And subtyl, wych sone my lewydnesse
Shuld aspye; wherfore, of ientylnesse,
Kepyth it as cloos as ye best kan
A lytyl whyle; and not-for-than
If ye algate shul it owth lete go,
Be not aknowe whom it comyth fro,
But seyth, as ye doon vndyrstand,
It was you sent owt of Ageland
From a frend of yourys that vsyth to selle
Goode hors at feyrys, & doth dwelle
7

A lytyl fro the Castel of Bolyngbrok,
In a good town wher ye fyrst tok
The name of Thomas, & clepyd is Borgh
In al that cuntre euene thorgh & thorgh;
And thus ye shul me weel excuse,
And make that men shul not muse
To haue of me ony suspycyoun.
But, for to drawe to a conclusyoun
Of thys long tale now fynally,
I you beseche, frend, ryht enterly,
That ye vouchesaf for me to preye
On-to thys virgyne, that ere I deye
Thorgh hyr merytys I may purchase
Of my mysleuyng a pardounn of grace,
And of myn old & newe transgressyoun
That I may haue a plener remyssyoun,
And aftyr the ende of thys owtlawrye
Wyth hyre a-boue for to magnyfye
God in hys blysful eternyte,
Where neuere shal ende felycyte.
In wych place vs bothe to dwelle,
The lord vs graunte that harwyd helle.
Amen.

Vita Scæ Margaretae Virginis et Martiris

Prologus

Of seynt Margarete, the virgyne pure,
Wych lyknyd is to a precyous margaryte,
And that wurthyly, as in old scrypture
It is wrytyn, I me now delyte
The lyf to translate, if me wil respyte
Attropos a whyle and not to hastyly
My fatal threed a-sundyr smyte
Wych lachesys hath twynyd ful yerys fyfty.
And conuenyently this uirgyne gloryous
8

May to a margaryte comparyd be,
Wych is whyht, lytyl, and eek verteuous,
As seyn auctours, of thylk propyrte.
Whyht was Margrete be virgynyte,
Be meknesse lytyl, and most singulerly
Verteuous be hyr excellent cheryte,
In myraclys werkyng shewyd plenteuously.
Louyd she nowt well virgynyte
And of body and soule to kepe clennesse,
Whan Olibrius hyr profryd his wyf to be,
And that she shuld be clepyd a pryncesse,
And greth tresore shuld haue & rychesse,
Lust, welthe and wurshepe excellently,
And for clennesse sake, as I do gesse,
Alle hys greth profyrs she set nowt by?
Greth meknesse she had for cristys sake
Whan the tytyl of hyr natal dygnyte
In hyr yung age she dede for-sake,
And hys handmaydyn she chees to be,
Not settyng be hyr fadrys enmyte,
And wyth hyr noryhs dwellyd wylfully
In poure astate and in low degre,
Kepyng hyr sheep ful dilygently.
And if we wyl speken of cheryte
I-wys she had ryht greth habundaunnce,
As in hyr passyoun weel shewyd she;
For, as hyr legende makyth remembraunnce,
She steryd the pepyl euere to repentaunce,
And to wynne hem to god was ful besy;
And whan she shuld deye, wyth gret constaunce
She maad a preyere most cherytabylly.
More-ouyr, as I doo wretyn fynde,
In a book clepyd the goldene legende,
And it is takyn of the auctours of kynde,
The Margaryte, if of blood descende
Greth flux, is good it to amende;
And the cardyacle passyoun meruelously
From hurt of the herte it wyl defende;
9

And mannys spyrtys it counnfortyth souereynly.
And for this threfold manere of propyrte
Of the margaryte, may seynt Margrete
On-to that gemme weel comparyd be;
For alle thre propyrtees to hyr were mete,
And as for the fyrst, I you behete,
Whan hyr blood owt ran ful copyously,
She was so enflawmyd wyth heuenely hete
That she it al suffryd ful stedefastly.
As for the cardyacle that tentacyoun
Betoknyth, as clerkys doon declare,
Of oure gostly enmye wych is euere boun
Mankende to trappe, and wil not spare
Hem to brynge in to sorwe and care.
Yet hurt he hyr neuere, thow he were sly,
Ne no wyse hyr kecche myht in his snare,
But euere of hym she had the victory.
In that the margaryte is a confortatyf
Of mannys spirytys, it was weel sene
In oure Margarete, wych al hyr lyf
Was in hyr spirytys bothe pure & clene,
Thorgh whos clennesse many oon be-dene
Were in here spirytys counfortyd inwardly,
And thorgh hyr doctryne, as I do wene,
Steryd to leue synne and eek foly.
Thus for this sexefold propyrte
Of the margaryte wych deuly longe
To seynt Margarete be congruyte
Of simylytude, we may vndyrfonge
That in sexe vertuhs she was stronge,
As in chastyte, mekenesse, & suyngly
In cheryte, in constaunce of suffryng wronge,
In goostly counfort and in vyctory.
These sexe vertuhs be fyguryd mystyly
In the sexe wengys wych that Isaye
Of the cherubyns in hys vysyoun sy
Vp-on the hy throne, wyth hys gostly yhe,
10

Stondyng, and to oure purpos now signyfye
That this blyssyd mayde Margrete wurthyly
Be these sexe vertuhs to heuene dede stye,
Ther in ioye to dwellyn perpetuelly.
Now, blyssyd virgyne, wich in heuene aboue
Art crownyd in blysse ful gloryously,
To them in erthe that the serue and loue
Be euere propycyous, and specyally
Vouchesaf of thy singuler grace, lady,
My wyt and my penne so to enlumyne
Wyth kunnyng & eloquence that suffycyently
Thy legende begunne I may termyne.
[_]

[4 blank lines.]

Whylom, as the story techyth vs,
In Antyoche, that gret cyte,
A man ther was, clepyd Theodosius,
Wych in gret state stood and dignyte;
For of paynymrye the patryark was he,
And had the reule and al the gouernaunce,
To whom alle prestys dede obecyaunce.
This Theodosius had a wyf ful mete
To hys astate, of whom was born
A doughtyr fayr, and clepyd Margarete,
As prouyded was of god beforn.
But ryht as of a ful sharp thorn
Growyth a rose bothe fayr & good,
So sprong Margrete of the hethene blood.
For thow hyr fadyr & modyr in ydolatry
Were born & fostryd, and eek dede fyne
Here lyf in the same, and myserabylly
Aftyr here deth went to helle pyne,
Yet hyr dede grace so illumyne
That she bothe crystnyd & martyrd was,
And went to heuene, that gloryous plas.
Hyr fadyr ful glad was of hyr byrthe,
Hopyng she shuld haf be his counfort
11

In his olde dayes, and maad gret myrthe,
To whom meche peple dede resort,
Bothe men and wummen, & maad disport,
Thankyng here goddys wyth herte glad
That here patryark so fayr yssu had.
I kan in no wyse remembre me
That euere I red in the hethene gyse
What rytys were vsyd & what royalte
In namys yeuyng, but, as I deuyse,
It was doon in ful solemne wyse
An wyth many a cerimonye, & specyally
In the chyldryns berthe of statys hy.
Aftyr this, as it was the guyse
In thoo dayes and yet it is so
Among astatys, in ful goodly wyse
A noryhs here doughtyr they prouydyd to,
Not fer fro hoom, the wych shuld do
Al hyr dilygence and eek besynesse
The chyld to fostryn in al tendyrnesse.
This noryhs dwellyd from the cyte
Of Antyoche fourelongys but fyftene,
And priuyly a cristene wumman was she
And in al hyr conuersacyounn bothe pure & clene,
As in that folwyth it was weel sene;
For Margarete she fostryd in al vertu,
And tawth hyr the feyth of crist Ihesu.
But whan hyr moder was from hens past,
Wych deyid whil she was tendyr of age,
Margarete hyr affeccyoun set so fast
Vp-on hyr noryhs bothe wyhs & sage,
That she forsook al hyr hey lynage,
And purposyd hyr fully ther to soiourne,
For to hyr fadyr she nold hom returne.
And for she dede wurshepe crist & loue,
And wold not ageyn turne to paynymry,
Hyr fadyr hyr hatyd & dede reproue,
And yaf no force what vylany
She had had; but the souereyn lord on hy
Thergeyn hyr fyllyd wyth so gret vertu
12

That in fewe yerys she perfyht greu.
And not only this excellence she had in grace,
But eek, to spekyn of hyr nature,
Of al that cuntre in the rownd compace
Was nowher so fayr a creature;
For shap & colour and eche feture
Were conproporcyond in swych equalyte
That she myht be merour of al bewte.
Wherfore, if the crafth of descrypcyounn
I cowde as weel both forge and fyle
As cowd Boyce in hys phisycal consolacyounn,
Or as Homer, Ouyde, or ellys Virgyle,
Or Galfryd of ynglond, I wolde compyle
A clere descripcyounn ful expressely
Of alle hyr feturys euene by & by.
But sekyr I lakke bothe eloquens
And kunnyng swych maters to dilate,
For I dwellyd neuere wyth the fresh rethoryens,
Gower, Chauncers, ner wyth lytgate,
Wych lyuyth yet, lest he deyed late,
Wherfore I preye eche man hertly
Haue me excusyd thow I do rudly.
And not oonly this virgyne had singlerly
Of the yiftys of kynde gret plente,
But also wyth vertuhs ful excellently
In hyr soule inward endewyd was she
For she had feyth, hope and cheryte,
The deuyne vertuhs, and ther-wyth-al
The foure gret vertuhs clepyd cardynal.
And whan she to fyftene yer of age
Was come, and herde how cruelly
Cristene blood thorgh the fers rage
Of tyrauntys was sheed euene by & by,
For crist to deye she hyr maad redy,
And in the mene whyle she dede keep
In the feld eche day hyr noryhs sheep.
This same tyme on-to Antyoche
A tyraunnt, the prefect of that cuntre,
13

From Asiaward proudly dede aproche,
And Olibrius be name clepyd was he.
But as he went, wher he myht see
Ony cristene men, ful cruelly
He hem destroyed wythowte mercy.
And casuelly as be the same weye
He rood wher Margarete dede pasture
Hyr noryhs sheep, sodeynly his eye
On hyr he kest, of contenaunce demure,
And anoon hyr bewte so sore dede lure
Hys herte, that euene stylle he stent,
And of hyr he took more auysement.
And whan he sey hyr forheed lely-whyht,
Hyr bent browys blake, & hyr grey eyne,
Hyr chyry chekys, hyr nose streyt & ryht,
Hyr lyppys rody, hyr chyn, wych as pleyne
Pulshyd marbyl shoon, & clouyn in tweyne,
He was so astoynyd of that sodeyn caas
That vnnethe he wyste wher that he was.
He lokyd no ferthere than in hyr face,
Where of natural yiftys plente was I-now;
Hym thowte that neuere in so lytyl space
He had more seyn wych his herte drow
As the magnet doth iryn; but whan of his swow
As a man a-masyd he sodeynly dede abreyde
Thus wyth sad contenaunce to his men he seyde.
‘Goth forth fast yund, wher ye see
A ful fayr mayden hyr sheep kepyng,
And wetyth veryly whethyr bonde or fre
She is, and bryngyth me sekyr tydyng.
If she be fre, I wyl wyth a ryng
Hyr wedde, and brynge to gret honoure,
And endewe hyr in many a castel & tour.
If she be bonde and vndyr seruage,
For I wyl noon othyr man do wronge,
Hyr lord wyl I yeue ryht good wage,
And to my paramour hyr vndyrfonge.
Hastyth you forth and taryith not longe,
14

For from this place I nyl parte certeyn
Til ye an answere me brynge ageyn.’
Whan this was seyd, ful hastyly
Hys men hem hyed til where she was
They come, to whom ful manerly
Of here comyng they told the caas;
And anoon al the blood owt of hyr faas
For sodeyn feer was styrt awey,
And deuo[u]tly to god she thus dede prey:
‘Haue mercy, lord ihesu, vp-on me,
And lese not my soule wyth vnpetous men!
Make me, lord, euere to ioyin in the,
And wyth thy seruauntys the to preyse, amen.
And sende an aungel me wyt to ken
And wysdam, how that wyth-owte fere
I may this wykkyd prefect answere.
I see me, lord, as an innocent sheep
Wyth rauennous wuluys enuyround be.
Help now, good lord, & from hem me keep,
If it plese thy souereyn maieste.’
Whan they this herd, they gunne to fle
As from a wycche, and wythinne a breyd
To here lord they come, & to hym thus seyd:
‘Lord, whom enhaunsyd hath fortune,
And set in the estat of gret dignyte,
In no wyse thy power may comune
Be to hyr to whom that sent were we;
For crist as hyr god, lord, wurshepyth she,
And to oure goddys she nyl do seruyse,
But hem blasphemyth in wundyr wyse.’
Whan Olibrius these wurdys herd,
He chaungyd bothen colour and chere,
And as a man mad anoon he ferd,
And what he myht do he stood in dwere.
And aftyr auysement he bad that nere
They hyr shuld fecche, & whan she come was,
He hyr thus areynyd wyth a pale faas:
‘Sey me, damysel, of what kyn thou art,
15

And whethyr thou be bonde or ellys fre.
‘Seruage in me had neuere no part,
For cristene I am sekyr, sere,’ quod she.
‘I aske of what kynrede thou art,’ quod he.
‘I serue,’ she seyth, ‘that souereyn godheed
That hedyr-to hath kept my maydynheed.’
‘Than folwyth it thus ful consequently
That thou clepyst crist thy god,’ quod he,
‘Whom that my fadrys dede crucyfye.’
‘May no thyng be seyd sothere,’ quod she;
‘Thy fadrys naylyd crist vp-on a tre,
Whom I do wurshepe wyth hool herte,
And they in helle suffryn peynys smerte.’
Whan Olibrius herd this conclusyoun
Of mayde Margarete, he wex ner wood,
And to be shet in a ful strong presoun
He hyr comaundyd, wych fast by stood,
Euere musynge in his marryd mood
How and be what maner of sotylte
He myht bereuy[n] hyre hyr virginyte.
Aftyr this, in ful pompous wyse
He entryd into Antyoche cyte,
And to his goddys maad a sacrifyse,
As it was the custom of that cuntre.
And on the next day comaundyd he
Margrete to [be] brouth to hys presence,
And thus he seyd hyr his sentence:
What is the skyl and the cause why,
Margarete, of thy gret cruelte,
That of thy-self thou ne hast mercy,
And thus wylt spylle thy gret beute?
Leue al thys foly and consente to me,
Be my councel, and I the wil auaunce
Of gold and syluyr wyth gret habundaunce.
Quod Margrete, ‘if thou, o wykkyd man,
Wystyst how lytyl that I sette by
Alle thy profyrs, thou woldyst not han
This besynesse a-bowte me, trewly.
16

For from the weys of trewthe neuere wyl y,
But hym I wurshepe whom euery creature
Dredyth, whos regne shal euere endure.’
‘Margrete,’ quod he, ‘lyst what I seye.
If thou my goddys no wurshep wylt do
Wyth my swerd, sekyr, thou shalt deye.
Trust me veryly, it shal be so.
And if thou wylt mekely obeye me to,
It shal be gretly for thy behoue,
For thy body I wyl syngulerly loue.’
‘My body,’ quod she, ‘whan euere thou lest
To exercyse in me thy tyranny,
Wyth holy virgynys that I may rest,
To goddys sacryfyse I offre redy;
For this I wyl thou knowe vttyrly,
I nowyse doute, for cristys sake
That for alle men deyed, deth to take.’
Whan he herd this, of gret cruelte
He comaundyd hyr be hange in the eyr heye,
And to betyn wyth yerdys, where whan that she
Tormentyd was, to heueneward hyr eye
Deuoutly she lyft, and thus dede seye:
‘In the, lord, I truste, and in thy mercy.
Lete me not confoundyd be, lord, endelesly.’
And whil she thus ocupyed was in preyer,
The tormentours hyr shorgyd so cruelly
That lyk as watyr in a ryuer
So ran hyr blood owt plenteuously.
And whyl they betyn a bedel dede cry:
‘Beleue, Margarete, I counsele the,
And past alle maydens weel shalt thou be.’
And not only this bedel, but eek the men
And wummen also wych stood be-syde,
Whan they thus seyn hyr blood owt ren,
Wepyng ful sore thus on hyr they cryde:
‘Margrete, for the we sorwe this tyde!
Olibrius in his ire the hastyth to spylle.
Beleue hym, we counsele, & lyue yet stylle!’
Whan Margrete among hyr sharp shours
17

Of tormentrye these wurdys dede here,
Quod she, ‘o ye wykkyd counselours,
Men and wummen, what do ye here?
Goth to your werk! for wyth-owte pere
The lord that syttyth in throne ful hy
Is myn helpere—this weel troste y.
Also, moreouyr, I wyl ye knowe,
And in youre mende doth it aduertyse,
That whan Gabriel his horn doth blowe
In the day of the gret and last assyse,
Whan men in body & soule vpryse,
Than shal my soule be this torment
Be sauyd from that hard iugement.
Wherfore, if ye wyl sauyd be
Thilk tyme, I counsel you feythfully,
Alle fals goddys forsakyth ye,
And leuyth in my god wych is myhty
In vertu, and heryth alle men gladly
Wych to hym preye puryd from vyhs,
And opnyth hem the gatys of paradyhs.
Alle fals goddys doth ye forsake
Hastyly therfore, be counsel of me,
Wych be not ellys, I vndyrtake,
But gold or syluyr, stonys or tre,
That goon ne mown, speke, here, ne see,
Formyd be man; and if my sentence
Ye not beleue, makyth experience,
And ye shul weel prouyn sensybylly
That they han feet & mow not goon,
Erys not heryng, and eyne sothly
Not seyng, for in hem is noon
Spyryt of lyf ner flesh ne boon
On here bodyes; to swych godhede
No wyhs man owyth to taken hede.
Wherfore, my counsel if ye wyl do,
My soule for yours, ye shul saf be.
But thou, o tyraunt, wych wylt not so,
And Sathanas werkys euere doost,’ quod she,
Thy fadyr, and ageyn the hey maieste
18

Of oo god berkyst as a dogge shameles,
In helle thy peyne shal ben endeles.’
Olibrius, this heryng, fel in a rage,
Euene as a man owt of hys mende,
And bad his tormentours in that owtrage
Hyr tendyr flesh to race and rende,
So hopyng of hyr to maken an ende.
And in this mene whyle she vp hyr eye
To heuene dede lyfte, and thus gan seye:
‘Besegyd I am wyth wykkyd counsel,
And many doggys han enuyround me,
Wych ben ageyn me fers and cruel.
Wherfore me counfort, lord, I prey the,
And send down from heuene, myn helpe to be,
A culuyr whyht, lord, of thy grace,
Er than I deye, her in this place.
And also, lord, if it plese the,
I wold beseche wyth al myn herte
That I myht onys myn aduersarye se
Wych wyth me fyhtyth & me wold peruerte,
And I hym shuld make ful sore to smerte,
And yeuyn exaunple be my victory
Alle virgynys to truste in thy mercy.’
In the mene tyme of hyr preyer,
They rent hyr flesh on euery syde
So dispetously, that than a ryuer
Hyr blood to grounde swyftlyere dede glyde,
That the vnpetous prefect his eyne dede hyde
Wyth his mantel, & myht not suffre to se
Blood rennyng owt so gret plente.
And whan he sey hyr han swych stedfastnesse
In suffraunce, ‘Margarete!’ he lowde dede crye,
‘Consente to me, and wyth hertly meknesse
Wurshepe my goddys, ne hap thoue euyl dye.’
‘Thy counsel,’ quod she, ‘I fully denye;
For if I of my flesh shuld haue mercy,
My soule perysh shuld, as shal thyn sothly.’
Whan he sey this, to takyn hyr down
Hys tormentours from that hy iebet
19

He bad, and in-to a ryht derk presoun
He comaundyd anon she shuld be set.
And euene as the clok seuene had smet,
She entryd in-to that place lothly,
Hyre blyssyng, and thus she seyd mekely:
‘Behold me, lord, wych am the only
Doughtyr of my fader, and he hath me
For the forsakyn, and so hym haue y.
Hens aftyr wil thou my fadyr be!
And graunt that I may myn enmy se,
Wych wyth me fyhtyth, face to face,
Geyn whom I not what I trespace.
Of alle thyngys, lord, thou art iuge.
Twyn hym and me deme ryhtfully.
And for thou art only my refuge,
On hym I pleyne that hurt am y
And woundyd also ful greuously.
Yet if thou, lord, be not wroth wyth me,
I set ryht nowt be al his enmyte.’
And whil that she thus ocupyed was
Ful deuoutly in hyr preyere,
An huge dragoun, glasteryng as glas,
Sodeynly from a corner dede apere
Of the presoun, wyth an horryble chere.
Hys herys were gylt, his berd was long,
Hys teth of iryn were myhty & strong;
Owt his nosethryllys foul smoke he blew,
Hys eyne glastryd as sterrys be nyht,
Hys tunge ouyr his crowne he threw,
In his clawys a swerd burnyshed bryth.
And anoon the presoun wex ful of lyht
Of the feer wych owt dede renne
From his mouth & fast gan brenne.
Whan Margrete hym sey, ful pale of cher
She was, and for very fer trewly
She had foryete that god hyr preyer
Had herd, in wych she thus dede cry:
‘Shew me, lord, onys myn enmy
Er than I deye:’ and aftyr, thus seyd she,
20

‘Lete not this dragoun, lord, noyen me.’
This horrible beste vp-on hyr heed
Put his mouth, whil she thus seyde,
And eek his tunge, wych was fer reed
Vndyr hyr hele anoon he leyde,
And swelwyd hyr in euene at a breyde.
And whan hyr cros in his mouth dede encrees,
He brast on two, & she scapyd harmlees.
And whan she thus had the victory
Of hym, thorgh grace of god entere,
On the lefth syde euene faste hyr by
Anothyr deuyl sodeynly ther gan apere,
Wych on hyr dede loke wyth a lothly chere.
And at the laste he thus owt abrayde
Wyth a sneuelyng voys, & to hyr sayde:
‘Ryht now my dere brothyr, Ruffyn,
In a dragons lyknesse to the I sent
And whan [he] had the hool swelwyd in,
Vnwarly, er he wyst what it ment,
Wyth thy wycchecraft his lyf was shent;
For wyth tokne of a cros thou dedyst hym breke;
Whos deth I now am come to wreke.’
As sone these wurdis as he had seyd,
Be his longe herys she gan hym kecche
And vndyr hyr ryht foot she hym leyd,
And thus seyde: ‘o thou woful wrecche
Lete be this cursyd and froward tecche
My maydynheed to temte, for myn helpe sothly
Is crist, whos name duryth endelesly.’
Euene at this wurd, a ful greth lyht
Illumyned sodeynly that derk presoun,
And a cros aperyd in heuene ful bryht,
On wych a dowwe descendyd a-down,
And seyde, ‘margrete!’ wyth a swete sown,
‘Alle seyntys in heuene do the abyde,
And the gatys of paradyhs ben opnyd wyde.’
Than Margrete, aftyr to god dew thankyng
To the fend hyr turnyd & thus dede seye:
21

‘Telle me of whens thou art, foul thyng.’
‘Seruaunt of crist,’ quod he, ‘I the preye
Fro my nekke thy foot remeue aweye,
And alle my werkys I wil the telle,
Doon bothyn in erthe and eek in helle.’
Aftyr this anoon, of hyr ientylnesse,
Owt of his nekke hyr foot remeue
Softely she gan, and of his distresse
Whan he hyr felt hym so releue,
‘Gramercy,’ he seyd, ‘&, be your leue,
Now wil I, lady, on-to your demaunde
Answere brefly, as ye me comaunde.
My surname treuly is clepyd Belchys.
Sathanas oure reulere is & oure kyng.
And in the bookys pleynly wrytyn is
Of Iamnes & Mambres, oure ospryng,
Oure gouernaunce, & al oure werkyng.
But to your purpos: if ye it lyst to here,
I wyl shortly declare how we come here.
Salomon, of the childryn of Israel
The wysest kyng that euere was,
Of vs dede shette, as storyes doon tel,
Many thowsendys onys in a vessel of bras;
And whan Babylonyes com in-to that plas.
And wende greth tresore to haue founde,
The vessels they broke, & vs vnbounde.
And thus, whan we vnbounnde were,
Al erthe in-vyroun we dede fulfylle,
Serchyng whom we myght noye & dere,
For this propyrte longith euere [vs] tylle.’
‘This gouernance,’ quod she, ‘for-sothe is ylle.
Wherfore go, Sathanas, hom to thy kyn.’
And wyth that wurd, the erthe swelwyd hym yn.
The next day aftyr, fers Olibrius
Hyr comaundyd be browt to his presence;
To whom ful softly he seyd euene thus:
‘Consente, I counsel, to my sentence,
And to oure goddys offre frankencence
22

Deuouthly knelyng vp-on thy kne,
And past alle wummen I wil loue the.’
‘Laboure,’ quod she, ‘no more in veyn,
But take this answere euene for fynal:
Thy goddys neuere wurshepe shal I certeyn,
Ner be thy loue I set ryht nowt at al;
For not longe hereaftyr deye thou shal,
And aftyr thy deth be beryed in helle,
Wherfore wyth the me not lyst to melle.’
Whan Olibrius herd this, he gan to crye,
‘Tormentours! tormentours!’ as he wood were,
‘Wyth glowyng ferbrondys faste you hye,
This wycchys sydys to brenne & sere
As longe as ye ony flesh fynde there!
And whan she weel warmyd is in this wyse,
In fayr cold watyr doth hyre baptyse.’
As he comaundyd doon was anoon,
That very pete it was it to beholde
How on bothe sydys, euene to the boon,
Hyr flesh was brent wyth brondys manyfolde,
And aftyr, boundyn, how in-to watyr colde
They hyr kest, that this chaung sodeyne
From hete to cold shuld encrecyn hyr peyne.
But god, his seruauntys wych neuere forsake
Wil, ner suffre hem to myscheue,
Sodeynly maad the erthe to quake,
And queynt the fyr that hyr dede greue,
And so in the watyr hyr dede releue,
That vnboundyn & harmles she cam owte,
Wych wundyr was to hem that stood abowte.
For wych miracle fyue thousand anoon
Were there conuertyd and martyrd also;
And whan Olibrius sey the mater thus goon,
Bethynkyng what best was for to do,
And dredyng more peple wold turne hyr to
If she lengere lyuyd, wyth-owte more let
23

Sentencyd hyr heed of to be smet.
Of wych sentence ful glad she was,
Hauyng ful trust in goddys goodnesse,
And whan she was brouth in-to the plas
Where she shuld receyuyn hyr iuwesse,
Fully repleuyshed wyth cherytabylnesse,
Malchus she preyid, wyth humble chere,
Of leyser to make a short preyere.
And whan he hyr had grauntyd space,
She set hyr down on eythyr kne,
An vpward to heuene lyftyng hyr face,
Thus gan for to preye: ‘in eternyte
O lord euere regnyng, haue mercy on me.
And for thy gret pyte, o blyssyd Ihesu,
There trespas foryeue that me pursu.
More-ouyr, lord, lowly I the beseche
For them specyally that my passyoun
Othyr rede, or wryte, or other do teche,
Or cherche or chapel make if they moun,
Or lyht or launpe fynde of deuocyoun
To me-ward: lord, for thy gret grace,
Hem repentaunce graunte er they hens pace.
Also if wummen in trauayyng be
Oppressyd wyth peyne & greuaunce,
And for helpe deuoutly do preye to me,
Graunth hem sone good deliueraunce.
And generally, lord, in ony male-chaunce,
If to me for socour men calle & crye,
Graunt hem sone counfort & remedye.’
Whan she thus endyd had hyr preyere,
Sodeynly from heuene this voys cam down,
So lowde that alle men myht it here:
‘Herd is, Margarete, thyn orysoun,
And grauntyd, that who wyth deuocyoun
In ony dyshese doth preye to the,
For thy sake sothly he herd shal be.’
And wyth this wurd hyr face to Malchus
She turnyd, & seyde wyth ful glad cher:
24

‘Brothyr, that the do bad Olibrius,
Now to performe do thy deuer,
For I not lengere what to doon her.’
And Malchus anoon wythowte more let
Euene at oo strok hyr heed of smet.
But vnnethe hyr body sonere to grounde
Fel, than hyr soule was in heuene blys.
Now, gloryous lady, lete thy pyte habounde,
Oure soulys to brynge wher thy soule ys,
For than of ioye shul we neuere mys,
Whedyr vs mote brynge the holy trynyte.
Sey eche man Amen, pur cheryte.
Lo, sone, now haf I acomplysyd
Brefly, lych as I you promysyd
In the prologe, aftyr the story
Of the legende, euene by & by,
The byrthe, the fostryng & the successyoun
Of lyf, and eek fynally the passyoun,
Of seynt Margrete, the blyssyd virgyne,
So as vouchedsaf to illumyne
My wyt & my penne the heuenely grace.
And now of you I aske leyser & space
Of reste a whyle, for certeynly
Euene as a pilgrym so fare now y,
That feyntly walkyth be the weye,
And neythyr lyst to iape ner pleye,
Ne talke ne synge ne make no cher,
Til to his herberwe he gynne drawe ner.
Wher he may reste & counfortyd be
Wyth mete & drynk aftyr his necessyte,
And his bonys aftyr in a bed to beyke,
Wyth labour maad both wery & weyke.
But whan he suppyd hath a good meel
And slept ynow and restyd hym weel,
And on the morwe doth erly ryse,
Than fynt he hymself in sundry wyse
More strong to performyn his iourne.
25

Ryht so, as I seyde, it faryth be me;
For sykyr myn handys gynne to feynte,
My wyt to dullyn, and myn eyne bleynte
Shuld be, ner helpe of a spectacle;
My penne also gynnyth make obstacle,
And lyst no lengere on paper to renne,
For I so ofte haue maad to grenne
Hys snowte vp-on my thombys ende,
That he ful ny is waxyn vnthende;
For euere as he goth he doth blot,
And in my book makyth many a spot,
Menyng therby that for the beste
Were for vs bothe a whyle to reste,
Til that my wyt and also he
Myht be sum craft reparyd be.
Wherfore, sone, of your ientylnesse,
Respyht vs bothyn tyl myhylmesse;
And that is not longe, as I thus preue,
For this day is seynt Mathevs eue,
And to-forn myhilmesse but the tente day,
Aftyr wych tyme treuly I wil assay,
If god vouchesaf of his specyal grace
Of lyf me graunte leyser and space.
To performe the remnau[n]th of my promys,
For lengere leyser I nyl aske ywys.
This grauntyd, fare-weel! now am I free
Nyne dayes heraftyr for to pleye me.
Now myhilmesse day is come & past,
To acomplyse I wyl me hast
The promys wych that I behyht
Of my cunnynge aftyr the myht.
That is to seyne, whow & whan,
Fro whens, & wheder, & be what man,
And also fyrst be what occasyoun,
Of seynt Margarete the translacyoun
From Antyoche was maad into Itayle.
And in this processe that I not fayle
26

Of the treuthe, I lowly beseche
Hym that treuthe is & treuthe doth teche,
The lord that syt a-boue the skye,
That he in treuthe vouchesaf to gye
On-to the lande of the virgyne swete
And blyssyd martyr, seynt Margarete,
Bothe my wyt & eek my pen.
I prey eche treuman to seyn Amen.
From the tyme of the incarnacyoun
Of Ihesu crist nyne hundryd yer
And eyghte, be trewe computacyoun,
Whan Sergius was vnyuersel clauyculer
Of holy cherche, and the sool emper
Had Berengarye, this caas befel
Wych I her shal touche rathere than tel.
The secunde yer of the forseyd pope,
Sergye, & thwelfte indicyoun,
As be cronyculers I vndyrgrope.
Fel a ful greuows dissencyoun
Be-twix the patriark of Antyoche toun,
Eusebye, & hym that was be tyrannye
That tyme prynce of ther polycye.
Andronicus hyht that prynce sothly,
Wych, whil that Eusebye absent was,
As I seyd to-fore, be tyranny
Vsurpyd the pryncehood of that plas;
Wherof fel a ful heuy caas;
For thorgh there tweynys debat & stryf
Ful many a man dede lese hys lyf.
The processe to declare were to long,
And it askyth ful many a circumstaunce
To telle clerly how gret wrong
This prynce dede, & to what myschaunce
The cyte he brouth thorgh mysgouernaunce,
And be what treytourye his sone-in-lawe,
Sinward, be nyht he brouth a-dawe.
I wyl not tellyn now what accyoun
27

He feynyd the patryark to pursu,
And how & be what similat faccyoun
Meche peple to hys fauour he dreu.
Wherfore, prolyxyte to escheu,
I wil lete passe al maner disgressyoun,
An shortly goon on to the conclusyoun.
Whan of Antyoche thorg his surquydy
Ner destroyd was the fayr cyte
Wyth feer & swerd ful cruelly,
Many a fayr cherche ther brent he,
That reuthe & pyte it was to se;
Among wych of seynt Margarete was oon,
Wherof he left nei[þ]ir stykke ne stoon.
In this seyd cherche was an abbeye,
A solemne of munkys, whil that it stood,
Of wych the abot was, as cronycles seye,
That tyme a religyous man & good,
Austyn be name, & of nobyl blood,
Born in a cuntre clepyd lumbardye,
And of a cyte callyd Pauye.
Whan this Austyn sey the gret mischef
Bothe of the cyte and of his abbeye
And the impossybylnesse it to relef,
Hys spyryt ner went from hym aweye;
Hym thowte he yaf no fors to deye.
And whan he thus longe had stonde confush,
At last in hymself he thus dede muse:
‘I am but a foreyn in this cuntre,
And haue here no frend me to auayle.
Werfore me thynkyth it best for me
Ageyn to returne in-to Itayle,
Wher of good frenshepe I may not fayle,
For ther is the issu of my genealogye,
And specyally in the cyte of Papye.’
And whan in this purpos he fyxyd was,
Hys owe cuntre to goon hom to,
He kest to caryin owt of that plas
The bodyes of holy virgynys two,
28

Seynt Margarete & seynt Euprepye also,
To profyht of the cherche, & eek honour
In Pauye of seynt Sire the confessour.
For lernyd he hadde ful secretlye
Of a prest in his last confessyoun,
Vbald be name, whan he shuld dye,
Wych was a man of gret deuocyoun,
How of seynt Margrete he fynde shuld moun
The body, & where that it dede rest,
Of gold & syluyr in a fayr chest.
And for he myht not a-lone do
That he desyryd, of his men tweyne
Pryuyly oo tyme he clepyd hym to,
Wych Lucas & Robert were clepyd certeyne,
And feythfully of hem he gan to freyne
If they to hym wold trewe men be,
And wyth hym goon hom to his cuntre.
And if they wold so, he them there hyht
Of gold an tresore gret habundaunce,
And that he shulde doon al hys myht
Wyth sporys gylt hem bothe to auaunce,
And that they shulde ryde wyth spere & launce;
And they hym assuryd wyth scrypture & seel,
Euere cloos to kepyn al hys counseel.
‘Felawys,’ quod he, ‘treuly myn entent
Meuyd is euene of pure deuocyoun,
Owt of this place wych is her brent,
And browt as ye see to gret desolacyoun,
Of summe relykys to make a translacyoun,
And specyally of that blyssyd & holy virgyne
Seynt Margarete, an in Pauye hem do shryne.’
Whan they thys herde, wyth ryht glad cher
Fully they approuyd al his entent,
And seyden, whan-euere in this mater
He wolde procede, they shuld assent.
‘For here,’ quod they, ‘it arn but shent.
29

Wherfore to performyn this holy decre
We trowe that god hath inspyryd the.’
And sone aftyr this they cam alle thre
Pryuyly be nyhte on-to the place
Where Austyn had lernyd this relykys hyd be
Of seynt Margarete, be goddys grace,
And anoon so depe they dede in race
Tyl at the laste a chest they founde
Wyth iryn and bras myhtyly bounde.
And euene wythowte was this scripture
Wrytyn abouyn vp-on the chest:
‘Here wyth-inne, of the virgyne pure
Seynt Margarete the body doth rest.’
And wyth-oute let they it al to-brest,
And in a syluerene vessel, wyth gemmys freshly
Arayed, they founde this blyssyd body.
Wych whan they seyn they were ful glad,
And anoon tokyn it vp ful reuerently,
And to a mannys hous preuyly it lad
Wych Austyn the abot louyd enterly,
Crisper be name, wych dwellyd ther ny—
But what they brouht they nold hym telle—
Wher foure dayis aftyr they dede dwelle.
In wych mene tyme they maad hem redy
In hasty wyse to takyn forth her iourne;
But the sylueren ark they broke, sothly,
And trussyd the body in a loker of tre,
That of tresore shuld no suspycyoun be.
And, aftyr leue takyn, to shyp they went,
And god of his grace hem fayr speed sent.
For anoon, wyth-owtyn eythyr peryl or feer,
To the port of Brundusye they dede applye,
And whan they weel had refresshyd hem ther,
Anoon thre hors they dedyn hem bye,
And forth to Rome they hem faste dede hye,
Wher dylygently and wyth deuocyoun
They labouryd to purchasyn holy pardoun.
And whan they ful ner dayes fyftene
Hemself wyth a deuouth carage
30

Had exercysyd, and maad ful clene,
And goon to many an holy stage,
Of the reed flyx the gret owtrage
Sodeynly dede Austyn so sore oppresse
That to deyin he trowyd of that seeknesse.
Wherfore, as goodly as he cowde or myht,
Seyng no lyklynesse to ben amendyd,
Of hys host he took his leue that nyht,
And payid for al that he had dispendyd.
On morwe, whan he hym had commendyd
To petyr and poule, his hors he nam,
And vnnethe that nyht to Souters cam.
Wyth gret labour they come the nexte day
On-to the cherche of blyssyd vyctory
The virgyne, wych stant, as men se may,
In the hey weye, venus halle by,
Wher they hym receuyd ful honestly,
Wych tyme as shuld the solemnyzacyoun
Been of that cherche the fyrst dedycacyoun,
Wych on the seuente day dede falle
Of octobre, euene as there wrytyn is,
Where Austyn offryd vp in a palle
Oon of seynt Margaretys rybbys;
And whan the peple ther dwellyng sey this,
They it receyuyd wyth ful glad cher,
And in hyr honour dede halwe a auter.
Fro whens, wyth-inne dayis two,
Wyth gret syknesse whan they dede pace,
In the vale Palantes they come to
Of seynt Petyr a relygyous place
Of munkys blake, and bonyface
The Abot hyht, wher wurshepfully
Austyn was receyuyd & cherytabylly.
And whan he sey that his seeknesse
Eche day encrecyd more and more,
And cowd see no weye of lyklynesse
To ascapyn, anoon he sent fore
The Abot Bonyface, & wepyng ful sore,
To hym, in presence of his hool couent,
31

He pleynly declaryd thus hys entent:
‘Allas!’ quod he, ‘euene as a straunger
And as vnknowyn also in this cuntre,
Ineuytabylly I must deyin her,
For alwey encrecyth myn infyrmyte.
Nertheles, vertu of necessyte
I wyl make, and therfore now
To god my soule I commende & to yow.
More-ouyr also, I wil ye wete
Two precyous relykys I her haue wyth me;
That is to seyne, of seynt Margrete
The body, and of the vyrgyne fre,
Euprepye, the heed, in a cophyn of tre,
Wyche from Antyoche I haue brouth,
And to Pauye them led it was my thouth.
But syth I see deth me faste nyhe to,
And I to lyue may haue no lengere space,
Whil my wyttys be fresch & my mynde also,
This relykys I yeue to this holy place,
You therfore askynge this oonly grace,
That ye for me wil preyn specyally,
And therto my annyuersarye kepyn yerly.’
Whan they herd thys, god principally
They thankyd and hym wyth herte entere,
And that he desyryd so deuouthly
They hym grauntyd wyth ful glad chere,
And anoon alle the munkys in fere
Te deum laudamus deuo[u]thly sunge,
And alle here bellys ful solemnely runge.
And the abot copyd, wyth his munkys alle,
Wyth torchys & tapyrs brennyng ful cler,
These precyous relykys, curyd wyth a palle,
Bar and set vp on the hey awter;
And eyghte dayis aftyr, wyth ful glad cher,
They maad greth feste & solemnyte,
And meche peple thydyr it cam to see.
In wych mene tyme this blyssyd man,
Austyn, wych that yaf on-to that place
32

These holy relikys, whan he had tan
Alle hys ryhtys, to goddys grace
He commendyd his soule, & hens dede pace,
The sextend kalendys, as wrytyng doth preue,
Of Nouembyr, euene on seynt lukys eue.
And whan they his dirige in goodly maner
Had seyd, to here cherche ful relygyously
Hys body they bore, & besydyn an awter
Of seynt Blase it beryid ful wurshepfully,
And aftyrward hem besyid riht diligently
To performyn vp the solemnyzacyoun
Of these holy seyd relikys translacyoun.
For thow kalixtys day, martyr & pope,
Wych fallyth of Octobyr the threttend day,
As be old wrytynge I vndyrgrope,
The fyrst day were of this solemne aray,
Wych reuelacyoun or translacyoun clepyd be may
Of seynt Margretys body, yet eyghte days more
They solemne kept, as seyd is before.
In wych eyghte dayis ther god wrowt
Manye grete miraclys, as I wrytyn haf see.
Albe-it for hast that I reherce hem nowt,
Or for to other thyngys I wold spede me,
And also to eschewyn prolixyte,
Stepdam of fauour, aftyr the sentence
In a vers of Mathu Vindocinence.
But for-as-meche as nothyng perpetuel
Is in this werd, ne stabyl in oo staat,
For the grete werrys that sone aftyr fel
In thylk cuntre, thorgh stryf & debat
Of sundry cytees, this place desolat
Wyth-inne fewe yerys was, & stood aloon,
Whos dwellers thens for feer dede flen euerychon.
Sone aftyr this, whan it was knowe
That this abbeye was in swych desolacyoun,
And be the trumpet of fame aboute blowe,
The Ruuyllyans madyn a congregacyoun,
And alle the clerkys gadryd in processyoun
33

Of oure ladyis cherche, and wyth gret reuerens
Seynt Margaretes body they fecchyd thens.
And whan they had this body brout
Into oure ladyes cherche wyth solemnyte,
In tablys of marbyl, coryously wrout,
They it shrynyd wyth seynt Felycyte,
Whos feste fallyth, as men may se,
Wyth seynt Clement, and, as I remembre,
It is the nynte kalende of Decembre.
Where, whan these two virgyns in sam
An hundryd yer or more had shrynyd leyn,
Swych myschef to Ruyllyan cam
That down it was bete & maad pleyn;
And so longe it so abood, certeyn,
And wyth trees & buschys so wylde grew,
That where it was anethe ony knew.
But whan it plesyd the souereyn goodnesse
Of god, wych syt in heuene aboue,
To delyuyrn owt of that wyldyrnesse
These two virgyns wych he dede loue,
To counfort of meche folk & behoue,
He chees a persone of straunge cuntre
Of there translacyoun mynystyr to be.
Whan the yer of grace on the noumbyr ran
Of a thousand foure hundryd and fyue,
The fyrst yer of the secund Vrban,
The pope of Rome, as cronycles dryue,
And Herry the thredde was alyue,
And had the sool reule of the empere,
This reuelacyoun maad was that ye shul here.
wyx Naplys, that tyme, and Teracyne,
In a wode of the Markeys of that cuntre,
Two hermytys dwellyd, whom god illumyne
Vouchydsaf wyth grace in that degre
To lyuyn, and his seruauntys to be.
Ion hyht the toon, to whom dede appere
Seynt Margrete, seyng on this manere:
‘Ion, goddys seruaunt, as fast as thou kan,
34

On myn erand mounth Flask go to,
And vn-to the pryour of seynt Flauyan,
Wych is ther clepyd Burgundio,
And sey hym, god wil that he his deuer do,
That neythyr I ner seynt Felycyte
In solytarye place lengere lefth be.’
‘Who art thou,’ quod Ion, ‘that spekyst to me,
And byddyst me doon that I ne kan?’
‘I am Margrete, goddis handmayde,’ quod she,
‘That in Antyoche dede martyrdam tan
Vndyr fers Olybrye, wych prefect was than.
But whan that cyte wyth scysme was ner nowt,
Oon Austyn to Tuskayne fro thens me browt.’
‘Lady,’ quod Ion, ‘I not knowe that place,
Ner in what maner cuntre it is.’
‘Kare not,’ quod she, ‘for whil that grace
Of god the guydyth, thou mayst not mys;
For, wher-euere thou go, it shal the wys,
And al that longyth to thy necessyte
Shal be prouydyd be god and me.’
Whan Ion this herd, wyth-owte lettyng
He tok his felawe and gan hym forth hye
Vp-on his iurne, fully trostyng
That the grace of god shuld hym riht gye.
And so it dede, for ryht sone sothlye
To mounth flask he cam, where she ageyn
To hym apperyd, and thus dede seyn:
‘Go, sey the pryour that he sende hastly
To ruuyllyan, wych now is wildyrnesse,
And to the place where of seynt Mary
The cherche was; & there, wyth besynesse
Of deluyng, they shul fynden expresse
In tablys of marbyl, wyth a scripture,
My body & felicites, I hem ensure.’
And anoon Ion to the pryour went,
And gan hym tellen euene by and by
Of whom & why he thedyr was sent,
And preyd hym to performyn it hastyly;
35

For, were it doon, he hym hom wold hy.
But he no credens yaf to his talkyng;
Wherfore Ion went a-wey wepyng.
He was ful sory that he had lost
So meche labour, hym thoute, in veyn.
And as he went homward to his ost,
In the opyn strete seynt Margrete ageyn
Apperyd to hym & thus dede seyn:
‘Ion, be not heuy, but ayen hym to
Go, and eftsonys thyn herand doo.’
‘I-wis, lady,’ quod Ion, ‘he nyl credens
In no wyse my wurdys yeue to.’
‘Yet go!’ quod she, ‘and, er thou come thens,
He shal wyth grace inspiryd be so
Happyly that he shal assente to do
Lych as thou seyst, & hold the trewe;
Or ellys forsothe he shal it rewe.’
‘Lady,’ quod he, ‘in this matere
Me thynkith best were—saf youre reuerence—
That ye youreself to hym dede appere,
And shewyd hym pleynly youre sentence;
For than he nedys must yeue credence.’
‘Nay, Ion,’ quod she, ‘nay, god wyl not so.
But be the he wyl this massage be do.’
Whan Ion herd this & othere also
Wych stood besydyn, ful many oon,
Herdyn this talkyng betwyx hem to,
They seyde they wold wyth hym goon
On-to the Pryour, and that anoon,
And of alle these wurdis, bothe more & lesse,
Pleynly they wold hym bere wytnesse.
Whan this was doon, the priour dede leue
Ionys wordys, &, wyth-owte lettyng,
The treuthe herof that he myht preue,
Men thedyr he sent to make serchyng;
And they there labouryd in deluyng
In the cherche paument fro morwe tyl eue,
36

But they founde nowt—that dede hem greue.
And anoon for angyr they hom ageyn
Turnyd, and seyde euene thus to Ion:
‘Thou hast vs maad to labouren in veyn,
For of oure labour fruht is come noon.’
‘Serys,’ quod he, ‘yif ye lyst to goon
Ageyn wyth me, be goddys grace
I shal yon brynge euene to the place.’
They folwyd his wyl & turnyd ageyn,
And, al-be-it he neuere cam there to forn,
‘Here is the place,’ quod he, ‘certeyn,
Where growe brymblys & many a thorn.
Here shal I hope no labour be lorn.’
Wher they dede delue, & wyth-inne a stounde,
More than they sowten ther they founde.
For wyth the bodyes of the virgyns two,
Felycyte an eek Seynt Margarete,
Thre rybbys ther they foundyn also
Of Cosme & Damyan, smellyng ful swete;
And an epitaphye of marbyl was wrete
On this wyse: ‘lo! her in this chest
Margretys body & felicites doth rest.’
Whan they this seyn, wyth gret gladnesse
To mounth Flask anoon they wurd sent,
And thanne the priour wyth gret besynesse
Gadryd a processyoun and thedyr went,
And them hom to brynge was dylygent.
And al the pepyl folwyd ful besyly,
Syngynge and preyng deuouthly.
And whil they thus ocupyed in syngyng were,
Sodeynly nyht hem dede a-take,
And anoon they went they wyst not where,
And euere more grew mo clowdys blake,
And they for feer tremelyng gunne quake,
And wyth oo voys they lowde dede cry,
‘Seynt Margarete, on vs now haue mercy!’
And anoon, as they thus preyd had,
A gret bryhtnesse ouyr hem dede sprede,
As thow heuene euene opyn ben had;
37

Wych to mounth Flask ryht dede hem lede.
And euere as they forth dede procede,
The lyht went euene wyth hem sothly,
Tyl they come vp in the toun on hy.
And whan they come beforn the hous
Of oon that Beucase men dede calle,
These reliquys so heuy & so ponderous
Dede growe anoon, that vnder hem alle
Myht them not beryn past his stalle;
Wherfore men conceyuyd that they lest
In that place stylle abydyn & rest.
Vp-on wych they alle in fere
To Beucase seyde: ‘syth god wyl
That a cherche shuld be maad here
For these relykys, thyn hows ther-tyl
Yiue vp, we counsel, wyth good wyl.
And if thou wy[l] not so, we wyl it bye,
Or yeue the a bettyr therfore, treulye.’
Beucase seyd nay, it shuld not be.
And sodeynly began swych a tempest
Of thundyr & leuene, that dayes thre
It contunyd stylle & neuere dede rest.
Whan Beucase thys sey, hym thouth it best
To take a-nothyr and hys hous relece;
And so he dede, & the tempest gan sece.
Aftyr this, in ful solemne wyse
In-to that hous the relikys they bere;
And as goodly as they cowde deuyse,
Anoon a cherche they dede make there.
In wych yet restyn, as I dede lere,
The bodyes of the two virgynys swete,
Seynt Felicyte & eek seynt Margarete.
Many a myracle ther shewyd was,
In the tyme of thys translacyoun,
And ofte sythyn hath ben, in that holy plas,
Wych to wrytyn were gret ocupacyoun;
38

For sekyrly, aftyr myn estymacyoun,
If they were wrytyn, it contune more
Wold than al the remnaunth before.
This secunde translacyoun of the virgyn swete
Treuly, as I me now kan remembre,
I mene the blyssyd martyr Margarete,
The seuenetende day was of Nouembre,
And the fyftende Kalende of Decembre,
Wych day entytlyd is in-to the honour
Of gloryous Huhe, byschop & confessour.
Now, blyssyd virgyne, wych at Mounth Flaske
Lyist shrynyd in a ful fayr awter
Graunth me the bone that I now aske:
Fyrst, that I may purchase pardone her
Of alle my synnys, and aftyr, partener
Of the ioye be wher thou doost dwelle,
Wych how gret is no tunge kan telle.
[_]

[The rest of f. 26, and the whole of the two following folios are blank.]


Amen.

Vita Scæ Annæ matris Scæ Mariae

Prologus.

IF I hadde cunnyng and eloquens
My conceytes craftely to dilate,
Als whilom dede the fyrsh rethoryens,
Gowere, Chauncere, & now Lytgate,
I wolde me besyn to translate
Seynt anne lyf in-to oure langage.
But sekyr I fere to gynne so late,
Lest men wolde ascryuen it to dotage.
For wel I know that fer in age
I am runne, & my lyues date
Aprochith fast, & the fers rage
Of cruel deth—so wyl my fate
Ineuytable—hath at my gate
39

Set hys carte to carye me hens;
And I ne may ne can, thau I hym hate,
Ageyn hys fors make resistens.
Wherfore me thinkyth, & sothe it ys,
Best were for me to leue makynge
Of englysh, & suche as ys amys
To reformyn in my lyuynge.
For that ys a ryght souereyn cunnynge:
A man to knowen hys trespasce,
Wyth ful purpos of amendynge,
As ferforth as god wyl grawnte hym grace.
For whil a man hath leysere and space
Here in þis wordlys abydynge,
Or than that deth his brest enbrace,
To ransake his lyf in alle thynge,
And wyth his conscience to make rekenynge
& ryhtyn ageyn al þat wronge is,
He may not fayle, at his partynge
Owt of his lyf, to gon to blys.
Neuerthelesse, onto þe souereyn goodnesse
Of ihesu I truste & of marie
His moder fre, thow I my besynesse
Do diligently to claryfye
Her moderes lyf & hyr genalogye,
To excyten wyth mennys deuocyon,
Aftyr the'ntent of the storye,
They wyl accepten myn entencyon.
For treuly I make a protestacyon
To seynt anne & to hyr dowter marye,
That yf eythyr errour in myn opynyon
Geyn good maners, or heresye
A-geyn the feyth I cowde aspye
Wythe alle diligence & besynesse
Alle my wyttes I wolde applye
It to reforme & to redresse.
But ere than I ferther forthe procede
In this matere, I lowly beseche
40

Alle that schul thys story rede
That they loke aftyr no coryous speche,
For tullyus wolde me neuer non teche,
Ner in parnase wher apollo doth dwelle
I neuer slepte, ne neuer dede seche
In ethna flowrs, wher, as claudian doþe telle,
Proserpina was rapt; nor of þe sugird welle
In elicona, my rudnesse to leche,
I neuer dede taste, to me so felle
Wher euer the muses, & þe cruel wreche
Of orpheus, whiche hys wyf dede seche
In helle, of me wolde neuer take hede,
Nor of his armonye oo poynt me teche
In musical proporcyon rymes to lede.
Ȝet not-forthan I wyl not blynne,
For your sake, my frende denston kateryne,
Lyche as I can this story to begynne,
If grace my penne vochesaf to illumyne.
Preyth ye enterly þat blyssed virgyne,
Whiche of seynt anne þe dowter was,
That she vouchesaf som beem lat shyne
vp-on me of hyr specyal grace,
And þat I may haue leyser & spaas,
Thorgh help of influence dyuyne,
To oure bothe confort & solace
This legende begunne for to termyn,
Or than deth the threed vntwyne
Of oure fatal web, whiche is ryht thynne
And saue vs bothe from endles pyne,
And here vs kepe from shame & synne.
O perles prencesse, of uirginyte
Synguler gemme, whiche in eche nede
Art euer redy helper to be
To them that the for grace to grede!
Entende, lady, of thy womanhede
To my prayer, and me soccour
Whiche purpose of thy kynrede
Sum-what to seyn, thorghe thy fauour,
41

And specyally on-to the honour
Of thy modyr; whiche, as I rede,
Rote was of the, o most swet floure
And wyth hyr mylke dede foster & fede
The ful thre yer, & aftyr dede lede
On-to the temple, & ther offerde the.
Now, lady, graunt to me mede
In blysse eterne yow bothe to se.
[_]

[One blank line.]

Aftyr the reulys of interpretacyon,
Anne is as myche to seyn as ‘grace’.
And worthyly thys appellacyon
To hyr pertenyth, for wyth-in the space
Of hyr wombe sche dede enbrace,
Here that is of grace the welle
Lady of erthe & empresse of helle.
I mene that blyssed & holy virgyne,
Modyr of ihesu oure sauyour,
Marye, of synners souereyn medycyne,
And in alle dystresse synguler soccour
Aftyr hyr sone; & of this floure
Whiche is so redolent & so soote
This gracyous anne was stoke & rote;
The whiche is commendyde, as I do rede,
Of thynges thre most syngulerly:
Ferst of hyr nobyl & royal kynrede,
Conueyede from dauid down lyneally;
Of perfyht leuynge also, and fynally
Of plenteuous fruht; & ysachar hyr fadyr
Was clepyd, & nasaphath hyht hyr modyr.
As for þe fyrst, I wil ye knowe,
Be doctryne of scripture whiche wyl not lye,
Dauid in ierusalem hade on a rowe
Fowre sones be oon cleped bersabee,
Whilom the wyf of wurthy vrye.
But to oure purpoos, the thryde hyht
Salomon, & the fowrthe nathan be ryht.
42

More-ouyr I wyl ye know also,
As ierom & damascen do testifye,
The custome of scripture not vsyth, lo,
Of wymmen to wryte the genealogye;
Wherfore, as þe lyne of marye
Is knowe be ioseph & non othyr wyse,
So is annes be ioachym, as þey two deuyse.
Also for more cler vndurstondynge
Of þis genealogyal descencyon,
I wil ye wyte that for no thynge
The olde law wold suffre permixtyon
Of sundry kynredes, for whiche conclusyon
Ioachym toke anne of hys ny alye,
And ioseph was streyned to wedde mary.
These thyngys knowen, lyst what I mene:
Of nathan longe aftyr descended leuy,
Whiche of his wyf estha, seyth damescen
Too sones gat, pantar & melchy;
Pantar gat barpantar, & he lyneally
Ioachym, whiche that husbonde was
To anne, the moder of oure solas.
On þat oþer syde down descendynge
From salomon euen vnto mathan,
Cam iacob, aftyr matheus wrytynge,
But, as damascen wyl declare can,
Melchy, of the lyne of nathan,
Pantars brother, & þe sone of leuy,
Weddyd iacobes modyr & gat ely.
So iacob & ely were brethern vteryne,
Thow iacob of salmon & ely cam of nathan,
And whan ely issules his lyf dede fyne,
Iacob, to reyse his brother seed, dede tan
Hys wyf, as comannded the lawe than,
And gat ioseph, spouse to marye.
Lo, þus endyth þis double genealogye.
43

And yf yt lyke on-to moralyte
To draw [þ]e names of the progenytours
Of marye, chef gemme of uirginyte,
Of helful doctryne ful redolent flours
We schul fynde, of ryht swete odowrs,
Yf we hem dewly kun applye,
And ordenelly aftyr the ethimologye.
Aftyr [þ]e sentence of the holy doctour
Seynt austyn, dauid dowth signyfye
‘The souereyn heuenely progenytour,’
And salomon, ‘pesyble’, aftyr ethimologye,
‘The prince of pees’, betoknyth sothly,
Whom the fadyr down sent pees to make,
Perfyth oure kynde whann he dyde take.
Be nathan, dauid sone also;
‘Ȝyfth’ or ‘thynge ȝouyn’ is signyfyed,
Be whom descens leuy is made to,
And ‘taken vp’ betoknyth, or ‘applyed’
Where-in we be mystyly certyfyed
That be hem oure nature assumpt shul be
To the secunde persone of [þ]e trinite.
Bvt yet had it not ben sufficyent
The vptakyng of oure frele nature
Whiche wyth synne was almost schent,
But recuryd had ben oure brosure,
And he venguyshd þat causyd þe lesure;
Wherfore in [þ]e ordyr of oure reparacyon
Descens is to iacob, toknynge ‘supplantacyon’.
Iacob supplanted hys brother esau,
Whiche toknythe ‘row’ or ellys ‘hery’,
And it signifyeth þat oure lorde ihesu
Supplanted the deuyl, oure ruggyd enmye,
Whan he on [þe] crocse ful schamfully
Heng nakyd, fastnyd wyth nayles smerte,
And wyth a scharpe spere stunge to þe herte.
44

Aftyr iacob, ioseph, as seyth þe text,
In descence of the genealogye,
Whiche toknyth ‘encres’ stondyth next,
Spouse of annes doughter marie,
Modyr of ihesu, whiche to sygnyfie
‘A byttyr see’ and ‘saluacyon’;
Where-of, lo, a bref moralizacyon:
Ioseph, encrescynge in goodnesse,
Must wedde marye, the bytter see
Of penaunce, be constant stabylnesse;
And yf anne penaunces modyr be
Whiche toknyth ‘grace’ & ‘charyte’,
He schal conceyuen be the humble vertu
Saluacyon, tokned be þis name ihesu.
Now haue I shewed more compendyously
Than it owt haue ben þis noble pedegre.
But in þat myn auctour I folow sothly,
And also to eschewyn prolyxite.
And for my wyt is schort, as ye may se,
To the secunde part I wyl me hye
Of my processe, & annes lyf descrye.
Thys blyssud anne of þe blode royal,
Als to-forn is s[e]yde, of dauid [þ]e kynge,
In a cyte þat bedleem men calle,
Was born & hade hyr fyrst fostrynge
In alle that myht to vertu hyr brynge,
As diligently as hyr fadyr cowd do,
Isachar, & nazaphat hyr modyr also.
And whan she to ȝeris of dyscrescyon
Was comyn, aftyr ther lawes guyse,
Not ouer yonge aftyr myn estymacyon,
But what yer of age I ne can deuyse,
Wedded sche was in ful solenne wyse
Into a cuntre clepyd galyle
And to a man a-cordyng to hyr degre,
45

I mene to ioachym, in the cyte
Off nazareth dwellynge & of dauid hows,
A ryche man & of gret dignyte,
Whos lyf of youthe was euer vertuous,
Symple, ryhtfulle & eke petous,
Aforne god & man ryht comendable,
To whom Anne was wyf ful couenable,
For aftyr the doctryne of philosophye
[In] ihesus syrach, whoso it rede can,
Lyche to lyche euere doth applie,
As scheep to scheep & man to man,
Pertryche to pertryche & swan to swan
So vertu to vertu is agreable;
Werfore anne to ioachym was wyf ful able.
For liche as they in ther yunge age
Were bothne forthe browthe vertuously,
Ryght so, conioyned be maryage
Whan þey were, more diligently
In vertush they grew; & cause is why—
For, as longe to-forne be a poete was tolde,
What newe shelle taketh it sauouryth olde.
And for they wolde lyuen conformely
To goddes plesaunce, here possessyoun
They deuyded on partes thre treuly;
The ferst they youen wyth deuocyon
To the temple, þe secunde to sustentacyon
Of pylgrimys & pore men seek & olde;
The thrydde they kept for her howsholde.
Thus ryhtful to god & to man petous
Twenty wynter þey lyued wyth-out issw,
In chast maryage and not vycyous.
And thow of here seed no fruht grew,
Ȝet to god for grace they dede pursew
At hys temple thryes in the yere
Wyth offrynge & wyth deuouht prayer,
46

And maden vowes wyth holy entent
That yf god wolde of his specyal grace
Ony fruht hem sende, þey wolde it present.
Were it man or woman, beforn hys face,
Euen in the temple, þat holy place,
Ther hem to sence bothe clene & pure
As longe ther-of as they had cure.
Long aftyr, vpon a festful day,
Clepyd of [þ]e temple the dedycacyon,
Ioachym in his best aray
To ierusalem went wyth deuocyoun
To make his ofrynge as he was woun,
Wyth other burgeys of hys cyte,
Eche man as longyd to hys degre.
At þat tyme byschop was Isakar
In the temple, as tellyth [þ]e story.
And whan he amonge oþer was war
Of ioachym, stondynge ful sturdyly,
He h[y]m rebukyde, & askyde why
He þat bareyn and frutles was
Presumyde to apperen in that plas.
‘Thy yiftes,’ quod he, ‘ben vnworthy,
And to god no þinge acceptable.
For þis I wyl þu knowe pleynly,
That bareynesse to god is reprouable,
And cursed is yche man & condempnable,
As holy scripture vs doth telle,
That no fruht forth bryngþe in israele.
Werfore, ioachym, I charge the
Neuere aftyr vse þis presumpcyon
Here to offre, tyl assoylled þu be
Of þis legal malediccyoun.
And whan þu hast get an absolucyon
Of þis curs and hast fecundyte,
Than shul they yiftes acceptable be.’
Whan ioachym þus rebukyde was
Of þe byschop in þe temple opynly,
47

He was so aschamyd of þat caas
That agyn hom he nolde goon pleynly,
Ne hap his neybures which dwellyd hym by
Hym wolde repreue anothyr day;
And þerfore he toke al a-nother way,
And to his herdemen he dede hym hye,
Which in wyldernesse fer dede pasture
That tyme his schep ful diligently,
Which in t[h]oo dayes were his most cure,
For wyth þat encrecyde of here genderin[g]e
He & his wyf were wonte to fede
Pore folke whiche god dede loue & drede.
Whyl ioachym hym þus dede ocupye
Abouȝt his scheep in wast wyldyrnesse,
And anne his spouse cowde non aspye
Of hym tydynges, neyþer more ne lasse,
Ful monythes fyue, wyth gret trestesse
Oppressede & prostrat she gan to preye,
And in here prayer she þus dede saye:
‘O souerayne euerelastynge maieste,
Whiche hast been euere & be schal
Regnynge in stable eternyte,
Whos regne may neyþer bowe ne fal,
To whom eeke eche creature mortal
Must obey—now, lorde, in þis nede,
Vp-on me rew for thy nobylhede!
A, lorde of israle most myhty,
Syth þu no chylderne hast youe me to,
What haue I trespascyd geyn thy mercy
That þus my spouse þu takyst me fro?
For ful fyue monythes be passyd & go
Syth I of hym had no tydynge,
Wether he be dede or ellys lyuynge.
Now help me, lorde, I the beseche,
48

And graunte me grace to haue knowynge
Were I myht my husbonde seche;
For yf I knew where, wyth-owt letynge
I wolde hym seke, yf he were lyuynge,
And yf he ded were, his sepulture
I wolde enbelshyn wyth besy cure.
For, lorde, þu knowyst how affecteuously
I hym now loue and euere haue do,
Syth we fyrst knyt were lawfully,
Past alle creatures; lorde, helpe me so!
And yf [þ]e knot be now vn-do
Of oure spousayle, I noon but the
Know, lorde, that may my confort be.’
Whan she þes wordes & many mo,
Which at þis tyme I ne can expresse,
Had seyd sobbynge for very wo
And sykynge for hertys byttyrnesse
In-to an herber she can hyre dresse
Besyden hyr hows, & ther certayn
Hyre prayer hertly she made ageyn.
And whan she roos from hyr prayer
And casuelly lyftyde vp hyr eye,
In a fayr, fresh & grene laurere
A sparow fedynge hyr bryddes she seye,
In a nest made of mossh & cleye,
And a-non she fel down sodenly
Vp-on hyr knees & þus gan crye:
‘O lorde almyhte, whiche hast ouere al
Souerente, & to euere creature,
Fyssh, ful & bestis, boþe more & smal,
Hast grauntyd be kyndly engenderrure
To ioyen in þe lykenesse of ther nature,
And in ther issu, iche aftyr his kynde,
To worshyp of thy name wyth-owten ende!
And I thank þe, lorde, þat þu to me
Hast don as it is to thy pleasaunce,
F[ro] þe yefte of thy benygnyte
49

Me excludynge, swych is my chaunce.
Ȝet if yt þe had lykede me to avaunce
Wyth sone or dowgter, in humble wyse
I wolde it han offrede to thy seruyse.’
And whan she thus had hyr entent
Expressed wyth a ful mornynge chere,
So-deynly, or she wyst what yt mente,
An aungel be-forne hyr gan a-pere,
Clad in lyht than þe sunne more clere,
And wyth debonayr chere & gret reuerence
To hyr he shewyd thus his sentence:
‘Be not aferde, anne, thow vnwarly
I thus appere in thy presence;
For from heuen down sent am I,
Of glad tydynges the to encence:
How þe fruht of þi body in reuerence
& honour schal be & in mennys mende
Thorgh alle kynreddes to þe werdys ende.’
Whan þe aungel þus his ambacyat
Had brefly doon, he vanysshed a-vay,
And she astoyned & so dysconsolat
Was þat she nyst what she myght seye.
And to hyr chaumbur a-non she toke þe way,
Wher wyth-owt bodyly confort or chere
A day & a nyȝt she lay in hyr prayer.
And aftyr what tyme she dyd up ryse,
Alle by-wept from hyr prayer,
She clepyd hir mayde, to whom þis wyse
She seyde: ‘syth þu sey me here
So longe lyenge wyth-owt confort or chere
Of ony wyht, how mayst þe [q]uyte
That lyst not onys me to vysyhte?
Allas, lorde, yf it schuld be seyde
Al mannys confort þu hast from me
Wythdrawen, & also of myn handmayde,
50

Which awt, me thynkyth, my confort han be!
But al þis þu dost þat only in the
I schuld trust, lorde, & syngulerly
Al my hope puttyn in thy mercy.’
To whom þis damysel grucchyng can sey:
‘Thow god thy wombe wyth bareynesse
Hath shet, & thyn husbonde takyn a-way,
Wenyst þu these myscheus I myht redresse?
Nay, nay!’ than anne for veray heuynesse
Of þis answere fel sotheynly down,
& wepte wythowten consolacyon.
In þis mene tyme an aungel shene
In lykenesse of a ful fayre yunglynge
To ioachym apperyd in [þ]e mountes grene,
As he was a-monge his schepe walkynge;
And to hym he wsyde þis talkynge:
‘What is [þ]e cause, telle it me pleyn,
Why þu gost not hom to thy wyf ageyn?’
‘Ȝung man,’ quod ioachym, ‘I wyl trewly
Telle þe now euen lyk as yt is.
I loue my wyf as affectually,
I dar wel seyn, as any man doþe his;
But þis twenty wyntur whiche be-forn þis
We to-gedur han ben, or more I trow,
The seed is lost which I haue sowe.
I wante þe argumentes of a man;
& whan men be reknyd I am lefth behynde;
For no maner isseu may I han,
Neythyr son ne dowghter lyke me in kynde.
& syth in my felde no fruht may fynde,
To telyn it lengur it were but veyne,
As me thynkyth, þis certayne.
For he þat sowyth his feld yerly
Wyth gret dilygence, & hys appyltre
Eche day watryth by and by,
& nout ther-of growth, faryth as he
To staunche his thrust which drynkyth of þe se,
Or betyþe þe wynde, or in grauel doth sowe,
51

Or eryth þe bank were nouȝt wyl growe.
So haue I longe, as it seyde be-fore,
Labouryde in vayne, yf I xal not lye,
Ful xxti ȝere; but I wyl no more.
And also whan I thynk on þe vylany
Whiche I hadde whan þe byscho[p] me hye
Bad owt of þe temple, & myn offrynge
Despysed, cause I haue of mornynge.
These thyngys peysed & oþer moo
Thus auysede, what euere be-tyde
Hom ageyn I wyl neuer more go,
But here wyth myn herdys I wyl abyde,
& wyth good avyhs I wyl prouyde
To sende þe part whiche longeþe hem to
Both temple & wyf & pore men also.’
& whan he thus declaryde had his menynge,
This yunglyng answerde ful demuerely:
‘I am an aungel of þe heuenly kynge,
Which han apperyde þis day sothly
To anne thy wyf, wepynge contenuely,
& now am y sent to declaren þe
How youre prayers & almes of god herd be.
I haue also seyn thy gret schame
& þe hatful reprof of bareynesse,
To þe obiectyd wyth-owt thy blame.
& þis I wyl þu know for sekyrnesse
þat god ys wenger of wyckydnesse,
& whan he þe wombe of his welbelouyde, sothly,
Schettyth, he it opnyth þe more meruelusly.
Sare, þe princes of youre kynrede,
Tyl foure score yer sche was baren,
& þanne she had Isaac, [in] whoos seede
The blessyng of folk promyssed was certeyn.
Bareyn was rachel, þe sothe to sayn,
tyl she hade Ioseph, of egipt gouernour,
& of many folk from hungur þe saluatour.
52

[W]ho amonge dukys was myghtyere
Than was sampson? telle þu me.
Or who amonge Iuges was holyere
Than samuel? whos modres boþe perde
Bareyn; thy wyf stant in lyke degre;
For a doughter she hath, sothlye,
Whos name clepyd shal be marye.
[S]he shal be offred from hyr natiuyte
To goddes temple, of youre bothens vow,
& wyth þe holy gost ful-fyllyd schal sche be
From hyr modir wombe; wherefore þu
Hom to þi wyf go hastely nowe
For blessyd is hyr seed, whos dowghter shal be
Modyr of blysse euerlastynge, perde.’
Of þes tydynges Ioachym affryht
Worchyped þe aungel & þus can seyn:
‘Ser, yf I haue fownde grace in thy syht,
Com & suppe wyth me, I þe pray,
In my tabernacle her be-syde þe wey,
& blesse þi seruaunt.’ onto whom ageyn
Thus þis aungel benygnely gan seye:
‘Conseruaunth, not seruaunth, I wyl þu me cal,
For of o lorde aboue bothe we seruauntes be;
& for my mete is inuysible & my drynk celestyal,
It may not be seyn in þis mortalyte;
Werfore to þy tabernacle compelle not me,
but swiche as þu schuldest gyf to my seruyse,
To god do offren it vp in a brent sacrifice.’
As sone as þis worde was seyd, Ioachym can renne
Vn-to þe schepys folde & brought a lamb clene,
& at þe aungels byddynge he it gan to brenne,
& anon oþer wyse þan Ioachym dede wene,
this aungel, whiche was both bryht & shene
Or than he awar was, euen be-forn his syht,
Wyth þe fume he toke to heuen his flyht.
53

Than Ioachym fel down sodenly
Grouelynges & abasshed ful sore,
& so from sext tyl nyht, sothely,
On þe yorth he lay ase he dede were;
& than hys herdys had purposyde hym b[e]re
To his graue, wenynge he dede had ben,
& þan to hymselfe he cam ayeyn.
And whan he þus ageyn com was
& wel adawed of his swouwnynge,
He tolde his seruantys al[þ]e cas
& what was cause of his fallynge,
& a-non þei hym conseled for any þynge
al þat þe aungel dyde to hym seye
Wythowt taryeng he it shulde obeye.
Aftyr this, as Ioachym gan thynk
In his hert what best was to do,
Slepe aftyr heuynesse made hem to wynke,
& anon þis aungel, euene ryht so
As he had vakynge, appered hem to
Whyl þat he slepte, & on þis wyse
His massage to hym þus he dede deuyse:
‘I am þe aungel þe whiche at assignement
Of god am comaundyde thy kepere to be;
& of my comynge, lo, þis þe entent,
In hasty wyse þat þu home hye the.
Ȝoure prayeris ben harde, & ther-fore ye
Swich a chylde shul haue as neuer to-fore,
Ne neuer schal aftur, of woman be bore.’
And whan Ioachym of his slepe a-woke,
He made hym redy wythowt lettynge,
& þankyd god, & aftur that he toke
Homward his weye, wyth hym ledynge
Bothe herdemen & bestys, forþe softe goynge;
& euer be þe wey as þey dyde walke,
54

Of goddes goodnesse þey dede speke & talke.
And whan þey had ful ner spent
Thryes ten dayes in here journey,
An aungel from heuen to anne was sent,
Whiche bad hyr goon to þe hy cyte
Of ierusalem, wher she shulde ce
At þe gate whiche hath name of golde
Hyr spouse, the ioye of hyr h[o]us[h]o[l]de.
Owt of hyr prayers a-non dede ryse
Thys blessyde anne, & on hyr veye
To Ierusalem-warde, as dede deuyse
The auungel, she gan hyr fast conueye;
& whan at þe goldede gates she sey
Hyr dere spouse comyn wyth his herdemen,
As fast as she myhte she gan to ren.
She toke heed of non oþer thynge
But of hym alone, for in veraay blysse
Here þowte she was for his comynge.
& a-non she gan hym halsen & kysse,
No ioye wenynge þat she myht mysse
Syth she hym hadde, & þus she gan crye:
‘Welkecome, dere spouse, & god gramercy!
I was a wedowe, now I am non.
I was also bareyn and repreuable,
But nowe bareynesse is from me gon,
And to conceyuyn I am made able
Be goddes prouidence eterne & stable;
& for his goodenesse shewyd vnto me
Magnyfyed mot euere his name be.’
Whan þis miracle a-bowte was blowe
Be þe trompet of fame in þat cuntre,
To alle þo þat hem dede loue or know
Ful gret ioy was of þat nouelte,
And specyaly to alle ther offynyte.
& after þis hom þey went, sothly,
55

The promysse abydynge of god mekely.
After þe nyhnte monyth, as I remembre,
Whan phebus in virgine had his curs ny runne,
I mene þe eyghte day of september,
To þe werd appered a newe sunne,
& of annes wombe sprange [þ]e oyle-tunne
Of gracyous helthe to all þat beth seke,
Wyth a deuouht hert if þey wyl it seke;
This is to seyne, þat þis day was born
þe glorious gemme of virginyte,
Syche as neuer non was beforn,
Nor neuer aftyr oþer lyke it shal be;
Whos singuler priuylege was þis, þat she
Shulde mayde be & modyr eke of myssye;
& hyr name þey dede clepe marye.
This lady to preysen as it were skyl
Aftyr [þ]e meryte of hyr worthynesse,
Fer pasyth my wyt thow not my wylle;
I pleynley knowleche myn owne rudnesse.
But who-so wyl knowen, as I do gesse,
In englyssh here laudes, lat hem looke
Of owre ladyes lyf Ihon lytgates booke.
And who in latyn haue luste to know
þis ladyes praysynge retorycally
Expressed, ten bookes on a row
He muste seke, entytlyd sothly
‘Of þe weddynge dytees,’ metryd coryously.
In which tow werkys he shal inow fynde
al þat of me is now lefth behynde.
Aftyr þis, whan phebus (whiche euery day
Chau[n]gith his herberwe, no-wher stabylly
Vsyd to a-byden, for he meuyþ alway)
The xii signes thryes by & by
In þe zodyak cercle had passyde coursly,
& in [þ]e ende of virgo taken his hostayge,
Than was blessyd mary ful thre ȝer of age.
56

And Ioachym dysposed hym, & his wyf
Anne, deuowthly her vow to fulfille,
To offren hyr dowgthter to þe lorde of lyf,
In þe temple þer to dwelle stylle
As long as it plessyd his blessyd wylle;
& to ierusalem for þe same entent
At þe next feste both two they went.
To-forn þe entre of þe temple than
Were xv grees of marbyl grey & brounn,
As olde scriptures wel declare can,
Be whiche to þe temple was þe ascencyon,
& at þe netherest was maria set down,
& she anon ryht vp ouyr on alle dede pace
Wyth-owt ony help saf only of grace.
A wondurful þyng it was to see
that of alle þe while of hyr passage,
Whil she stey vp from gre to gree,
Not-wyth-stondynge hyr tendyrnesse of age,
She neuer of-bak turnyde hyr vysayge,
Nor after fadyr or modyr onys dyde calle,
Tyl she had clomben vp þe grees alle.
Ryht vp also & nothynge stoupynge
Al þe tyme she we[n]t, & euere hyr eye
On þe temple she was lyftynge,
& neuer hyr syht kest oþer weye.
& whan anne hyr modyr þis marvel seye,
Fulfyllyde wyth þe holygostes grace,
þus gan to seyn in þat same place:
‘Owre lorde god, most of puysshaunce,
Past alle oþer, euere blessyde mot be,
Of his holy worde wich haþe remembraunce,
& of his hy grace hathe vysedetyd me
That I no lengere repreuyd shal be,
Whil þat I lyue, of bareynnesse,
Euer worshype to hym for his goodenesse!
And not only from shameful bareynesse
57

I am delyuerde þus singuler[l]y,
But eke hys peple which was in dystresse
He hathe vysyted so marcyfully,
þat thoroghe my fruht, lord, gramercy,
Not I alone but al mankynde
Shal comforth fynde wyth-owten ende.’
Aftyr þis wyth an holy entente
Ioachym & anne bothe two in fere
In þe temple dede vp presente
Mayde marye, wyth ful humble chere,
Preynge to god wyth herte entere
þat he vouchesaf of hys mercy
Here present to acceptyn benyngly.
whan þis was doun they lefte hyr þer,
Ioachym & anne, & hom ageyn
To nazareth went, wher they dwelle[d] er,
& holyly lyuedyn, þis certayn.
But how longe aftur I can not seyn
Ioachym lyued, but wyl know I
Anne had thre dowghters & iche hyht mary;
But wheþer be oon husbonde or ellys be thre,
At þis tyme I wil not determyne,
For in þis mater what best plesyth me
I haue as I can declaryd in latyn
In balaade-ryme, wherfore here to fyne
Seynt annes lyf I fully me conuerte,
þus hyr besechynge wyth ful louly herte:
‘O grasyous anne, wich hast worthyly
of grace þe name, outh of whom dede sprynge
She that of grace most meruelously
& of lyf eterne þe welle dede forth brynge
In-to þis worlde, graunt at my partynge
Be þe fatal cours from þis mutabilyte,
Me in blysse eterne stablisshed to be.
Prouide, lady, eek þat Ion denstone

John Denstō Anna filia katherina uxor eius


& kateryne his wyf, if it plese þe grace
Of god aboue, thorgh þi merytes a sone
58

Of her body mow haue or they hens pace,
As they a dowghter han, yung & fayre of face,
Wyche is anne clepyde in worshyp, lady, of þe,
& aftyr to blysse eterne conuey hem alle thre.
A.M.E.N. lorde for charyte.

Vita Sanctæ Christianæ

Whilom be-syde the lake vulsyne
Stood a cyte wych Tire clepyd was,
As olde storyes do termyne,
Weldful and ful off werldly solas.
Itt wontyd not ellys but goddys grace;
For crystis feyth it wold no wyse tan,
Wych fersly dede pursewyn in euere place
The cruel emperoure that tym dioclicyan.
Off this seyde cyte was a worthy man—
To spekyn as off werldly dignite—
Prefect, whos name was clepyd vrban,
And mayster off knychtys also was he.
A wyff he hade acordyng to hys degre,
Wych yssuyd out off the blode emperiall
But hethyne they were both two, perde,
And off the sect wych men peynyms call.
But lych as oftyn off a full scharp thorn
Flouris spryngyn fayre and delycious,
And off foull erthe grouyth good korn,
Gold eek and siluyre ant stonys precious,
So off these hethene folk and vicyous,
Wych in ydolatrie here lyfe dyde fyne,
A mayde both fayre and eke gracious
Was born, whos name thei clepyd Cristyne.
And whan Cristyne twelue yere was off age,
Nott oonly sche had grete bodyly beute,
59

But also sche was wys, prudent & sage
Past all the wommen off that cyte;
And to loue & serue oonly purposyd sche
Off heuene and erth the lord omnypotent,
And fore a mene tyme she kept secre
Fro fadyr & modyr hyr holy entent.
Vrbane, consyderynge the frech coloure
Off Crystyn hys doughtyre, and the grete beute,
Dyde maken ane hye and a ful solenne toure,
In wych wyth tuelue maydyns put was she;
For he wolde not opynly she seyn shuld be,
Dredyng the peryls that myght befalle;
And goldene goddys hyr ordeynyde he
Wych she shulde wurshepe & for help to calle.
Wowerys there come ful many oonn,
Desyryng to haue hyr in maryage,
But hyre fadyr heme avoydyd euerychone,
Alleggyng the tendyrnes off hire age.
And more-ouyr he seyde that hire curage,
As he wele kneu, was goddys to serue,
From whos seruyce she nolde outrage
For no man thow she shuld sterue.
And no dout thys blessyd cristyne
Disposyd was all on a-nothyr wyse
Than hyr fadyr wende or cowde devyne,
For hoolly hyr hert to goddys seruyse
Applyed was, wher-fore sacryfyse
To ydols done she ne wolde
As hir fadyr bedyn had, but hertly dede despyse
All hys goddis forgyd off syluyr & golde.
Wherefore the gummys an the frankencence
Wych he had ordanyd offryd to be
Off hir to þe honour & to þe reuerence
Off hys goddis, in a wyndou set she
Wych estward stode, where she myght se
Both sunne & mone & many sterrys clere
Coursly furth pascyn, ych in his degre,
60

Where-off she merueld & seyd on þis [manere]
‘Grete is þat god, & magnifyid to be
Most worthy, wych t[h]rogh his good grace
Oonly & for none oþir necessite
Alle þeese hath ordeynit for mannys solace.
But my fadris goddis wyth here goldene face
Kan not do so, aftyr myne entent,
Wherfore his name be gloryfyed in euere place,
Whos dwellyng is aboue the firmament.
Hym I oonly wyl seruyne & none othyr
Whyl at I lyue, thow þat I schuld deye;
For schal I neuer for fadyr ner modyr
Ner for no creature turne othir weye.
In þis me stablych, lord I þe preye,
And suffre me neuyre to goon þere-fro;
For þow I þe not se wyth my bodely eye,
Yett in þe I trust oonly, lorde, & in no mo.’
Thus þis Cristyn full dayis seuene
Forth went & wolde no sacrifyse
To othyr doon but to god off heuene.
And þan þo tuelue maydynis to hir seruyse
Wych hir fadir specialy dede deuyse
Beforn hir knelyng wyth grete reuerence,
All to-gedyr in full humbyl wyse
Thus to hir expressyd þere sentence:
‘O lady, whos face is emperyall
And ouer to regny[n] moost worthy,
To whom may neythir greth nere small
In beute comparyd bene egally,
We gretly merualyn the cause why—
And yete us loth were þe for to greue—
That, as us semyth, vnresonabylly
Thou erryst from þi fadyrs beleue.
Thou worshepyst a god wych we not knowe,
Nere noon of oure aunsetrys us beforn;
And yf þis fame to þi fadyr be blowe,
This is doutlese we be but lorn.
61

Both us were bettir neuyr ha be born;
For he wyl seyne þat be our suggestyoune,
And noon oþir beleue, thow we it had sworn,
Brought þou were in þat opynyoune.
And yf algatis þat it cum þere-too,
That he it us bere on hande styfly,
Whethir schul we fle? what schul we doo?
Allas, we confoundit ben vttyrly!
Haue on þi-self, we besech, mercy
Fyrst & formest, & aftyr on us,
And suffre not for a lytil foly
Both us & þe to perysshe þus.’
Whan þese maydyns on þis manere
Had made here compleynt þus petously
Wepyng, Cristyne wyth a sad chere
To hem answeryd thus benyngly:
‘Why sey ye þus, maydyns? wold ye þat I
Schuld to þese ydols for socour craue,
Wych as I wel know sensibylly
Mow me nere other hurt nere saue?
Not so, damysels, but þis hold I best,
Hym to worschip & seruyn wych wyl & may
Both body & soul makyn to rest
Here and in joye þat lestyth ay,
Wher neuer is nyht but euyr day
A thousend-fowld bryhter þan ony is here.
Hym wyl I worchip, þis no nay,
Euyr whyl I lyue wyth hert entere.’
And whyl þei were thus in here talkyng,
Hyr fadir cam jn to behold & se
Iff his doughtir made deuly hir offryng
To his goddys as comaundyd had he.
But sche to hym attende wold in no degre,
But, opnyng hir wyndoo, wyth a wepyng eye
Upward to heuyne deuouthly lokyd sche,
And god in hyr herte dyde worchyp & preye.
And whan urbane off Cristyne sey þis chere,
He clepyd hir to hym in goodly [w]yse
62

And seyde, ‘dere doughtyr, why commyst no nere
On-to my goddis & doost hem sacrifyse,
Lych as thou off me hast lernyd þe guyse
From thyk tym þat þou fyrst was bore?
Wher-fore, come furth, as I the deuyse,
And doo now as þou hast doon here before.
Knowyst þou not wele wyth what labowr
And wepynge, doughtyr, & what heuynes,
Wyth how grett reuerence & eke honour
I the purchascyd off my goddis goodnes?
Ne hap thanne that for þine vnkyndenes
They in þere wreth on the tak wreche,
Come furth anoon, and wyth all lowlynes
Do to hem sacrifyce, I the beseche.’
Thys blessyd Cristyne, enspyryd wyth grace,
Thus seyde to hir fadyr ful demurely:
‘Thynkyst thou, juge, that I trespace
For I worchyp god in heuyn on hy?’
‘Nay, doughtyr,’ quod he, ‘but þis I holde foly,
That þou in þyne herte doost suppryse
And tendryst oo god so affecteuously
That for hym all oþir þou doste dyspise.’
‘Heldyst þou my seruyse þan veyn & lost—
Sey treuth, I þe beseche—’ quod sche,
‘Wych fadyr, sone & holy goost
I do worshyp?’ ‘nay, but þan,’ quod he,
Syth not oonly oon þou worchepst, but thre,
As þou doost knoulechyn here oopynly,
Why wylt þou not in lych degre
Othyr goddys wyth hem seruyn comounly?’
‘Now perseue I ryght well,’ quod Cristyne,
‘That þou wantyst wyt and vndyrstondynng,
And lakkyst the influence of grace diuyne
To knou þe hye mysterie off þis þynge,
How thre personys haue but oo beynge
In substance, & woldyst so craftyly
To þat fals conclusioun me bryng
That mo goddys þan oon wurshyp schuld I.
63

Itt wyl not bene. I knou þi wylle
And hou besy þou art to disceuyn me;
But yet schalt þou not me so begylle
Vndir þe nounbir off a ternyte.
Laboure no more, for it schal not be;
For but oon god neuyr wurshyp schal I.
And yet I knouleche þat þere ern personys þre,
So distynct þat noon is oþir treuly.
Hym wyl I loue, hym wyl I serue,
Wyth uery & hertyly subieccioune,
Wych from all euyl may me preserue,
And in ych nede be my proteccyoune,
And not thy goddys wych neyþir moune
Heryn ne seyn nere vndirstond,
Ner from here plase meuyn up nore down
Wyth-owtyn help off mannys hand.
Wherfore me ordeyne neu frankensence,
Wyche wyth all clennes off hert I may
Offryn up to his souereyn reuerence
Wyche regnyth in heuyn & hath doon ay.
Also ordeyn me neu & clene aray,
In wych, despoylyd off myne olde clothyng,
I may hym off foryeuenes pray
Off þo defautys wych I dyd ying.’
And anoon hir fadir aftyr hir entent,
As hastily as he it coude deuyse,
Ordeynyd hir a neu garnement
And neu encens ek for sacrifyse.
And when it come was, she hir dede disguyse
And went up to hir wyndo aboue,
And made hir offryng in ful humbyl wyse,
Thus seyng to hir lord, hir loue:
‘O lord, wych duellyst in heuyn aboue,
O saueour, wych of þi fadyr were sent
64

On-to þis world for mannys loue
And suffriddyst for hym ful hard iugement;
O blyssyd ihesu, accept the entent
Off þyne handmayde & me strong make
þat I neuer, for swych torment
As me is ordeynyd, doo þe forsake,’
When she þus hade preyid, beforn hir face
Anne aungel stode both bryght and clere,
And seyde: ‘o Cristyn, fulfillyd wyth grace,
Our lorde hath herde þi preyere.
Be stronge in hym & make good chere,
For of thre jugis þou examynyd schal be;
But god the forsak wyl in no manere,
That hys uertu may glorifyde bene in the.’
‘Now, lord god,’ quod Cristyn, ‘myn helpere be,
That no man off me haue the victory.’
‘Thy desyr is grauntyd, Cristyn,’ quod he;
And wyth þat a loof she perceyuyd hir by,
As whyte as snou and þan hony
Swettere, wych whan sche dede take
And had yt tastyd ful deuouthly,
To god þus thankyng she dyde make:
‘Gramercy, lord, ful off goodnesse,
Wych me a loof of immortalite
Hast sent in tokyn off foryifnesse
Off my synnys þrough þi pyte.
Gramercy, lord, off thy cheryte
Wych hast me kept þat I am not deed;
For through my fadrys greth cruelte
These dayis tuelue er sau I no brede.’
And at euyn hyre fadrys goddys ychoon
Off gold & siluyr, stondyng by a wall,
Cristyn brak on pecys many oon,
And by a wyndou lete hem down fall
In-to þe strete, & pore men dyde call,
And made off hem a distrybucioun
To all þat come both grete & small,
Not dredyng hyr fadrys persecucioun.
The next morou whan vrban anoon
65

Came up his doughtyr for to se,
And fond hys goddys disperbyld & goon,
In his yrous passion, ful off cruelte,
Hys doughtrys maydyns to hym clepyd he,
And þus to hem seyde ful sturdely:
‘Where ern—in hasty wyse tellyth me—
My glorious goddys and vndedely?’
At þis worde þeis madyns fel doun,
So afferde þei were off his cruel chere,
And seyde, ‘syre, þou haste of us dominacioun
And mayst doon wyth us what þou wylt here;
We may þe not fleen in no maner:
Wherfore pleynly we wyl þou knou,
That at þis wyndou þi douchtyre dere
Thy golden goddys dyde all out throu.’
Whan urban þese maydens wordis dyde here,
Hys doughtir he smote ful bustously
Up-on þe cheke, & seyde on þis manere:
‘Tell me wher be my goddys redyly,
Ere I the asayle wyth more tormentry.’
‘If þei be goddys let hem spekyn,’ quod she,
‘For hem-self here all opynly,
And so prouyn here godly dignite.’
As sche þus had seyde, in here presence
He sentencid þe maydyns heuedid to be;
And anoon executyd was hys sentence.
Quod Cristyne, ‘o tyraunth wyth-out pyte,
Why sleest these innocentis in þis degre
Wyth-out cause? I þe warn suthly
Thys blode shal worthely dampne þe,
And godis ueniance shal þe folwyn hastyly.’
Whan vrban þis herd, ful furyously
Wyth yerdis hyr comaundyd bete to be.
And anone she chorgyd was so cruelly
That uerrey pete it was to behold & se.
Yet wer hir turmentours wers greuyd than she,
For so wery þei were þat þai doun dyde fal.
Urban þis seyng nere wode was he,
66

And thretyd hem & cowardis them dyde cal.
But whyl blyssyd Cristyn þus tormentyd was,
She chaungid neythir hir colour ne hir chere,
For fulfyllyd she was wyth heuynly solace;
And to hyr fadir sche seyd on þis manere:
‘O thou hateful to god & man in fere,
What may þi peynys & þi thretis doo?
Seest thou not þi seruandis ouyrcomyn here,
And thy fadir þe deuyl & þine own wyt also?’
Than comayndyd þis urbane wyth-out let
Off strong yryn a colere ful vnpeteusly
About hir nek fast to be schet,
And aboutyn handis & feet chenys myghty,
And so in presone to be put ful cruelly.
Wych doon, he home went on-to his plas,
And fel down platlyngys, sorwyng heuely
That of her doughtyr he so despisyd was.
Whan cristynys modir pleynly had herd
Hou sche of hir fadyr swych tormentry
Had suffryd, as a wood womman she ferd,
Renttynge hir clothis euene by & by,
And asshes sche strowed on hir heed on hye,
And to the presoun þus arayd she went,
Wher, fallyng doun & wepyng petously,
To hir doghtyr she expressyd þus hyr entent:
‘O doughtir Cristyn, haue mercy on me
Thi wrechid modyr, for þe al oonly
I haue and no mo, wych awtyst to be
The lyght of myn eyn: thynk, dowghtir, þat I
Ten monethis þe bare in my body,
And wyth grete peyn in-to þis world þe brought.
Is þis wurship, doughtyr, þus syngulerly
To wurshipyn a god at we knou noght?’
But she whom grace dede illumyne
To hir modir þus ansuerd anone ageyn:
‘Is þere ony of þi kyn clepyd Cristyne?’
‘Noon þat I knou,’ quod hyr modyr, ‘certeyn’.
‘But þou þan trauaylist’, quod she, ‘in veyn,
67

To clepe me doughtyr, & lesyst þi labour;
For þis I wyl þou know in wurdys pleyn
My name I haue of cryst my creatour.
He is my fadir, he is modir also,
Wych me hath clepyd to heuenly cheualrye.
Hym wol I seruyn, hym wyl I wurshyp do,
Wych me assuryd hath to haue victorye
Off al þo þat, blyndyd by ydolatrye,
Not worchipyn þe god þat omnypotent is,
And al þo maunmettys fully to diffye,
In whos seruyse ye you excercysyn a-mys.
Wherefore go hens, & labour nomore.
Clepe me not doughtyr; here I þe forsake.’
And she home went wyth-outyn more,
And all þis processe told to hir make.
And he for angyr gan tremelyn & quake,
And be his goddys swore þat þe next day
Yf he leuyd he veniauns shuld take
Off his doughtrys wordys wythout delay.
The next morwe he Cristyne dede brynge
To þe pretorye opynly, & whan wommen seye
Thus cruelly tretyd þis feyre mayde yinge,
Among hem was meny a wepyng eye,
And wyth a grete woys þai þus dyde preye:
‘O god of þis mayde, hir help, preye we,
And þus shamefully ne suffre hir for to deye,
Wych in tendyr age doth to þe fle.’
Whan urban hir sey, syttyng in hys see,
‘Cristyne,’ quod he, ‘what is þe cause why
Aftyr þe custum vsyd in þis cuntre
To oure goddys þou sacrifysyst not reuerently,
Wych mow þe help in þis errour treuly
Where-in þrogh reklesheed þou arte falle?
And yf þou nylt, I shal wyth torment[r]y
The assaylyn, & neuer more doughtir calle.’
‘I-wys, cruel tyraunth,’ quod þan cristyne,
‘Thou doost me greth grace yf þou wylt so,
68

Neuere aftyr to clepe me doughtir þine.
I not hou for me þou myght more do.’
And aftyr þat worde he hir commaundyd, lo,
On a iebet to bene hange euene þere present;
And þe tormentours anone hir come to,
And wyth instrumentis of yryn hir sydys þei rent.
Whyl þese tormentours so cruelly dyde schrape
Cristynys sydis & hir flesh dyde race,
A gobet þer-of, as she had lyst to iape,
Sche threu, þus seying, in-to hir fadir face:
‘O ould shreu of yll dayis þat pace,
Syth þou desyryst flessh for to eet,
Seke no forthere nere in noon oþer place.
Haue of þine own & faste gyne to frete.’
And whan vrban, off paciens hauyng no deel,
The wurdys herd, he his doughtyr dere,
From þe iebet doun takyn, on ane yrnene whele
To be set hir bad, & to make vndir grete fere;
And þat no pyte in hym shuld apere,
Oyle castyn þere-in he bad cruelly.
In wych tyme to heuenward hir chere
She lyft up, & preyid þus deuoutly:
‘O god in heuyn wych hast þi duellyng-place,
Fadyr of cryst ihesu wych euer blyssyd be,
Thyn handmaydyn here, of þi special grace,
And in þis grete conflyct, for-sake not me.
Sheu on þis fere þi myht & þi pouste,
Wych here is ordeynyd to my torment,
That þei mow knowyn wych know not the
That þou al-one art lord omnipotent.’
And whan Cristyne had on þis manere
Endyd hir preyere & it fully do,
Sodeynly sprang abouten þe fere
And brent a thousand & fyue hundred also
Off hem wych sacrifyse þe ydols dyde to.
And anone vrban to hem dyde calle
Cristyn, and seyd, ‘tel me fast who
Thys wychecraft þe tawht—foul hym be-falle!’
69

These wordys cristyne ansuerd þus to:
‘O cruel tyraunth, ful of vnpyte,
What nede is to aske þe demaund who
Thys wychecraft me taucht, syth I told þe
That cryst my fadir is, and noon but he,
Wych paciens me yiuyth to suffre mown.
He is lycht of þe blynde þat mow not se,
And ioy of hem þat suffren tribulacyoun.
He is my mastyr, & he aloonly tawt me
The dreed of hym & eek al ryghtfulnes.
So perfyte a maystir is nowhere as he,
Thorch whose doctryne al þi frowardnes
I haue ouyrcomyn, & al þi cruelnes
Off swych tormentis as þou canst deuyse.
Wher-fore þi pouer both more & les
Wyth sathanas þi fadir I despise.’
Wyth þese wurdis, vrban, sore agreuyd
And trowblyd in hym-selph tempesteuously,
Thynkynge heuy þus to be repreuyd,
He þought what wyse he mycht vterly
Hyr lesyn; & shettyn he hir dyde hastly
In a therk presoun wythout solace,
In-to wych she entryd ryht gladly,
Syngyng & thankyng god in þat place.
And as sone as Cristyn þus entryd was
In-to þat horribyl & lothful lake,
Þre aungellis aperyd befor hir faas,
Bryngyng hir brede als whyt as lake,
Wyth oþir mete, and anone dyde take
Hir woundis cure; & she, up lokynge
To heuenward, began hir preyere make
Wyth deuout corage, þis wyse seyinge:
‘O lord ihesu cryst, thankyt þou be,
Wych off þi grace & off þi goodnes
Vouchyddyst-saf not to forgettyn me
Þine handmayde in my distres,
But hast me sent of þi gentilnes,
Be þine holy aungellis heuynly mete,
70

Such as ryht well I dar expres
In all erth shuld men noon gete.’
And þat self nyht þis cursyd man
Fiue seriauntys on-to þe preson bad goon—
I mene þe vnpetous & cruel vrban—
And bynd he hem bad ane heuy stoon
To cristynys nek, & furthwyth anoone
Hir caryin & castyn in-to þe see.
And as he comaundyd þai went ychone
And performyd hys cursyd & cruel decre.
And whan in þe see þai had throwe
Cristyn, þus boundyn to a stone heuy,
These men home fast ageyn dyde rowe;
And anoon of aungelis a grete cumpany
Dyde hir uplyfte, wyth whom on hye
On þe watir she went, on no manere
Hurt nere appeyryd; & þan hertly
To god she made þus hir preyere:
‘O lord, wyth moyses þi seruanth entere
Wych wentyst, & pharoo, þad dede pursu
Thi peple, drynklyddyst in þe salt mere,
And guyddydyst petir when þe tempest greu,
Thyn handmayde now saue be þe same uertu,
And þe lauatorye me graunt of immortalite
Here in þis watir, o blyssyd lord ihesu,
And wyth þe lycht of grace illumyne now me.’
And whyl blyssyd Crystyne þus dede preye,
Goddys maieste to hir she seye commynge,
And on his heed set a goldene crowne she seye;
Off purpyl pure a stolle was his clothynge;
And wyth odoure of rychels ful suete smellyng,
Beforn hym passyd aungels many oon,
And wyth ympnys & psalmys wel tonyng,
Thousandis of aungellis aftyr hym dyd goon.
And when Cristyn þis gloryus syht dede se,
Doun plat she fel up-on þe watyr clere,
For wyth grete feer astoynyd was she.
71

And anone þe good lord, cumynge hir nere,
Hyr up lyft, and seyd, ‘be of good chere,
Cristyn, dere doughtir! I am þi sauyour
Whom þou louyst & seruyst wyth hert entere.
I come to delyuyr þe fro ydols errour.
I am ihesu, lord of þe heuynly ost,
Lycht, graunter of grace to þem, in humbyl wyse
That my fadir & me clepyn in þe holy gost,
And al fals maumettys hertly despyse.’
And wyth þat wurd he hir dyde baptyse
Wyth his own handys in þe salt see,
And from þe water whan she dyde upryse,
In þe myddys he hir set of þe cyte.
And þan Cristyn, knelyng on eþir kne,
Thankyd enterly god of his grace;
And vpward wyth þat hir eyne lyft she,
And sey heuyn opyn & ihesu in pas;
And þar-wyth she fel doun on hir face,
Deu reuerence doynge to cryst, god almycht.
And aftyr she entryd in-to hir fadir place,
In preyer contunyng tyl it greu day-lycht.
And whan þe day sprongyn & fled was þe nyt,
And urban in his pretorye Cristyn fond preyng,
He gretly ameruel was off þat syht,
And thretyd hys seruauntys þat þei had wenyng
Hym illudyd; and wythout lettyng
To presoun he hir chargit anoon to be sent.
On þe next day, euyn in þe mornyng,
He comaundyd beforn hym hire to be present.
‘Cristyne,’ quod he than, ‘what enchauntement
Vsyst þou, þat drynklyn may þe not þe see?’
‘Marryd in þi resoun & in þi wyttys blent,
Wyth-owtyn vndirstondyng thou art,’ quod sche,
‘And ellys well knowen þou shuldyst þat me
This nyht my god ihesu dyde baptise;
Wherfore þi fadir þe deuyl and eke þe
Wyth all þi fals goddys I dredles despise.’
These wordis vrban so sore dyde agryse,
72

Þat anoon to presoun he hir sent ageyn,
Purposyng þe next day in moost cruel wyse
Wythout more deley hir to slee, certane.
What doyst þou, vrban? þou labouryst in vayne,
For victory of to mo she must haue wyth þe,
As to hir be reuelacioun told was ful pleyn.
For wych conclusioun she preyid in þis degre:
‘O lord ihesu cryst, wych doun to me
Þis nyht from heuyn com for my solace,
& me dedyst baptyse in þe salt see
Wyth þine own handys, of þi specyal grace,
Behold hou þine handmayde vrban doth manace
To-morwe to sleyn þrogh his cruel wreche;
Lord, aftyr his meritys lat hym hens pace,
And frustrat hym of his wyl, I þe beseche.’
Thys preyer endyd, as doth þe story teche,
Entryng þe presoun, she god dyde magnifye.
And þat same nyht fel[l] on hym þe wre[c]he
Þat she preyid for; wyth swych tormentrye
Þe deuyl hym vexyd þat he loude gan crye,
For al his entraylys for uere peyn dyde swelle;
And in þe same oure he orrebylly dyde dye,
And aftir hys desert went to þe deuyl of helle.
And whan men to cristyne þis þing dide telle,
Sche knelyd, deuoutly þus made hir prayere:
‘Lord god, gremercy, of al goodnes þe welle,
Þat þou on vrban hase shewyd þi pouere,
Wych from þi promyssys was foreyn & strengere.
The semyth, lord, honoure & preysyng of al men,
Wych wyth þi oonly sone & þe holy gost in fere
Lyuyst and regnyst, oo god, now & euyr, Amen.’
Not long aftyr, whan þe rhy[t]uyhsnesse

2 pars. incipit


Of god on vrban had þus ueniaunce take,
And Cristyne delyueryd out of dystresse,
A new prefect þe emprour dyd make,
73

Wych grete lust had for to doon wrake
On cristene men in euere plase
Wher he coude eny cache or take;
And zyon þis prefectys name was.
And anoon was hit presentyd hym al þe case
Of cristyne, be þe offycers of þe cyte;
And whan he it red, wyth a pale fase,
He astoynyd was of þat nouelte.
And anoon he askyd where she myht be,
And þei ful redyly hym dyde telle
That neþir hyd nere fled was she,
But in þat cyte she styl dyde dwelle.
And moreouyr þus in his herte
He thowte: ‘to here goddys to sacrifyse
Syth turmentis hir ne myht conuerte,
How shul I do, & in what wyse
Shal I hir moun feryn & agryse,
To my conclusyoun þat she asent?’
And anoone, be uertu of hys offyse,
He chargyd men furth hir to present.
And whan she brouht was hym beforn,
Þus wyth feyr speche he hir gan asayle,
And sayd, ‘o damysel, worthily born,
And to oft, me semyth, distressyd in gayle,
I wold wet what it may þe auayle
To forsakyn þe goddys wych leuyn ay
And of her godhed makyn a mayle,
And worchipyn oon þat þe help ne may.
Not so, doughtir, but aftyr my consell
Com furth, & to our goddis sacrifyse,
And I þi dignyte to þe [e]mperour shal tell
Off þi byrth, & in ful hasty wys
Thou maryd shal bene aftyr our guyse
To sum curyal of ryht gret dignite.
And so to grete worship þou shalt ryse,
74

As askyth þi byrth & þi beute.’
‘Cesse, iuge, þes wordys,’ quod Cristyne, ‘to me,
For sekyr in veyn is al þi labour;
For pleynly I wyl þou knowe,’ quod she,
‘Þat neþir þou nere þine emperoure
Shal doo me forsake my creatoure,
Cryst ihesu, of heuyn þe kyng,
And doon þeis ydols godly honour,
Wych by mannys hand haue here beyng.’
‘Damysel,’ quod he, ‘þou art to blame
Thus att the begynnyng me to rehete,
But I shal þe teche a neu game,
Wych shal þe make blood for to swete.’
And wyth yerdis anoon he hir bad be bete
Of his tormentouris ful vnpytously,
But norforþan she ne wold lete
Hym to rebuke þus stedefastly:
‘O cruel tyraunth, ful of malyncoly,
Art þou not ashamyd wyth so lytyl peyn
Me to assayle? wenyst þou not at I
This & mo assayd haue, þis certayn?
Thy broþir vrban me ne myht constreyn
These ydols to worship ne to serue.
Tak þis for ansuer in wordys pleyn:
Nere þou ne shalt, thowe thou doo me sterue.’
Zyon, aggreuyd wyth þis ansuere,
A vessel of bras, ful hoot brennyng,
Full of py[c]he, rosen, oyle & smere,
Wythout let he þeddyr dyde bryng,
And bad kastyn þer-in þis maydyn ying,
And assignyd four men wyth stauys myhty
Off yryn þer-ynne hir to turn & swyng,
That she mycht dye þe more hastyly.
Whan Cristyne sau þis vessel stondyng,
To heuyn wyth terys she kest hir eye,
And seyd, ‘o god, lord of al þing,
Wyth lowly hert to þe I preye,
75

To thre chyldryn wych [cuen]chyddyst the leye
Off þe flaummyd furnes, be now present
To þine handmayde, & lat me not deye
Wyth þis orrybyl & cruel torment.’
And whan she þus had offryd hir hertys entent
To god, or þe tormentours comyn hir nere,
To þe seyd uessel she frely went,
And leyd hir þere-in wyth a glad chere;
And in no wyse hurt hir þe fyre;
For wyth heuynly deu she enbamyd was,
So as she had in a full fresh herbere
Amoung flourys lyne & amoung grene gras.
‘Cristyne,’ quod zyon, ‘as I now wel se,
Thys feer hath þe touchyd yet no thyng.
Wherfore, aftyr þe counsel of me,
To owr immortal goddys yif deu þankyng,
And wyth frankensence cum make offryng
To hem, lych as þou knouyst þe guyse,
Thorch whose uertu and special we[r]kyng
Thou art preseruyd now in þis wyse.’
‘Syre iuge,’ quod Crystyne, ‘what is þi name?’
‘My name,’ quod he, ‘yf þou lyst to know,
Is Zyon, wych be þe trumpet off fame
In meny a cuntre ful wyde is blow.’
‘Thys name,’ quod she, ‘rychtfully I trow
To þe pertynyth, for of blynd ydolys,
Dowm & crokyd, wych to ouyrthrow
It is no maystry, a name þis is.’
Zyon, þis heryng, commandyd & bad
Þat anoon hir heed shuld shauyn be,
And brennyng colys þere-up-on be sprad.
And when wommen þis seyn of þis cyte,
Thei cryid, & seyd, ‘o juge, þi decre
Is wroung & wrocht ful vnrychtfully,
For in [þis] mayde als mych as in þe
76

All wommen þou confoundyst utirly.’
Whan þis was doon, a-noon hastyly
To presoun ageyn he hir send þens;
And on þe next morowyn folwyng erly
He hir chargyd be brought to his presens;
And þus he expressyd hir his sentence:
‘Cristyn, lete us now to þe tempil go,
And worship þere appoloos hye reuerence,
That þe delyuyr wyl from þis wo.’
And anoon furth-wyth þis blyssyd Cristyne,
Hir hool trust in god fully puttyng,
And by influens enspyrid of grace diuyne
Wyth þe juge & al þe peple folwyng,
Entryng þe temple & in þe myddys stondyng,
To þe heþin peple seyde on þis wyse:
‘Sethe now þe treuthe of goddys wyrkyng,
And beholdyth how I now shal sacryfyse.’
And whil þei abydyn to se þe yssu
Off hir entent, she preyde on þis manere:
‘O my lyht, cryst! o myne hoop, ihesu!
O, of god þe oonly begotyn entere!
O my blyssyd lord! here þe preyer
Off þyne handmayde, & þis ydol lothly
Distroy & brek all to poudyr here,
By wych meny erryn dampnabylly!’
And whan hir preyer þus endyd had she
The ydol fel doun euyn from his place
All in-to poudir, as ych man myht se;
And for feer þe juge fel on hys face.
And when he had so lyne a long space,
He roos up & seyd wyth grete wondryng:
‘Cristyne, þou hast doon gret trespace.
Thy wychcraftys passyn al our connyng.’
Whan Cristyn herd þus zyon seyin,
She gan to syhyn ful heuely,
And a grete voys she seyd ageyn:
‘O cursyd tyraunt, & uery enmy
Off god in heuyn & of al hooly,
77

Thou seyist þat appollo shuld a god be,
Be whom meny soulis erryn greuously.
And yete be mannys hand made was he.
Swych a god is noht, as þinkyth me.’
& þan she lokyd on þe pepyl about
And seyde, ‘serys, behold here and se
Your god to whom ye wer wount to lout.
Lo where he lyth; his eye is owte.
But to reysyn hym up ye yow now drese;
And yf ye ne moun, wyth-owtyn doute,
Knowyth þat swych godhede is fonnydnese.’
At these wordis both sage & wyhse,
Ful meny a peynym conuertyd was,
And begunne to cryin on þis wyse:
‘O god & lord ouer euere plase,
And of Crystine þi seruanth, grant us grace
Thyne holy name both to loue & drede.
And forgyf us, lord, þis grete trespace
That we to ydols haue tak swych hede.
We were disseuyd for lak of doctryne,
And so in ydolatrye owr errour was long,
But now, þurgh help of þis blyssyd uirgyne,
The trew beleue we doon vndir-foung,
Wych for to kepe, lord, mak us strong,
And neuere it to forsak, þowe we shuld dye,
And wyth goostly ioy & wyth heuynly soung
Þyne holy name euere to gloryfye.’
And at þat tyme conuertyd were þere
Thre thowsend peynyms be trew computacioun.
And when zyon þis sey, for uery fere,
What for appollo his goddys desolacioun,
And what for þe peplys sudeyn transmutacioun,
He fel doun & deyid euyn suddeynly.
And whan to Cristyne was made relacioun,
She þankyd god, seying þus deuoutly:
‘Gremercy, lord, wych art euyr redy
To þeme þat trustyn in þi goodnes,
Wych also shewyst oftyn how myhty
78

Thou art here enmys to repres.’
And when she þat þankyng expres,
Oon þat was þe iugys assessour
To presoun hir sent of his cruelnes,
Tyl a neu iuge come from þe emperour.
And whan Cristyne was entryd þat lothly toure,
She knelyd, seying þus: ‘o eternally
Reynyng in blys, fadir, creatour,
Wyth ihesu cryst þi sone begottyn oonly,
Wyth whom þe holy goost eek egally
Leuyth & regnyth, yete ye al thre,
In personys distynct substancially,
Arn but oo god in trinite.
Gramercy, lord, wych of þi benignite
Voushyd-safe þi promys to acomplyse,
Wych þow madyst, lord, onys to me
By ane holy aungel in gracious wyse,
My fadrys counsel when I dede despyse,
That thre iugys shuld ful cruelly
Wyth torment asseyn me to gryse;
And off all þou me grauntyst þe victory.
Gramercy, lord, for now wel trust I
Þat þe tyme, lord, [is] aprochyde nere
Wych þou wyl me takyn to þi mercy
And bryng abouyn þe sterrys clere.
For to iugis bene furth passyd here
Wyth-inne short tyme, as knowyn al men.
Now, lord, sheu me þi goodly chere
In blys eterne where þow regnyst, amen.’
A noon aftyr þat zyon furth was went

3 pars. hic incipit.


Wher goddys rhytwysnes hym wold haue,
From þe emperour anoon was sent
A neu iuge to Tyre, clepyd Iulyane,
A paynym eke & a full cruel man,
Whose joy & lust was euyr newe,
Aftyr þe wyl of hys fadyr sathan,
79

Cryst & Cristyne for to pursewe.
Upon wych he was ful inguysytyf
Of iugys actys wych was hym before,
And anoon was presentyd hym þe lyfe
Of blyssyd Cristyn & of al hir loor,
And how þoo to iugis haddyn it swor
She ne myht be broght from hir entent.
And anoon Iulyan, wythout moor,
For hir to presoun hys offycers sent.
And whan she was to hys presens brouht:
‘By þi wychecrafth many wundrys,’ quod he,
‘Thou hast doon; but yete dout it noht
Thow shalt in no wyse ouercomyn me.
Wherfor do sacryfyse I counsel þe
To our immortale goddys, or I shal applye
To þe [s]wych peynys wych feerful shuld be
To þi ihesu, born of Ioseph & Marye.’
‘Held þi pees,’ ful loude Cristyn gan crye,
‘O tyraunth cruel wyth-out discrecioun,
And lych a man fallyn in-to a frenysye!
Þis iniurye no wyse myn eerys here moun,
Þat þow, as a dogge wyth-out resoun
Berkyng, blaspheme þat name hooly
In whos honour euere kne boueth doun
Off heuyn & of erth & of hel lothly.’
Whan Iulyan þis herd he wex angry,
And in his angyr anoon comandyd he
In ane ouene thre dayis contenuelly,
Wych fersly brent, hire shet to be.
But Cristyne, trustyng in þe trinyte,
Wyth tokne of cros hir foor-heed merkyng,
Entryd þe furneys, wher whan was she,
God she dyde preyse deuouthly syngyng.
And whan þe sowdeours wythoute stondyng
Herdyn hir wyth-inne þus god magnyfye,
To Iulyane þei runne, euyn þus seying:
‘We þe be-sech, syr, ful humbyllye,
Wrath þe not wyth us, for whan we aspye
80

Dyde Crystyn, in þe furnes whom shet had we,
Gret god of heuene preysyn & glorifye,
Ful fast for feer we a-wey dyde fle.’
Iulyan, astoynyd of þis new case,
Commaundyd þe ouen vndoon to be.
Wher-inne Cristyn as shynyng was
As is þe sunne in his degre;
And anoon all harmles out cam she,
Preseruyd be þe grace of goddys uertu,
And wyth hympnys & soungys ful of melodye
She excellyd & preysyd hir lord ihesu.
And wyth þat Iulyan hir dyde commawnde
To-forn his bench to be made present,
And of hir he askys þis demaunde:
‘Why preuaylyst þou? & be what enchauntement
Is it at þou art not all to-brent?
Sey me anoon, ere ellis pleynly
Thy tendyr body shal bene al to-rent
Wyth sundry peynys & diuers tormentrye.’
Yet efthsonys quod Cristyn, ‘hold þi pees,
O vnhappy tyraunth, voyd of al goodnes.
To aske swych demaundys some tyme cees,
Wych þou ne owyht to knou for þi cursydnes.
But by þi þretys & by þi malyciousnes
I set noht, for as feythfully as I kan
In ihesu I trust & in his mercyfulnes,
And drede not to me what doth ony man.’
Wyth þis answer wood was Iulyan,
And clepyd to hym oon wych had cunnyng
Serpentys to charm, and as he wold han
Hys lordshepe hym chargyt wyth-out lettyng
Two hornyd serpentys furth for to bryng,
And two snakys wyth-al, & when þei come were:
‘I trow,’ quod he, ‘þat al þine enchauntyng
Shal not let þeis serpentys þe to dere.’
‘Thow art euer alych new for to lere,’
Quod Crystyne, ‘o fonne, as in þis degre.
Wenyst þou my god lyk þi goddys were
81

Off ownpowere? nay, pleynly,’ quod she,
‘For he þat in al my tormentys hath be
Myne helper, & me neuer dyde forsake,
May, and he wyl, now defendyn me,
And of al þi serpentys me victrych make.’
And wyth þat woord, to doon hir wrake,
Vp-on hir heed þe serpentys to
He dyd do cast and eythyr snake,
Wenyng þat þei hir harm shuld do;
But als soon as þe serpentys comyn hir to,
Thei claspyd hir helys ant þe dust dyde lykke
Þer-fro, & heng up-on hir pappys also
Lyk smal infauntys wych kun no wykke.
Thys sycht wyth sorou þe hert dyde prykke
Of Iulyan, and anoon on-to þe incantatour:
‘Thy craft,’ he seyde, ‘is not worth a flykke!
I trow þou art turnyd to þis wycchys errour.’
And wyth þat þe ma[n] dyde al hys labour
To steryn hem wyth wordys of wycchecrafth
To haue stung hir, but þat same our
They hir left & hym hys lyfe berafth.
And whan þe pepyl wych þere present was
Sey þe incantatour deed on þis manere,
Þei were so afferd of þis veniabyl case
Þat aftyr þat our for no mystere
Durst oon of hem com Cristyne nere
Ne touche neþir serpent nore snake.
Crystyne, þis seying, to heuyn hir chere
Kest up, & þus hir preyer dyde make:
‘O lord god wych in heuen doost duelle,
And sentyst þi sone our kynd to tan,
And clepyddyst lazer a-geyn from helle,
Her me þin handmayden wych as I kan
The lowly beseche for þi dede man.
Qwyk hym ageyne, lord, þrough þi mercy,
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That al men seying wych resoun han
May thy name glorify now & endlesly.’
And whan she þus had endide hir prayere,
Þis voys from heuene cam doun opynly:
‘O blyssyd Cristyne, my doughtir dere,
Trust in me, good doughtir stedefastly,
And do furth as þou hast perseuerauntly.
For þis I wyl to all men knowe be,
Wyth þe I am in all þi warkys soothly,
And what þou askyst is grauntyd to þe.’
And suddeynly þe erth made a roryng,
And blyssyd Cristyne both sage & whys
Crowchyd þe body, þus loud crying:
‘In þe name of ihesu cryst, man, ryse!’
And anoon he roos, & in ful humbyl wyse
Be-forn Cristyne he fel, & þus gan seyn:
‘Euere þankyng to þi god moost of pryse,
Wych me fro deth to lyfe hath reysyd ageyn.’
Iulyan þis seying was sory certeyn,
And to hir seyd wyth chere gyrnyng:
‘Now al þi wychecraftys syth þou here pleyn
Hast shewyd, to owr goddys wythout lettyng
Return ageyn, hem lowly þankyng
That þei so long & so benygnely
Han þe suffryd,’ to wych talkyng
Cristyne þus ansuerd ful redyly:
‘O witles man & wyth-owtyn drede, treuly,
Of god, & eke wyth-out vndirstondyng,
In þi soul blyndyd ful dolorusly,
Sey not þine eyne here brode-lokyng
My goddys werkys, þe heuenly kyng,
And of hys blyssyd sone cryst ihesu,
Wych he hath wroght, al men seyng,
T[h]rough þe myght & þe grace of his uertu?’
Aftyr þis Iulyan in his malycoly
Commaundyd hir brystis of to kyt be,
And anoon it was doon ful cruelly
83

Wyth-owtyn eþir mercy or pyte.
‘O straungere from treuth, Iulyan,’ quod she,
‘Syth þou my pappys a-weye doost rase,
In tokyn of clennes of uirginite,
Lo, mylk for blood þere-out doth pase.’
And lokyng to heuene-ward she seyd þus:
‘Wyth al myne hert, lord, gramercy to þe,
Kyng of al werdys, cryst ihesus,
Þat þou vouchysd-safe euery lettyng from me
Of my body awey kut for to be.
Now knou I well, þrogh þi proteccyoun,
That I redye am to end my mortalyte,
And þe crown to take of incorrupcyoun.’
Whan she had endyd þus hir vrysoun,
Iulyane wyth angyr & malyncoly blent,
Comaundyde wythoutyn ony delacyoun
Eftsonys to presoun hir to be sent;
Where she, knelyng wyth ane holy entent,
Al þat nyht aftyr ful deuoutly
Magnifyid our lord god omnipotent,
Hys holy name blyssyng contynuelly.
And on þe next morou he bad eerly
Hir to be broght on-to his presence.
And whan she com was, he hir askyd why
She nold assentyn to her pryncys sentence.
‘Com furth,’ quod he, ‘& now offre encence
To our goddys, or ellys wyth-out deley
I shal þe sleen; lat hym mak defence,
Thy god whom þou seruyst, yf þat he may.’
‘Knowst þou not, wreche,’ quod Cristyne,
‘Þat goddys pacience þe to penytence
Abydyth lenger & gladly wold inclyne?
But þou þrough þi frowerd negligence
Alwey mysvsyst his blyssyd pacience.
Of cursyd custum plounchyd in þe myre,
And makying of purpose wylful resystence
Tresoryst þe veniaunce in-to þe day of yre.’
Iulyan, angryd wyth þat Cristine seyde,
Commaundyd hir tong out kut to be;
84

But Cristyne þus fyrst deuoutly preyde:
‘Lord ihesu cryst, wych from my natiuite
Hast me kept & neuer forsoke me,
Kepe me now, & þin handmayd here,
And grant me my batayl to endyn in þe,
For of my reste þe tyme drauyht nere.’
And anoon in þe eyr men dyde here
A voys þus seying: ‘for þou hast for me
Suffryd mych peyn, my doughtir dere,
And euer bene pacient in al aduersite,
Ther-foor þe gatys of heuyn to þe
Bene now wyd opynnyd; come jn meryly,
Ant rest in pese & tranquillyte,
And resseyue þe croun of blys endlesly!’
But not-wyth-stondyng þis voys heuenly,
Iulyan bad hem doon his commaundement,
And anoon hir tong þei rent out cruelly.
And whyl sche was in þis torment,
Of hir tong a pese wyth a mychty entent
She spyt in his face, & hys oon eye
So sore it smet þat þe sycht was blent,
And wyth þat to hym she þus dyde seye:
‘Iulyan, wrecche, þi desyre was vnkouth
To etyn ane instrument of my body,
Wherfor my tounge out of my mouth
Thow hast do drawe dyspytuosly,
Wych euyr was wone to preye besely
Goddys hye name whyl þat it myht.
Yet haue I spe[c]he, & þou wurthyly
Off þine oon eye hast lost þe sycht.’
Iulyan þis heryng his hunters dyde charge
Cristyne to sleyn & þat hastyly.
And anoon on hir syde wyth wondys large
They hir dide smyte ful vnpetously.
Than Cristyn þus preyid: ‘þrough þi mercy,
Lord, tak my spyrith on-to þi grace.’
And wyth þat word, out of hir body
85

To heuyn blys hir soul dede pace,
And anoon aungelys in þat same plase
Gunne Iulyane tormentyn, in sundry degre,
Wyth so grete peynys þat he cryed, ‘allase!
What shal I doo now? se I wel,’ quod he,
‘That for Crystyne þis commyth to me,
Whom I haue sleyn ful vnpetously.’
And whan he þus long tormentyd had be,
He sterf & went to endles torment[r]y.
And whan Iulyane was þus passyd & goon,
Oon wych was of Cristyns kynrede,
Þat heryng, þiddyr came anoon,
Wych god dide bothyn loue & drede;
And for he hopyd to haue heuene to mede,
In appolloos temple he made a memory,
Whedyr Crystynys relikys he dyde lede
And þere hem beryid ful solemmely.
Examynyd was þis blyssyd Cristyne,
The tyme of þe emperour dyoclecyan,
Under thre iugys, lych as determyne
The legend off hir ful wel can.
Fyrst by hir own fadyr, clepyd vrban,
Aftyr be zyon, a cruel tormentour,
But last & werst was þis Iulyan,
Vndyr whom she endyd al hir labour.
Thus fourtene yere was hir martyrdame
Contunyd vnder þeis iugys thre,
Wych wyth hir constaunce she ouyr-came,
In Tyre, þat tyme a grete cyte,
Where fynally also martyrd was she,
As in hir lyfe who wyl redyn may,
Þe nynt kalend of august, as fynd we,
Wych þat tyme fel on a thursday.
Now I the besech, o blyssyd Cristyne,
Wych regnyst wyth cryst in his heuenly tour,
As it is wele worthi, mercyful inclyne
Thy petous erys on-to the translatour
86

Wy[c]h þi legend compylyd, not wyth-out labour,
In englyssh tunge; and help, lady, þat he
Of his mortale lyf in þe last our
Of his goosly enmyse may victour be.
Graunt also, lady al þo þat þe
Worshypyn & seruyn of syngulere affeccioun,
Ere þan þai deyin repentaunth to be,
And of al here synnys to make confessyoun
Wyth ful purpose of deu satisfaccioun,
Ere þei depart from þis outlaurye,
And aftyr wyth þe in þe heuenly relygyoun
Eternally god to preyse & magnyfye.
[_]

[Six blank lines.]


Amen. mercy ihesu & gramercy.

Her begynnyth þe lyf of þe elleuyn thousend uirgyns.

Off elleuyn thousand uirgyns in feer,
Who-so be steryd wyth deuoucyoun
And haue delectacyoun for to here
The lyf, þe progresse & þe passyoun,
The cause þare-of & þe occasyoun.
Aftyr þe sentence of þe golden legend,
A lytyl whyl hedir do he attende.
Whylom þer was in thyk cuntre
Wych þat is clepyd brytane þe lesse,
A wurthi kyng & Maurus hecht he,
Or [N]othus, as þe story dooth expresse;
And so mych moor was his wurthynesse
Þat he on cryst oonly dide beleue,
And al false goddys he dide repreue.
Thys Maurus had a dought[ir] ying,
Vrsula clepyd, ful of beute,
Wych aftyr god passyd al þing
87

Louyd cleennes & maydynly honeste,
Prudent eek & also wyhs was she,
Off wych þorch ych cuntre was hir name
Ful wyde blow by þe trumpet of fame.
Whan þe kyng of ynglond of hir dide here,
Wych þat tym was man so fortunate
And of swych pouer, þan to his empere
Many a cuntre he had subiugate.
Hym thought no þing moor myht his astate
Encresyn, þan þat he onys myht se
This blyssyd meyd hys sonnys wyf be.
And not oonly þis was hys desyre, loo,
But þe sone eek þe same dide entend;
Vp-on wych þe maydyns fadyr too
A ful solemne ambassyet þei dide send,
And ne hap þat excusacioun he wold pretend,
Aftyr feyr promessys they dide hym threte
If þer massengers voyd þei dide home lete.
Whan Maurus herd had al þer massage,
He was gretly abasshyd of þat case.
For his doughtir, [fayr] & ying of age,
Cristene, & fulfyllyd wyth uertu & grace,
To a kyngys sone þat hethyn was,
And lyuyd in þe wrechnes of ydolatre,
To be maryd hym þouht vnwurthe.
More-ouyr also he dide suppose
That whan vrsula had uerrey knowlechyng
Of þere entent & of þer purpose
She assentyn shuld wyln for no thyng.
And bysydyn þis the englyssh kyng
Ful sore he drede for our creuelnes,
Wych to hym causyd grete heuynes.
But whan vrsula conseyuyd þis matere
Encytyd be ane heuenly inspyracyoun,
‘Fadyr,’ quod she, ‘be of ryht good chere,
And grauntyth to hem here conclusyoun
Wych they doon aske, up thys condicyoun,
88

Þat þei effectuelly wyl obey
Serteyn conclusyouns wych I shal seye.’
Fyrst, I aske þat þei shul to me
Ten of þe choysest maydyns sende,
And feyrest & wurthyest of þere cuntre,
And upon ych of us for to attende
Of oþir maydyns assygne a thousende,
And ordeynyn us shyppys, & yerys thre
Me respyten to halowe my uirginyte.
In þis mene tyme I aske also
Þat þe kyngys sone forsake ydolatrye,
And my god of heuene be conuertyd to,
And baptysyde in cristys name holy,
And in my beleue be instruct pleynly.
And al þeis doon, I hym ensure,
To louyn hym abouyn ony creature.
But al þis she axyd for þat entente
Þat eþere for dyffyculte of þe condycyoun
He shuld wyl secyn & not concente,
Or ellis þat she be þis occasyoun
All þo maydyns wyn shuld moun
To crystene feyth, & be hem many mo.
Thys ansuere yeuyn, þe massagers hom go.
And whan þei had of þe seyde matere
To þe kynge declaryde euyn al þe case,
Hys son admyttyd wyth ryht glad chere
All þe condyciouns enspyryde throgh grase.
And anoon aftyr þis he crystnyd was,
And preyid hys fadyr ful instantly
To performe þe remnaunth, & þat hastyly.
Aftyr þis in moost hasty wyse
To vrsula þei sent word ageyn
That al þingys wych she dyde deuyse
In haste performyd shulde bene certeyn;
Wherefore, þat no labour shuld be ueyn,
They hyr preyid þat she wold spede
To the seyd halwyng of hir maydynhede.
And anoon were gadryd, fram ych cuntre
89

Of ynglond, maydyns to þis entent,
The feyrest þat ony-where myht founnde be,
And ouyr to Vrsula þei were sent.
And whan fulfyllyd was þestent
Plenerly of hir fyrst askyng,
Thanne þei dyde cese of mo gadryng.
In þis mene whyl, on þat oþir syde,
The fadyr of vrsula ful dilygently
Of swych a mene dede prouyde
As was conuenyent for þat company,
Hem to seruyn & to guyde deuly,
Aftyr þe entent of his doughtir dere,
And at all tymys hir to confort & chere.
Whan pupplysshy[d] was þis neu myracle,
So many uirgynys assemblyd for to be,
Many a bysshape cam to þis spectacle;
Among wych cam pantulus, of basyle
Byshape, wych þat al þere iourne
To rome & ageyn hem dyde conueye,
And at Coleyn homwarde wyt hem dyde deye.
Seynt Serasine eek of Cecyle þe quene,
Wych hir husbond, a cruel man fyrst, lo,
Made aftyr of a wulf a lambe to bene,
Martyryre þe bysshop wych sustyr was to,
And to sarye, þe modyr of vrsula, also:
Whan informyd she was of þis company,
Them to vysyte she hire hyyd hastly,
And wyth hir she toke in hyr cumpany
Hyr four doughtrys, Babyle & Julyane,
Victoria & Aurea, & also sothly,
Hyr yongest sone, clepyd Adryane
Wych for hys sustrys sake þis iourney dyde tane;
And, þe kyngdam left in here own sonnys hande,
To brytane she seylyd & to ynglonde.
And whan seyd Seraphyne, ful of prudence,
Wyth hir fiue chyldryn cam to þe plase
Where vrsula was, she gret dyligence
90

Dede both hir & þe falashepe to solase
And hem to conferme in her neu grace,
And was here guyderesse to Rome & geyne,
And eke wyth hem deyid in colane.
Thus whan al þing was redy
Necessarye to þer holy iourne,
And be doctryne off vrsula al þe cumpany
To cryst was conuertyd, þei tuk þe se;
And wyth jnne a tyde in good prosperyte
To tyel, a port of fraunce, þei came,
And from þens, to Coleyn þe weye þei name.
And þere ane aungel dyde appere
To vrsula, whyl she aslepe was,
And bad her ben of ryht good chere
For she return shuld þrogh graas
Wyth hir hool nowmbyr to þat plase,
And þer þe palm of uictory
By martyrdam takyn & of glory.
‘Where-fore,’ quod he, ‘kepyth your entent,
And furth to Rome [y]ou fast doth hy.’
And at hys counsel from þens þei went
On-to þe cyte by watyr of basylye,
And þer þey left þer schyppys, sothlye,
And from þens to Rome þei went on foot,
Here soulys to purchas helth & boot.
To þe pope Ciriacus ful grete solace
It was whan he kneu of whens þei were
For he of Brytane also born was,
And as by her puruyours he dyde lere,
Ful many a kynnys-womman he had þere,
And þerfor he dede al hys labour
Them to receyue wyth grete honour.
And þe same nyht from heuene lernyd he
By reuelacyoun er þan he roos,
That wyth þese uirgynys he martyrd shuld be
And þankyd god hertyly of þat purpos,
But þis reuelacyoun he kept cloos;
91

And many of hem wych not yet were
Crystined he baptysyd euyn þere.
And whan a yere & wokys elleuyn,
Aftyr petyr þe nyntend pope, suthly,
Had gouernd þe cherche of cryst in heuyn,
He made a congregacioun of þe clergy,
And shewyd hem his purpose euyn opynly,
And aforn hem all þer renowncyd he
All hys hy astate & eke hys dignyte.
But her ageyn þei al dide reclame,
And cardynallys most in especyal,
Wych of fonnyddrye hym dide blame,
And þat he wold be so bestyal
To forsakyn hys glorye pontifical,
And aftyr a feu fonnyd wommen
Wyth-outyn resoun þis wyse to ren.
But nertheles fram his purpose
He wold for no man remeuyd be,
Wherfor a holy man, clepyd Ametos,
In hys stede anoon þer ordeynyd he,
Wych shuld occupyen þe papal se;
And þis doon he fast dyd hym hye
To þis blyssyd uirgynys cumpanye.
And for he ageyn þe clergyis entent
Forsuk þus þe papal dignyte,
They ordeynyd hys name, wyth oon assent,
From noumbyr of popys racyd to be.
Also al þe fauour wych þis cumpane
Of holy uirgynys had in þe court before,
From þis tym furth was uttyrly lore.
In þis mene tym, as þe story doth tel,
Tuo pryncys of þe romayn cheuelrye,
Maxym & Affrycane, fers & cruel,
Wych þe reule had, & of þer polycye,
To þese blyssyd uirgynys had enuye,
For-as-mych as þei seyn dayly
Euermor encresyn her company.
Thys was here feer, þat more & more
92

Eche day shuld growen & encrese
Crystyn relygyoun þrogh þer lore,
And paynymry wansyn & discrese,
And al þer heþin rytys cese.
Wherfor þei ymagyd by what suttelte
They myht hem makyn dede for to be.
And whan þei had espyed here entent
Þat by coleyn homward þei wold pase,
Pryuy massagers to her cosyn þei sent,
Julyan, wych prynce of þe vryens was,
Preying hym for þere aldrys solaas
Þat al uirgynys, whan þei come þere,
He wold sleen for þei cristyn were.
But whan wyth þese uirgynys furth went
Þis seyd holy pope, Ciriacus,
A cardynal prest wyth deuout entent
Hym dyde folwe, clepyd Innocencius,
And oon of Britane born, callyd Iacobus,
Wych seuen yere had in antyoche cyte
Of bysshoprych gouernd þe dignyte.
And as he had uisytyd þe pope at rome
And homward returny[n]ge was certeyn,
Swych a multitude of uirgynys to come
Out of hys cuntre whan he herde seyn,
He left hys iourney & turnyd ageyn
And ass[o]cyid hym on-to þer cumpanye,
Purposyng wyth hem to lyuyn & dye.
This same dide oon clepyd Mauricius,
Bysshop of a cyte callyd Leuyten,
And also anoþir wych heht Sulpicius,
Bysshop of þe gret cyte Rauen,
Wych both wer holdyn ryht holy men;
And in þe mene tym wern at Rome,
And wyth þese uirgynys to Coleyn þei come.
And Marculus, a bysshop of grece, also,
Wyth Constance hys nyfte, doughter of kyng dorothe
Of Constantynopyl—wych a kyngis sone to
Shuld haue be weddyd, but deed was he
93

Beforn þe maryage, & she hir uirgynyte
To god had auowyd—be heuynly reuelacyoun
Where monestyde to come to þis congregacioun.
And whan al þese uirgyns wyth bysshopys in fere
From rome wyth vrsula returnyd ageyn,
To ethereus, hir spouse, bad ane aungel clere
His modyr to counselyn wyth wurdys pleyn
To be Cristnyd; for hys fadyr, certeyn,
Þe first [y]er þat he crystene was
Hys soul had comendyd to goddys grace.
And not oonly hys modyr to baptyse
Kyng Ethree monestyd þis aungel suet,
But also þat he in ful hasty wyse
To coleyn shuld goon, þer for to mete
Wyth ursula hys wyfe & hyr to grete,
Wher þei both to-gedyr & meny mo
By martyrdam to heuen blys shuld go.
And anoon, to goddys counsel obeying,
Hys modyr he made baptysyde to be,
And took hyr and hys systyr ying,
Florentyne be name, & also tuke he
A bysshep, clepyd Clement, and wyth hem thre
To Coleyn ful fast he gan hym hye;
And socyid hym to þat holy cumpanye.
And whan at Coleyn to-gedyr met
Ethereus & vrsula, wyth þer cumpanye,
They found þe cyte ouyr al beset
Wyth vryens wych þat þere dyde lye
In þese uirgyns to shewen here tyrannye,
Lych as preyid had here prynce Iulyan
Hys to cosyns, Maxym & Affrican.
And whane þeis paynyms dide aspye
Thys blyssyd cumpany come nere hem to,
All wyth oo voys þei loud dyde crye;
As raueynows wuluys be wone to do
Among a flok of sheep, ryht euyn so
Ferd þese tyrauntys amoung þis cumpany
94

Of holy uirgyns, & slew hem by & by.
They sparyd not oon, neythir hye nor law,
Man nore womman, but al in fere
Wyth dynt of deth þei dyd doun throw,
Þat pyte it was to seyin & here
How cruelly & wyth what chere
Al þis multytude þei dyd quelle,
Saf vrsula alone, as þe story doth telle;
Whos beute whan þe seyd Iulyan,
Prynce of þe Vryens, dyde attende,
‘Be of good chere,’ quod he, ‘ womman,
For yf þou wyl to me condescende
From al dysesys I wyl þe defende,
And moor-ouer þe weddyn wyth a ryng,
And to welth & wurshyp I wyl þe bryng.’
But she wold no wyse to hym assente,
Wherfor in his grete malicoly
A myhty bowe anoon he bente,
And wyth a sharp arwe ful cruelly
He hir smote euyn þrogh þe body,
Wherwyth to erth it dide dounfal,
But þe soul to ioy went eternal.
Yet oo mayde þer was, aftyr þe legende,
Cordula by name, wych þat nyht
From þe dynt of deth hir to defende
In a shyp hir hyd, wher no man myht
Hyr fynd; but whanne þe next morowe lyht
Was come, illumynyd by goddys grace,
To martyrdam hir offryd, & martyrd was.
But for-as-mych as þis blyssyd uirgyne
Wyth þe remnaunt of þat cumpany
Of martyrdam suffryd not þe pyne,
Hir fest wyt hem was not holdyn, for-why
Longe aftyr to ane holy recluse, suthly,
She apperyd, & bad þat hir solemnyte
Next aftyr hir felowys holdyn shuld be.
Thus martyrd were, as I me remembre,
95

Of octobyr þe oon & twenty day [per]de,
And þe twelfte kalend of nouembyr,
Þis multytude of uirgyns, wyth-owt pyte,
Euene at Colane, þe feyr cyte,
Whos bodyes þer restyn in a nunnerye,
But here soulys duellyn aboue þe skye.
And þat shuld bene noon obstaclys
Of credens in þis seyd matere,
Here holynes god hath by sundry myraclys
Sheuyd here beforn ful many yere,
Of wych whoso haue lust to here,
Two þer-of to tellyn I wyl me dres
Wych here legend pleynly dooth expres.
Whylom in Coleyn ane abbote þer was,
Wych, as it is told in here storye,
Of þe abbasse desyryd for hys gostly solas
Of oon of þese uirgyns to haue a body;
And he hyr promessyd uerrey feythfully
Þat wyth-jn a yere he hym wold dyspose
In a capse of syluyr it for to close.
And whan he it had on hys hye autere,
He it doun set in a capsel of tre,
& so lete it stondyn a ful hool yere,
Wyth-outyn a-mendement in eny degre.
And for of promys reclese was he
It lykyd no lengere þer to soiourne,
But home ageyn fully it wold retourne.
Wherefore, soon aftyr, whan þe monkys were
All to-gedyr at matyns up-on a nyht,
Seyng þeme al þat present ware þere,
Thys uirgyn from þe awter cam doun ryht
And lowly hir inclynyd to god almyht,
And euyn amyddys þem dide pase,
An returnyd ageyn to hir fyrst plase.
And anoon furth-wyth þe abbot ran
On-to þe capsye & whan he it fond empty,
96

He was, as he wel awte, ane heuy man.
And on þe morowe he went to þe nunry
And told þe abbase euyn by & by
Lych as it fel, & in þe selue stounde
Þer it fyrst was they ageyn it founde.
The abbot wold feyn han had it ageyn,
Or ellys a-noþir, but it wold not be:
‘For þis I wyl ye knowe,’ quod þe abbesse certeyn,
‘Syr abbot, syth it is so þat she
Is frely comyn home, she ne shal for me
Be remeuyd eftsonys, I you ensure treuly,
And so þe abbot frustrat went home sory.
An-othir myracle þer is told also
Of a man wych was relygyous
And þese holy uirgyns deuocyoun had to,
Wych in-to syknesse happyd to falle greuous,
To wham dyde appere a mayd beuteuous,
Ryally arayid & wundyr frech of hew,
And askyd hym ryhtly yf he hir knew.
Thys man, astoynyd of hir suddeyn cumyng,
Þat he hir neuyr knew answerd pleynly.
‘I wyl þou knowe,’ quod she, ‘wythout doutyng,
Þat I am oon of þat greth company
Þat þou hast long louyde & seruyde besyly.
I come to teche þe what may do þe ese,
And how me & my felashepe þou mayst plese.
Yff þou woldyst onys or þan þou deye,
To goddys wurshyp and to aldrys honour,
Eleuene þousend pater noster deuouthly sey,
Thy reward shuld be for þis labour
That of þi lyfe here in þe last our
Geynys all þine enmyis þe to conforte
My sustrys & I shul to þe resorte.’
Whan þis seyd was she vanysht aweye,
And he furth-wyth began, als deuouthly
As he best koude, þese pater noster to seye,
And neuyr dyde blyn tyl completly
He had performyd euyn by & by
97

Þe noumbyr to hym þat she dyd stent;
Wych doon, for hys abbot a-noon he sent,
And seyd þus: ‘fadyr, wyth humble entent,
Let me been anoyntyd & þat hastyly.’
And as soon as he had take þat sacrament,
Wyth a loude noyse he gan to cry:
‘Fleth hens, I beseche you al mekely,
And yeuyth to þis holy uirgyns place,
Wych hedyr gyn comyn of þere grace.’
The abbot hym askyd what he dyde mene,
And he hym told al hys reuelacyoun.
And anoon þei voydyd al bedene
Out of þe chambyr aftyr hys petycyoun;
And sone aftyr ageyn whan þei dyde come
He was furth passyd wyth þis cumpany
Of b[l]yssyd uirgyns to goddys mercy.
Lo, þus hath bene shewyd, & many wyse mo
Than I now ethir can tel or deuyse,
Thys felashepys holynes to-forn long go
Of þem þat were both sage & wyse,
For wych I counsel ych man to ryse
Out of syn & to her worshepe to seye
Eleuene þousend pater noster or þan he deye.
And who þus wyl do wyth-out fayle,
An be ful contryht & cleen shreuyn also,
Throgh here meretys it hym wyl auayle
The end of hys lyf whan he cummyth to.
And who-so lyst knowe how he may do
Þis nowmbyr to perform euen in a yere
The next kalende shewyth doctryn clere.
Thre hundryd dayis sexty & fyue
Been in þe yer, neyþir mo ne lesse,
As men by algorysme sone moun dryue,
Vp-on wych pryncisple I dare expresse
That þrytty pater noster ych daye wyt-out recchelesnes,
Yf þat yche sonday oon be put þer-to,
Makyth euene þe noumbyr, saue it addyth to.
98

Now, blyssyd vrsula, wyth þi felashepe,
Them al wych [y]ou do loue & serue
From al myscheuys to defend & kepe
Vouchesaf, & in clennes þem to conserue;
And þat noon of hem fynally to sterue
In deedly syn, purchase hem grace
Of uerrey repentaunce or þei hens pace.
Amen mercy ihesu & gramercy.

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
99

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
100

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:
101

‘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.
102

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
103

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,
104

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,
105

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;
106

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.
107

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.’
108

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,
109

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.’
110

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.

The prologe in-to seynt Agneys lyf.

Agnes sacra sui pennam scriptoris inauret
Et det ut inceptum perficiatur opus.
111

Seynt Anneys lyf I me purpose
After my kunnyng in ynglysh to wryte.
As me doth techyn seynt Ambrose,
Wych wyth hey style it doth endyte.
Now, blyssyd uirgyn, me to vysyte
Prey god wyth grace & in swych wyse
That suffycyently I me aquyte
May my promyse to acomplyse.
Moor-ouyr as louly as I kan deuyse
I praye ych man þat it shal rede,
Thow it be but rude, he hyt not despyse,
For Pallas certeyn wold me neuyr lede
Of Thully Rethoryk in-to þe motleyde mede
Flourys to gadyrn of crafty eloquens,
But euere þedyrward whan I me dede spede,
Wyth greth dysdeyn she me bad go þens.
And I yet hir preyid wyth vmble reuerence
That she summe fauour wold sheu to me,
And she me answerd in pleyn centence:
‘Thou commyst to late, for gadyrd up be
The most fresh flourys by personys thre,
Of wych tweyne han fynysshyd here fate,
But þe þrydde hath datropos yet in cherte,
As Gower, Chauncer & Ioon Lytgate.’
Wherfore, syth Pallas me þus dede rate
And drof me a-wey so sturdyly,
I wyl neuyr-more wyth hyr debate,
Nere presume to commyn Tullius medwe ny;
And þerfore spekyn & wrytyn I wyl pleynly
Aftyr þe language of Suthfolk speche;
And who-so-euere lyke not þer-by,
Whereeuyr he lyst he bettyr do seche.
Agnes of agna, who-so wyl it seke,
Dyryuyid was, seyth Ianuence.
Agna is a lamb, a best ful meke
112

And sympyl also, aftyr hys sentence.
Wych tuo to Anneys by good congruence
Longyn, for in hem so groundyd was she,
That fro meke & symple eek innocence
Remeuyn hir myht noon aduersyte.
Anneys also, as þis clerk doth seye,
Dyryuyid is of knowelechyng;
And wurthyly, for she þe weye
Of treuthe kneu whyl she was ying;
Wych treuthe, aftyr austyns seyng,
Contrary is vnto vycys thre
Wych Anneys uenquyssyd in hir lyuyng,
As falsheed, doubylnesse & vanyte.
By feyth she ouyr-cam falsnesse,
And by hope she despysyd alle vanite,
By cheryte perfyth al doubylnesse
She set asyde, & of þese thre
In hir lyf we fynde good congruyte,
Wych at þis tyme I ne wyl expresse
Oonly to eschewyn prolyxyte,
Wych oftyn of heryng causyth werynesse.
O holy lamb of god, o blyssyd agnete,
Wych enflawmyd in þi tendyr age
Of þe loue of god wyth þe feruent hete
So sore were þat no fers rage
Of peyn myht chaungyn þi corage,
Nere þin hert from hym no wyse inclyne,
Me wyt purchace, lady, & language
Thy lyf begunne wyth to termyne.

Her begynnys þe lyf of seynt Anneys.

Yseruanht of cryst, bysshop Ambrose,
To you holy uirgyns sende gretynge,
Exhortyng you you forto dyspose
113

The feste to halwyn of a maydyn yinge;
In wych feste wyth psalmys suete soundyng
Alle peplys mote gladyn in ych degre,
And crystys pore men mote ioyeful be.
Lete us now alle ioyin in oure lord;
And to þe edyfycacyoun of uirgynyte,
How martyrd was do we record
Blyssyd Anneys whyl yung was she,
For in hir threttende yere, as fynde we,
Deth she loste & lyf dede fynde,
For oonly she louyd þe auctor of kynde.
And þow she yung were by yerely computacyoun,
Yet in hir soule she had suffycyent age,
And so she was in dyfferent dysposycyoun
As yunge of body & of soul sage.
And [þ]ow she fayr were in hir vysage
Bodyly and endewyde wyth gret beute,
Yet by feyth in hir soule feyrere was she.
And whyl þis gemme of uirgynyte
Oo tyme from scole hom turnyd ageyn,
Of þe prefectys sone louyd was she,
Wych of hir frendys hir sore dede freyn.
Mych þing he offryd but more he hycht, certeyn,
And ful precyous ornamentys wyth hym he broht,
Wych of Anneys as dung were set at noht.
But yet aftyr þat þis ioly yung man
Of loue to hir felt more prykkyng,
And wenyng she wold bettyr ornamentys han,
Precyous stonys many bryht shynyng
Wyth hym he brouhte & ful many a ryng,
And by hym-self & by his frendys also
Hys affeccyoun þe maydyn was told to.
Ryches he profyrd in greth plente.
Placys solemne & eke staatly,
Possessyons large & mych mene,
And of þis werd þe pompous glory,
Vp condycyoun þat she nold deny
114

To hym to be ioynyd in maryage.
To whom þus ansuerde þis Anneys sage:
‘Go hens fro me, of syn norsshere
And contraryous to euere good entent.
Go hens fro me, for of a-noþir louere
I wyl þou know þat I am preuent,
Wych precyoushere ornamentys me hath sent,
And wyth þe ryng of hys feyth hath ernestyd me
Bettyr þan þow of kynrede & dygnyte.
My ryht hand arayid wyth-out doute
Wyth a precyous beyl of gold hath he,
And my nekke he gyrt hath ronde about
Wyth precyous stonys wych incomparabyl be,
And margarytes innumerable he hath youyn me,
And wyth bryht shynyng gemmys me to guyde
Me enuyrond he hath on euery syde.
In my face he hath set a specyal merk
Þat noon oþir shuld be louyd but he,
And clad me in a mantel of gold woue werk,
Many precyous nowchys where-in set be.
Incomparabyl tresore he hath shewyd me,
Wyth wych he hath hyht me to auaunce,
If I in hys loue oonly haue perseueraunce.
Wher-fore I ne may takyn hede to þe
And han in contemp swych a louere,
To whom I am knyt in ful cheryte,
Whos kynrede þan þine ys hyere
And hys puyssaunce & myht mych strengere,
Swetter þe loue, feyrere þe face,
And of selynes mych gretere þe grace.
Of þis louer my chaunnbyr arayid is,
Whos organys han maad me melody,
Whos maydyns here syngyng is uery blys;
And takyn of his mouth many a kys haue I,
Swettere þan eythir mylk or hony;
And fulle oftyn in armys he halsyd hath me
Wyth-out blemyssyng of myn u[ir]gynyte,
115

Hys body to myn now conioynyd is,
And wyth hys blood my chekys enbelshyd hath he,
Whos modyr is a mayd, & hys fadyr eek I-wys,
Whom aungelys seruyn in humble degre,
Of whom al-so merueylyn þe greth beute
Both sunne & mone, þorgh whos odour ageyn
Dede men reuyguryn, I dare wel seyn.
Hys rychessys neuyr doon a-wey krepe
Wyth fortunys fykyl transmutacyoun,
Where-fore to hym my feyth I kepe
And euyr wyl wyth hertly deuocyoun.
Where-fore lystne now to my conclusyoun,
And take þis for answere in wordys pleyn:
Oþir louyn þan hym shal I neuyr certeyn.’
Whan þis yung man had herd þe answere
Of blyssyd Anneys, he wex ful heuy,
And so sore blynd loue hym anoon dede dere
Þat in soule both anguysshyd & in body
He syknyd, & in hys bede he doun dede ly;
But by hys greth syhys aspyid he was
Of lechys, wych told his fadyr þe caas.
And whan he sey þat þe affeccyoun
Of his sone to anneys was set sore,
Of alle hys profyrs he made iteracyoun
In euery degre & rathere more;
But sekyr his labour was but lore,
For pleynly she seyd þat in no wyse
Hir fyrst sposys profyrs she nold despyse.
And for he þat tym of þe prefecture
In þe hey astate stode & dygnyte,
Hym þoht þat noon oþir creature
To-forn hym in worshepe preferryd myht be,
Wherefore he wundryd who shuld ben he
Be whom þus anneys hir dede enhaunce,
And of his tresoure made swych auaunce.
And whyl he þus seyde, swych oon stode by
As is wone to countyrfete & iape ych man,
Wych seyd þus: ‘syre, þis maydyn treuly
116

From youth hath bene a crysten wumman,
Whom so illudyd þe wycchecraftys han
Wych he tawht and vsyde in cristen lore,
That she wenyth þat cryst hir husbond wore.’
The prefect þis heryng ful glad was,
And anoon he sent a greth cumpany
Of [k]achepolles to bryngyn hir to his plaas.
And as sone as she þedyr was com priualy
He made hir a sermoun ful of flatery,
And many greth promyssys hir dede behete,
And aftyr he hir dede manacen & threte.
But crystys maydyn nethir wyth flatery
Myht be deceyuyd ner wyth terroure,
But wyth o chere in contenaunce perseuerently
Be-forn hym she stode fresh of coloure;
And for she rotyd was in crystys amour,
Inward in hir hert on secre wyse,
Both his behestys & thretys she dede despyse.
The prefect seyng in þis mayde ying
So greth constaunce & stedefastnesse,
To hir fadir & modir he spak of þis þing;
And for he no myht hem no wyse dystresse
By opyn vyolence, for here hy nobylesse,
Welyng hem troublyn in a-noþir degre,
Obiectyd hem þe tytyle of crystyanyte.
And on þe next day presentyd to be
Anneys he commaundyde hym beforn,
And of [his] sonys loue ayen spak he,
And hou he for hir sake was nere lorn;
But of his wurdys Anneys made but a skorn,
And whan he þat sey he dede hir be draw
To his bench, executyd where was þe lawe.
Quod he to hir, ‘but þe wychecrafth
Of þese crystene mennys superstycyoun
By sum maner wyse fro þe be rafth,
Pleynly, aftyr myn opynyoun,
Of þi brest þe madnes shal moun
117

No man remeue, ne þou þine ere
Wy[hs] counsel ne shalt moun bowyn to lere.
Wher-fore þe auyhs is now of me,
To þe goddesse uesta þe for to sende,
Where, yf perseueraunce of uirgynyte
The plese, þou mayst to it entende,
Ant þan þe no man may reprehende
If nyht & day in humbyl wyse
Þou occupyid be in hyr seruyse.’
‘Yf þi sone,’ quod she, ‘wych wyth foule loue
Is uexid—but yet he is a lyuyng man,
Wyt hauyng & resoun—I do reproue
For crystys sake, & wyl hym not han,
Doum ydols to worshepe trowyst me þan,
And to jniury of grace deuyne
To ueyn stonys my heed inclyne?’
‘I-wys,’ quod þe prefect, ‘my desyre is
Sumwhat to support þe tendyrnesse
Of þine age, where-fore our goddys
The blasphemyng I dyfferre to dystresse,
And for wyth-ynne wyt þou art yete, I gesse,
Wyl not þi-self, I counsel, so despyse
To wrathyn oure goddys swych fraward wyse.’
‘Wyl þou not,’ quod Anneys, ‘þe youth appryse
Of my body so, o prefect vycyous,
Þat þou do suppose þat I in ony guyse
Desyr þe to me to be propycyous.
For not in bodyly yerys stant feyth uerteuous
But in wyt of soule, & god eek almyhty
Wyt more þan age doth appreue sothly.
And as for þi goddys, whos wrath me
Thou woldyst not yn rynne, I þe beseche
Whan-euyr þou lyst lete hem wroth be,
And to me vsyn here oun propyr speche,
And hou þai wold be wurshepyd me teche.
But it wyl not be; wherefore aftyr þis
Thou in me excercyse what þi wyl is.
118

‘Oon of two þingys chese,’ quod Sympronyan,
The prefect, ‘o anneys, aftyr my decre:
Or wyth oþir uirgyns þe goddesse serue uestan,
Or wyth comoun wummen þou shalt abusyd be,
Where þese crystyn wycchyse shul ben fer fro the,
Wych wyth here crafth þe han youyn boldnesse
To come so vnshamefastly to þis wracchydnesse.
Wherefore sentencyally I þe deuyse,
And yf þou þere-to take hede,
Or to goddesse Vesta do sacryfyse
To wurshype & honour of þi kynrede;
And yf þou ne wylt, my goddys me so spede,
Of þi worthy byrth to confusyoun
Thou shalt of comoun bordel be þe abieccyoun.’
Than blyssyd Anneys, inflammyd wyth grace
And strengthyd wyth gostly stedefastnesse,
Stondyng be-forn þe prefectys face,
To hym hir sentence þus dede expresse:
‘If þou knou, wreche, in suthfastnes
Who my god is, þe bettyr a-uyse
Thou woldyst, & not seyn on þis wyse.
But for þat I knou þe hy uertu,
The souereyn grace eek and wyrkyng
Of oure lord god, blyssyd ihesu,
I sekerly despyse al þi thretyng,
In hys goodnesse fully trustyng
Þat neþir I [t]o ydols shal sacryfyse do,
Nere wyth synners vnclennes be defoulyd, lo.
For þis also wythoutyn doute
I wyl þou knowe, & not þou oonly
But alle þo eek wych stondyn aboute,
Þat a keper I haue of my body,
An aungel of god, wyche dylygently
Me kepyth & helpyth in euery nede,
And þat me bold makyth þe not to drede.
More-ouyr goddys sone, begettyn oonly
Of his fadyr substaunce, immutable,
119

Endlees of endlees eternally,
Whom for þou not knowyst þou art dampnable,
To me is a wal inpenetrabyle,
A wecheman eek neuyr slepyng,
A defendere also neuyr-more faylyng.
But þi goddys, as wyse folk wel ken,
Or ben of bras wych þat bettyr were
To mak of caudrons to þe vshe of men,
Or pottys or pannys or swych oþir gere.
Wych meche myht helpe & no þing dere,
Or ellys of stonys, wych in a sloth to laye
Wer bettyr, to skepyn from þe foul weye.
For as it may be shewyd be by resoun,
Dyuynyte wych þat is inmortal
Hath in veyn stonys noon habytacyoun,
Nere in bras, nere in noon oþir metal,
But in heuene in þe regne supernal.
Where-fore þou & swych as hym wurshepe do
Lyche peyn sekyr shul come to.
For lych as þei in here lyknesse here
Wych þei haue, as alle knowe we,
Conflat were by a feruent fere,
So shul here seruauntys in conform degre
Wyth fere of helle be blowe, not for to be
Foundyd as þai myscheuously
Confoundyd, & perysshyn eternally.’
The juge, that heryng, wex nere made,
And comaundyd hir to be spoylyd shamefastly,
And to þe bordalehous furth to be lad,
A bedel þus fyrst makyng a cry:
‘Thys Anneys, þis wyche, proterfly
Oure goddys skornyng wych doth blaspheme,
To þe comoun bordel I iudycyally deme.’
But as sone as þis mayde dyspoylyd was,
The bendys from hir here a-wey dede slyde,
And swych thyknesse þere-to god yaf by grace
Þat hire it enuyround on euery syde,
120

And alle hir nakydnesse fully dede hyde,
So þat bettyr curyde, as in sum degre,
Wyth hir heer þan wyth clothys she semt to be.
Whan anneys þus arayid ful deuouthly
Þe place dede entryn of vnclennesse,
Þe bordelhous I mene, she þere redy
An aungel fonde wych dede besynesse
Wytht lycht hir to curyn, of swych bryhtnesse
Þat whan fully enuyround þere-in was she,
No man hir myht neythyr touche nere se.
And anoon al þe selle where she in was
Thys gloryous bryhtnesse so dede illumyne,
That neuere þe sunne in hys heuenely cumpas,
Nere in hys most uertu, bryhter dede shyne
Than þis hous dede by grace dyuyne;
And who-so-euere presumyd it to aspye,
A sodeyn blemysshyng he felt in hys yhe.
And whan anneys þis bryhtnesse seye
From god hir sent in hyr preyere,
To hym prostrat she hyr dede dounn leye
And anoon beforn hyr dede apere
A whyht stole, & wyth ful glad chere
She yt took & clad hyr þere-yn;
And þan to god seyn she dede þus begyn:
‘Gramercy, lord of al ientylnesse,
Of grace & counfort & of benygnyte
To me shewyd, oonly thorgh þi goodnesse,
Now and alwey in dyueres degre.
Gramercy, lord, wych that nounbryng me
Among þine handmaydynys hast me now sent
From heuene þis newe & whyht uestyment.’
And whan anneys þis cloth had on hyr do,
Wych as whyht was as snow or lyly,
So wele mesuryd yt was hyr body to,
And conproporcyond so conuenyently,
As þow it shapyn had be þere-by
So þat no man thrust doute, wych yt dede se,
Of aungels handys yt made to be.
121

Lo, se now þis gracyous promutacyoun!
A bordelhous is maad of preyere
A specyal place & of deuocyoun,
In wych who-so entryd, wyth glad chere
God worshypyng wyth hert entere
He out went, clennere by goddys grace
Than he dyde entryn in-to þat place.
And whan þe prefectys sone dede here
That Anneys in þe bordelhous was,
He wex ryht mery & of glad chere;
And anoon wyth a cumpany of yunge felas
He hym fast hastyd to þe seyd plas,
Hopyng wyth hyre in hasty wyse
Hys flesshys foul lust to excercyse.
And whan he þere cam & dede se
Many yung men, wych wantounly
Entryd þe place where-in was she,
Owt ageyn comyn ful sobyrly
And wyth greth reuerence, he sturdyly
Hem rebukyd & wrecchys dede calle,
Seying, ‘veyn cowardys, foule you befalle!’
And þus hem skornyng anoon he went
To þe place where Anneys lay in preyere,
And for he malepert & irreuerent
Presumyd to entryn in-to þat lyht clere
Where she was yn, er he cam nere
He suddeynly doun fel up-on hys face,
And þe deuyl hym stranglyd in þat place.
And whan hys felas wyth-out dede se
That he so longe taryid wyth-ynne
And cam not oute, þei trowyd þat he
Hyr had ouyrcomyn by sum gynne,
And ocupyid ben in þe werk of synne;
And anoon ran yn oon ful meryly
To make a reioysshyng of hys victory.
And whan he yn cam & lokyd aboute,
Upon hys face hym he found deed lye,
And as he mad were he ayen styrt owte,
122

And rendyng hys clothys he þus dede crye:
‘O nobyl romayns, doth þis wyche dye,
Wych here wyth-ynne by hyr wycchecrafth
Hath þe prefectys sone hys lyf berafth!’
And whan þe fame pupplysshyd was
Of þis yung mannys deth thorgh þe cyte,
Alle men gun ryn on-to þe plaas
To beholde þis infortunate casuelte,
And whan þei it seyn, in dyuers degre
Wyth a lowd noys þei expressyd here entent,
For summe clepyd hyr wycche, & summe innocent.
But whan þe prefect þese tydyngys herd
Of hys sonys deth of þis manere,
Euene as a madman anoon he ferd,
And to þe theatre he ran wyth heuy chere;
And whan þe body of hys sone dere
Stark deed lyn þer he dede aspy,
To Anneys lokyng he þus dede cry:
‘Of alle wummen o þou cruelest,
On-to my dere sone in þis degre
Allas þi wycchecrafth why was þi lest
Thus cruelly to extende wyth-out pyte?
What was þi cause, tel now me!’
And whan he to hir þus ofte dede seyn,
She þus demurely answerd ageyn:
‘Thy sonys deth, syr, put not me to,
For gyltles þer-of I am suthly;
But he whos wyl he wold haue do
Took power of hym & þat ryhtfully.
But þan yf þou þe cause aske why
Alle othere wych ther beforn hym were
Askapyddyn harmlees, I þus answere:
Alle þo wych entryd fyrst to me,
Whom goddys goodnesse þis greth lyht sent
By an aungel, & as alle men now se
Arayid me wyth þis whyht garnement,
They youe god þankyng wyth humble entent,
And me to towchyn durst not prees,
123

And þerfore awey they skapyd harmles.
But he þis, þi sone, dede not so,
But whan he in cam vnshamefastly
Hys fleschly foul wyl he wolde haue do,
And not reueren[c]yd þe lyht wych yn was I;
And whan he presumyd to come me ny,
The aungel of god in defens of me
To þe deth hym drof, as þow doost se.’
‘I-wys,’ quod þe prefect, ‘Anneys, by o thyng
Euydently it shal appere to me
That not by wychecrafth is þi werkyng,
If þou þi aungel wylt preyn þat he
My sone, wych þat I here deed se,
Vouchesaf lyuyng to me restore.’
Whom Anneys þus answerd wythoute more:
‘Al-be-yt your feyth be not wurthy
To han þis thyng wych ye ask,’ quod she,
‘But yet, for tyme yt is beforn þis cumpany
Of peple þe uertu shewyd to be
Of oure lord Ihesu, goth oute alle ye,
That I may now, as I was won to do,
The sacryfyse of preyere offryn hym to.’
And whan alle þe peple was goon oute,
Anneys fel plat doun on hyr face,
And wepyng ful soor wyth hert deuoute
She preyid god of hys synguler grace
That he wold shewyn in þat place
A tokne of hys mercy & of hys pyte,
That reuycuryd myht þis yung man be.
And anoon an aungel þere dede appere,
Wyl þat she preyid ful sore wepyng,
And lyfth hyr up & made hir chere,
And seyde þat grauntyd was hyr askyng.
And anoon roos up wythoute tarying
Thys yung man, & out hym dede hye,
And wyth a loude woys he þus dede crye:
‘Oo god, wych is of crystyne men,
Is in heuene & erth & in þe se,
124

For alle þe templys wych as ye ken
To goddys ben made arn but vanyte,
Ner þe goddys þere-in wych wurshepyd be,
For hem-self nere oþire, wyth-owten drede,
They helpyn ne mown in no nede.’
At þis wurd anoon ful loude dede crye
The wycchys & þe bysshops of þe templys also:
‘Put a-wey þis wycche & mak hir to dye,
For she myndys chaungyth & turnyth ther-to.’
And wyth hir wurdys a sedycyoun, lo,
Among þe peple dede grow moor
Than it was many a day be-foor.
The prefect, þis seying, astoynyd was,
And was eek aferd proscrypt haue be
Yf ageynys þe bysshops, as in þis caas,
Of þe templys in ony wyse dede he
In defens of Anneys ayens here decre;
Wherefore, þe sedycyoun of þe peple to slake,
A vyker in hys stede he anoon dede make.
Wych whan was doon, ful hastyly
Home to hys hous þe prefect went,
And in hys hert he was ful heuy
That he ne myht aftyr hys entent
Anneys delyueryn from torment,
Syth she hys sone as he had seyn
From deth to lyf had reysyd ageyn.
Aftyr þis, Aspasyus, þe prefectys vyker,
The sedycyous peple assentyng to,
Dede makyn anoon a ryht greth feer
And Anneys in þe myddys he dede do.
And forth-wyth þe flaumme departyd in two
And on ych syde brent þe peple þer-by,
But yt in no wyse cam anneys ny.
Yet þe furyous peple þis nold ascrye
To goddys uertu but to wycchys werkyng,
Where-fore þei lowde dede blaspheme & crye,
And Anneys, in þe myddys of þe feer stondyng
125

And demurely hir handys a-brood spredyng,
Wyth þese wurdys of hert entere
To god deuouthly made hyr preyere;
‘O almyhty god, most ful of uertu,
And to be drede & wurshepyd most wurthy,
Fadyr of owre lord cryst ihesu,
Blyssyd þou be for by þi sone suthly
Wykkyd mennys thretys askapyd haue I,
And þe deuelys vnclennessys thorgh þi grace
By a path vndefoulyd I haue do pace.
Now see I, lord, þat by þe spyryth of þe
Wyth dew from heuen bathyd am I;
The feer also her deyith by-syde me,
And þe flaumme eek deuydyd is meruelously,
Whos heete no wyse commyth me ny,
But hem yt brynnyth aftyr þine entente
Wych mynystryd yt me to tormente.
Now blyssyd be þou, fadyr, most wurthy
To be prechyd & preysyd in ych cuntre,
Wych þorgh þi grace most benyngnely
Among þe flaumme of feer hast maad me
In euery wyse vnfeerful to be,
And wyth as oþir me torment wold do,
Thow makyst me meryly to com þe to.
That I beleuyd haue, lord, now I se,
Thankyd be euyr þi blyssyd grace,
That I haue t[h]irstyd is now holdyn of me,
That I haue coueytyd I now enbrace
And halse to my greth gostly solace,
Wherfore wyth lyppys & herte, lord, enterly,
The confesse & coueyt euyr-more wyl I.
See & behold how I come to the,
Qwyk & uery god & almyhty,
Wych wyth ihesu þi sone in egal degre
And wyth þe holy gost inseparabylly
Now lyuyst & regnyst intermynabylly,
In oon substaunce I wele ken,
126

From werd in-to werdys euere-more, amen.’
Whan þus & on mych bettyr wyse
Than I kan now expressyn here,
As deuouthly as she cowde deuyse,
Compleet had Anneys hir preyere,
So sodeynly queynt was al þe feer
That of feer ner hete was þer no more
Than þer had neuere ben feer before.
Thys seyng, Aspasye, þe prefectys vyker,
The sedycyous peple to plese the entent,
Comaundyd a swerd both bryht & clere
Into hyr throte depe for to be sent,
And þus þis holy mayde, þis innocent,
Cruelly martyrd for crystys sake,
To hym as hys spouse he dede take.
Hyr fadyr & hyr modyr wer not heuy
Of hyr deth, for þei crystene were,
But wyth greth ioy þei toke hyr body
And to a place of hern þei it dede bere
Wyth-oute þe wallys, & beryid yt þere,
In þat hy-weye wych Numentan hyht,
For to þe cyte of Numance yt goth ryht.
Where whyl þei wyth othere mo
Many nyhtys wachyddyn ful deuouthly
At hyr Tumbe, as þe guyse was þo,
Euene at mydnyht a greth cumpany
Of maydyns þei seyin comyn hem forby,
[In] gold woue garnementys wych clad w[o]re,
And a greth lyht went hem be-fore,
Among wych maydyns, freshe of arraye,
They aspyid her douhtyr, blyssyd Agnete,
In lych shynyng garnement & as gay,
And on hir ryht hand a lamb ful swete
Wyth hir walkyng besydyn hir fete,
Wych þan snow was more whyhte,
And to hem þis was a meruelous syht.
And þan hir felaas Anneys dede preye
127

Styl a whyl to stonde, in hir degre,
And to hir frendys she þus dede seye:
‘As deed be war beweylyth not me,
But rather be glad of my dygnyte,
For [wyth] þis blyssyd & gloryus company
The bryht setys of heuen now entryd am I.
And to hym in heuene also perpetuelly
Ioynyd I am, whom in erth lyuyng
Wyth hool entent of my soule oonly
I louyd passyng euery oþir thyng.’
Wych wurdys seyd, in þe twynglyng
Of an yhe alle þei venysshyd a-wey,
And aftyr of hem no more þei sey.
Whan þe rumour of þis reuelacyoun,
Wych more & more contunely grew,
To many a castel & to many a town
The trumpet of fame aboute blew,
Be summe of þem wych yt wel knew
To dame Custaunce was tolde al þe caas
Wych douhtyr of Constantyn þe emperour was.
Thys constance was a quene gloryous
And a prudent mayde, as seyth þe story,
But a dysshese she had ful comerous,
For sorys she had & þat so many
That from foote-sole to þe crounne on hy
As many þere were as þer myht be,
So þat no membre from sorys was fre.
And for no lechecrafth of hir greth woo
Myht in no wyse hir helpe ne cure,
Hyr counsel yaf here þat she shuld goo
To Anneys tumbe, þe virgyn pure,
Wyth ful hope & truste helth to recure.
And so she dede, & whan she cam there
She deuouthly preyid, þow she heþine were.
And as þis Constaunce lay in hyr preyere,
Aslepe she fel euene vnwarly,
And to hyr blyssyd Anneys dede apere,
128

Seying, ‘o Constaunce, do constaunthly,
And cryst, goddys sone, feythfully
Beleue to be þi uery saluatour,
And he shalle cure & hele al þi langour.
At þis voys dame Constaunce awook,
As heyl & as hool as she holest myht be,
And on alle hir membrys whan she dede look
There apperyd no tokne of infirmyte.
And anoon to paleys home went she
And tolde hyr fadyr & hir brethyrn also
Eeuen al þe processe as it was do;
For ioye of wych was al þe cyte
Gadryd to-gedyr wyth greth gladnesse;
And [whan] þei had herd þis greth nouelte
Greth wundyr it was to more & lesse,
Confoundyd also was þe vnfeythfulnesse
Of hethyn peple, and of cryst Ihesu
The feyth comendyd & þe hye uertu,
And anoon sprang a-brode þis opynyoun
In Rome & aboutyn in ych cuntre,
That who-so-euyr come wyth deuocyoun
To anneys tumbe he hoole shuld be,
What-so-euyr were þere infyrmyte,
Wych cryst to doon yet to þis day
No wyhs man douthyth, þis is no nay.
In þis mene tyme Constaunce dede preye
Hyr fadyr & hyr brethyrn þat for hir sake
They grauntyn wold, & it not geyn-seye,
Ouyr seynt Anneys a cherche to make,
And þere-by a place wher yn clothys blake
She myht dwelle whyl hyr lyf dede dure,
And seruyn seynt Anneys, þe uirgyn pure,
Thys þe emperours dohtyr, blyssyd constaunce,
Whan Anneys had curyd of alle infirmyte,
In parfyth uirgynyte had perseueraunce,
By whom many maydyns of Rome cyte,
Both hy & lowe and of euerych degre,
129

To god & to blyssyd Anneys þere
Wyth an holy veyl consecrat were.
And for feyth by deth suffryth no damage,
Many of þe romayn uirgyns ying,
Blyssyd Anneys folwyng wyth [deu]out corage
As she in body þere were yet lyuyng,
And by exaumple of hyr myhtyly wyrkyng,
Ben perseueraunht, hopyng to get þer-by
The gloryous palm of perpetuel vyctory.
Lo, now haue I brefly acomplysyd

Epilogus operis precedentis.


Seynt Anneys lyf, as I suppose,
In þe prologe lych as I promysyd,
Aftyr þe wrytyng of sent Ambrose
Whom fully to folwyn was my purpose,
Not wurde for wurde, for þat ne may be
In no translacyoun, aftyr Jeromys decre;
But fro sentence to sentence I dar wele seyn
I hym haue folwyde euene by & by;
And yet is it ful herde, me semyth certeyn,
Hym so to folwyn, for most straungely
Among alle doctours & most vnkouthly
He endytyth, & who-so me not leue,
If hys bookys he rede he it shal preue.
Gramercy, seynt Ambrose, holy doctour,
Wych to seynt Anneys haddyst swych affeccyoun
Þat þou woldyst takyn þis blyssyd labour
Hyr lyf to wrytyn for uirgynys instruccyoun,
Wych in an angle þou founde of oblyuyoun
Pryuylye hyd, & haddyst pyte
That it by neglygence shuld lost haue be.
Gramercy also, o blyssyd virgyne,
Most gracyous anneys, & martyr also,
Wych vouchyddyst-saf þine erys inclyne
To prohemyal preyer wych I þe made to.
Gramercy, lady, for now I haue alle do,
And for my guardoun, lady, purches þou me
The aftyr þis mysery in blysse to se.
[_]

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Amen gramercy ihesu.
130

The lyf of seynt Dorothye.

Whan crystys feyth yung was & newe
And not fully rotyd stedefastly,
Many a tyraunth yt dede pursewe
And it to confounde þem bysyid vttyrly;
Amoung wych alle most cruelly
Ther-ageyn owtragyd Dyoclycyan,
Wyth hys compere in malyhs, Maxymyan.
In whos tyme among oþir mo
In Rome dede dwellen a wurthy man,
Wych by senatours descendyd fro
The hye & noble blood Romylyan,
Wych hycht, as þe story telle can,
Dorotheus, & egal to hys dygnyte,
Theodora clepyd, a wyf had he.
Thys dorothye, seyng þe persecucyoun
Of crystys feyth grow, for he crystyene was,
He Rome forsoke & al hys possessyoun,
Both vynys, feldys & eek statly plaas,
Wyth theodora hys wyf, feyr of faas,
And here two dowtrys, of wyche Trystem
Hyht þat oon, the tothyr Kalystem.
And of Capadocye on-to þe kyngdam
He fled, & in-to þat royal cyte,
As was hys fortune, of cesary he cam,
Where of hys wyf a dowtyr gat he,
Whos name þei clepyd Dorothe
From þe fontstoon, & in pryuy wyse
The bysshop Apolynar hyr dede baptyse.
Thys Dorothe, of youthe fulfyllyd wyth grace
Of þe holy gost, in uertu euere grew,
And in al goodnesse, whos synguler solace
Was bodyly clennesse euere to pursew,
And flesshly corupcyoun eek to eschew;
And for to spekyn of bodyly bewte,
131

She passyd alle þe maydyns of þat cuntre.
But þe deuyl, wych euyrmore hath enuye
Wyth clennes, þe prefect of þe seyd cyte,
Fabrycius clepyd, of gloryous dorothye
Prykkyd wyth þe loue so sore, þat he
For hyr sent, & of tresore plente
He profyrd hyre, & in many a thyng
To endewyn hir, & to weddyn hyr wyth a ryng.
Whan Dorothe had herd hys talkyng,
Stablysshyd wyth grace in hir inward thouht,
These temporal delyhs hertly despysyng,
Alle werdly rychesse she set at nouht.
And whan she was beforn hym brouht,
Dreedeles she confessyd euene opynly
That crystys spouse she was trewly.
Fabrycius wex wode wyth þis answere,
And comaundyd anoon þat wyth-oute lettyng
In-to a tunne men shuld hyr beere
Ful of oyle feruently brennyng;
But in hyr spouse ihesu trustyng,
As mery & glade þere-yn was she
As wyth swete bawm she anoyntyd had be.
Many a paynym, þis myracle seyng,
To cryst conuertyd was inwardly;
But Fabrycius, to wycchecrafth it ascryuyng,
To prisoun hyr comaundyd be led hastyly,
Where meetlees she was nyne days fully,
In wych tyme by aungelys mynystracyoun
Fed she was wyth heuenly consolacyoun.
Aftyr þis tyme whan she was brouht
Out of presoun þe Iuge before,
And hir beute was dyscrecyd ryht nouht
But rather encrecyd more & more,
Alle þo hyr seyn wundryd ful sore
How she, þat so longe had be meteles,
Myht in bodyly beute so sore encres.
132

But fabrycius, blyndyd in hys madnesse,
By þis greth myracle ryht noht set,
And to hir seyd: ‘but þou wyth mekenesse
My goddys wursshype wyth-oute let,
I shal do þe be hangyn on a iebet.’
‘God wurshepe I wyl, not deuelis,’ quod she,
‘Nere mawmettys, swych as þi goddys be.’
And wyth þat worde to þe erthe-ward
She doun felle, & ful deuouthly
Hyr eyne up she lyftyd to heueneward,
Preying þus: ‘lord, for þi mercy,
Shewe þi myht here euene opynly,
And proue by sum tokne from heuene now
That þou god art, & noon oþir but þow.’
And anoon a pyller of marbyl ful hy,
Wych Fabrycius had set up on þat place,
And þer-on an ydole foul & lothly,
Aungelys ful many, doun sent by grace,
So vyolently dede al to-race,
That neythyr of ydol ner of pyler
Was no part left aftyr hyr preyer.
And euene furth-wyth in þe eyr alofte
Was herd a voys of deuelys crying
On þis wyse: ‘why vexyst so ofte
Vs, dorothye, maydyn tendyr & ying?’
For wych cause from her myslyuyng
Many a paynym þer conuertyd was,
And for crystys sake martyrd in þat plaas.
But on a iebet, and vpward hyr feet,
Dorothye þei heng ful horrybylly,
And wyth yerdys & skourgys hir body beet,
And wyth hokys of yren hyr flesh cruelly
They al to-rent, & hyr pappys vnpetously
Wyth feerbrondys brent, & aftyr hyr dounn
Half-deed takyn þei shettyn in presounn.
But on þe morwe whan þe day wex clere,
And she was broht the Iuge before,
133

Neythir spote ne hurt in hyr dede appere;
Wher-of Fabrycius wundryd ful sore,
And seyde þus to hire: ‘o wurthyly bore
Feyr mayd, I counsel, yet turn a-geyn
For chastysyd þou art ynow, certeyn.’
And þer-wyth anoon hyr sustrys tweyne,
Trystem & kalystem, he to hyr dede sende,
Wych cryst forsakyn had for fere of peyne,
By whom hyr to turne he redyly wende;
But euene contrarye þat he dede entende
Befel, for by hyre hyr sustrys both two
Cryst ageyn perfythly conuertyd wer to.
Fabrycius þis heryng was nere out hys mynde,
And in hys madnesse he a newe torment dede feyne,
For of þese two sustrys he comaundyd to bynde
Eythers bak to oþers wyth a myhty cheyne,
And in-to a fere hem kast to brenne botht tweyne;
And whan þis was doon wyth a pale face
Gloryous Dorothye he þus gan manace:
‘How longe wylt þou vs forth þus drawe
Wyth þi wychecrafth from day to day?
Now both þi systrys ben broht a-dawe,
Yet yf þou wylt þou styl lyue may.
Wher-fore do sacryfyse wyth-oute delay
To my goddys, & I wyl þe respyte,
Or ellys þine heed I wyl of do smyte.’
Dorothie to þis answerd mekely:
‘What-euere þou wylt for my lord ihesu
And my spouse to suffryn I am redy.
And euere haue ben sen I hym fyrst knew,
In whos gardyn, ful of uertu,
Rosys wyth appyls I gadryn shal,
And be myry wyth hym in ioye eternal.’
At þis worde þis tyraunth furyous
Comaundyd hys tormentours wyth-oute lettyng
That þei wyth stauys hir face beuteuous
And wyth greth battys shuld al to-dyng,
Tyl of hir face were no semyng;
134

And whan þere-of no þing they se myht,
In a dyrk presoun þei hyr shet al nyht.
But on þe morwe whan she was brouht
Beforn Fabrycius þe Iuge erly,
As hool she was as she had ryht nouht
Suffryd beforn of peynys sothly;
Where-for Fabrycius, confoundyd vttyrly,
Cowd no ferþer, but yaf þe decre
Þat wyth-oute let she hefdyd shuld be.
And as she wyth-owte þe wallys cam,
Oon Theophyl preyid hyr schornfully,
Wych prothonotarye was of þat kyngdam,
That she sum rosys wold hym sendyn hastyly
From hyr spousys gardyn, & she feythfully
Hym hyht þat she so do wolde,
Al-þow þat wyntyr it was ful colde.
And whan she brouht was on-to þe place
Of her iewes by decollacyoun,
She preyid god hertly of hys specyal grace
For þo þat remembre wold hyr passyoun,
That hem saue from euery trybulacyoun
He wold vouchesaf, & specyally from shame
Of hateful pouert & eek of fals name.
Also þat he wold dew contrycyoun
Hyr deuowtys grauntyn at hyr last ende,
And of alle here synnys plener remyssyoun;
And yf wummen wyth chyld of hyr had mende,
That he þam hastly wold socour sende;
And þat noon hous where were hyr passyonarye
Wyth feer ner lyhtnyng shuld neuyr myskarye.
And euene as she þis prayere had maad,
A voys yaf an answere in þis degre:
‘Come loue, come spouse, & be ryht glad,
For þat þou hast askyd is grauntyd the,
And for alle þat þou preyst sauyd shal be.’
And wyth þat wurde she dede inclyne
Doun hyr heed hyr lyf to fyne.
And as she þus dede bowe lowly,
135

A chyld apperyd in purpyl feyr clad,
Barefoot, & wyth heer kurlyd semely,
In whos clothys sterrys gylt bemys oute sprad,
& wyth thre rosys & thre applys in hys hand he had
A sportelet, & doun up-on hys kne
He hym set, & offryd it on-to dorothe.
And she hym preyid wyth ful humble entent
That to theophyl þe scrybe he yt wold bere,
And seyn þat she sent hym þat present
As she hym hyht whan she was þere;
And he forth went; & wyth-oute fere
The dynt of deth she toke mekely,
And hyr soule to heuene euene up dede sty.
Martyrd was þis blyssyd dorothye
The yere of grace two hundryd & eyhghty,
If eyghte þer-to men doon applye,
Of februarye þe syxten day suthly,
Vndyr Fabrycius þe prefect cruelly,
Ocupying þe empere dyoclycyan,
As to-forn is seyd, wyth maxymyan.
To theophile, stondyng þis tyme opynly
In þe paleys, þis seyd chyld dede apere,
And by þe hand hym tok & led manerly
Asyde, seyng: ‘þe rosys here
Wyth applys þe sent my suster dere
From hyr husbondys gardeyn, I dar wel say.’
And þis seyd he vanysshyd a-way.
And anoon Theophyl to preyse began
And to gloryfyen cryst, god of dorothye,
Wych in þe monyth of Februarye kan,
Whan frost & cold þe erthe doth wrye,
And on þe trees men leuys may [noon] aspye,
To whom he wyl rosys & applys sende,
Blyssyd be hys name wyth-outyn ende.
Thus for þe greth credybyl wytnesse
Of theophyle & of hys deuouth prechyng,
136

Alle þat cyte both more & lesse
To cryst wer turnyd wythowte lettyng.
But Fabrycius, alle þese þingys seyng,
So sore astoynyd was in þis caas,
That vnnethe he wyst where þat he was.
And specyally whan he Theophyl sey
Conuertyd & prechyn so feythfully,
Hys hert from hym was nere a-wey;
But aftyr he hym wyth more tormentrye
Assaylyd þan euere he dyde dorothye,
For on many smal pecys hys body he hew
And to bestys & fowlys þe gobettys he threw.
But fyrst þis Theophyl was baptysyd
And howsyld alse ful deuouthly,
And so wyth peynys aftyrward supprysyd
Lych as I seyd erst, & þat cruellye,
And so folwyd hys mastrysse dorothye,
And cam to cryst in blysse regnynge,
Whedyr thorgh hyr merytys he mote us bryng. Amen.
Now blyssyd uyrgyn, o Dorothye,

Jhon Hunt_Elizabetha uxor eius

Wych gloryfyid art in heuene aboue,
Graunt Ioon hunt, or þan he dye,
Aftyr hys desyre þe frensshepe to proue,
And Isabel, hys wyf, wych the both loue;
At whos request & humble supplycacyoun
Was of thi lyf made þis translacyoun,
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Amen mercy ihesu an gramercy.

The prolocutorye in-to Marye Mawdelyns lyf.

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
137

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.
138

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,
139

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
140

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,
141

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
142

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.
143

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
144

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.
Amen mercy ihesu & gramercy.

The prologe of marie maudelynys lyf.

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,
145

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.
146

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
147

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.
Amen.

Her begynnys þe lyf of Marye Maudelyn.

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,
148

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,
149

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,
150

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
151

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.
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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
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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.
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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
155

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;
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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.’
157

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,
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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
159

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,
160

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:
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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
162

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,
163

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
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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,
165

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,
166

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,
167

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
168

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,
169

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;
170

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
171

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,
172

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.
[_]

[Seven blank lines.]


Amen.

The prologe in-to seynt kateryns lyf.

Kateryne of ‘Cata’, wych is ‘Al’ to seyne,
And ‘r[uin]a’ wych ‘a Fal’ do sygnyfye,
Dyryuyid is, wher-by in wurdys pleyne
That in hyre dounn fel, we moun aspye,
Al þat þe deuylle kan edyfye,
As by mekenesse pryde, lust by maydynhood,
And coueytyse by contempt of werldly good.
Oor ellys þat wurd ‘katerina’,
As in þe goldene legende seyth Ianuence,
Is as mych to seyn as ‘cathenula’,
Wych is ‘a cheyne’; & þis is þe sentence
There-of, þat she by copyous affluence
Of good werkys hyr maad a cheyne
By wych to heuene she myht atteyne.
173

And þis cheyn, aftyr þe seyd clerk,
Had foure lynkys or fourefold degre,
Of wych þe fyrst is innocens of werk,
Clennesse of herte þe secunde puttyth he,
The thrydde is despyht of uanyte,
The [fou]rthe is uoydaunce of sleythe in speche,
Wych foure þe prophete þus doth us teche:
‘Who shal up steye to þe hyl,’ quod he,

Quis ascendit in montem domini &c. Ps. 23°.


‘Of oure lord, or stondyn in hys place holy?
Innocent in handys, & in herte puryte
Wych hath, in hys soule not takyth veynly,
Ner to hys neychbore sweryth treccherously.’
But howe þese foure were in blyssyd kateryne,
The processe of hyr legende kan determyne.
Wych to declaryn er I furth procede,
I the beseche, o gloryous uirgyne,
Vouchesaf me so in treuthe to lede
Of wurd & werk þat I neuere declyne
From it, & whan þat I shal fyne
My temporal lyf, help þat I may
To þat blysse ascende wher þou regnyst ay.
More-ouyr alle þo þat redyn or here
Shal þis tretyhs, as lowly as I kan,
I beseche no wyse to lokyn here
That I shuld telle hou she fyrst began
To be crystyne, & howe oon clepyd Adryan
Hyr conuertyd & crystnyd in hyr youthe,
For þat mater to me is ful vnkouthe.
But who-so lyst knowleche for to haue,
And in þat mater enuereyd to be,
My fadrys book, maystyr Ioon Capgraue,

Capgraue de vita Sanctœ Kater.


Wych þat but newly compylyd he,
Mote he seke, & he þere shal se
In balaadys rymyd ful craftyly
Alle þat for ingnorance here nowe leue I.
174

But for-as-mych as þat book is rare
And straunge to gete, at myn estymacyoun,
Compendyously of al I wyl declare
No more but oonly þe passyoun,
Of kateryne Howard to gostly consolacyoun,
And to conforte eek of Denstoun kateryne,
If grace my wyt wyl illumyne.
O blysful Ihesu, sum beem lete shyne
Up-on me of heuenely influence,
That þis legende begunne I may termyne,
To þat holy uirgyns laude & reuerence
Wych next þi modyr hath þe excellence
Of uirgynyte by many a prerogatyf,
As by the processys is shewyd of hyr lyf.

Here begynnys the lyf of seynt kateryne.

Whylom whyl Maxence was emperoure,
Of crysten peple a cruel tormentour,
Lych as þe story us doth telle,
In þe cyte of Alysaundyr dede dwelle
A maydyn yinge, ful feyr of faas,
Wych of kyng Constaunce doughtyr was;
Kateryn be name, whom dam nature
Youyn had ful many a feyr feture;
For as it semyd in hyre formyng
She foryetyn had ych oþir þing;
So besy she was on hyr to pore
Al hyre tresoure, þat very pore
She semyd to be whan she had do.
And to þe yiftys of nature also
So greth plente addyd dame grace
Of hyr tresour, þat in short space
By solycytude & good dylygence
Informyd she was in ych scyence
Of þe seuene wych be clepyd lyberal,
So profoundly, þat greth ner smal
Was no clerk founde in þat cuntre,
175

What-euere he were or of what degre,
But þat she wyth hym coude comune.
What shuld I speke of hyre fortune,
Wych was ryht greth; for, as I seyd before,
A kyngys doughtyr she was bore,
To whom hyr fadyr in hys deying,
For he hyr louyd past al thyng,
Of werdly good left greth habundaunce;
But so wyth grace hyr god dede auaunce,
That al þe thyngys she set at noht
Wych ben transytorye, for in hyr þouht
She hyr purposyd for to purchace
The goodys wych neuere awey shul pace,
Ner neuere ende, nere neuere mysse,
As uertu in erthe, & ioye & blysse
Aftyr þis lyf in heuene to leed.
For wych entent, in almesse dede
She hyre ocupyid & in preying,
In hyre fadrys paleys dwellyng.
And whan she eyghtene yere was of age,
Thys seyd Maxence in hys fers rage
Dede make a general proclamacyoun,
Chargyng al men to Alysaundy[r] toun,
Both pore & ryche, at assygnyd day
To comyn, ych in hys best aray,
Wher he hym purposyd in solemne wyse
To hys goddys to make a sacryfyse,
Wyllyng alle men þe same to do;
And yf ony þere were þat nolde so
But rebellyd ageyns hys seyd entent,
He fully ordeynyd þat by iugement
He cruelly shuld be brought adawe,
As a transgressour of hys lawe
And of crystene feyth as a meyntenour.
And whan þe tyme come was & þe our
That þis sacryfyse shuld be do,
Greth confluence of peple cam þer-to,
Wyth hem bryngyng, as was þe guyse,
176

Summe beestys, sume foulys to sacryfyse;
And sume come wych in here preuy entent
To do sacryfyse no þinge ment,
For in affeccyoun þei crystene were.
And as þei alle were assemblyd þere,
Redy to makyn here offryng
Anoon at þe comaundement of þe kyng,
The trumpettys lowde begun to blowe,
Wher-by at ych man myht knowe
Whan þai shuld make her offryng.
And fyrst of alle began þe kyng,
Aftyr þe guyse of þere vsaunce,
Wher many a spere & many a launce
And many a swerde men myht se drawe,
The bestys to sle wych aftyr þe lawe
In þere sacryfyse shuld offryd be.
And whyl þei were besy in sundry degre
To sacryfyse wyth dew dylygence
To her goddys plesaunce & reuerence,
The noyse of þe bestys & peplys cry,
The voys of orgons & of dyuers menstralcy,
So swyftly þe eyr dede furth dryue
That to katerynys eerys þe sounde cam blyue.
And anoon to wetyn what it ment
A massager priuyly she þiddyr sent.
And when she had lernyd clause by clause
Of þis greth noyse what was þe cause,
And how it stood, & in what degre,
She wyth hyr took of hyre meyne
Swych as hyre lyst, & in ful sad wyse
Thedyr went wher þei dede sacryfyse.
Whedyr whan she kam, she dede aspye
Among hem many a wepyng yhe
Of swych as priuyly crystyn were,
And sacryfysyd oonly of deth for fere;
And whan þis sey she was sory,
And euene furth-wyth, ful deuoutly
177

Hyr cause comendyng to goddys grace,
Wyth crystys cros she merkyd hyr face
And eek hyr brest, & wyth sad chere
Wher þe emperour was she drow nere,
And as he was ocupyid in hys sacryfyse,
To hym she seyd euene in þis wyse:
‘The to salusyn, o syre emperour,
Wych lord art here & eek gouernour,
The dygnyte of þin ordur us shuld compelle,
And þe weye of resoun þe same doth telle,
Yf þese sacryfysys wych þou doost to
These fals goddys þou woldyst do
To oo god aboue, wych is creatour
Of heuene & of erthe & sool gouernour,
And of al ther-yn wych is conteynyd.
But þese whom mannys errour hath feynyd
To be goddys uery deuelys be,
Or deuelys dennys; wherfore ye
Wrongfully to hem doon sacryfyse.’
And anoon she began in crafty wyse,
Stondyng beforn þe temple gate,
By dyuers conclusyons hyr to dylat,
And by many sylogysmys & by many an argument
She þer dyserthly shewyd hyr entent.
And whan she had longe þis wyse do,
The emperour hyr wurdys she turnyd to,
And seyd, ‘syre emperoure, loo, in þis wyse
To þe I haue spokyn as to þe wyse;
But nowe I wyl return to comown speche.
Telle me þe cause, I the beseche,
Why hast þou gadryd þis multytude
Thus in veyn of þis peple rude,
Of youre goddys to wurshyp þe fonnydnesse?
What is þe skyl, telle me expresse,
Why þou so wundryst þis temple hye
By masouns handys her maad redy,
The ornamentys þer-of & eke þe ar[a]y,
178

Wych, be þai neuere so fresh & gay,
Yet shul þei rote & a-wey pace
As doth dust beforn þe wyndys face?
Maruayle rathyr by al resoun
Why heuene is up & erthe is doun,
And al þe contentys wyth-yn both to,
As fysshys & foulys; maruayle also
The heuenys orbiculer reuolucyoun
From est to west wyth-oute cessacyoun,
And why sunne & mone wyth oþir sterrys fyue
Contraryous cours geyn al heuene dryue,
And han doon from þe werldys begynnyng,
And shul to þe ende wythowte secyng,
Her offyhs performyng to þat entente
That þei wer set fore in þe fyrmament.
And whan þou wel hast consyderyd al þis,
Vndyrstonde þat oon yet myhtyere is
Than al þem, of alle þe creatour,
Vnmeuable, & of alle oþir þe motour.
And yf þou thurgh grace gun hym aspye,
Hym preyse, hym wurshype, hym gloryfye,
For he is god alone & noon but he.’
And whan on þis wyse longe had she
Hyr dylatyd by many a resoun,
And more-ouyr of crystys incarnacyoun
Mych thyng dysputyd prudently,
The emperour astoynyd was inwardly,
And to hyr he seyd on þis wyse:
‘Wumman, lete us our sacryfyse
Performyn & endyn as gunne haue we,
And þan douthles þou shalt answerd be.’
And anoon forwyth he commaundyd & bad
That to hys paleys she shuld be lad,
And to be kept wyth good dylygence,
For grethly he maruaylyd of hyr prudence
In hyr talkyng, & of þe greth beute
Wych she hadde in excellent degre,
179

Past alle oþir, as to hys eye,
That euere to-forn he had seye.
Wherfore he purposyd wyth al hys myht
Hyr ageyn to wyn, yf at he myht.
And whan þat hys sacryfyse was al do
And returnyd hys paleys he was to,
He hyr bade be brouht to hys presence,
To whom he þus uttryde hys sentence:
‘Damysel, ye knowe in what wyse
Thys day, whyl we in oure seruyse
Ocupyid were ful deuouthly,
To us ye precyde euene opynly,
And by maner of an exhortacyoun
Ye þere maad a longe peroracyoun,
In wych we perceyuyd greth eloquence,
And wern eek ameruaylyd of youre prudence.
But for-as-myche as oure wyttys applyid
Were þat tyme & fully occupyid
In excucyoun of oure sacryfyse
On-to oure goddys aftyr oure lawys gwyse,
We myht not wel takyn your entent,
Ner clerly vndyrstond what ye ment.
And þerfore home hedyr on-to oure place
We you sent, tyl more lengere space
And lasere we myth han of talkyng.
Wherfore nowe at þe begynnyng,
Er we ferþere forth do procede,
Fyrst I wyl knowe of your kynrede;
And whan þat to me opyn is & clere,
Than wyl I spekyn of oþir matere.’
To whom Kateryne wyth ful sad chere
An answer yaf in þis manere:
‘Syr, as I fynd wrytyn by a poete,
No man shuld hym-self byyete,
Ner extollyn hym-self by pompous fame,
Nor ouyr mych puttyn hym-self in blame,
For so doon folys, quod he, suthly,
Wych ben uexyd wyth veyn-glory.
180

Wherefore neythyr I wyl hyde
My byrth, ner wyth pompous pride
Magnyfyin it more þan yt is.
A kyngys doughtyr I was, I-wys,
Wych deed is ful longe ago,
And but me chyldryn he left no mo;
Wherfore hys eyr I am by ryht
Of resoun, & kateryne I hycht.
But not-wythstondyng þat I was bore
In purpyl, & instruct in þe lore
Of þe seuene scyencys clepyd liberal,
Yet by my kunnyng ryht not at al
I set, ner by þe greth honour
Of my byrth, wych at þis our
Wyth al myn hert I her forsake
And set at nouht for crystys sake,
Wych is my spouse, my lord, my loue,
For whoos sake to suffryn reproue
I now am redy & euere shal be,
For oþir god is þer noon but he;
For he is myhty, wytty, ful of goodnesse,
And redy to helpyn at ych dystresse,
And kan no wyse hys grace denye
To hem in nede wych to hym crye.
But alle þo goddys of wych ye yelpe
So feble ben þat þai ne helpe
May neythyr hem-self ner oþir man.
Mych folys, me semyth, be þai þan
That puttyn þer trust in swych godheed
Wych may not helpyn hem at her need,
Ner in trybulacyoun socour sende,
Ner from no peryls hem defende.’
‘Than folwyth yt þus,’ quod þe emperour,
‘That al þe werd erryth at þis our
In þe myschef of fals byleue,
And kan not to þe treuth acheue,
Saf þou alone; wych may not be,
For in þe mouth stondyth of two or thre
Al wytnesse, as techyn þe wyse,
181

And not in oon aloon, as þou doost deuyse.
Wherfor, þowe þou wer an aungel
Or an heuenly vertu, and dydyst us tel
The contrarye of þat we beleue,
We no wyse awte þe to leue.
And mych more now, syth þou no art
Neythyr aungel ne hast no part
Of heuenly vertu, but by natur
A wumman þou art, & a frele creatur,
Wych is euere uaryaunth & vnstable,
Fykyl, fals and deceyuable,
As we wel knowyn by experyence,
We owe to yeuyn no credence
On-to þi wurdys nere to þi speche.’
‘Syr emperour,’ quod she, ‘I yow beseche,
Suffre not your-self of cr[e]d[u]lyte
Ner of woodnesse ouyrcome to be,
For in þe soule of a whys man
No passyoun of trouble abyde can.
Wher-fore, syr, beth reulyd by equyte
If ye lyst to reioyse yow of lyberte;
For, as in a poete ye fynd moun,
Who þat is reulyd by resoun
And not by hys senswal felyng
Hath wurthyly þe name of a kyng;
And þer-ageyn who-so ne wyl
By resoun be reulyd & by skyl,
But folwyth þe lust of senswalyte,
Thow he emperour, kyng, or kayser be,
He ne may for al hys hy lynage
The tytyl auoydyn of seruage.
Wherfore, syr, by counsel of me
Haboundyth [y]ou in uerteuous lyberte
Wych euere conseruyn wyl your honour.’
‘A, I se rycht wele,’ quod þe emperour,
‘That wyth þi treccherous sotylte
Us to snarlyn þou besyist þe,
And by exaunnplys of phylosophye
To bryngyn us all to þi folye.
182

I aspyid haue alle þine entent.’
And furth-wyth to presoun he hyr sent,
There to abydyn hys lasere.
And anoon he sent a massagere
Wyth lettrys on-to al þe clergye
That was wyth-yn hys tyrannye,
Chargyng þat alle þe maystrys of gramer
And of rethoryk eek, both fer & ner,
In as hasty wyse as yt myht be do,
The pretory of alysaundyr shuld come to,
Wyth a maydyn þer to contende
Wych to be whys dede pretende,
Of whom yf þai myht han victory
Thei rewardyd shuld be wurthyly.
And anoon of dyuers prouyncys wer souht
Rethoryens & to alysaundyr broht
Fyfty, wych þat in her connyng
Excellyd alle oþir men lyuyng,
As of hem was blowe þe opynyoun
By þe trumpet of fame fro town to toun.
And whan þai come þe emperour before,
They askyd cause why & wherfore
They aftyr wer sent in so hasty wyse.
‘Syrs,’ quod the emperour, ‘for ye ben wyse,
And I of wysdam haue greth myster;
For in my courght wyth me her
A maydyn I haue wych doth pretende
I wyt to passyn alle men lyuende,
And despysyth our goddys & hem doth calle
Deuelys or deuelys dennys alle,
And to enforcyn wyth hyr entent
She multyplyith many an argument,
And alle þat she seyth, by poysye,
By rethoryk or ellys by phylosophye
She confermyth ryht marualously.
Of whom yf ye kun gete þe vyctory,
I shal rewarde you wele for your labour
And home ageyn sendyn wyth greth honour.’
183

Whan þis was seyd, wyth greth dysdeyn
Thus oon of hem answerd ageyn:
‘Syr emperoure, saf oonly youre reuerence,
Of your counsel þe inaduertence
I maruayle grethly, & þat ye wold calle
Hedyr from so fer us alle,
And specyaly for so smal a mater
To wych had suffycyd þe leste scoler
Of ony of us, I dar ryht wele seyn.’
To whom þe emperour, þis seyd, ageyn:
‘I knowe wele þat wyth fors of myht
Hyr to sacryfyse compellyn I myht,
And eke by vyolence of peyne
Hyr pompous language I myht restreyn,
And puttyn hyr by turment to sylence.
But bettyr me semyth is þe sentence
That wyth þe wysdam & þe sotylte
Of youre argumentys she concludyd be,
Euene so opynly th[at] she ne may
To be conuyctyd onys seyn nay.
And whan ye han doon, þan wyl I
Inducyn hyre to oure byleue softly,
Or ellys compellyn hyr by torment.
Lo, syrs, now knowe ye myn entent.
Do ye youre deuer as ye kun & moun.’
And in mene whyle in a dyrk prysoun
Kateryne was kept, to whom þe caas
Of þis conflycth pleynly told was.
And whan she it herd, ful deuouthly
Doun she knelyd & to god on hy
Comendyd hyr cause in hir mater.
And euene furth-wyth þer dede aper
An aungel bryht, & bad þat she
In ony wyse shuld of good confort be;
And told hyr sekyr þat not oonly
She þe next [morwe] shuld han victory
184

Of alle þese clerkys, but eek conuerte
She shuld hem alle, & þei in herte
Ful conuertyd thorgh a specyal grace
By martyrdam shuld to heuen blysse pace.
And on þe next morwe ryht by tyme
The emperour was redy anoon by prime,
And set hym on hys sete trybunal,
And anoon to-forn hym he dyde furth cal
Kateryne, & set hyr on þe to syde,
And euene ageyn hyr ful of pryde
The fyfty oratours he dede sete.
And whan kateryne þis sey, wyth-oute lete
On-to þe emperour she þus dede seye:
‘By what resoun ys þis doon, I preye,
That ageynys oo maydyn tendyr & ying
Fyfty greth clerkys þou doost furth bryng?
Whom, of me victory yf þei han mounn,
Thow hast promyssyd greth guerdounn,
Greth wursype eek & greth honour,
And me þou puttyst to þis labour
Wyth-owtyn helpe as from þe-ward,
Thow I be vyctryhs, wyth-owt reward,
Or thank or wurshyp or dygnyte
But not-for-þan, o seynyours, syth we
Assemblyd ben her in opyn place,
Of yow I ask leyser & space
Myn entent pleynly for to declare,
Wyth-owte rethoryk, in wurdys bare
Or argumentatyf dysceptacyoun.
For treuly I mak a protestacyoun
That syth I am in crystys sacramentys
Instruct, I for-sake alle argumentys
Of seculer kunnyng, & of phylosophye,
And oþir thyng to kun I now denye
Than hym wych welle is of alle uertu
And of al kunnyng, my lord cryst Ihesu,
The yiuere of whom, eek of noht,
The fadyr of heuene, al thyng wrouht,
Both heuene & erth & al þat þer-ynne
185

Conteynyd is, wych aftyr for synne
Of mankynd in a uirgyn pure
The freelnesse took of oure nature
And man becam for mannys lofe,
And hys cheryte þat man myht profe.
Wylfully for man he dede deye,
The thryd day roos, & to heuen up steye
The fourty day pleynly by reuolucyoun
Aftyr he had suffryd hys passyoun,
Wher þat he yet regnyng is
Wyth hys fadyr egal in blys,
And euere-more shal tyl it hym gueme
To returnyn ageyn & to deme
Both qwyke & deed as þei deserue,
Punysshyng hem þat in syn sterue
Wyth peynys in helle intermynable,
Rewardyng hem wych ben stable
In uertu wyth euere-lastynng blysse.
Lo, syrs, þis my phylosophy ys,
Myn wyt, myn art, & al my kunnyng,
Bysyde wych I knouleche to kun no þyng.
Thys kunnyng passyth al tresore & cophyrs.’
And whan þis was seyd, al þe phylosofyrs
So astoynyd wer of hyr talkyng
That noon of hem coude wurd furth bryng,
But stodyn as stylle as newe-shorn shepe.
And whan þe emperour of hem took kepe,
And how þei dowm were, in hys fers rage
To hem he vttryd þis language:
‘O ye lewyd knauys, what eylyth yow?
Wher is your pompous phylosophye now?
Wher is your bost & your auauntyng
Þat ye madyn at youre fyrst comyng?
Why stonde ye þus stylle? be ye tunglees?’
And wyth þat wurd, oon put hym in prees
Wych wurthyest was hold of þat cumpany,
And seyd þus: ‘we wyl ye knowe pleynly,
That syth we fyrst kunnyng dede vndyrstonde
186

We neuere noon founde cowde us wyth-stonde
But þat we of hym had þe victory,
Safe alone þis mayde wych stant her-by,
Wych so is fulfyllyd wyth þe influence
Of goddys spyryht, & wyth so hy prudence
Uttryth hyr language, þat our wyttys alle
Wyth hyr greth kunnyng she doth appalle
So fer furth, þat by no maner weye
We kunne ne moun hyr doctryn geyn-sey.
Wher-fore fynally as in þis thyng
We wyl þou haue uere knawlechyng
That lesse þan þou kunne a more able
Se[ntence] furth bryng, & more probable,
Of þi goddys wych in-to þis our
We wurshepyd han & doon honour,
We hem vttyrly here forsake
And to crystys feyt we us betake.’
Whan Maxence þis answer dede here,
He comawndyd anoon a ryht greth fere
In þe myddys to be maade of þe cyte,
And hem alle þer-ynne for to kast be,
Faste bound both hand & foote;
Whom kateryn wyth hyr wurdys soote
Ful dylygently dede counforte,
And to stedfast pacyence eek exhorte,
And fully instruct hem in þe feyth
Of cryst Ihesu; of wych oon seyth,
‘The most heuynesse þat now haue we
Is þat we mown not baptysyd be
Er þan we deye.’ quod kateryne tho,
‘Of þat matere lettyth al dreed go,
For of your blood þe reed streme
Shal been to you suffycyent bapteme
And able to bryng you to þe blysse of heuene.’
And euene furth-wyth in þe myd leuene
They alle wer throwe ful faste bounde.
But þe fals byleue for to confounde
Of þe hethen peple, god thorgh hys grace
187

Thys greth myracle shewyd in þat place,
That as soon as þei fel in þe feer,
Wych þat brent both feyr & cler,
Here soulys þei yolde to goddys mercy
Wyth-owtyn ony hurt of here body,
Or heer of heed or threde of cloth;
And þou þe emperour wer neuyr so wroth,
Crystene men deden here besy cure
Here bodyes to bryng to sepulture.
And þis doon, anoon þe same our
To hys presence comaundyd þe emperour
Kateryne be brouht, & wyt glad chere
To hyre he seyd on þis manere:
‘O maydyn ful of al gentylnesse,
Whos face for þe greth beuteuou[sne]sse
Were wurthy to were purpyl emperyal,
Lystne what I to þe now seyn shal.
Counsele þi youth, as I þe deuyse,
And to oure goddys lowly do sacryfyse,
And I þe behete þat þou shalt been
Secund in my paleyis aftyr þe quen.
And moreouyr aftyr þi lyknesse
I shal do grauyn of marbyl expresse
A gloryous ymage, wyt sceptyr in hond,
Wych in þe myddys of þe cyte shal stond,
Wher-to ych man wyth deuouth reuerence
As to a goddes shal offryn frankencence
As long as stondyn shal þis cyte.’
Quod kateryne, ‘cece swych þingys to me
To seyn, & of swych language blynne,
Wych for to thynkyn is greth synne.
I nede no thyng swych veyn fauour,
Wych sekyr am of mych gretter honour
Than þou mayst yeuyn, for chosyn hath me
My lord Ihesu cryst hys spouse to be.
He is my ioy, he is myn helth,
My loue, my counforth & al my welth;
From whos loue neþir flatery
188

Of wurdys gaye ner tormentry
Whyl þat I lyue dysceuyr shal me.’
And anoon þe tyraunt in hys cruelte
Comaundyd þat she wyth-oute tarying
Dyspoylyd shul be of hyr clothyng,
And be so longe wyth skourgys bete
Tyl al hyr body dede rede blood swete.
And whan fulfyllyd was hys commaundement
To a dyrk prysoun he hyr sent,
And chargyd þat twelue dayis folwynge
Mete ner drynk shuld no man hyr brynge,
He purposyng hyr to enfamyne
Lesse to hys wylle she wolde inclyne.
In wych mene tyme, so stode þe caas,
For certeyn causys constreynyd he was
The extremal marchys of hys regyoun
To vysyte; for wych conclusyoun,
Whan he was goon, steryd was þe quen
Of inward affeccyoun kateryne to seen,
And anoon furth-wyth hyr purpose
To oon Porfyrye she dede encloos,
Wych prynce of c[h]eualrye wyth þe emperour
Was & moost stood in hys fauour,
And at hys lust myht reulyn ych offycer;
Whom she preyid þat þe gayler
So wyth yiftys for to contente,
Th[at] she atteyn myht hyr entente.
And anoon Porfyrye dede hys deuer,
And so hym demenyd wyth ych offycer
That wher þem lyst þei myht go.
Who was mery but þe quen þo?
And aftyr þis, as priuyly as þei myht,
The fyrst vygyl euene of þe nyht,
To-gedyr þei went bothe two,
The quen & porfyry, þe prisoun-ward to.
And whan þei entryd were þe place
189

Where kateryne was, þorgh goddys grace
They anoon perceyuyd so greth a lyht
That þe bryhnesse þer-of þei suffre ne myth,
Wherfoor þei doun fel to grounde,
Both two to-gedyr þe same stounde.
And sodeynly of so swete sauour
And of so greth conforth an adour
In-to þer nosethyrllys dede ascende,
Þat alle here spyrytys begunne to amende
And were reuyguryd in wundyr wyse;
And goodly hem kateryne bade up ryse
And counseld hem no thyng to ben aferde,
For her hertys desyr god had herde
And clepyd hem vn-to hys cheualrye.
And as þei up rysyn, thei dede aspye
Kateryne syttyng ful solemnely
In a gloryous sete, & stondyng hyr by
Aungelys ocupyid wyth besy cure
Hyr woundys for to heel & cure
Wyt many a ful swete oynement,
Wych wer þan baum more redolent.
And anoon aftyr, wyth myld chere
Kateryne preyid þe quen to come nere.
Whan she come was, in wurdys pleyn
Ful sadly to hyr she þus dede seyn:
‘Be strong in hert, I þe prey, lady,
For þis I wyl þou k[n]owe pleynly,
That aftyr the[se] dayis þou shalt pace
To god in heuene, by hys specyal grace.
For by þe prouidence of predestynacyoun
Ordeynyd þou art to endlees saluacyoun;
Wherfore I counsel þe, be of good herte,
And drede no peynys, be þei neuere so smert,
Wych momentanye ben & transytorye,
For þe ende þer-of is þat heuenely glorye
Wych neuere shal sece but euere endure.
Thys marchandyse ys both good & sure,
190

And for a greth auayle may be toulde.
Wher men payin erthe & receyuyn golde:
Þus doon þei wych by martyrdam
Receyuyn of heuene þe noble kyngdam.’
Quod porphyrye þan: ‘we þe beseche
Of þat kyngdam sumwhat us teche.
Is yt a place of so greth blys?’
‘Sekyr,’ quod kateryne, ‘þat place is
Of so greth bryhtnesse & clerte
Þat to no þing yt bettyr lyknyd may be
And to þe sunne, & yet incomparabylly
It is bryhtere & feyrere, sothly.
& for to spekyn of þe comodyte,
Ther is no trouble ner aduersyte,
Noon yre, no rancour, ne trystesse,
No thouht, no languour, ner no syknesse,
Ner hungyr, ner thrust can þer dystreyne;
Absent is þens al sorwe & peyne.
But her-ageyn þer ys, dowteles,
Loue & cheryte, concord and pees,
Merthe, ioye, & euere-lestyng gladnesse
And þat more þan I maye & kane expresse.
For as þe apostyl Ioon us dotht teche,
Was neuere tunge cowd telle wyth speche,
Nere hert thynk, nere eerys here,
The ioyis wych god hath to hys dere
And welebelouyd ordeynyd aboue
In the blysse of heuene; wherfore to loue
Swych a lord myche bounde be we.’
And whan þus wyth holy talkyng had she
Dryuyn furth þe tyme tyl it was mydnyht,
Ryht weel counfortyd & in hert maad lyht
Wer both þe quen & eek porphyrye,
And anoon þei home returnyd ful myrye,
Thankyng god þat he hem grace
Had youyn hys mercy to purchace,
And in affeccyoun so stroung hem make
That rather deyin for hys sake
191

Thei wolde þan offence geyn hym do.
Two hundyrd knyhtys porphyrye also,
Wych on-to hym attendaunth were,
Conuertyd, & hem þe feyth dede lere,
Wych at alle tyme, as þei dede seye,
Redy wer wyth hym to lyue & deye.
But not-for-þan stylle in prysoun
Kateryne abode in þe seyde donioun;
And for-as-myche as by þe decre
Of þe cruel tyraunth meetles was she
Ordeynyd to been ful dayis twelue,
In þe mene tyme cryst hym-selue
From heuene, to compence naturys nede,
By a whyht dowe hyr dede fede.
And whan þe twelue dayis were do,
Cryst hym-self aperyd hyre to,
Of aungels wyth a greth company,
And þus to hyr seyde benygnely:
‘Behoulde here, doughtyr, þi creatour,
For whos name of greth labour
Thou hast begunnen a batayle.
Be stedefast, for I wyl not fayle
In euery nede to ben wyth the.’
Thys seyde, to heuene returnyd he.
Aftyr þis þe nex daye certeyn
That þe emperour was comyn home ageyn,
Aftyr kateryn to prysoun he sent,
Hopyng for hungyr she had be shent
Or ellys deed; but whan at he
Hyr beheld, bryhter of ble
And of colour fressher in euery wyse
Than she was, as he cowde deuyse,
Fyrst or he to prysoun hyre sente,
In hys woodnesse to tormente
The gaylers he chargyt & to bete,
Wenyng þat þai had youyn hyr mete,
Or suffre[d] sum oþir hyre mete to brynge.
Quod kateryne þan, hem excusynge,
192

‘Syr, þi men þou betyst wyth-owte gylt,
For trewly I sey, (leue yt yf þou wylt)
Of alle þese twelue dayis wych in presoun
I haue be kept in a derke donioun,
[I] took neuere meet of erthely man,
Lytyl nere myche, yet not-fo-þan
Me hath do fede ful delycatly
My lord Ihesu, þorgh hys mercy,
By aungelys handys from day to day.’
‘Kateryne,’ quod Maxence, ‘lystyn what I say,
And let my wurdys synkyn in þine herte.
Thy dowtful answer & ouertwherte
Oyse no lenger, for my wyl yt were
Not as an handmayde wyth awe & fere
The to trete, but þat þow shuldyst been
In my cowrt honouryd lyche as a quen,
Ant þat to þe shuld yche man obeye
As to my-self.’ ‘syr, I þe preye,’
Quod kateryne þan, ‘to my wurdys ageyn
Tak hede, & lystyn what I shal seyn.
Dyscern now trewly by a iust sentence,
Whethyr I owe of uery prudence
Rather hym chesyn wych is mychty,
Stable & regnyng eternally,
Gracyous, gloryous, ful of beute,
Or hym wych stant in contrarye degre;
That is to seyn, myhtlees & vnstable,
Whos regne is short & sone meuable,
Graceles, vngloryous, ful of deformyte.
Thus faryth yt be-twyx my lord & the;
Wherfore for hym I þe wyl forsake.’
‘I-wys,’ quod he, ‘I wyl no more make
Swych delayis wyth þe as I haue do.
Wherfore nowe chese oon these to:
Whethyr þow wylt sacryfyse & lyue,
Or wyth cruel torment to deth be dryue.’
193

To whom þus kateryn answerd ageyn:
‘I wyl þou knowe, tyraunth, certeyn,
That lyuyn I desyre in swych degre
That cryst, my loue, my lyf may be,
For whom to deyn I no thyng drede,
For fully I trust endlees mede
To purchace þer in heuene blys.
Wherfore al þat in þine hert ys
To me purposyd of tormentry
Dyfferre no lengere, for clepyd am I
Of my lord Ihesu, for whos sake
I am redy sacryfyse to make
Of my flessh & blood wyth all myn herte,
Wych for my sake wyth peynys smerte
Onys up offryd wyth mylde steuene
Hys flessh & hys blood to þe fadyr of heuene.’
And whan þe emperour þese wurdys herd,
Lych a wood man anoon he ferde,
Musyng in mynd how he myht do
Hyre to dystroye; & wyth þat hym to
A membre of sathanas, clepyd cursates,
The prefect of þe cyte, anoon dede prees,
And þus he seyd: ‘o myhty emperour,
Yet sawe not kateryn into þis our
Swych maner engyn as myth hyr make
For feer þer-of to tremble & quake,
And consent to oure goddys to sacryfyse.
Syre, I come swych oon you to deuyse.
Comaundyth þat wyth-yn dayis thre
Foure greth whelys ordeynyd be,
Of wych þe serclys goyng rounde aboute
Shul wyth hookys of yirn, weel stondyng oute,
Be thyk set, & yche spook þer-to
Ful of yirnene sawys shul be set also,
As sharp as euere þei mowe be grounde,
So þat whan þe whelys turn ronde
Iche of hem shal sum of hyr flessh cache,
And þat oon leuyth anoþir shal feche
194

Among hem alle whan she is sett.’
And anoon þis councel wyth-out lett
Performyd was, & on þe thryd day
Thei furth wer set wyth al her aray,
Euene in þe myddys of þe court-yerd,
Wych who-so sey gan wexyn aferd;
& no wundyr þow yt men dede agryse,
For þei were ordeynyd in so cruel wyse
That two shuld upward rendyng ascende
And contraryously rendyng two descende.
And whan kateryn among þese whelys rounde
Set was, wych hyr shuld confounde
Or constreyn hyr for feer to sacryfyse,
To god she preyid in secre wyse
That he wold vouchesaf of hys grace,
To wurshyp of hys name in þat place,
And þat þe peple wych þer stood to se
Mycht þe rather conuertyd be,
Dystroying þat horryble & hydous torment;
And euene for-wyth þe same moment
An aungel þe engyn yaf swych a swap,
Euene as it had ben a thundyr-clap,
That on a thousend pecys to grounde
It fel, &, þe hethen to confounde,
A thousend it slowe in þe fallyng
Of men or mo þer-by stondyng,
And neþir touchyd ner hurt o crystyn man,
Wher-of greth ioye hem amoung began,
Thanky[ng] to god & greth gladnesse,
Sorwe & shame to alle hethenesse.
And whan þe emperour had seyn þis chaunce,
And stood euene as he had been in a traunce,
Musyng in hys wyt what he myht do,
Furth-wyth þe quen cam doun hym to,
Wych crysten was, but hyr purpoos
In-to þis tym had kept cloos
195

Tyl she þis myraclous ueniaunce had se;
And to þe emperour euene þus seyd she:
‘O þou cursyd & wrecchyd caytyf,
What eylyth þe þus wyth god to stryf?
What woodnesse compellyth þe þis our
To rysyn þus ageynys þi creatour?
At þe leest þou myhtyst in þis dede
The myht haue knowe of þe godheed
Of crysten men, & þe febylnesse
Of þi goddys, wych in þis dystresse,
For al þe myht þat þei to han pretende,
Myht not her seruauntys from deth defende,
Swych goddys who wold wurshyp, allace!’
The emperour, þis heryng, astoynyd was,
And as he had ben fallyn in-to a frennesye,
Wyth a loude voys he þus dede crye:
‘What! how, o quen! what seyis þow?
Art þow wyth wychecrafth deceyuyd now?
Who is yt þat hath deceyuyd þe?
Hast þou forsakyn þe sect þat we
To-gedyr han kept ful many a yere?
I make a noth by þe greth empere
Of oure myhty goddys & immortal,
But þou mekely to ground doun fal
And hem wurchepe wyth pure entent
Fyrst shal I do þi pappys be rent
From þi brest wyt greth vyolence,
And þine heed of be smete I shal sentence,
And þi body to be throwyn in swych place
Wher bestys & foulys it shul moun race.’
But for she hyr nolde to hys wyl applye,
Hys tormentours he chargyd fast to hye
And þat þei shuld euene aftyr hys wyl
In euere poynt hys decre fulfyl.
And whan she furth went to hyr iuwesse,
She kateryne preyid wyth greth mekenesse
For hyr to god þat she wold preye,
196

And þus kateryn ageyn to hyr dede seye:
‘O quen, dred not, but stedefastly
Stond in þi feyth, for þis day treuly
A noble coniunctacyoun þou shalt make,
Whan for a temp[er]al regne þou schalt take
A kyngdam wych þat is eternal,
And for a deedly husbond a spouse immortal.’
Wyth wych wourdys þe quen maad stroung,
Prayi[d] þe tormentours not to taryin to long
But þat þei wer bodyn þei wold do
In hasty wyse, & þei dede so.
For whan þei hyr in-to þe feld had brouht
Ther she shuld be sleyn, þei sparyd nowht
But wyth forkys of yryn ful cruelly
Hyr brestys þei rent from hyr body,
And aftyr þat smet of hir heed,
And leftyn hyr body whan she was deed
In þe felde lying, aftyr þe decre,
Of bestys & foulys deuouryd to be.
But porphyrye þe body þe same nyht
Bar owte þe felde, & it wele dyht
Wyth swete oynementys, dede hys cure
It wurthyly to bryng to sepulture.
And on þe next morwe ful erly
Whan questyoun was maad who þe body
Of þe quen had beryid ageyn þe lawe,
For wych of suspycyoun many oon to awe
The emperour dede puttyn ful cruelly,
Anoon Porfyrye cam furth opynly
And seyd, ‘o tyraunth, I am the man
Wych beryid þe body of þis blyssyd wumman,
That was martyrd for she seruaunth was
To cryst in heuene; & to lych caas
I stond my-self, for pleynly I beleue
In crystene feyth, & uttyrly repreue
Alle fals goddys wyth al myn herte.’
197

At wych wurd þe tyraunth up sterte
As hastyly as he had woundyd be
Wyth a spere, & owte cryid he:
‘Allas þe whyl þat I was bore!’—
And so horrybylly he began to rore
That alle þe paleys it myht here—
‘Allas, porphyrye, myn owun compere,
My soulys kepere, my syngulere counfort,
To whom I was wone for to resort
For counsel at nede in euere caas,
Deceyuyd is now, as me semyth, allas!
For crystene mennys god he apprysyth,
And owr goddys he vttyrly desprysyth.’
Vp-on wych he furth dede calle
Beforn hym porphyryis knyhtys alle,
Inquyryng of hem yf þei know owht
How þis mater aboute was browht.
And wyth oo voys þei alle dede crye:
‘Wyth oure lord porphyrye we be redy to dye,
And euene as he doth we repreue
All fals goddys, & fully byleue
On crystene feyth, for wych entent
We wyl forsakyn no maner torment.’
And whan þe tyraunth sey her stedefastnesse,
The sentence he yaf in hys woodnesse
That porphyrye & alle hys knyhtys in fere
Shuld ben hefdyd, & in swych manere
Her bodyis lefth as was of þe quen,
Of bestys & foulys deuouryd to ben.
Aftyr þis up-on þe next day
He hym dyht in his best aray,
And set hym vp-on hys emperyal stalle,
And beforn hym kateryne he dede calle.
And for he wold hyr herte inclyne
To hys entent, he seyd, ‘o kateryne,
Thowe here-to-forn wyth þi wycchecrafth
And wyth þi mysbyleue þou hast me rafth
Both Porphyrye my knyht & eek my quen,
Yet is it my wyl þat þou shalt ben
198

In my paleys þe secunde persone,
And aftyr me han alle þe reule alone,
And no man þer-yn, up-on dethys peyn,
Shal be so hardy þe to geynseyne,
Vp þis condycyoun: þat in louly wyse
To my goddys þou make a sacryfyse,
Wyth a deuouth hert, of frankencence.
And yf þou nylt concente to þis sentence,
I wyl þe graunth no lengere delay
But þat þine heed shal of þis same day.
Take þis nowe for a conclusyoun fynal.’
‘I-wys’, quod kateryne, ‘tyraunth, at al
The lengere to delayin I ne desyre.
Wherfore, aftyr þe passyoun of þine yre,
What-euere þou lyst to me be do,
At ych oure redy I am þer-to.’
And at þis wurd he yaf þis decre,
That wyth-out tarying she hefdyd shuld be.
And whan þis decre opynly puplychyd was,
And þe tormentours hyr lede towert þe plaas
Where she shulde receyuyn hyr iuwesse,
Many a matrone of hy wurthynesse,
Many a wedwe, & many a maydyn ying,
Aftyr hyr folwyd, ful sore wepyng
For sorwe þat she þis wys shuld deye;
To whom benygnely kateryne dede seye:
‘O nobyl wyuys & wedwys & maydyns ying,
Leuyth your heuynesse & your wepyng,
& lettyth no wyse youre entencyoun
Be besy for to lettyn my passyoun;
But rather ioyith & makyth good chere
That my lord, my loue, no lengere here
Wyl me suffryn, but to hys house
Home wyth hym ledyn as hys owyn spouse.’
And whan þis seyd was, upward hyr eyne
To heuene she lyftyd, & þus dede seyn:
‘O hope & helpe of hem alle tho
That in þe trustyn, o wurshepe also
And synguler glorye of uirgyns alle,
199

O gracyous Ihesu, to þe I calle
Wyth al myn hert, thank yeuyng to þe
That among þine handmaydyns to noumbre me
Thow vouchyst-saf of þi greth goodnesse!
The, lord, I beseche wyth al meeknesse,
Shewe to þine handmayd þis grace,
That what man or wumman in ony place
In wurshype of þi name my passyoun
Remembryth of specyal affeccyoun,
Or in þe oure whan þei deed shul be
Or in ony angwyssh & necessyte
To me for helpe make her preyere,
Redyly her bone vouchesaf to here.
More-ouyr, Ihesu, syth for þi sake
I am redy þe swerd of deth to take,
Vouchesaf to receyuyn up to the
That by þe tyraunth may not kept be,
I mene my spyryth, wych I commende
In-to þine handys.’ but vnnethe an ende
She had made of þis preyere,
That a voys hyr answerd on þis manere:
‘Come, loue! com, spouse! come hedyr to me!
For þe gate of blysse opnyd is to þe.
And owte þere-at, my spouse swete,
Of seyntys greth noumbre commyth þe to mete,
Bryngyng wyth hem to glade þe wyth-al
Of euere-lastynng blysse a croun tryumphal,
Wych þou shalt weryn eternally.
Come forth, & for thy boonys besy
Be ne lenger, for certeynly
They acceptyd been in my courght oonly,
And countrollyd euere-lastyngly to endure,
That who-so-euere wyth herte pure
Remembraunce haue of þi passyoun,
Or in ony angwyssh or trybulacyoun
To þe clepe, þat of me hys boone
For þi sake shal ben herd ful soone.’
And þis seyd, hyre nekke feyr & whyht
200

She put euene furth, & bad hym smyht;
And wyth oo st[r]oke went þe same stounde
The soule to heuene & þe body to grounde.
And euene as soon as þis was do,
God for hyr shewyd myraclys two.
The fyrst was, þat in steed of blood,
Of mylk þer ran owt swych a flood
From hyr nekke whan it was smete,
That alle þe grownd abowtyn yt wete,
And maad yt as whyht as ony lake.
The secunde was, þat aungels dede take
Vp hyr body, & in short whyle
Caryid yt þens ful many a myle,
Vp onto þe mounth of synay,
From alysawndyr ful twenty dayis iournay,
(Wher moyses of god þe lawe dede take),
And a ryal beryels for yt dede make;
Wher oute of hyre tounnbe contunelly
Oyle doth renne ful plenteuously,
Wych al dysese or male-euenture
Thorgh hyr merytys doth hele & cure,
If yt be receyuyd wyth deuocyoun.
Now, blyssyd kateryne, for þi passyoun
Be mene for me to þe mercyfulnesse
Of god in heuene, þat þe wrechydnesse
Of my foor-lyf, or þan I hens pace
Amendyd may be throgh hys grace.
Also, lady, for þi katerynys two,
Howard & Denstoun, I beseche also;
For whos goostly counfort & consolacyoun
Of þi legend þis short translacyoun
I maad in englyssh in dayis fyue.
Graunth hem, lady, here in þis lyue
In uertu so to ben exercysyd,
And me also, þat whan we a-complysyd
Haue of þis wrechyd owtlaurye
The fatal cours, a-boue þe skye
201

By thy conduct & þi specyal grace
We entryn moun to þat gloryous place
Where þow lyuyst & regnyst, as knowe alle men.
Sey ych man þat heryth þis legende, Amen.
[_]

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mercy ihesu & gramercy

The prologe of seynt Cycylys lyf.

Cycile ys as mych to seye
As ‘lylye of heuene’, or ‘to þe blynd weye’;
Or ellys þis wurd ‘Cicilia’
Is compounnyd of ‘celum’ & of ‘lya’;
Or ellys Cicyle, aftyr þe ethimologye,
‘Wantyng blyndnesse’ doth sygnyfye;
Or it is seyd of þis wurd ‘celo’,
And ‘leos’ þat ‘peple’ toknyth also.
And to ych of þese interpretacyouns
Assygnyd ben conuenyent applicacyouns
In hyr legend, aftyr Ianuence,
Wych auctour ys of þis sentence.
Fyrst ‘þe lylye of heuene’ hyr callyth he
For þe heuenely gemme of virgynyte
Wych she hadde in greth excellence.
Or ellys ‘a lylye’ aftyr hys sentence
For causys thre men may hyr calle:
For she þe whytnesse fyrst of alle
Off clennes had, & of conscyence
The verdour or grennesse, & þe redolence
Of good fame wych sprang ful wyde.
To þe blynd eek both wey & guyde
She was by empler informacyoun.
Eek she was heuenely by contemplacyoun:
‘Lya’ she was, as seyth þis clerk,
By steedfastnesse in good werk.
Or ellys ‘heuene’, as he doth seye,
She may be seyd by a-noþir weye;
202

For, as Isidorus us doth teche,
Heuene, aftyr phylosophyrs speche,
Is uoluble & euere turnyng,
Round, & ardently brennyng:
Turnyng was Cycyle of conswetude
Of good werkys by solycytude,
Round by perseueraunce, & by cheryte
Ardently brennyng euere was she.
Seyd she is also ‘wantyng blyndnesse’
Of wyhsdam by þe greth bryhtnesse
Wych she hadde ful excellently,
As men moun seen þat sereously
Hyr legende reed. & last of alle
‘The peplys heuene’ he doth hyr calle,
And he resonabylly þis doth conclude
Be manere of a very symylytude;
For, lych as þe peple in heuene
The sunne & mone & sterrys seuene
Beholdyn & seen materyally,
So in Cecyle þei moun spiritually
Aperceyuyn dystynct bryhtnesse
Of dystynct uertuhs, wych expresse
Men þus moun, as þis clerk seyth:
By þe sunne wysdam, & by þe mone feyth,
And by of sterrys þe dystynct uaryaunce
Of dyuers uertuhs þe habundaunce,
Wych ben dystynct in sundry degre.
Now, blyssyd Cecyle, syth ye be
Lylye of heuene by chast clennesse,
Weye to þe blynde by perfythnesse
Of good werkys, & wyth actyf lyf
Endewyd wer wyth contemplatyf,
And of wysdam by þe greth bryhtnesse
Voyd wer of inward gostly blyndnesse,
And an exempler heuene of vertuhs alle,
Hem helpe in nede þat to þe calle
And wurshepyn þe of specyal affeccyoun;
Geyn her enmys hem get proteccyoun,
203

And purchase hem clennesse of lyuyng;
Be her ledere, þat for no thyng
In synne þei falle in-to therknesse;
To heuenely conuersacyoun [her] hert so dresse,
That whan þai passyn from þis owtlaurye
They atteyn mow to þat hy glorye
Where, aftyr þe holy prophetys doctryne,
The ryhtful shuln as sterrys shyne
Fynally in perpetual eternyte.
Sey yche man Amen for cheryte.
[_]

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AmeN.

Here begynnys þe lyf seynt Cycyle.

Cycyle of þe nobyl Romayn blood
Born was, wych at þat tyme stood
Of temporal wurshepe in ful hy degre;
And from hyr credyl fostryd was she
In crystys feyth ful dylygently,
And in hyr brest she bare pryuyly
Crystys gospel wyth al hyr myht,
And neuere cecyd daye ner nyht
From preyer ner from holy talkyng,
To god hyr maydynhede commendyng.
And despousyd she was to a yung man
Whos name was clepyd valeryan,
Wych born was eek of hy lygnage.
And whan þe day fyxyd of hyr maryage
Was come, nexst hyr skyn an hayre,
And a smok abouyn both whyt & feyre,
She dede on, & þem both dede wrye
Wyth clothys of gold, wrouht craftylye,
Al wyth-owtyn þe werd to blynde.
And couertly in hyr inward mynde,
Whyl þe orgons sunge in her melodyous guyse,
Cycyle to god song in thys wyse:
‘Lord god, I the beseche mekely,
204

My hert kepe, & eek my body
Vndefoulyd [in] clennesse of chastyte,
That I no wyse confoundyd be.’
And to thys entent two dayis or thre
She fastyd & preyd in humbyl degre,
To god commendyng þat she dede drede.
But forth in oure processe to procede,
I seye þat þe derknesse of nyght
Of þe maryage day had flemyd þe lyht,
And ych man to hys loggyng was go,
Valeryan & Cycyle to her chaumbyr went þo;
Where whan þei were in her secre sylence,
Thus Cecylye to hym vttryd hyr sentence:
‘O swetest yung man, o spouse dere,
Wych I best loue wyth herte entere,
A mysterye I haue of greth pryuyte
Wych þat I knouleche wyl to the,
Vp condycyoun þat þou swere & seye
That in no wyse þou shalt it bywreye
But obseruyn & kepyn yt wyth al þine entente.’
And valeryan anoon þer-to dede assente,
And swor þat neuere for no necessyte
It to no creature dysclosyd shuld be
Whyl þat hys lyf myht lest & dure.
Quod Cycyle þan wyth chere demure:
‘An aungel of god a louere haue I,
Wych my body kepyth wyth greth jelusy.
Where-fore, yf he neuere so lytyl may proue
That þou me touche wyth vnclene loue
Wy[t]h wyl me to defoulen flesshly,
Anoon wyth þe he wyl ben angry
And ful cruelly on þe veniaunce take,
And so, for a lytyl fleshly lustys sake,
Of þi fresh youth þe greth beute
Þou shalt lese þe flour; & yf þat he se
Þat þou me louyst in perfyth clennesse
And be not besy me to oppresse
Ner þe flowre to byreuyn of uirgynyte,
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Than shal he þe louyn as wel as me,
And plenteuously shewyn to þe hys grace.’
Valeryan þan wyth a sad face,
As he þat preuentyd was wyth mercy,
Þus answerd: ‘If þou wylt at I
Yiue credence to þe, in wurdys fewe,
That aungel of whom þou spekyst, me shewe.
And whan I haue prouyd hym an aungel to be,
Than wyl I perform þat þou counselyst me.
But yf I fynd þat anoþir man
Thou louyst þan me, þi spouse valeryan,
I make a vow wyth-oute more respyte
Your bothyns hedys I shal of smyte.’
Quod Cycyle to þis: ‘I wele assente.
Wherfore yf þou wyth humble entente
To my counsel þe wylt applye,
And in þe welle of lyf þe do puryfye,
And leue oo god in heuene oonly to be,
Than shal þou moun myn aungel se.’
‘And wher euere þer be ony swych man
That me puryfye so may,’ quod he, ‘& kan,
That I an aungel shuld moun behold?’
Quod Cycyle, ‘I know oon, but he is oold,
Wych kunnyng hath & eek power
To puryfyen men & make so clere
That þai an aungel may behold & se.’
‘And where myht I fynd þat man?’ quod he;
‘If þat I wyst, I wold hym seche.’
Quod Cycyle þan: ‘I wyl þe teche.
Thre myle hens go fyrst of alle
In þat weye wych men Appya calle,
And þou shalt fynd þer in þe strete
Pore men syttyng, whom þou weel grete
On my behalue, for hem euere haue y
In myne affeccyoun louyd tendyrly,
And of my counsel þei know mych thying.
Sey þat I send hem my blyssyng,
Preying hem þat in secre wyse
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Wher þou myht fynd þei wyl deuyse
Pope vrban, for fro me hym to
Pryuy erandys þou hast to do.
And doutlees anoon þei shul þe wys
On-to þe place wher þat he ys.
And whan þou comyst to hys presence,
Wurd for wurd al my sentence
To hym declare euene pleynly,
And he þe puryfyin shal ful gladly,
And newly arayin in clothys whyte,
In wych whan þou art clad & dyht
And returnyst ageyn in-to þis place,
To seen þe aungel þou shalt haue grace,
Wych þe shal louyn as weel as me,
And what þou ask it grauntyd shal be.’
These wurdys seyd, up roos valeryan
And hys iourne furth-wyth began.
And [whan] wyth-owte þe gatys a myle
He cam, by þe tokne wych Cecyle
Hym took, he vrban fond darkyng
In kauys & grauys, & wyth-oute lettyng
He dede hys erand as Cecyle bad;
And whan he it herde he wex ful glad,
And lyftyng to heueneward bothe handys & eyne,
Knelyng & wepyng, he þus dede seyne:
‘Lord Ihesu cryst, wych al thyng knowyst,
And of chast counsel þe sede euere sowyst,
The fruht of þe seed to þe up take
Wych Cecyle sowyn hath for þi sake.
Tak hede & behold, o lord Ihesu,
How Cecyle þi seruanth, ful of uertu,
As besy is in yche maner degre
The to seruyn as euere was ony be
Flourys to gadryn & hony to make.
For, lo, hyr husbond whom she dede take,
As fers fyrst as a uoyde lyoun,
As a lamb she hath maad to þe buxum,
207

And hedyr hym sent þe treuth to preue.
Wych þus to come, as I do leue,
Shuld not assentyd but he youe credence
Had of Cycylys doctryne to þe sentence.
Wherfore, lord, wyth hert entere,
For hym to þe I beseche now here:
Of hys herte vouchesaf the gate
To opnyn, & yt so to dylate
Of þir wurdys to þe doctryne,
And so wyth grace hym to illumyne,
That he may þe knowe hys creatour,
Hys lord, hys god, hys redemptour,
And renouncyn al þe werkys blake
Of þe deuyl, & alle ydols forsake
Wych he hath wurshepyd her-to-for,
And neuere her-aftyr to seruyn hem more.’
And whyl he þus ocupyid was in preyere,
Sodeynly beforn hem dede appere
A man wych fer runnyn in age
Was as semyth by hys vysage,
Al arayid in fayre whyt uesture,
In hys hand holdyng a scrypture
Wych wrytyn was wyth lettrys of gold;
Whom whan Valeryan dede behold,
So he astoynyd was for fere
That doun to grounde he fel euene þer
As he deed had been; whom þe old man
Lyftyd up, & seyd, ‘drede not, yung man,
But rede þe text of scrypture
And byleue yt, þat þou mayst ben pur
An clene þo aungel for to se
Wych Cycyle þi wyf promyssyd to þe.’
Wyth þis wurd Valyryan roos up redyly
And on þe scryptur lokyd ful dylygently,
And in hys hert priuyly he dede rede,
Wher-of þe sentence wyth-oute drede
208

Was þis: ‘o lord & oon feyth þer-to,
O baptem þer is, & o god also,
Wych fadyr is of alle thyngys,
And ouyr alle, by alle, & in alle us is.’
Thys pleynly was þe scrypturys entent.
And whan Valeryan ryht good auysement
Had take þer-of, þe old man anoon
To hym þus seyd: ‘leuyst þis or noon?
Or stondyst in doute? sey on pleynly.’
And at þat wurde Valeryan loude dede cry:
‘Ther is no thyng þat, as yt semyth me,
Vndyr heuene may treulyer beleuyd be
Than þis.’ & þer-wyth þe eldere
Vanysshyd a-wey, þei ne wyst where.
And anoon Vrban hym dede baptysse
And instruct in þe feyth of crystene guyse,
And hom to Cycyle ageyn hym sent.
Wher whan he cam, to þe chaunbyr he went,
And Cecyle besy he fonde in preyer,
And bysydyn hy[r] stonde an aungel clere
Whos wengys bryhter glastryd þan gold,
Wych in hys hand two garlondys dede hold,
In wych, by maner of a ryal fret,
Rede rosys wyth whyt lylyis were set,
Wych eek wer of so swete redolence
That neythyr baum ner frankencence
Yaf so swete a flauour as dede tho.
And anoon þe aungel, wyth-owte mo,
Departysoun made of þese garlondys,
And set oon on Cecylys heed & a-noþir on hys,
Thys wys seyng: ‘þese corouns two
Wyth clennesse of hert & body also
Kepyth, I counsel you, dylygently,
Wych from paradyhs now brouht haue I,
In tokne wher-of þei kepyn shul euere
Both colour & odour, & welke shul neuere;
Morouyr ner hem shal noon moun se
But þo aloonly whom chastyte
209

Is prouyd to han plesyd, as yt hath doon yow.
And, valeryan, for-as-mych as thow
To þe counsel of chastyte has youyn assent,
Therfore to þe god hath me sent,
That what petycyoun þou lyst to craue,
Of hym aske, & þou yt shal haue.
Aske on; for þine answer I abyde.’
‘I-wys,’ quod Valeryan at þis tyde,
‘Ther is no creature in erthe here,
Next my wyf, to me so leef & dere
As my broþir Tyburcyus ys.
Wherfore ful gladly I wold þis,
For uery compassyoun & eek for reuth,
That lych as I do he know þe treuth
Of hys errours & hys mysbeleuyng;
For yt were, me thynkyth, a cruel thyng
And ageyn þe ordre of brothyrly cheryte
That I were sauyd & he lost shuld be.
Wherfore, syth go[d] hath grauntyd me
My bone, as now in þis degre,
Compendyously I forme my petycyoun:
That, lyche as god me fro perdycyoun
Hath sauyd by Cycile here my wyf,
So he vouchesaf from deth to lyf
Clepyn ageyn my brothyr by me,
And us both in hys loue perfyht to be.
Thys ys þe summe of my prayere.’
Quod þe aungel þo wyth a mery chere:
‘Syth þou hast askyd so cherytabylly
Wych thyng as plesyth god souereynly
To graunt, I þe make promys
That þi petycyoun admyttyd ys.
And more-ouyr, of hys specyal grace,
He hath grauntyd þat wyth-in þe space
Of oo daye ye shul comyn both two
Thorgh martyrdam þe blysse of heuen to,
Ther euere wyth hym in ioye to abyde.’
Thys seyd, þe aungel awey dede glyde,
210

They ne wyst how, & furth wyth-al
Tyburce cam & at þe dure dede cal;
And whan [he] was entryd, in curteys wyse
Cycylys heed, as it was þe guyse
In þo dayis he anoon dede kys,
And seyd, ‘I marueyle wher-of it is
Thys tym of yere þat of rose flour
And of lylyis I fele so swete odour,
As þou it were mydsomyr eue.
For treuly, brothyr, as I beleue,
Thow þat I wyth-ynne my fyst
Lylyis & rosys to-gedyr dede thryst,
A swettere odour myht yt not be.
I feel þat yt refresshyd hath me
Maruaylousere þan I telle kan.’
‘Tyburce, brothyr,’ quod þo Valeryan,
‘God be thankyd, thorgh my preyere
Odour of rosys & lylyis here
Thow hast get, but thorgh hys grace
And thyn owen byleue þou mayst purchace
Of hem both to han þe syht,
Wych to þe shuld be greth delyht.
For both þi sustyr Cycyle & I
Garlondys han, made craftyly,
Owt of paradyhs from god vs sent,
Wych of hem þat wyth wanhope be blent
To ben seyn yt is vnpossyble;
Wherfore to þe yete inuysyble
Thei been, & shul tyl þou credence
Ful yiue to a bettyr sentence,
And be treuly subiect to crystys feyth.
To whom Tyburce þus ageyn seyth:
‘Here I þis in a dreme or ellys wakyng?
Is yt soth, brothyr, þis þi talkyng?’
‘In slepe we han lyuyd, & þat is reuthe,
Hedyrtoward, brothyr; but now in treuthe
We ben,’ quod Valeryan, ‘& no falsnesse
In us ys, I boldely dar expresse.
211

For þo mamettys, wych to þis our
We han seruyd wyth godly honour,
Ben in good feyth but uery deuelys.’
Quod Thyburce þan, ‘how knowyst þis,
Valeryan, brothyr, I þe beseche?’
‘An aungel of god þus dede me teche,’
Quod valeryan, ‘whom no wyse þou se
Shalt moun tyl þou puryfyid be
From þe fylth of fals ydolatrye.’
‘Why shuld I not þan,’ quod Tyburce, ‘me hye
To be puryfyid, yf þer-by I myht
Of an aungel atteyn to haue a syht?
Wherfore helpe fast þat [it] were do.’
And wyth þat wurde Cecyle went hym to
And kyssyd hys brest, & seyde, ‘cosyn,
Now knowleche I þe uerely to be myn.
For lych as thy brothyr goddys loue
To be myn husbonde þis day doth proue,
Rycht so contempt of ydols the
Shal treuly shewyn my cosyn to be.
Wherfore, þe for to puryfye,
Go wyth þi brothyr & fast þe hye,
That þou þerby grace may purchase
Of aungels to seen þe gloryus face.’
And as þei shulde from Cecyle wende,
Quod tyburce, ‘brothyr feythful & kynde,
Or þan we go, I þe beseche
Whedyr we shul goon do me teche
To be puryfyid, & of what man.
‘I-wys’, quod he, ‘to þe holy pope vrban
We shul goon, wych hath power
Men so to puryfyin & makyn cler
That þei shul after moun aungels se.’
Quod Tyburce, ‘ys not þis Vrban he
Wych in þis cyte is so odyous
That he dar abydyn in noon hous,
But darkyth in beryels & in grauys,
And vndyr þe erthe hym hydyth in kauys,
212

Wych ofte hath be iugyd slayn to be,
Or ellys to be brent, by a comoun decre?
Wherfore, wyth hym yf we be founde,
I dar weel seyn þe same stounde
We shul wyth hym douthles be brente,
And þan is frustrat al oure entente.
For wher we sekyn lyf immortal,
Fynd we shuln a ful cruel fal,
And þerfore swych thyng is good to fle.’
Quod Cycyle þanne, ‘Tyburce, to me
Take heed a whyle, & I the ensence
Wyth goddys grace shal a bettyr sentence.
Thys lyf to lese were good to fere
And to eschewe besyly, yf ellys-wher
Noon oþir lyf were bettyr þan þis.
But who þus thynkyth doth amys.
For a-nothyr lyf þer ys incomparabylly
Bettyr þan þis & more wurthy;
Wych who-so hau[e] grace onys to kecche,
Shal deth hym þens neuere aftyr feche,
Nere hungyr, ner thyrst, ner no syknesse
Shal hym [no] wyse moun dystresse.
Thys lyf to teche, of þe fadyr of heuene
The sone cam doun wyth a mylde steuene,
In oure freelnesse born temporally
Of a mayde, but of hys fadyr eternally
Born to-forn al tyme, to whom egal
He is & was & euere be shal;
In whom, by whom, al thyng was wrouht,
And wyth-oute whom was neuere maad noht;
To whom wyth þe fadyr consubstancyal
The holy gost ys & coeternal;
And þow þei personelly dystynct be,
Yet in substaunce but oon þei arn al thre,
Vndeuydyd outward in her werkyng.’
Quod Tyburce þan, ‘þis manere talkyng
Ageyn al resoun me semyth to be;
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For nowe o god þou puttyst, anoþir tyme thre;
To wych thyng my wyt can not inclyne.’
‘No wundyr,’ quod Cycyle,’ ‘for, but þe illumyne
God vouchesaf wyth specyal influence
Of hys grace, to þe intellygence
Thow neuere shalt of þis mater atteyne.
Yet not-for-þan, in wurdys pleyne
Oon exaunnple or two I wyl þe meue,
Wher-by naturally þou mayst preue
Substancyally sum thyng but oon to be,
And yet by resoun yt ys dystynct in thre,
Wher-of, to seyn propyrly, noon oþir ys.
And fyrst by a soule I shewe wyl þis,
Wych hath powers condystynct thre,
And yet substancyally þei but o soule be,
As mende, resoun & vndyrstondyng.
Anoþir exaunnple by feer I may eek bryng,
Wych threfold in propyrtees hath varyaunce
Formally dystynct, & yet in substaunce
Þei ben o feyr; so snow, hayl & yhs
Dystynct ben, as seyn phylosophyrs wyhs,
In name & forme, but substancyally
They be but watyr: so coniecturally
May be conseyuyd of the trynyte—
Ternyte in personys, in substaunce vnyte.
Al-be-yt þat noon forseyde symylytude
May fully as yt ys þe treuth conclude,
For resoun here faylyth, & oonly feyth
Preuaylyth; wherfore scripture seyth,
But ye feyth haue & eek byleue,
To vndyrstondyng ye ne moun acheue.
And þerfore for resoun forsake euydence
And to doctryne of scryptur yiuyth credence,
Wych vs techyth in þe souereyn deyte
Thre dystynct personys oo substaunce to be;
Of wych þe secunde, as I seyd beforn,
Was of a maydyn wyth-owte man born,
And as a medyatour dede vndyr-take
214

To hys fadyr in heuene a-sythe to make
For owr forn-fadrys transgressyoun,
Wych had infect al hys successyoun
Wyth orygynal synne; for wych entent
Wylfully he suffryd cruel torment;
For fyrst he was takyn & boundyn also,
Scornyd & skourgyd, & crownyd þer-to
Wyth a croun of thornys, & to a cros of tre
Both hand & foot aftyr naylyd was he,
And hangyd up betwyx theuys tweyne,
As mayster of hem & most vyleyne,
And eysyl youe dronk in hys greth threst;
And aftyr al þis, whan þat hym lest,
To hys fadrys handys he dede comende
Hys spyryht & frely yt furth dede sende;
And whan he deed was wyth peynys smert
Stungyn he was euene to the hert
Wyth a sharp spere thorgh hys ryht syde,
And anoon watyr & blood þer-oute dede glyde;
Blood for raunsoun mankynde to bye,
Watyr from synne yt to puryfye
Of holy bapteem by þe sacrament,
If yt be receyuyd wyth a dew entent.
To þis yiue feyth & ful credence,
And receyue þis baptym wyth reuerence,
And þan shal þou clensyd & puryfyid be,
And able maad aungels for to se.’
Quod Tyburce to hys brothyr þan,
‘Haue mercy on me & leed me to þe man
That me can puryfye wyth þat sacrament,
Wych to receyuyn ys myn entent,
Aftyr counsel of my sustyr Cycyle.’
And þus þis Thyburce, wyth-ynne short whyle,
By hys broþir led, of pope vrban
Was baptysyd & maad a crystene man,
And wyth-ynne short whyl greu so perfyth
That whan he wold he aungels se myht
And speke wyth hym face to face.
215

And what euere he askyd, swych was hys grace,
Of god, he yt hadde wythowt lettyng;
Wherfore hys brothyr & he ych oþir thyng
Leftyn, & ocupyed hem in almesse-dede;
And for þei god both dede loue & drede,
Thei dedyn her dylygence wyth besy cure
There bodyes to bryng to sepulture
Whom Almache, þe prefect of þe cyte,
For þei crystene were, slow of cruelte.
And whan he herd seyn þat þei dede so,
He chargyt hem to be brouht hym to.
And whan [he] hem sey, ful sturdyly
He askyd what was þe cause & why
That þei to byryin dede swych bysynesse
Hem þat he had dampnyd for þere wykkydnesse.
Quod Tyburce anoon: ‘wold god þat we
Were able her seruauntys for to be
Whom þou clepyst dampnyd wroungfully,
Wych wyth her hool herte despysyd wyshly
That semyth to be sumwhat in apparence
And ryht nowht ys in very existence,
And þer-ageyn han foundyn & wyth dethe boht
That most ueryly is & yet semyth nouht.’
Quod Almache þan: ‘what may þat be?’
‘Take hede,’ quod Tyburce, ‘& I shal telle þe.
That semyth to be & ys nouht, I-wys,
Is al þat here in þis werd ys,
Wych deceyuyth & bryngyth to nouht al þo
That þer-in trustyn, whan þei hens go.
But þat þing wych most perfythly ys
And semyth nouht, ys þat eternal blys
Wych ordeynyd ys to hem þat dwelle
In heuene aboue, or ellys in helle
Wych to tormentyn þe dwellers shal neuere sees.’
‘I trow,’ quod Almache, ‘þou art mendlees,
For þou spekyst lych hym þat no wyt kan.’
And furth-wyth he seyd to valeryan,
‘For-as-mych as Tyburce þi brothyr
Wytlees ys, me semyth noon othyr,
216

Thou þat bettyr art in þi mynde
A wysere answer I trow shalt fynde.
For treuly, me thynkyth, þei grethly erre
Tha[t] pees forsakyn & chesyn werre,
And sorwe þan ioye louyn hertlyer.’
Whom valeryan þus dede answer:
‘Ful oftyn in wyntyr, I haue herd sey,
In frost & snow many iape & pley
And skornen hem wych wold labour
The ground to tylyn wyth her labour;
But in somyr whan þe fruht was come
Of þer laboure þei were fulsome,
And haddyn of welth greth fulsumnesse,
Where þe toþir wept & were in dystresse
For uery myserye & necessyte.
And in þis wyse fare ye & we;
For we now here in þis lyf present
Suffren myscheef, peyn & torment
Wych sone be doon, but whan we hens wende
We receyue ioye That neuere shal haue ende.
But ye doon euene þe contrary,
For ioye ye han here transytory
And momentanye; but, whan ye hens go,
To þe place ye wende of endles wo.’
‘Than concludyst þus,’ quod Almache, ‘þat we
Wych be pryncys of temporal felycyte
Shuld go to þe place wher sorwe euere ys,
And þe trecherous caytyfs to endles blys?’
Quod valerye þan: ‘þou seyist a-mys,
For ye homouncyons ben, & no pryncys,
In your tym born, ful lytyl durable,
And whan ye hens pace, of mych countable
To god ye arn, mor & oþir be.’
Quod almache ageyn: ‘where-to we
That cercly abou[t]e [in] batayl verbal?
217

Take þis for conclusyoun sentencyonal:
Offryth to oure goddys her in þis place
A sacryfyse, & harmlees ye shul hens pace;
Or ellys certeynly ye shule deye.’
And ageyn wyth oo voys þei both dede seye:
‘Ich day as soon as we vp ryse
To owre god we offrene a sacryfyse.’
‘What is hys name,’ quod Almache þan,
‘Of youre god?’ ‘I-wys,’ quod valeryan,
‘Thow þou haddyst wyngys & myhtyst flye
A thowsend myle abouyn ych skye,
Yet shuldyst þou neuere moun come þer
Where he doth dwelle.’ ‘A, þan Iupiter,’
Quod Almache, ‘I trowe is hys name.’
‘Fy! lat be,’ quod Valeryan, ‘for shame!
Do neuere owre god swych dyshonour
To lykne hym to an homycyde & an auentour
As Iupiter was.’ ‘ergo,’ quod Amache, ‘now
Al þe werd erryt saue þi broþir & thow,
And [y]e two aloon han þe trew byleue?’
‘Nay wys, tyraunth, þow yt þe sore greue,’
Quod Valeryan, ‘yet many hundyrdys þer be
That on þe same wyse beleuyn as we.’
And whan Almache sey þat in no wyse
He myht hem brynge to do sacryfyse,
Neythyr wyth sturdy ner wyth feyr chere,
To oon Maximus hys cornyculer
He hem delyuerid wyt þis charge,
That þei no wys shuld goon at large
Tyl þei had louly sacryfys do.
And anoon Maximus þus seyd hem to,
Whan he hem at home had in hys hous:
‘O purpyl flowrys of youth delycyous,
O brothirly affeccyoun, in oon knyt
Indyssolubylly, how ben may yt
At ye to deth as gladly go
As to a feste?’ quod valeryan þo:
218

‘If þou wylt to us make promys
To beleuyn, þou shalt seyn, I-wys,
Aftyr oure deth oure soulys vp wende
To þat ioyful blys wych neuere shal ende.’
Quod Maxym þan, ‘greth god in heuene
Make me to steruyn wyth thundyr & leuene
If I not in hym feythfully byleue
The affect of your wourdys whan I suth preue!’
And euene furth-wyth auertyd was he,
The tormentourys eek & alle hys mene,
And of Vrban þe pope þei baptem nam,
Wych þedyr by nyht preuyly cam;
And so dede Cycyle, wych was ful glad
That swych a multytude þei conuertyd had.
And so þat nyht wyth holy talkyng
Thei furth dreuyn tyl up gan spryng
Aurora, wych wyth hyr bryhtnesse
Flemyd a-wey þe nyhtys therknesse;
And þerwyth anoon Cycyle gan seye:
‘Beth glad & myry, crystys knyhtys, I preye,
And þe werkys of therknesse awey doth throwe.
For þis certeyly I wyl ye knowe,
That ye han begunnen a good chyualrye.
Beth perseueraunth þer-yn whyl þat ye dye,
And þe cours of lyuyng wyth ye han take
And youre byleue eek doth neuere forsake.
And yf ye þus do, wyth-owte mysse
Receyuyn ye shuln þe crounne of blysse
Of cryst ihesu, most ryhtful iuge,
Wych after her desert shal alle men iuge
The last day at þe greth assyse.
And anoon aftyr þe sunne dede ryse,
Foure myle or more oute of þe cyte
They were led ther hefdyd to be,
Lesse þan þei wold in humble wyse
To Iubyter statu doon sacryfyse.
Where whan þei come, for þei nold do
219

Sacryfyse, þei hefdyd wer both two.
And anoon Maximus euene opynly
Swore þat he þe same oure sy
Aungelys bryht her soulys vp bere
In-to heuene, þan þe sunne bryhtere,
Or þan euere was mayde wych in fressh wede
Owt of hyr chaunnbyr dede procede
Ageyn hyr spouse, hym in to fette.
Whan Almache þis herd, wyth-owte lette
He hym chargyd wyth shourgys of leed
So long be betyn tyl he wer dede;
Whos body wyth Tyburce & Valeryan
Cycyly beryid; & almache þan
Of her goodys made inquysycyoun.
And anoon to hym was made relacyoun
Of Cycyle, wych to Valyryan wyf was.
And anoon for hyr home to hyr plaas
He sent hys offycers & chargyd þat she
Anoon to hys presence brouht shuld be.
Whedyr whan she cam, of two thyngys oon
He bad þat she shuld chesyn anoon:
That ys to seyn, or ellys sacryfyse
Or to be sleyn most shameful wyse.
And whan þe apparytours hyr gunne lede
For to compellyn hyr to þat dede,
And consydyrdyn the hye noblesse
Of hyr byrth, & eek þe semelynesse
Of hyr persone & eek þe greth beute,
They gunne to wepe for uery pyte,
And seydyn: ‘allas! why wyl þis mayde
Hyr youthe þus lese?’ to whom she seyde:
‘Wepyth not, yung men, for me, I praye;
But lystnyth rather what I shal saye.
That I now rather to deye chese
Than to sacryfyse, ys not to lese
My youth, but a commutacyoun
Of wysdam it ys, as ye se moun;
Lych as a man comenauht dede make
220

Erthe to yiuyn & gold to take,
Or ellys to chaungyn an ould rottyn hous
For a ryal paleys of stonys precyous.
But now of you I aske a questyoun:
For ych peny [if] ye receyue shuld moun
At a market or a feyr an hool shylyng,
As many as þedyr ye dede bryng,
Wolde ye not spedyn you þedyr hastly?
I trowe ye wold! now, serys, treuly
God of hys goodnesse hath up set
In hys courht abouyn a bettyr market;
For to euery thyng þat to hym ys soulde
The reward ys ordeynyd an hundyr-foulde,
And þer-to lyf þat neuere shal cees.
Now thynke ye not þis a noble encrees,
An hundyrd for oon, wyth hys addytament?
Hou trou ye? seyith your entent.’
Quod they ych oon, ‘we byleue ueryly
That cryst þi lord ys god oonly,
And noon but he, wych to hys seruyhs
The hath chosyn, prudent & wyhs.’
And anoon pope Vrban was souht
An þiddyr by nyht preuyly brouht;
Wher he crystnyd, er he þens dede go,
Of þese neuly conuertyd fourty & mo,
Wyth greth ioye & eek gladnesse.
And whan Almache þis wyst, in hys woodnesse
Neu offycers for Cecyle he anoon sent.
And whan beforn hys benche she was present,
‘Of what condycyoun art þou?’ quod he.
‘A ientyl wumman born, & noble,’ quod she.
‘I aske,’ quod he, ‘of þi relygyoun & þi byleue.’
‘Thy askyng,’ quod she, ‘ys lewyd, I preue,
That two answers sekyth to oon questyoun.’
‘Wher-of hast þou þis bolde presumpcyoun
Me þus to answere?’ Almache seyth.
‘Of pure conscyence & not feynyd feyth
221

To me þis answer,’ quod Cycyle, ‘cam.’
‘Knowyst not,’ quod he, ‘of what power I am?’
‘Yis, yis!’ quod Cycyle, ‘I knowe yche deel,
And what youre powere ys I can tel weel.
Alle youre power, as yt semyth to me,
May wele to a bleddyr lyknyd be
Blowe ful of wynd tyl yt hath starknesse,
Wych who-so lyst may sone depresse;
For wyth a nedlys poynt he may make
The wynd oute to goon & þe sterknesse slake.
Euene þus it faryth by þ[i] puyssaunce.’
‘Wyth iniuryis þou begunne, & hast perseueraunce
In þe same,’ quod Almache; quod she sothly:
‘Iniurye may not be seyd propyrly
But wyth wurdys of deceyt yt uttryd be.
Wherfore fals to han seyd fyrst proue me,
And yf þou kunne not, þou art to blame
Wyth fals calumnye me to defame.’
‘What, knowyst not,’ quod Almache, ‘oure princys decre,
Wych ordeynyd han, what-euere þei be
That cryst wyl reneyn & forsake,
Shul bothe wurshepe and fredam take,
And þai þat cryst wyl not denye
Wyth peynful torment shul be maad to dye?’
‘As weel your princys erryn as ye,’
Quod Cycyle, ‘wych us, þat innocentys be,
Kunne, as you semyth, noon oþir wyse shame
Than to obiectyn ageyn us crystys name.
But þis we wyln, þat ye wete pleynly
That we wych knowe þis name holy
Neythyr yt moun ner wyl denye;
For bettyr us thynkyth blyssydly to dye
Than cursydly to lyuyn.’ quod Almache hyr to:
‘Anoon com of! chese oon of þese two:
Or to oure goddys sacryfyse deuouthly,
Or þe to be crystene forsaak opynly.
222

And þan mayst þou harmles askape.’
Quod Cycyle þo, as she had lyst to iape,
‘Lo, syrs, seeth to what necessyte
Thys iuge ys brouht, þat he wold me
Do forsakyn to ben an innocent
That he me myht makyn a nocent!’
Quod Almache ageyn: ‘knowyst not, wrecche,
Hou þat my power doth astrecche,
By commyssyoun of oure prynce myhty,
To quekyn or sleen? wherfoor, so prudly
Why answeryst þou me at þis tyde?’
‘I-wys,’ quod Cycyle, ‘fyrst, as for pryde,
I dar weel seyn noon allyaunce
It wyth me hath, but in very constaunce
Foundyd & groundyd ys myn answere.
But, treuth to heryn yf þou ne fere,
Ageyn opyn treuthe in wurdys fewe
The to han lyid I wyl þer shewe.
Thou seydyst ryht nowe here to me
That þi pryncys commyttyd had to þe
Power to sleen & to quekyn also;
But þer þou lyiddyst, for of þese two
Thou mayst performyn no mo þan oon:
Sle many þou mayst, but quekyn noon.
Sey þan þus, yf þou wylt not lye,
Mynystyr of deth of your polycye
The pryncys the han maad, & no more;
For yf þou do, þi treuth ys lore.’
‘Put aweye,’ quod Almache, ‘þis boldnesse,
And to oure goddys þe to sacryfyse dresse
In hasty wyse; for by phylosophye
I lernyd haue my wrongys to drye
Personel, and þem wyth pacyence
To suffryn, but oure goddys irreuerence
I may not bern in no degre
Pacy[en]t[l]y.’ ‘now treuly,’ quod she,
‘Syth þou fyrst gunne þi mouth to vndo,
223

Was no wurde þat shewyd þe so
To been a fool as now doth þis;
For not oonly þi resoun inward blynd ys,
But also þi bodyly eyne blynd been;
For þat þing wych, as we alle seen,
Is but a stoon, a god callyst þow.
Wherfore by my counsel do for þi prow:
Put furth þine hand, & wyth touchyng
Proue a stoon to been, wych wyth seyng
Thou wenyst vnwyhsly þat it a god were;
And so let þine hand þine eye treuth lere,
And þan shalt þou be lawhe to skorn
No lenger, as þou hast ben here-beforn,
Of mych pepyl wych knowyth ueryly
That god in heuene dwellyth oonly,
And þat þese fygurs of stoon, bras or tre,
Not trew goddys but fals ydols be,
Wych neythyr hem-self ner oþir moun
Helpyn ner socouryn, as by resoun
It prouyd may be & by experyence.’
And whan Almache sey from þis sentence
That Cycyle no wyse he myht remeue,
Ful sore hys hert yt dede greue.
Wherfore to hyr hous he [hir] home sent,
Chargyng þat she þer shuld be brent
In an hoot bath; wher whan þat she
A day & a nyht fully had be,
Wyth-oute harm or hurt o[f] hyr body
In ony manere part, & eek as myry
As she had ben in an herbere cold & grene,
For of swete no drope on hyr was sene.
And Almache, informyd of þe caas,
Seyd in hys hert ful oftyn, ‘allaas!
What may I best doon for to han
Vyctory of þis wykkyd wumman?
For whyl she lyuyth shal I neuere han ese
224

In herte!’ wher-foor, hym-self to plese,
He yaf a decre wyth-owte let
That hyr heed shuld of be smet
Euene þer she was; to wych entent
He þedyr oon of hys tormentours sent,
And chargyd hym hastyly yt shuld be do,
Wych aftyr oo strook yaf hyr two;
But, notwythstondyng þese strokys thre,
Hyr heed of smytyn myht not he.
And, for-as-mych as þan þe lawe
Wold not þat þai wych shuld be slawe
Wyth hefdyng, strokys shuld han no mo
Than thre, [þe] lyctour þens dede go,
And left hyr half-deed; & þer-wyth anoon
Of crystene men come þedyr many oon
And gadryd up hyr blood by & by
I feyr clene kerchys ful reuerently.
An thre dayis, wych aftyr she was lyuyng,
She neuere cecyd of holy techyng,
Exhortyng hem stedefast to be
To crystene feyth wych wunne hath she;
Amoung whom also wyth hert glade
She departyd swych thyngys as she ha[d],
In almes-dede. & whan þis was doon,
She hem alle commendyd to þe tuycyoun
Of pope Vrban, to whom mekely
She þus seyd: ‘holy fadyr, I
Thre days haue askyd of respyth,
That I to þe comendyn myht
Thys pepyl, wych by goddys grace
I wunnen haue, & þat my place
To goddys seruyse myht halwyd be
In-to a cherche perpetuelly by the.’
Thys seyd, hyre soule whedyr yt god wold haue
Ferth went anoon; but hyr body dede graue
Pope Vrban in þe selue place
Where popys beryid wer, by a specyal grace.
225

And aftyr þis to hyr hous he went
And blyssyd yt & halwyd, aftyr hyr entent,
In-to a cherche ful deuouthly;
Wher myraclys ben shewyd plenteuously
To þe honour of god & hys martyr dere.
But whan she was martyrd who-so lyst to here,
I say þat martyrd was Cycyle þe holy uirgyne
The yere of grace, treuly to termyne,
Two hundyrd twenty & eek thre,
(Legenda aurea thus techyth me),
The tende kalende euene of decembre;
Wych tym regny[d], as he doth remembre,
Alexaundyr of Rome þe emperour.
Now, blyssyd Cycyle, of maydynhode flour,
Gemme of stedfastnesse, of martyrdam rose,
Lylye of uirgynyte [in] þine holy purpose,
To þe sympyl preyer beny[n]gly attende
Of hym þat translatour was of þi legende,
Wych þe, feyth, & Barbara, long go dede take
To hys valentyns, & neuere you wyl forsake
Whyl þat he lyuyth: purchace hym grace
Swych sethe to make, or he hens pace,
For the wrechydnesse of hys forn-lyuyng,
That whan body & soule shul make partyng,
And he shal forth passyn from þis owtlaury,
Wyth you in heuene he may be myry.
Amen mercy Ihesu & gramercy.

The prologe of seynt Agas lyf.

As y fynd wrytyn in legend aurea,
On fyue wysys may þis wurd ‘Agatha’
Ben expounnyd; and fyrst of ‘Agyos’,
Wych sygnyfyith ‘holy’, & of ‘Theos’,
That ‘god’ toknyth; þanne in wurdys pleyne
‘Goddys holy’ ys Agas for to seyne.
And þis to hyr acordyth by congruyte,
226

For to goddys holy longyn thyngys thre,
As seyth Ioon wyth þe golden mouth,
Wych to blyssyd Agas were kyd & kouth,
As clennesse of herte, & eek presence
Of þe holy goost; þe thrydde ys affluence
Of werkys good. anoþir wyse,
As seyd Ianuence doth deuyse
Pertynently to oure purpos,
‘Agatha’ ys seyd of ‘Agyos’,
‘A’, ‘wyth-owte’, ‘geos’ ‘erthe’ ys;
Wher-of þe vndyrstondyng ys þis:
That Agas in hyr inward entencyoun
Uoyd was of al erdely affeccyoun.
Or of ‘aga’, wych ‘spekyng’,
And ‘Thau’, wych betoknyth ‘endyng’,
Thys wurd ‘Agatha’ seyd ys, quod he;
And wurthyly, for pleynly she
Fyrst & last in hyr spekeyng
Perfyht was, as shewyth hyr answeryng.
Of ‘agad’, to oure purpoos also,
‘Seruage’ toknyth, & of ‘Theos’ þer-to,
Wych sygnyfyith ‘souereyn’, ys deryuyid
Thys wurd ‘agatha’, & to þat applyid,
That she seyde souereyn ba[r]nage
Prouyd ys in crystys trewe seruage.
The fyte & þe last deryuacyoun,
Aftyr þis clerkys determynacyoun,
Of þis oftyn seyd name ‘Agatha’,
Is eftsonys of þis wurd ‘aga’
Wych ‘solemne’ ys by interpretacyoun,
And of ‘thav’, wych toknyth ‘consummacyoun’;
And þis to Agas longyth congruently,
For consummat she was ful solemnely
Of holy aungels by þe sepulture.
Now, blyssyd Agas, do þi besy cure
That þei wych louyn & wurshepyn þe,
Goddys holy, in þis werd mow be
Endewyd of herte wyth clennesse,
227

And of good werkys wyth plenteuousnesse,
Pure from al erdly affeccyoun,
And to haue in speche swych perfeccyoun
That alle here wurdys mow sow[n]de uertu;
So eek in þe seruyse of cryst Ihesu
To been excercysyd in þis werde here,
That, whan þere bodyis ben leyd on bere,
Here soulys wyth aungelys led mow be
To þat place of endlees felycyte
Where þou doost dwelle; & specyally
To Agas Fleg attende, o blyssyd lady;
And hyr to purchase help swych grace,
Owt of þis werd or she do pace,
That she may haue deu contrycyoun
Of olle hyre mys, & plener confessyoun,
Space & leyser a seeth to make,
And þe holy sacrament to take
Of crystys body, & wyth so holy entente
That þe deuyl wyth noon enpechemente
Hyre mow lette from þe souereyn blys,
Where ioye & merthe endlees ys,
Whedyr mot brynge both hyr & us
Thorgh thy merytys, oure lord Ihesus.
[_]

[Two blank lines.]

Here begynnys the lyf of seynt Agas.

Agas, of whom I haue spoke [b]eforn,
In an yle Cycyle clepyd was born,
And of Cathanence in þe royal cyte.
Of þe nobyllest blood eek of þat cuntre
Lyneally succedyng she dede descende,
Aftyr þe sentence of þe golden legende;
But no scryptur I fynd þat kan descrye
228

Of here kynrede þe lyne, ner hyre genealegye
Declaryn, nere hyr progenytours pedegre,
Nere what hyr fadrys name myht be
Nere hyre modrys, treuly; but þis I fynde,
That wyth þe yiftys both of grace & kynde
She endewyd was most excellently.
But not-wythstondyng þat in body
And soule eek she had greth excellence
Of beute; yet euere hyre dylygence
God to seruyn she dede in al holynesse,
Both daye & nyht wyth greth besynesse;
For pryuyly in hyre inward thouht
Rychesse & welth she set at nouht,
Alle fleshly lustys she dede despyse,
No werdly wurshepe myht hyr supprise
Nere fro goddys loue changyn hyr entent.
I wych mene tyme from Rome was [oon] sent
Of al þat cuntre þe reule to han,
And clepyd was hys name Quyncyan,
And to ocupyin þe offyce of consularye;
Lowe of byrth, by fortune set hye
Up-on hyre whele, wych ay vnstable
And vertyble ys & ful mutable,
Neuyr stondyng styl but euere turnyng,
As of þis Quyncyan shewyd þe endyng,
As at þe ende of þis legende
They here shul wych lyst attende.
And not oonly ygnoble was þis Quyncyan,
But he eek was a ful vycyous man,
And specyally he was lybydynous
Thorgh fleshly lust, & þere-to coueytous,
Fals of byleue & an ydolatour,
Wych to mammettys doth godly honour,
And uery god in heuene doth denye.
But whan þis Quyncyan dede aspye

Here is agas delyueryd to Affrodyse.


The purpose of Agas in hyr entent,
By hys offycers for hyr he sent,
229

And delueryd hyr tyl oon Affrodyse,
A wumman wych lyuyd in synful wyse,
Hyr body offryng to þe vnclennesse
Of ych þat cam, and of lyk wykkydnesse
Wyth hyr she had doughtrys nyne;
Whom he chargyd þat wyth sum gyne
They shuld alle doo al her kunnyng,
Both by behestys & by thretyng,
Of thretty dayis wyth-yn þe space,
To remeue Agas from goddys grace
And enclynyn hyr herte to ydolatrye.
And þei anoon them dede applye
To that purpoos, but yt nold not be.
‘For thys I wyl ye knowe,’ quod she,
‘That myn herte on swych a stoon ys groundyd,
And yn cryst ihesu so steedfastly foundyd
And byldyd up in swych degre
That alle youre wurdys, wych as wynd be,
Youre thretys as flodys, youre hestys as reyn,
As to me ben both frustrate & veyn.
For þow ye neuere so sore assayle
My fundacyoun, ye not preuayle
Shul mown þer-geyns, ner vndyr you alle
Shul þe byldyng maak doun to falle.’
Thus oftyn wepyng she dede seye,
And wyth deuouth herte she god dede preye
That he vouchydsaf hyr make
For hys loue deth for to take,
And so to entryn in-to that blys
Where ioy & myrth endles ys.
And whan Affrody seye þe stedefastnesse
Of blyssyd Agas, & þe goodnesse
From wych she nold remeuyd be,

Here Affrodyse delyueryth Agas ageyn to Quyncyan.


To Quyncyan she seyd on þis degre:
‘Syre, as fer-forth as I kan aspye,
Esyere yt ys stonys to mollyfye
And to makyn as soft as ys lyht brede,
And brennyng yryn to þe softnesse of lede,
230

Than yt ys þis tendyr maydyns herte
Fro þe entent of crystene feyth conuerte,
Wych both impossyble semyng to be.’
And anoon Quyncyan comaundyd þat she
Shuld be brouht to hys presence;
And whan she come was, he hys sentence
Vttryd þus: ‘damysel, anoon sey me
Of what kynrede born ye be.’
Quod Agas: ‘I sey yt for no pompousnesse,
A ientylwumman I am, as bern wytnesse
Al my parentele ryht wele kan.’
‘If þou þan,’ quod he, ‘be a ientyl wumman,
A serual persone why shewyst the
In maners & condycyouns for to be?’
‘For I am,’ quod she, ‘crystys handmayde;
Therefore to shewe me I ne am dysmayde
A seruyle persone for crystys sake.’
‘Than to þis questyoun a sieth þou make,’
Quod Quyncyan; ‘syth þou ientyl art & fre
Of byrth, [an] handmayde hou mayst þou be?
For by al resoun, as I do gesse,
Ful contrarye ben seruage & ientylnesse,
And to-gedyr no wys may be combynyd.’
‘I-wys,’ quod agas, ‘yf þou were illumynyd
Of heuenely grace wyth þe influence,
Thou sone shuldyst chaungyn [þ]is sentence
And yn þine inwarde conseytys sone aspye
That crystys seruage ys grettest genterye,
And most souereyn fredam & lyberte
Is in hys seruyse prouyd to be;
Whom to seruyn ys a kyngys offyhs.’
‘Ya, leue al þis talkyng,’ quod he, ‘unwyhs!
And of two thyngys anoon do chese:
That ys to seyn, whethyr þou wylt lese
Thy lyf of peyn wyth greth vyolence,
Or ellys louly to offryn frankensence,
Deuoutly knelyng up-on þi kne,
231

On-to oure goddys, wych immortal be
And al thyng weldyn in her subieccyoun.’
‘I-wys,’ quod she, ‘syth so hy renoun
Is in youre goddys, as þou doost expresse,
I wold to Venus youre goddesse
Thy wyf were lyk & þou to Ioue
Thy god, whom to syttyn aboue
Thow feynyst othyr goddys alle,
And syngulerly for helpe to hym doost calle
And in ych myschef for socour dost seke.’
And anoon a buffet vndyr þe cheke
He comaundyd hyr haue, seying þis wyse:
‘In-to þe iniurye of þi justyse
Be not presumpteuous þi mouth to vndo,
But kepe þi tonge, wyhsdam wyl so,
And iape me not, I the counsayle.’
‘Sykyrly,’ quod Agas, ‘I grethly meruayle
That þou, wych holdyst þi-self so wyhs,
So fonnyd art wexyn & so nyhs,
And so fer forth led in errour
That swych goddys þou doost honour
And wyrshepyst wyth greth solemnyte,
To whom comparyd for to be
And to be assemelyd to as in lyf
Neythyr þe þou deynyst ner þi wyf,
But thynkyst iniurye to you & wroung
That I desyre you to lyue long
Wyth your goddys in egal degre;
For yf þei very perfyht goddys be,
Uoyde of al malyhs & of yre,
[I] to you but good no thyng desyre;
And efthsonys, on þat oþir syde,
If from here lyf thou þe dyuyde,
Dysdeynyng her lyknesse of entente,
Thanne to my purpoos þou doost assente,
And as lytyl apprysyst hem as do y.’
Quod Quyncyan, ‘why art þou so besy
232

Wyth veyn cours of wordys slye
And cautelous me for to ludyfye,
And to prolonge þe tym in sotyl wyse?
Shortly I sey, but þou sacryfyse
Do to oure goddys in humble manere
Here opynly & wyth hert entere,
Swych torment to þe I shal applye
That for uery peyn þou shalt dye,
And so lesyn al werdly solas.’
To whom demurely þus seyd agas:
‘Ful lytyl I charge hou þou me threte;
For thowe wyld bestys þou behete
To me to sende, whan crystys name
They onys here they shul waxe tame;
And thowe þou threte me by feer,
Yet chaunge no wyse I wyl my chere,
For þe dew of heelful saluacyoun
Aungelys from heuene shul bryng me doun;
And þow þou torment & woundys me threte
And wyth yerdys & scourgys to be bete,
Yet of þe holy gost counfort to haue
I hope weel swych as schal me saue,
And so strong make in sundry wyse
That, what-so-euere þou kanst deuyse
Of peyn & of cruel torment,
Thorgh hys grace of hool entent
I hem alle despyse wyth herte entere.’
And he anoon wyth a sturdy chere
Chargyd hyre on-to prysoun be lad,
For she hym vttyrly confoundyd had
Aforn alle folk euene opynly.
Whedyr Agas went as myryly
And as gladly as þow þat she
To a feste royal led had be.
And as she þedyr went & eek there,
Lych as Ianuence us dooth lere.
In hys book clepyd golden legende,
Wyth deuouth preyer she dede comende
To god hyr cause ful humbylly.
233

And Quyncyan, þe next morwe erly,
Agas beforn hym comaundyd apere,
To whom he seyd on þis manere:
‘Agas, I counsel þe for þi prowe,
Cryst for þi god forsake thowe
Euene here in opyn audyence,
And to my goddys offre wyth reuerence,
Deuouthly on þi kne knelyng.’
But Agas ne wolde for no thyng
Neythyr cryst for hyr god forsake
Ner to hys goddys sacryfyse make.
Wherfore anoon hyr comaundyd he
Vp-on a iebet hangyd to be,
And there-to be betyn ful cruelly.
And she þus hym seyde demurely:
‘I in þis peynys haue swych lykyng
As he þat heryth a newe glad tydyng,
Or as he þat seth & doth vndyrfounge
Hym whom to seen he desyryd hath longe,
Or as he þat depe hyd in grounde
A precyous tresour hath neuly founde
Wych neuere to-forn he had seyn.
For þis I wyl þou knowe certeyn,
That, lych as þe nobyl greyn whete,
Tyl yt be weel trosshyn & bete
And from þe chaf be partyd so clene
That no fylth þer-in be sene,
It ne shal be put in-to þe garnere
Of þe lord; & so in lych manere
May not my soule, depuryd from vyce
Entryn yn of gloryous paradyce
By palme of martyrdam to þe place
But þou my body do al to-race
Wyth þi tormentours ful dylygently.
Spare not ther-fore, for I am redy
To suffre what-euere þou lyst to do.’
Quod Quyncyan þan, ‘anoon, go to,
O tormentours, & to þis damysel ying
Sumwhat shewyth of youre kunnyng.
234

Touchyth hyr a lytyl from þe herte
Vp-on hyr pappys & doth hyr smerte,
And let hyre knowyn what ys peyn.’
And þei anoon hyre gunne to streyn;
Sum wyth pynsouns blunt & dulle
Hyr tendyr brestys begunne to pulle
Ful boystously; summe in here hondys
Browhtyyn brennyng hoot fyr-brondys,
And therwyth hyr pappys al to-brent;
Sum wyth yirnene forkys out rent
The flesh þer-of, that grete pyte
How þe blood owt ran yt was to se
On euery syde ful plenteuously.
And whan þis was doon, he gan to cry
And chargyd hys tormentours in al hast
Hem of to kutten & way to kaste
Wyth-oute pyte or reuthe, allas!
Al þat he bad performyd yt was,
And whan a-wey was kut both flesh & fel,
Agas þus seyd: ‘o wrecchyd & cruel
And cursyd tyraunth, hast þou no shame
A-wey to kuttyn that on thy dame
Thou dedyst soukyn for þi fostryng
Ere þou koudyst etyn, whyl þou were ying
And ere þou wyt haddyst or dyscresyoun?
Where-fore me semyth greth confusyoun
It awt to be to euery man
Thus to dysfyguryn a wumman
As þou hast me in þi fersnesse.
But not-wythstondyng al þi cruelnesse,
Maugre al þi furyous vyolence,
Thorgh help of heuenely influence
In my soule al hool wyth-ynne
Pappys I haue wych fro me tuynne
Thou neuere shalt moun wyth no peyne,
Where-wytht I fostre & susteyne
Al my wyttys ful dylygently,
Wych to my lord god halwyd haue y
From þe begynnyng of my tendyr age.’
235

And þis seyd, Quyncyan in hys fers rage
To prysoun chargyd hyre to be lad
Wyth-owte lettyng, & eek forbad
That no leche shuld entryn hyre to;
Mete & drynk he chargyd also
No man so hardy hyr to brynge,
To enfamyne hyre fully purposynge
In hys malyncoly & in hys yre.
But god, wych of heuene ys lord & syre
And al thyng weldyth at hys wylle,
Wold not suffren hym for to spylle
Hys seruaunth wyth so cruel iugement;
Wherfore to hyre in prysoun he sent
A ould man a-boute mydnyht,

Here comyth seynt Petyr to Agas in prysoun.


Beforn whom went a chyld wyth lyht.
Thys old man sempt a leche to be,
And dyuers medycyns wyth hym broht he
Wych were both good & sure
And suffycyent hyr woundys for to cure.
And whan he cam euene þere she was,
To hyre he seyd þus: ‘o mayde Agas,
Al-be-yt so þat þis mad man,
Thys consularye, þis Quyncyan,
Wyt torment hath þe doon greth dere,
Yet hast þou hym wyth þine answere
Tormentyd more þan he hath þe;
For in hys conscyence ful confuse ys he,
And, as yt semyth, at hys wyttys ende.
But for I present was whan he dede rende
From þi brest þi pappys cruelly
Wyth-oute eythyr pyte or mercy,
I consyderyd haue by my kunnyng
That wyth good dylygence & entendyng
They mounn wele be recuryd ageyn
And maad al hool, yf þou wylt, certeyn.
And comyn I am to þe same entent,
And wyth me brouht many an oynement
Wych be both good & profytable,
And to cure ych soor good & able;
236

And ellys I nolde haue come now here.’
Quod Agal ageyn wyth ful sad chere:
‘Syre, treuly I wyl ye knowe þat y
Dede neuere yet medycyn to my body
Syth I was born, wherfore now shame
To begynne yt were & wurthy blame.’
‘Doughtyr, I am a crystyn man,’ quod he,
‘And þerfore þou nedyst not to be shamyd of me.’
‘Nay, nay, syre,’ quod Agas, ‘certeynly
No thhyng a-shamyd of you am y,
Ner aferd, for syth fer stopyn in age
Ye been, as semyth by your vysage,
And, on þat oþir syde, wyth greth torment
So woundyd I am & so al to-rent,
That on no wyse, as yt semyth be me,
No man of lust myht tempyd be;
Wherfore, fadyr, ryht humbylly
I you thank & sey gramercy
That ye of your cherytabylnesse
Vouchesaf to do swych besynesse
Me to curyn wyth greth dylygence;
But yt shal not be, wherfore goth hence.’
‘And what ys cause, I you beseche,’ quod he,
‘That you to coryn ye nyl [s]uffryn me?’
‘I-wys, syre,’ quod she, ‘for ful of uertu
A lord I haue, clepyd cryst Ihesu,
Wych of swych myht ys & of puyssaunce
That wyth o wurde al my greuaunce
He curyn may and euere sore,
And perfyth helth to me restore.
Therfore, yf he wyl, yt shal be do.’
‘And þis same lord sent me þe to,’
Quod þis elder, softly smylyng,
‘And hys apostyl I am wythowte doutyng,
In whos name, I dar wele expresse,
Dylyueryd þou art from al dystresse,
And eek alle þi woundys ful curyd be.’
And þis seyd, sodeynly vanysshyd he
237

And no more was seyn in þat plas.
Ianuence seyth þat seynt Petyr yt was.
And anoon wyth a deuouth entencyoun
On bothen hyr knees Agas fel doun,
And thankyd god wyth deu mekenesse
Of alle hys greth grace & hys goodnesse,
For alle hyr woundys both mest & lest
Ful curyd were, & to hyre breest
Hyr pappys restoryd meruelously
At Petrys partyng euene sudeynly.
And wyth þe bryhtnesse þat þere was
In þe prysoun, whan curyd was Agas
Of seynt Petyr, so astoynyd were
Hyre kepers alle & so ful of fere,
That from hyre they went anoon
And þe dorys lefth opyn euerychon
Of þe prysoun, & fast gunne fle.
Quod oon to hyr þan: ‘o mayde fre,
Syth alle þi kepers ben flad awaye,
Goth wher you lyst, I yow praye,
For euery dore ope stond ful wyde.
Wherfore why lenger ye here abyde?’
Quod Agas, ‘woldyst þou [I] shulde fleen hens
And so lesyn þe froyht of perfyht pacyens?
God forbede, for not oonly so
It shulde befalle, but eek þer-to
I shulde be cause thorgh my cowardnesse
That my kepers shulde been in dystresse
And grethly damagyd for lesyng of me.
It shal not be so, for I wyl not fle,
But pleynly what-euere of me betyde
Stylle in þis prysoun I wyl abyde,
As long as yt lykyth my lord, my loue,
Cryst Ihesu, wych in heuene aboue
Lyuyth & regnyth of myhtys most
Wyth hys fadyr & wyth þe holy gost,
And euere hath doon & shal doon ay.’
But sone, euene aftyr þe fourte day,
238

For Agas out of prysoun sent
Quyncyan, and þus hys entent
To hyr he seyde: ‘oon of þese two
Chese anoon whethyr þou wylt do:
That ys to seyn, or in humble wyse
To oure goddys þou shalt sacryfyse
Beforn alle folk here opynly,
Or ellys wyth more cruel tormentry
Than þou hast suffryd be maad to dye.’
‘Thy wurdys,’ quod Agas, ‘been ful of folye,
Wykkyd, froward, & ful of uanyte,
The eyr defoulyng in sundry degre.
Sey me now, o wrecche in þi felyng,
But wrecchyddere yet in þin vndyrstondyng
Woldyst þou þat I shuld make
Sacryfyse to stonys, & god forsake
Wych ys in heuene, & from al dystresse
Me hath delyueryd thorgh hys goodnesse,
And of my body hath curyd euery wounde?’
‘Who ys he,—that sey me þis stounde—
Wych þe hath helyd?’ quod Quyncyan.
‘I seye,’ quod she, ‘cryst, god and man,
And sone of hyr by a specyal prerogatyff
Wych was both maydyn, modyr & wyf,
And of god eek þat syttyth in heuene on hy.
‘How darst þou,’ quod he, ‘so malapertly
Hym nem[n]yn ageyn in my presence,
Of whom to heryn me doth offence?’
‘How-euere,’ quod Agas, ‘þe yt hangyr or greue,
On cryst my lord I wyl beleue
Wyl þat my lyf here doth endure,
And louyn hym wyth herte clene & pure,
And wyth my lyppys to hym clepe & calle
In euery nede, what-so-euere befalle,
Wych, yf he wyl, may me saue.’
‘Now shal be sene yf powere haue
Thy cryst,’ quod he, ‘þe to saue & hele
From swych peynys as þou shalt fele
239

Sone aftyr þis!’ & anoon he bad
Broke sherdys greth plente abrood be sprad,
And vndyr þo sherdys ful hoot brennyng
Colys be kast, & wyth-oute tarying
Agas al nakyd þer-on be leyd;
And doon was anoon lych as he seyd.
And whyl þei were besy vndyr hyr to rake
The hoot colys, sodeynly to quake
The erthe began, and so myhtyly
The cyte yt shook þat a greth party
Fel sodeynly doun, & in þe fallyng
Two conselours wyth þe iuge syttyng
It oppressyd & slow wyth many oon mo.
And forth-wyth þe peple, ful of wo,
Wyth o voys ful loude þus dede crye:
‘Syr iuge, for þe wnryhtful tormentrye
To Agas doon we suffre al thys,
Wherfore to secyn oure counsel yt ys,
Ne hap what ellys may be-falle.’
And whan þei on hym þis wyse dede calle,
Inportunely he roylyd in hys mende
How he myht best þis matere ende;
For whan he þus sey þe erthe quake
And on euery syde doun housys shake,
Castellys, tourys, & wallys hye,
He wex aferde; & on þat oþir partye,
Of þe peple he drede sedycyoun
Wych lyk was to growyn in þe toun.
Anoon he chargyd hys tormentours
Agas to relese of hyr sharp shours,
And quenche þe feer, & to prysoun hyr lede.
And as he comaundyd done was in dede;
Where whan she cam, wyth hert entere
To god she maad þus hyre preyere:
‘Lord ihesu cryst, wych me of nowt
Oonly by grace hast made & wrowt,

þe last of Agas in prysoun.


And fro my yung & tendyr age
Preseruyd hast from synnys seruage,
And my body also from pollucyoun
240

Hast kept of al fleshly corrupcyoun,
And þe werdys loue hast fro me take,
And hast eek vouchydsaf me vyctryhs make
Of alle tormentys, & wythoute resystence
Wyth þe vertu me enduyd of pacyence,
Taak now up my spyryth, I þe prey hertly,
And comaunde me to come to þi mercy.’
And whan she þus had preyid-wyth mylde steuene
Wyth a greth voys to þe fadyr of heuene,
She yald up þe spyryt, aftyr Ianuence decre

The deth of Agas.


A-boute þe yerys of grace two hundryd fyfty & thre,
Wych tyme as Decius was emperour.
Ane whyl wyth oynementys of sw[e]te odour
Feythful peple dede here besy cure
Hyr blyssyd body to þe sepulture
Redy to dressyn, euene vnwarly
A yung man, in clothys of sylk freshly
Arayid, & wyth hym al clad in whyht
An hundryd chyldryn & mo ful freshly dyht,
Be-syde Agas graue dede stonde,
And a taplet of marbyl held in hys honde
Wyth an epy[t]aphye craftely graue þere-yn,
These wurdys conteynyng in latyn:
Mentem sanctam spontaneam honorem deo & patrie liberacionem.
Of wych scripture in wurdys fewe
Ianuence þe sentence þus dede shewe:
‘Thys Agas,’ quod he, ‘had a soule holy,
And to hyr passyoun she hyre offryd frely;
Honour eek & worshype to god yaf she,
And fredam she purchasyd to hyr cuntre.’
Thys was þe sentence of þe seyde tablet.
And whan on þe graue yt up was set,
The yunglyng wyth alle hys cumpany
Awey dede vanysshyn euene sodeynly,
Wych neuere were seyn aftyr þat whyle
241

In al þe marchys of cycyle.
And whan puplysshyd was þis myracle & told
Of paynyms & iewys both yung & old,
Ful many oon wyth greth dylygence
Come to hyre sepulcre & dede reuerence
To þis holy martyr & blyssyd virgyne.
But sone aftyr þat she hyr lyf dede fyne,
As Quyncyan wyth greth pompe & pryde

The deth of Quyncyan


To enserchyn hyre patrymonye dede ryde,
Tweyn hors of hys wex ful sauage
And gunne to nehyn in here fers rage;
Of wych þe toon hym greuously boot,
And wyth hys kakun þe toþir hym smoot,
And doun hym threu in-to a reuere,
Whos body neuere aftyr dede apere
Nere myht be foundyn in no wyse,
Ne neuere shal tyl, at þe last asyse,
Reioynyd to þe soule, on-to helle
It shal goon, þe[r]-yn to dwelle
Wyth deuelys in peyn endlesly.
Lo, þus kan god ful ryhtfully
Ful lowe hem throwyn wych þat hye
In here propyr conceyt aboue þe skye
Surmountyde were as for a tyde.
Lo, þis ys euere þe ende of pryde,
And of hem wych oute of here mynde
Puttyn here creatour, & ben vnkynde
To hys goodnesse, & euere debate
Wyth hys seruauntys & hem doon hate,
And lyst in no wyse here god knowe,
Tyl þei in peyn be plounchyd lowe.
In-fynyht exaunplys here-of we han;
But for þis tyme þis Quyncyan
As to oure purpoos ys suffycyent,
Whom fro seruyl condycyoun fortune up hent,
Of hyre whele by uertybylyte,
And put hym in þe staat of hy degre,
And wyth greth worchepe hym dede auaunce,
242

And yaf hym þe reule & þ gouernaunce
Of þat wurthy & comodyous yle
Wych of ould tyme clepyd ys cycyle,
And þe dygnyte eek of consularye.
And whan þus clombyn was so hye,
For hys vnkyndenesse sone ouyr-th[r]owe,
As ye herd, he was, & leyd ful lowe.
I wyl of þis mater now no more seyn,
But to blyssyd Agas turne I wyl ageyn,
And makyn an ende of hyre legende.
But fyrst I wyl, who-so lyst attende,
As Ianuence techyth, o myracle telle,

A myracle of seynt Agas.


Wych in þe cyte of Cathenence befelle,
Aboute swych tyme by reuolucyoun
As blyssyd Agas suffryd hyr passyoun;
Next folwyng lytyl [b]eforn hyr day,
Of veniaunce fel þis meruelous frey.
A greth hyl, wych stood þat cyte nere,
Sodeynly brast, & þer-oute cam fere
Ryht copyous wych feruently brent,
And toward þe cyte so swyftly yt went
And so impetously as yt had been a brook
Of reyn-watyr; & what-euere yt took
In hys rennyng cours, wer yt styk or stoon
Or erthe, in feere yt went anoon
And consumyd was almost sodeynly.
And whan þe multytude of paynyms sy
Thys wyse al thyng aboute hem brenne,
Doun from the hyl þei gunne to renne
To Agas graue, ful ny for fer
Owt of here wyt; & whan þei come þer,
They took þe veyl wych þe graue dede wrye,
And toward þe feer þei fast dede hye,
And betwyn þe cyte & þe feer yt set,
So trustyng þe cours þere-of to let
And þe furyous rage & þe greth vyolence.
And so yt dyde; for swych resystence
243

It made, þat, whan yt cam þer-to,
It cecyd & no more harm myht do.
And doutlees al þis doon was
The meryht to shewyn of blyssyd Agas,
And how plenteuously in grace she dede habounde;
And þe frowardenesse eek for to confounde
Of paynyms, wych neuere wyl beleue
How myhty god ys, tyl þei yt preue
Be sum myracle shewyd sensybylly.
Now, blyssyd Agas, wych in heuene on hy,
Crounnyd as a quene wyth ioye & blys,
Lyuyst & regnyst as wurthy ys,
And eueremore shalt wyth-owtyn ende,
Purchace us grace or we hens wende,
In þis owtlaurye so to lyuyn & do
That at owre partyng we may come to,
Plenerly purged from al oure synne,
The gloryous place wych þou art ynne,
There euere to abyde wyth god & the,
Sey yche man Amen pur cheryte.
[_]

[Five blank lines.]


Amen mercy ihesu & gramercy.

The prologe of seynt Lucye.

Lvcye of ‘lyht’, aftyr Ianuencys purpose,
Takyth þe name by dyryuacyoun;
For þe kynde of lyht ys, as seyth Ambrose,
That in syht þer-of ys gracyous consolacyoun,
It dyffoundyth þe self wyth-owte inquynacyoun,
It ryht furth procedyth wyth-owte crokydnesse,
And a long lyne wyth-owte morous dylacyoun
Ful redyly yt passyth, for þe greth swyftnesse.
In wych exaunnple Ianuence doth expresse
That lucye had þe beute of virgynyte,
Wyth-owte spot of fylthe or of vnclennesse,
And ful wyde on brede she chad hyr cheryte;
244

Ryht entent to god wyth-owtyn oblyquyte
She had, & þe ly[n]e of good werkyng
Wyth perseueraunce fynally possedyd she;
Thys ys þe entent of Ianuences wrytyng.
Now, blyssyd lucye, wych clepyd art lyht
Or lyhtys weye, by a synguler propyrte
Of specyal grace whom so greth myht
The holy gost yaf, þat in no degre
To þe bordelhous myht not drawyn þe
A thowsend men, wyth oxyn many a peyre:
Granth vs in vertu so strong to be
That no maner vyce vs mow apeyre.
[_]

[Four blank lines.]


Amen.

Here begynnys the lyf of seynt Lucye.

Thys nobyl virgyne, þis blyssyd Lucye,
Whos lyf y purpose for to dysc[r]ye
Brefly in englyssh, y[f] god me grace
And of lyf graunte leyser and space,
Born was in a comodyous yle
Wych þat storyis clepyn Cecyle,
And in a cyte wych þei vse
That þer dwellyn to clepyn Syracuse;
And lyneally descendyd of þe wurthyest kin
The seyd cyte wych dwellyd yn.
Whos fadyr deyid in hyr nounn-age;
And a modyr she had, bothe wyhs & sage
Whos name clepyd was Eutyce,
Wych vertu louyd & hatyd vyce.
And so befel þat þe greuous syknesse
Clepyd dyssentyrye hyr dede oppresse
Ful yerys foure, & þat so greuously
That no leche hyr cowde do remedy.
But who-so lyst to vndyrstonde
What dyssentyrye ys, let hym fonde
To aqueyntyn hym wyth summe of þese men:
245

Ypocras, Constantyn, or Galyen,
Wych of fysyk þe pryncys be
And arn souereyns clepyd in þat faculte,
Wych kun declare clause by clause
Of yche syknesse both ruth & cause.
And how þei shuldyn curyd be.
But I no skyl kan of þat faculte,
Wherefore no man loke aftyr here
That I shuld more seyn in þis matere,
Than þat dyssentyrye of comoun vsage
The reed flyx ys clepyd in oure langwage,
Wych wyth of þe guttys excoryacyoun
Sendyth owte sangweyn agestyoun.
But how þis syknesse hath spycys thre,
And how of thre humours þei causyd be:
As coler reed, fleum salt, & coler adust
(Wych of alle þe thre ys þe wurst);
Nere for what skyl yt ys incurable,
And specyally whan þe colour ys sable:
Of þat faculte for I am but bare,
I wyl not presumyn here to declare.
Suffycyth to knowyn þat þis syknesse
Is ful greuous, as bern wytnesse
Kun þei best þat han experyence
And specyally seyd Eutyce, wych greth expence
Doon had þer-on, as to-foor seyd ys,
Ful yerys foure. but aftyr þis,
Whan thorgh þe prouynce of seyd Cecyle,
Wych of lengthe & brede ys many a myle,
The gloryous fame dyuulgyd was
Of þe blyssyd virgyn seynt Agas.
Wych in [þe] cyte of tagatence
Was neuly martyrd wyth greth vyolence,
Whom for to seken wyth an holy entent
On hyr festful day mych peple went
From euery plage of þe seyd Cecyle,
And specyally from Syracuse, wych fourty myle
246

And fyue ys from þens, or lytyl lesse.
At wych tyme, excytyd, as I gesse,
By Lucye, hyre doughtyr, Eutyce also
The same pylgrymage purposyd to do;
And, not-wythstondyng hyr syknesse,
She & Lucye hem þedyr dede dresse.
And whan þei doon had her pylgrymage
And offryd, as þan was þe vsage,
And performyd was þe processyoun,
In wych yerly was red & of custom
That gospyl wych tellyth of a wumman
That of þe reed flyx no remedy myht han
Tyl she had touchyd wyth feythful entent
The hem benethyn of hys garnement;
And whan þe gospel was endyd & do,
Lucye hyr modyr þis wyse seyd to:
‘Modyr, yf þou yiue ful credence
Of þis gospel on-to þe sentence,
Beleue þat agas hath euere present
Hym for whos name she suffryd torment;
Wherfore I counsel þat þou hyr graue
Wyth ful feyth touche, & þou shalt haue
Of þi syknesse soon remedye.’
And aftyr, whan yche man hym dede hye
Hoom to hys yn, hym to counforte
Wyth bodyly food & othyr dysporte,
They two abydyn, & wyth humble entent
To agas tounnbe to-gedyr þei went,
To offryn to hyr deuouthly here preyere.
And whan þei contunyd had in þat manere
A lytyl whyle, or þan [s]he took keep
Lucye oppressyd was wyth a sleep;
And anoon as she a-slepe was,
Hyr thouht she sey blyssyd agas,
In myddys of ryht a grete cumpany
Of aungelys stondyn, and ryally
Wyth gemmys arayid bryht & clere,
And to hyr seying on þis manere:
247

‘Lucye, sustyr, & mayde deuouth,
What ys þe cause þat þou come outh
Of me to askyn swych a bone
As to þi modyr þou mayst grante sone?
For thorgh þi feyth & þi goodnesse
Curyd ys þi modyr of hyr syknesse.
More-ouyr I wyl þou knowe treuly
That, lych as þis cyte þorgh goddys mercy
Of Tagatence onouryd ys by me,
So shal Syracuse ben vurshepyd by þe;
For a dwellyng-place both myry & glad
To god & þi maydynheed þou hast maad.’
And wyth þis wurd Lucye abreyd
Out of hyr slepe, & to hyr modyr þus seyd:
‘Modyr, be myry & of ryht good cher!
For releef þou hast of þi myster,
And art ful helyd of þi syknesse.
Wherfore I þe prey for þe goodnesse
Of hyr thorgh mene of whos preyere
Thou art maad hool, þat in no manere
Here-aftyr, neythir in ernyst nere game,
No mortal husbonde to me do name,
Nere of my body þe fruht of successyoun
Neuere desyre by fleshly corrupcyoun;
But alle þo thyngys wych þou me
Shuldyst yeuyn of my virgynyte
[Go]yng to a mortal coruptoure,
Yif me joy[n]ing to þe conseruatoure
And þe keper of my virgynyte,
Cryst Ihesu, wych euere blyssyd be!’
Quod Eutyce þan: ‘o doughtyr Lucye,
Thys nyne yere syth þi fadyr dede dye
Al thy patrymony ful dylygently
Wych he þe left kept haue y,
And no thyng yt lessyd in ony degre;
And also al þat longyth to me
As my-self, þou knowyst as weel,
248

Wych þine shal ben euery deel.
Wherfore, douhtyr, fyrst me be-graue,
And þanne shalt þou ful power haue
Wyth al to do what-euere þou lest.’
‘Modyr,’ quod Lucye, ‘þis ys not best,
As me semyth, þe soth to seyn;
For bettyr plesaunce to god yt ys, certeyn,
A man for hys sake to refuse
Swych as no lengere he may vse.
Wherfore, yf þou wylt acceptyd to be
Thy yiftys of god, by counsel of me
Swych thyng yif hym wylfully,
And yn swych tyme as þou mayst frely
Leuyn or kepyn stylle whyl þou lyuyst;
For in þi deyng what-euere þou yiuyst,
There-foor þou yiuyst yt, for in no degre
Aweye þou ne mayst yt bern wyth þe;
And swych yiftys lytyl thank-wurthy
Been as me semyth.’ quod Eutyce: ‘treuly,
As þou wylt, doughtyr, I wyl assente.’
And aftyr þis þei home wente;
And euene forwyth quotydyanly
They almesse delte haboundauntly,
So þat of her temporal possessyoun
Was maad anoon ryht greth dystraccyoun,
And yche daye yt began to amenuse.
Where-up-on ful sore dede muse
He that commenauntyd had to be
Hyr husbonde; & anoon aftyr, he,
The treuth of þe matere for to aspye,
To þe nuryhs he labouryd of lucye,
An pryuyly of hyr he dede enquere
If she owt knew of þat mater.
‘Ya,’ quod hyr noryhs, ‘I knowe ryht wele;
The cause why þat she summe dele
Of hyr meuable good dystraccyoun
Makyth, ys for she a possessyoun
249

Hath aspyid wych for to bye
She hyr dysposyth ful hastylye,
To þe comoun profyht of [y]ou both two.’
Glad was he þanne, & fully þer-to
He assentyd & was ryht glad.
And yt to perform both counseld & bad,
Wenyng, þe fool, þat she þat wyse
Ment had a temporal marchaundyse.
But whan he sawe how þe game went.
And weel perceyuyd þat ner al spent
Was in almes-dede, & no thyng bowt
Therwyth, ageyn a-noon he sowt
Occasyoun how he myht lucye teynt.
And forth-wyth geynys her he reysyd a pleynt
Beforn [P]as[c]asye, wych of consularye
The offyce hadde & þe lawe dede gye.
And þe summe of hys pleynt was þis:
That she crysten was, & ageyn þe lawys
Of þe emperours lyuyd. & whanne pascaas
Thus ageyn lucye ensencyd was,
In hasty wyse he for hyre sent;
And whan she was come, he hys entent
To hyr dysclosyd in þis manere:
‘Lucye, þou art acusyd here
That þou a crysten wumman shuldyst be,
And lyuyn ageynys þe general decre
Of oure emperours, of þi lygnage
To greth vylany & eek damage.
If yt be soth, þou art to blame;
Wherfore, yf þou wylt eschewyn shame
And harm also as wumman wyhs,
To oure goddys anoon do sacryfyhs,
Mekely þem offryng frankencence.’
To whom þus Lucye seyd hyr sentence:
‘A uery & immaculat sacryfyse
To god, þe fadyr of heuene, þis wyse
Is maad: a man hym to delyte
250

The fadyrlees chyldyrn to vysyte
And hem to counforte þat troublyd be.
And for I now stond in swych degre
That I not ellys haue to take to
But my-self oonly, sacryfyse to do
To þe fadyr of heuene in humble wyse,
My-self I offre to hys sacryfyse,
For hys sake euene redy to dye.’
‘These wurdys,’ quod Pascas, ‘þou myht, Lucye,
To a crystene fool telle, swych as þou art.
But her I seye as for my part,
Wych kepere am of þe emperours decre,
And euere wyl, þi wurdys veynly seyde [b]e.
Wherfore sece þer-of, lucye, I preye.’
‘Ya, Pascas,’ quod she, ‘lyst what I seye!
Thou dredyst þi pryncys wych ben mortal,
And I drede þe god þat ys eternal.
Thou þi pryncys decrees hast in awe,
And I besy to kepe my goddys lawe.
Thou dredyst þi pryncys to offende,
And to offend my god I am dredende.
Thou desyryst þi pryncys plesaunce to do,
And I god to plesyn coueyte also.
Wherfore do þou now as þou lest,
And I wyl doon as me thynkyth best.’
Quod paschasye, ‘þou hast wyth coruptours
Thy patrymonye spent & wyth lecchours,
Wherfore þou spekyst as a strumpet.’
‘My patrymonye,’ quod Lucye, ‘I haue beset
In sykyr place; but of soule ner body
Coruptours yet neuere noon had I.’
‘Of body & soule, o þou nyce Lucye,
Wych ben coruptou[r]s þou vs descrye!’
‘Coruptours of soule, I-wys,’ quod she,
‘And gostly auounterers ben al ye,
Wych do youre besynesse in your laboure
To makyn soulys to forsakyn her creatour.
251

For, as seyth seynt poule, shrewyd talkyng
Corumpyth good maners & good lyuyng.
But þei ben coruptours of þe body
That delectacyoun preferryn here temporally
Of here flesh, wych ys mortal,
Beforn þe delycys wych euere dure shal.’
‘I-wys,’ quod Paschasye, ‘þese wurdys shul fayle
Whan tormentys þe onys begynne assayle.’
‘Sekyr,’ quod Lucye, ‘þat ys a lees,
For goddys wurdys shal neuere cees.’
‘Ergo þou art a god?’ quod he.
‘Thyn argument is not wurth,’ quod she.
‘I am no god, but I am þe hand-mayde
Of hym wych in hys gospel seyde:
Beforn kyngys & meyrys whan ye stonde,
Wych me fro you to departen shuld fonde,
Not thynkyth to-forn in youre mende
What shal be gynnyng or what ende
Of swych wurdys as ye þere shul seyn;
For þis I wyle ye k[n]owe certeyn,
It ys not ye þat spekyn, sothly,
But yt ys þe spyryht of your fadyr on hy
In þe blysse of heuene of myhtys most.’
‘Ergo,’ quod Paschasye, ‘þe holy gost
Is þe wyth-ynne, & þis manere speche
Wych þou here vsyst now doth [þ]e teche.’
‘Certeyn,’ quod Lucye, ‘þis weel woot I,
That þei wy[ch] chast leuyn contunelly
Here in þis werd, been thorch grace
The holy gostys temple & hys dwellyng-place.’
Quod Paschasye þan, ‘here-ageyn shal y
Ful redyly ordeynyn a remedy
To dryuyn þe holy gost fro the;
For to þe bordelhous þou led shat be,
Where, wylt þou or nylt, folwe þe lust
Of euere comer þedyr nedys þou must
Of nature aftyr the condycyoun.
252

And whan þou þus wyth corupcyoun
Defoulyd art, I vndyr-take
The holy gost wyl þe forsake.’
Quod Lucye ageyn: ‘ful weel knowe I
That defoulyd shal neuere þe body
Wyth-owtyn assent of þe soule be;
As by an exaunnple þou mayst se:
I put þis caas, þat wyth vyolence
Ageyn my wyl þou put frankencence
In myn hand & up-on colys reede
Beforn your goddys yt to shede
Thou me compellyst, myn hand shakyng,
Wenyst þou þat þis were plesyng
To youre goddys as for sacryfyse?
I trow nay; but in no wyse,
I dar weel seyn, to þe hy reuerence
Of my lord god no manere offence
That shuld do nere dysplesaunce,
Wych in euery thyng more attendaunce
Takyth to þe entent þan to þe deed.
Wherefore, þow þou for þi cruelheed
Make by force þe integryte
Of my body to be reft fro me,
Yet shal I þer-to neuere assent
In soule; wherfore, what-euere torment
Thou to me lyst of þi tyranny
Applyin, to suffryn I am redy.
Why taryist so long? anoon begyn,
Thou sone of þe deuyl, & euery gyn
Of peyne wych þou kanst deuyse
Spare not in me to excersyse,
For I wyl þou knowe I þe not fere.’
Whan Paschasye herd þis answere,
Anoon to hys presence he dede calle
Of þe cyte þe Ruffyens alle;
Wych been men þat synfullye
Wummen ben customyd to selle & bye,
253

And to settyn hem to fer[m]e at þe bordelhous,
Ther to gete wyth her craft vycyous
Her lyuyng & her maystrys þer-to,
Greth peyne to suffre lesse þei so do.
And whan þei were comm to þe presence
Of Paschasye, þus he hys sentence
To hem shewyd: ‘syrs, I you charge,
When ye þis damysel han forth at large,
Whom I iuge comoun wumman to be,
Makyth proclamacyoun þorgh þe cyte,
That to þe bordelhous come who-so wyl
Wyth hyr þe lust for to fulfyl
Of hys flessh at hys owe lykyng;
And doth hem to wet þat she ys ying,
Lusty & feyr, & a maydyn also,
And men þe gladlyer shal precyn hyr to.
And so long hyr letyth ben excercysyd
Lych to you as I haue deuysyd
Tyl she be deed for werynesse.’
And anoon furth-wyth þe gunne hem dresse
Hyr furth to lede, as Paschasye bad;
But wyth al þe myht at þei had,
Wyth so greth wyhte þe holy gost
Hyr had fyxyd, þat lest & most
Styryn h[ir] ne myht ner remeue,
Wych Paschasys hert sore dede greue.
And anoon he comaundyd al þe men
Wych aboutyn hym stood þedyr to ren
And help to drawe, but yt wold not be.
And anoon he chargyd hem þat she
Shuld both handys & feet be bounde;
And whan þat was doon, þe selue stounde
Thedyr he ordeynyd to repeyre
Of myhty oxyn ful many a peyre,
Weel harneysyd & arayid þer-to,
But neythyr men ner bestys myht do
To hyr ryht nowt; but as an hyl
Rotyd she stood both fyx & styl.
254

And whan he þis sawe, he forth dede calle
The wycchys & þe prestys of þe templys alle,
And preyid hem þat wyth þere incantacyouns,
And to her goddys wyth inuocacyouns,
That þei shuld helpyn hyr forth to brynge.
But for al her crafth & here preyinge,
Ner for no thyng þei cowde deuyse,
They myht hyr steryn in no wyse.
And whan he þis sawe, wenyng þat she
Had by wycchecrafth þus heuy be,
Vp-on hyr oyle he dede caste,
Hopyng þer-wyth for to waste,
Aftyr þe comoun opynyouns entent,
The myht of magyk or enchauntement;
But alle hys besynesse myht not auayle.
And whan al hys craft he saw fayle,
‘Lucye,’ he seyd, ‘I þe beseche,
What be þi wycchecraftys do us teche!’
‘I wyl þou knowe, Pascasye,’ quod she,
‘That wycchecrafth þer ys noon in me.
But al þat doon ys, by þe vertu
Doon ys of my lord god Ihesu.’
‘How ys yt þanne,’ quod he, ‘dylate,
That a maydyn yung & delycate
Of a thousend men may not styryd be?’
‘Sekyrly, the holy gost,’ quod she,
‘Swych wychte me yeuyth, þat þow þou do
Othyre ten thousand men þer-to,
They shul me neythyr styre ner meue.
For fully in þat scrypture I beleue
That seyth of hem wych to god calle
In ony nede: a thousande shul falle
On þi lyfth syde, & on þi ryht hand
Shul ouyrth[r]owe ten thousand,
And be þei neuere so shrewyd of wyl,
Shal noon of hem alle neyhyn þe tyl.’
Wyth þis answere he greuyd was sore
And in hym-self troublyd more & more,
255

Compasyng alle hys wyttys wyth-ynne
By what crafth or by what gynne
He moost cruelly myht to deth hyr brynge.
And whan Lucye hym stondyn þus saw musyng,
She dede þus crye: ‘o wrecchyd Pascaas,
Why art þou so tormentyd in þis caas,
Wych ynne þi-self wyth malycyusnesse
So grethly doth þine herte oppresse?
Why art þou of coloure so pale, & heu?
Syth þou hast prouyd how by þe vertu
Of þe holy gost I hys dwellyng-place
And hys temple am made, by a specyal grace.
Leue þine erroure & yiue credens.
And yf þou ne wylt, fast hy þe hens.
What shuldyst þou lenger here abyde?’
Whan he þis herd, ful loude he cryde
For uery angwyssh euene of hys herte.
And anoon he chargyd men to sterte
Feyr for to fecche, &, yt to encrees,
He bad hem bryng wax, pych & grees,
And makyn a feer hyr round aboute.
And of þe tormentours al þe route
To executyn were myry & glad
Al þat cruel Paschasye bad.
And whan þe feer began to glowe,
Vp-on hyre he bad men throwe
Feruent oyle ful fast boylyng.
And whan performyd was al þis thyng,
In þe myddys stondyng of þe leye,
Lucye stedefastly þus dede seye:
‘I haue besowt my lord Ihesu
That þis feer mow no vertu
Or power haue to touche me,
For two causys: oon ys þat þe
The more anguysshyd I myht make,
Anothyr ys of deth to take
Awey from crystene men þe fere,
And to suffraunce of passyoun þe myhtyer.’
256

And whan pascasyis frendys stondyng by
Herde þese wurdys, þei wer angry,
And euene lych wood men þe ferd,
For in hyr throte þei shouyn a swerd,
Hyr sone desyryng to confounde.
But not-wythstondyng þat greuous wounde
She kept hyr speche, and þus pleynly
To þe feythful she seyd þat stood hyr by:
‘Syrs, be ryht glad, for I telle you
To crystys cherche pees ys yeue now;
For deed þis daye ys Maxymyan,
And from hys regne ys kast Dyoclycyan.
More-ouyr I wyl ye knowe, sothly,
That as Agas for Tagatence so am y
Thorgh goddys grace ordeynyd to be
A medyatryce for þis cyte.
Thankyth hertyly god of hys goodnesse,
That lyst for you so wele to dresse
And aftyr greth sorwe send mery tydyng.’
And whyl she þis wyse stood talkyng,
Pascasye takyn & boundyn myhtyly
The romayns mynystrys brouht þer forby
To Romeward, for þei relacyoun
Haddyn þat he greth depopulacyoun
Had maad [in] the prouynce of Cecyle.
Wher whan he cam, wyth-yn short whyle
Acusyd, conuyct, & iugyd was he
Of þe senate hefdyd for to be.
And so home to helle he dede hym hye.
But not-for-þan, seyd blyssyd Lucye
Neythyr deyid ner meuyd from þat grounde
In wych she took hyr deedly wounde
Tyl prestys comyn & wyth holy entent
Mynystryd had hyre þe sacrament
Of crystys body, & tyl eek alle men
W[y]ch stood be-syde had answerd amen.
And þan anoon she dede comende
To god hyr soule, & forth it sende
257

To heuene blysse þourgh goddys grace;
Whos body was beryid in þe same place,
And þere-ouyr a cherche made hastyly,
In wych yt ys shrynyd ful reuerently,
Abydyng þe daye of þe greth assyse;
In wych, O Lucye, in humble wyse
I the beseche þat þe translatour
Of þi legende for hys labour
By mene of þe, wych clepyd art lyht
Aftyr þi name, may haue a syht
Of þe greth lyht & eek bryhtnesse
Of hym þat sunne ys of ryhtwysnesse,
And illumynyth wyth hys grace alle men,
Whom onys to seen ys ioye. AmeN.
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mercy ihesu & gramercy

The proloug into seynt Elyzabeth Lyf.

The yere of grace, who lyst attende,
As seyth Ianuence in hys golden legende,
A thousend and two hundyrd also
Yf thretty & oon be addyd ther-to,
The nyntende day euyn of nouembre,
Wych ys þe threttende kalende of decembre,
By the uertybyl cours of fatal deth
Owt of thys werd passyd seynt Elyzabeth,
Wy[c]h the kyngys doughtyr was vngarye,
& wyf to Langrauye, pryince of turyngye;
Whos lyf my wyl ys to declare
In englyssh tonge, al-be-yt but bare.
Elyzabeth, as myne auctor doth expresse,
‘My god knowyth’ ys for to seyne,
‘My goddys seuente’, or ‘my goddys fulsumnesse’;
In wych threfold interpretacyoun certeyne,
If yt be declaryd in wourdys pleyne,
Of thys blyssyd Elyzabeth men shul know mounn
The synguler laude and comendacyoun.
258

Fyrst, as I seyde, betoknyth elyzabeth
‘My god knowyth’; & þat congruently
To hyr pertenyth, wych wyth þe swete breth
Of grace enbaumyd was so copyously
In hyr tendyr age, þat hyr werkys treuly
He approuyd & made hyr to be knowe,
And throgh-out þe werde hyr fame be blowe.
Of ellys in thys threfolde cognycyoun
Of god mow wele vndyrstonden be
The thre dyuyn uertuhs, aftyr myne opynyoun.
That ys to seyn, Feyth, Hope & Cheryte,
Wych Elyzabeth had in excellent degre,
As euery wytty man may perpende
That dylygently redyth hyr legende.
What made hyr þe werd for to despyse
In hyr tendyr age, & to han uyctory
Ther-of in so many sundry wyse,
But perfyth feyth, aftyr hyr reoule, treuly?
Moyses throgh feyth so grete wex & hy
That pharaos doughtir sone he forsuke to be,
So dede þis Elyzabeth thys werdys vanyte.
What made hyr to haue so greth pacyence
In suffraunce of trouble & of aduersyte,
And þat she neuere wolde m[ak]e no resystence,
But ful hope of god rewardyd to be?
Wych seyth in þe gospel on þis degre:
They shuld be blyssyd wych for ryhtwysnesse
Mekely trybulacyouns suffryn & dystresse.
That she had cheryte ys eth to knowe,
Syth cheryte includyth loue & eke pyte,
Of god & our neybours both hy & lowe.
I trowe þan þat moor had neuere noon þan she,
As who-so abyde tyl hyr lyf red be
Shal þereof heren meche experyence.
Lo, þus þes thre vertuhs she had by excellence!
More-ouyr Elyzabeth on þe secunde wyse
Is as mych to seyn as ‘goddys seuent[e] day’;
Wych, as myne auctor pleynly doth deuyse,
259

To oure Elyzabeth weel applyid be may,
For in þe seuene werkys of pyte she hyr ocupyid ay
Or for now in seuente day of soulys rest she ys,
Abydyng þe octaue of body & soule in blys.
Or by þis nounbyr of seuene, who-so take hede,
Seuene statys wych she was yn vnderstonde be moun:
As maydenhede, maryage, & also wydewede,
Actyf & contemplatyf, þe relygyoun;
The seuente, where she now dwellyth, ys heuenly regyoun;
And so þe Wurd to danyel seyd affermyd of hyr may be:
That seuene tymys han chaungyd up-on the.
The threde interpretacyoun, as I seyde be-fore,
Of þis name Elyzabeth ys ‘goddys fulsumnesse’,
And sygnyfyith þe ioye wych for euyrmore
Elyzabeth ys entryd thorgh goddys goodnesse;
Of wych ioye kyng dauyd þus seyde expresse:
‘I, lord, wyth þi fulsumnesse sacyat shal be
Thanne whanne þi ioye shal appere to me.’
Now, blyssyd Elyzabeth, for þi cherytabylnesse,
Helpe us alle to comyn to þat blysful place
Where þou art in ioye wych neuer shal lesse,
And euere beholdyst god in hys gloryous face;
And syngulerly helpe, þorgh þi specyal grace,
I the beseche, to dwelle wyth the there
Aftyr þis outlaury, dame Elyzabeth ver.
[_]

[Three blank lines.]


AmeN.
Thys blyssyd Elyzabeth, as I seyde before,
The kyngys doughtyr was of vngarye,
Noble of byrthe, but of relygyous lore
More nobyl, for she dede magnyfye
Alle hyr kynrede & eek gloryfy
Wyth manye exaunplys of perfyhtnesse,
And wyth myraclys bryhter þan þe skye
Enbelshyd yt by þe grace of hyr holynesse.
260

No wundyr, for of kende þe souereyn auctoure
Abouyn al natur hyr extollyd ful hye,
Whan she, þat was of beute floure
And fostryd up wyth kyngly delycacye
Wyt many anothyr of hyr allye,
Alle chyldly thyngys dede despyse,
Or ellys them treuly she dede applye
Wyth al hyr dylygence to goddys seruyse.
In wyche maner werkys men se moun
Hyr tendyr youthe wyth what sympylnesse
Began fyrst, & wyth what deuocyoun
From day to day she dede hyr besynesse
In studijs to ben ocupyid of goodnesse.
Veyn pleyis to despyse was hyr dylygence,
The fauoure to fleen of fortunys fykylnesse,
And eueremore to perfytyn in goddys reuerence.
For whan she fyue yere was of age
Or ellys lesse, as þe legende doth seye,
So deuouth to god was hyr corage
That to cherche she oft wold go to preye,
And whan she there was, hyr to getyn aweye,
To seruyn god so desyrous was she,
Hy[r] compers & hyr maydyns for to pleye
Anethe myht wythoute greth dyffyculte.
Yet whan to pleyn aftyr chyldryns guyse
Wyth hyr pleyfers brouht was she,
And yche othyr chasyd in dyuerse wyse,
Euer to chercheward she dede fle,
Sekyng therby an oportunyte
To entryn; yn whan she come was,
God worchepyng she fel doun on hyr kne,
Or ellys in þe pawment up-on hyr faas.
And thou she of lettrure no kunnyng had,
Yet ful oftyn-tyme she wold vse
To han a sauter opyn beforn hyr sprad,
Where-in she made hyr for to muse,
And long yt was or she hyt wold refuse,
As thow she had red euen by & by,
261

Sekyng a colour hyr so to excuse
Not to [be] led oute þens to hastyly.
Also ful oftyn in hyr pleying
Prostrate to ground she fel doun
Vp-on hyr face, hyr-self mesuryng
As þe pley askyd, but hyr intencyoun
Was þerby to han an occasyoun
Vndyr colour of pley so couertly
To worshepyn god wyth deuocyoun,
Whom in herte [she] louyd souereynly.
She usyd also a ful noble custum
That yf she owt wunne by pleying,
Were yt more or lesse, þat al & summe
To oþir smale maydyns pore & ying
She yaf it anoon, þem exhortying
Her pater noster often forto seye,
And oure lady to salusyn wyth gabrielis gretyng;
And þus shem inducyd for to kun prey.
Thus, as by processe of yerys she dede growe,
She encrecyd by the effect of deuocyoun;
And for in no wyse she wolde ben ouyrthrowe
By sleythe of þe deuyl or of hys suggestyoun,
She put hyr in oure ladyis proteccyoun,
Hyr mekely besechyng hyr aduocate to be;
And seynt Ioon þe ewangelyst by specyal affeccyoun
She ches to be kepere of hyr uirgynyte.
For wyche entent, on seynt valentynys day,
Whan of sundry apostlys, aftyr vse of þat cuntre,
Vp-on sundry taprys, wych on þe auter lay,
Wrytyn sundry namys vsyd were to be,
And yche mayde tooke oon aftyr þe casuelte,
Thryis tooke euenly Elyzabeth aloon
Aftyr þe desyre in hyr hert secre
The tapyr wych intytlyd was to seynt Ioon.
Aftyr wych tyme in hyr affeccyoun
Thys blyssyd apostyl she set so hye
That who-so askyd hyr ony petycyoun
In hys name, she ne koude yt denye.
262

And þat no successyon shuld hyr ludyfye
Of werdly prosperyte, she dayly dede vse,
As ner as she koude ony about hyr spye,
Sum thyng prosperous from hyr to refuse.
Wherfore in pleying whan she sey succede
Myrthe & wantounnesse, aftyr chyldyrns guyse,
Sodeynly she secyd & wold no more procede,
Seying to hyr pleyfers sadly in þis wyse:
‘Oon song is ynow, as I you deuyse;
Wherfore for goddys sake wyl we vs restreyne
From a-noþir soung.’ & þus be wurdys wyse
Hyr handmaydyns from vanyte she vsyd to restreyne.
As of hyr outward port what shuld I more seyn
But þat in al hyr aray she louyd honeste,
And of nyce garnementys skorn had & dysdeyn?
Also certeyn vrysouns vsyd yche day she,
Wych for ony occupacyouns yf happyd lefth to be,
Thow she by hem at euyn wych dedyn hyr kepe
Constreynyd were to bedde, yet in no degre
Tyl hyr stent were seruyd she ne wolde slepe.
Solemne festys þis maydyn eek ful of grace
Euere kepte wyth swych deuocyoun
That no-bodi hyr sleuys to lace
She suffren wolde tyl mes was doon;
Ne glouys on þe sunday tyl yt was noon,
Wer yt neuere so coulde, vsyn nold she,
In þat to satysfyen hyr deuocyoun
And for þe reuerence of þe dominycal solemnyte.
And þat she shulde of swyche syngulartes
Wych þat she louyd & had in vsage,
No wyse be lettyd, up-on hyr knees
Ful oft knelyng wyth deuouth corage
Auowyd þat neuere, for no language
Of man nere wumman, neythir greth ne smal,
From þese cerymonyis she shulde outrage
Tyl dethe of hyr lyf vndyrmynde þe wal.
Dyuyne seruyse also wyth swych reuerence
She herd, þat whan þe gospel shulde be
263

Red, & in þe sacramentis presens
Of crystys body, euere ryht up stude she,
Wyth sleuys vnlacyd, & hy[r] nowchys perde
She put a-syde, & eek al othyr gere
Wych to hyr hede longyde in ony degre
On hyr shuldyr þat tyme she vsyd to bere.
And whan þis body innocent þus prudently
Had reulyd þe tyme of hyr virgynyte,
And by cours of yerys successyfly
Atteynyd þe state of wummans degre,
By hyr [fadyr] constreynyd to entryn was she
The state wych longyth to weddit men,
Wych stant in þe feyth of the trynyte
Wyth kepyng of goddys preceptis ten.
To þe wych astate thow she sothly
Loth were, yet she assentyd þer-to,
Neythyr for lust nere lykynge of hir body,
But hyr fadrys wyl for she wold do,
And in þat astate þat she myht also
Educatyn, yf hyr fruht god dede sende,
Them to hys seruyse; þis meuyd hir, lo,
To þis conclusyoun to condescende.
But yet er she to þe lawe was bounde
Of maryage, stondyng in hyr lyberte,
Shewyng þat no lust of flessh founde
In no maner wyse in hyr myht be,
In a maystrys hande wyth humylyte
She a vow made: yf for to sterue
Yt happyd hyr husbonde er than she,
Perpetuel continence þat she shulde obserue.
Thus weddyd was to Langrauye, of Turyngye
The prynce, þis Elyzabeth, of contynence
The uery myrour, ful solemnelye,
As askyd þe stat of þer magnyfycence,
As ordeynyd hadde goddys prouydence,
That to hys loue she many shuld brynge
Both greth & smale, & throgh hyr prudence
Hem god to seruyn she shuld yeuyn techynge.
264

Wherfore, althow hyr estate dede chaunge
Thys blyssyd Elyzabeth, by hyr fadrys decre,
To swych as to hyre was ful straunge,
I mene to matrymony from uirgynyte,
Yet not-for-þan in hyr hert secre
Hyr affeccyoun wyth-owtyn chaungabylnesse
Was more leef a maydyn to haue be
Than princesse or quene or emperesse.
But of [how] greth deuocyoun & eek reuerence
To godward she was & of what mekenesse
And efthsonys of how greth abstynence
She was to hyr-self, & of what largenesse
And pyte to þe pore, & what tendyrnesse
Of seke men she hadde, & how men in care
To counforte & chere she dede hyr besynesse,
The processys folwynge shul c[l]erely declare.
To speke fyrst of preyer: of swych feruoure
She was þat hyr madynnys she dede preuente
In goyng to cherche ful many an oure
Or more, where þe tyme she spente
So deuouthly & wyth so holy entente,
That yt semyd she purposyd to purchace
Of hym þat from heuyn al goodnesse sente
Wyth hyr pryuate preers sum newe grace.
And not oonly in cherche þis was hyr guyse
To preyen, but eek yche nyht also
Ful oft tymys she dede up ryse
Out of hyr bed þe same to do,
There abydyng an our or two
In swyche preyers as hyr thoute best;
Yet hyr husbonde ful oftyn hyr preyid, lo,
To sparyn hyr body & hyt yeuyn sum rest.
And for þis custome she wold wele kepe
And in no wyse hyr-self þerfro restreyne,
If hyt hyr happyd ony tyme to slepe
Past hyr custom, she dede ordeyne
Oon of hyr maydyns, wych was certeyne
Most famylyare hyr wyth, hyr for to take
265

By þe bare foot & hyr soor to streyne
Therby tyl she of hyr slepe dede wake.
And so yt fel þat onys on a nyht
Thys damysel, as she was wone, priuyly
To þe bed cam wyth-outyn ony lyht,
And by þe foot she shoke vnwarely
The pryince, & he woke sodeynly;
And whan of þe cause he had informacyoun,
He hyt foryaf, & ful prudently
Euere þer-of made dyssymulacyoun.
So þus, by suffraunce of þis good man,
Conformabylly yche nyght dede ryse
Thys blyssyd Elyzabeth, þis holy wumman,
As ye me han herde beforn deuyse.
But þat þe acceptabyllere þe sacryfyse
Of hyr preyers to god myht alwey be,
Them to wattryn in plenteuous wyse
Wyth wepyng eyne ful oftyn oysyd she.
And not-wythstondyng þe greth wepyng
Wych she dede vsyn in capyousnesse,
In hyr chere apperyd no dyffyguryng
By hyr terys, but rather gladnesse;
And so who hyr sey myht ueryly gesse
That ioye & sorue in hyr had swych a temperaunce,
That þow she outward shewyd trystesse
Yet of inward ioye she hadde habundaunce.
And for to spekyn of hyr mekenesse,
A mekere creatur no where þan she
Was neuer noon, lyche as I gesse,
For more meke soothly þer myht noon be;
For þe more despect thyng were in ony degre,
And þe more contemtyble in sundry wyse,
Of them euere she hadde þe more cherte,
And þe gladere was hem to exercyse.
Thys sempt wel by oon þat in hyr seruyse
So greuously syknyd, þe soth to seyn,
That hym to seen yche man dede agryse
And hym to touchyn had uery dysdeyn
266

Saf she alone, þis ys certeyn;
For of hym she had swyche tendyrnesse,
That hys heed in hyr lap for to leyn
She hym oft suffryd thorgh hyr gentylnesse.
And not-wythstondyng hys horrybylnesse,
Swych in mekenesse was hyr grace, lo,
That alle hys sorys both more & lesse,
Whan no madyn of hyrs wold put hand to,
Wyth a pyn or a nedle for to vndo
And lete out þe fylthe she not dede abasshe,
And hys ruggyd erys she clyppyd a[l]so,
And wyth hyr owyn handys hys hede to wasshe.
In ragacyouns also, aftyr hyr custum,
In lynene clothys alway clad was she,
And barefoot euere folwyd þe processyoun,
So was she groundyd in humylyte.
And eek at stacyouns wher sermons shuld be,
She nold ben among þe statys hy,
But among þe wummen of porest degre
She alwey wold syttyn ful deuouthly.
In hyr puryfycacyouns eek she ne wold
Wyth precyous gemmys hyr dysguyse,
Wyth nowchys nere wyth clothys of gold
As of ladyis of astate yt ys þe guyse;
But by exaunple of marye, in humble wyse
In hyr owyn armys hyr chyldryn fre,
Werdly pompe so vsyng to despyse,
Wyth a lamb & a candele up offryd she.
And whan she from cherche cam home agen,
In-to hyr chaumbyr she went hastyly
And all þo clothys dede of, certeyn,
Wyth wyche to cherche she went, sothly.
And anoon forth-wyth euene by & by,
Ere þan she wolde to mete goon,
To sum pore wumman wych dwellyd þer ny
Awey she hem yaf euene euerychon.
267

A tokne yt was also of greth mekenesse
In hyr þat stood in swyche lyberte
As she dede, & in so greth wurthynesse,
That to oon maystyr Conrade she wolde be
Subiect, stondyng þe greth pouerte
Wych he was yn, saf þat of kunnyng
And of doctryne ful excellent was he,
And ful perfyth eke was of good lyuyng.
To whom, by leue of hyr husbonde,
Thys humble & most meke creature
A solemne vow made in hys ryht hande
Hym to obeyin wyth-outyn forfature
In alle thyngis whyl hyr lyf dede endure;
And þis she dede oonly for þat entent
To purchasyn þe meryht of obedyens pure,
And by exaunple of cryst to deyin obedyent.
Not long aftyr þis up-on a day,
Whan he hyr had clepyd to hys prechyng,
And þe Markesesse of Me[n]ence kept hyr away
That she ne myht kepyn hys byddyng,
So greuously he bare hyr absentyng
That no foryiuenesse he wolde hyr hete
Tyl, to hyr smok voydyd hyr clothyng,
Wyth othyr gylty maydyns she was bete.
O uery mekenesse! o blyssyd obedyence!
What wumman koude now obeyin to
Swych a comaundement wythoute offence
As dede þis myroure of pacyence, lo!
Vnneth ony nunne yt mekely wold do;
And, to seyn pleyn treuthe, I trowe yt nolde here
Wyth-owtyn murmur & grucchyng also
Neythyr prest ner munk, chanoun ner frere.
For both of men & wummen also
The molde þese dayis ys so sore alayde
Wyth froward wyl, þat for to do
Swyche obedyencys yf þei were asayide,
They wolde compleyn & ben euyl apayid.
268

And þis ys o greth cause, as I dar wele saye,
That relygyous gouernaunce ys so sore affrayid,
For dew correccyouns ben al put aweye.
But in þis mater I wyl no ferthyr walk
Ner þer-of do make lenger exclamacyoun;
For perauentur, yf I dyde treuly talke,
Sum folk wolde haue greth indygnacyoun
That fro my mater swych dylatacyoun
I dede make wyth-owtyn nede;
Wherfore to cece I make protestacyoun,
An ageyn to Elyzabeth I wyl me spede.
I sey þis myrour of uery obedyence,
Thys blyssyd Elyzabeth, þe soth to seyn,
Greth rygour vsyd of streyht abstynence,
And wyth vygylyis & dyscyplynys hir body dede peyn.
And ful oftyn also she hyr dede restreyne
From hyr husbondys bed, & in priue manere
Al nyht slepelees, þis ys certeyne,
She perseuerently lay in hyr preyere.
And yf yt happyd ony whyle þat she lest,
Aftyr þat she long had wacchyd be,
To graunt hyr body to haue sum rest,
Constreynyd by þe comoun necessyte
Of slepe as yt nedyth mannys freelte,
To bed to hyr lord she nolde goon ageyn,
But euyn in þe flore al clade wolde she
Down on tapytys to slepe hyr leyn.
Hyr maydyns also she vsyd to charge
Ful oft sythys, in hyr lordys absence,
Wyth yerdys wych wer both grete & large
Hyr body to betyn wyth greth vyolence.
And þis she dede to make a recompence
Of crystys chorgynge to þe byttyr peyn,
And eek þat she wyth swych sharpnesse
Hyr flesh from wantounnesse she myht refreyn.
More-ouyr hyr abstynence in etyng
And drynkyng to knowyn yf we wyl muse,
And temperaunce eek in al swych thyng,
269

I say þat ful oftyn she dede vse,
At þe table syttyng, hyr to excuse
To hyr husbonde, oonly for that entent
That delycat metys she myht refuse,
And wyth symple brede oonly to be content.
For maystyr Conrade hyr had streythly
Chargyd, no wyse þat she shuld eete
Of hyr houshould metys wych conscyonsly
Hyr thoute hyr seruauntys dede not gete.
And for þis charge she nold forgete,
Whan othyr delycatly dede habounde,
She & hyr maydyns oftyn dede frete
The most groos metys þat myht be founde.
But not-wythstondyng þe greth streyhtnesse
That to hyr-self she vsyd contunely,
Yet mete she wolde both hanlyn & dresse,
And departyn hyt aboutyn ful plenteuously
Throgh-out þe alle both fer & ny.
Thys was þat in hyr of superstycyoun
No n[o]te shuld be, but wyth curteysy
Alle gestys comyng she glad shuld moun.
It fel on a tyme, aftyr a longe iourne,
Whan she both feynt was & wery,
That to mete were set hyr lorde & she
An seruyd wyth met wych certeynly
Wer not, as she trowyd, get ryhtfully;
Wherfore blak brede & hard also,
In hote watyr moystyd ful pacyently,
Wyth hyr maydyns she eet & content was so.
For wych cause of hys most clere expence
A certeyn porcyoun assygnyd he
Wherby wyth-owte scrupyl of conscyence
She & hyr maydyns myht foundyn be,
Wych wer assentyd to lyuyn in swych degre
As her lady dede; but not-for-than
Mete of þe courte ful often left she
And eet þe meet of sum good pore man.
270

Whan Langrauye þis maner of reule dede here
Of hys wyf, he hyt suffryd pacyently,
And neuere yt grucchyd in wurde & chere,
But rether yt approuid in hys thought preuy.
And ful oftyn he seyd very feythfully
Ne had be in part for the wardys shame
And for trowble also of hys meny,
He gladly wold han done þe same.
The state moreouyr of wylful pouerte,
Wych no weye contendyth for to be gaye,
Not-wythstondyng hyr hy dygnyte,
In wyl she desyryd from day to day;
And þat for two causys, þe soth to sey,
Fyrst to crystys pouerte for to be kynde,
And þat þe werde wyth hys pompous aray
Shuld of hys in hyr ony propyr thyng fynde.
Wherfore ful oftyn þis blyssyd matrone,
Whan in hyr chaunbyr euene preuyly
Wyth hyr owyn maydyns she was alone,
She hyr wolde arayin ful porely
Whyth rude clothys, & also on hy
Vp-on hyr hede leyn a foule kerche,
Seying: ‘lo, þus wyl I goon sothly
Whanne I come to þe state of pouerte.’
And thow wyth þe brydyl of abstynence
She hyr-self refreynyd, as herd haue ye
Yet to pore men swych affluence
Of almesse she [rehe]rsyd & swych lyberalte,
That she noon suffryd wych she myht se
In-to myserye or myschef for to falle;
Wherfore thorgh-oute al þat cuntre
‘Modyr of pore men’ folk dede hyr calle.
And to þe seuene werkys of mercy
Wyth greth dylygence she dede intende,
And hem euere fulfyllyd ryht deuouthly,
For þat entent þat she myht comprende
That frendely blyssyng wych cryst shal sende
271

To hys chosen chyldren, whan in aspecyal
Of þese werkys he þem shal comende
And seyn: ‘comyth, takyth þe kyndam ternal!’
And shortly to makyn a rehersayle
Of hem, I saye þe she wold gladely
Clothe þe pore nakyd, ner she nold fayle
Pore pylgrymys to beryin ful honestly.
She made also crysmys ful dylygently
For pore chyldryn whan þai shul crystyn be,
And wolde be godmodyr þat she þerby
To helpe hem myht haue þe more lyberte.
Ful oftyn wyth hyr maydyns also wold she
Wyth hyr owyn handys wul spyn & dresse
To makyn of cloth, & þat for causys thre:
Fyrst wyth hyr labour to excludyn ydylnesse;
Exaunple eek to shewyn of mekenesse;
The thryd cause ys þat wyt þe laboure
Of hyr owyn handys she myht doon almesse
To pore men wych askyd for crystys honour.
The hungry more-ouyr she vsyd to fede,
Yeuyng vytalys ful plenteuously
To alle þo peples wych weryn in nede,
But in tyme of derthe most copyously.
Wherfore onys whan hyr husbonde sothly
Wyth Frederyk þe emperoure was at Cremone,
Alle hys garners she emptyd vttyrly,
And delt corn a-boute where ony made mone.
Drynk also wyth ryht glad chere
Ful oftyn she yaf on-to þe thrusty.
Wherof a greth myracle, as ye shal here,
Fel onys; for whyl she to a greth company
Yaf bere in a cuppe ful dylygently
Wyth hyr owyn handys thorgh hyr mekenesse,
Whan þei alle had dronkyn suffycyently
Yet of beere in þe cuppe was neuyr þe lesse.
And for to spekyn of hyr hospytalyte,
She þer-yn had so gret affeccyoun,
272

That pylgrymys & al men in pouerte
To herberwyn she vsyd wyth deuocyoun.
Wherfore an hospytale in þe vale doun
Euene vndyr þe castel she dede make,
In wych þo þat up shuld not clymbyn moun
Shuld receyuyd ben & hyr almes take.
But not-wythstondyng þe dyffyculte
Of to & fro goyng both up & doun,
Yet yche day onys at þe lest wold she
Of þis hospytal makyn vysytacyoun,
And to þe seke men makyn admynystracyoun
Of swych as þey nedyd, & þer-wyth-alle
She hem yaf many an exhortacyoun
That þei from pacyence shuld not falle.
And þow she [e]uery stynkyng exalacyoun
Of þe eyr bare alwey heuyly,
Yet for goddys loue seke mennys corrupcyoun
She not abhorryd, but ful pacyently
It suffryd euyr, & eek ful dylygently
Hyr besyid hem for to helpe & cure
Whan hyr maydyns wych stodyn by
Vnneth of hem myht þe breth endur.
Pore wummens chyldryn also vsyd she
In þat place to kepyn ful many oon,
To wych she shewyd as grete cherte
As she modyr had be to þem euerychon.
And whanne she cam, sume to hyr runne anoon
As chyldryn to þe modyr, & sume dede crepe,
And eftsonys whan she awey dede goon,
As she here modyr had ben þei gunne wepe.
Smale pottys of glas she onys dede beye
And anelectys eek wych ryht freel be,
The chyldryn þer-wyt for to pley
As yt was þe guyse of þat cuntre;
And as in hyr lappe doun broght hem she,
From þe hyest cra vnwarely at onys
They fel, noon harmyd in no degre,
273

Al-be-yt þei fel on ryht greth stonys.
Seke wummen eek was hyr delyte
In þat cuntre wych bedlaure dede lye,
Both yunge & olde, for to vysyte,
As fer as she ony koude aspye;
And here preuy chaunbrys she wold yn prye
To knowyn her nede ful dylygently,
And þem to counforth she wold hyr hye
Both wyth wurde & dede cherytabylly.
In wych dede, as me semyth sothly,
She by fyue-folde of consyderacyoun
Of god purchasyd rewarde eternally:
Fyrst by propyr & personel vysytacyoun,
By trauayle eek in goyng up & doun,
The thrydde ys compassyoun & pyte,
The fourte ys gostly consolacyoun,
The fyfte of temporal subsydye ys plente.
She also wele louyd to beryin pore men,
And in þat dede she had swyche lykyng,
That whan of ony she herde she fast dede ren
Tyl she cam þer, wyt hyr beryng
Sum maner cloth of hyr owyn makeyng,
In wych she myht þe deed body leyn;
And tyl yt were beryid, for no thyng
Home she ne wolde returne ageyn.
And onys yt happyd þat no thyng redy
Aftyr hyr entent she myht fynde
To wrap in a mannys deede body,
For þat she ordeynyd was left behynde
For greth haste; & þer-wyth to hyr mynde
Cam hyr greth vayle, & anoon she hyt rent,
The deed body there-yn to wynde,
And þer-[y]n yt beryid wyth humble entent.
Lo, þus exercysyd was þis blyssyd wumman
In þe seuene werkys of bodyly pyte,
An mo wysys þan I now tellyn can;
In wych eke hyr husbonde comendyd may be
274

For to godwarde ryht deuouht was he.
And for he swych werkys myht not tendyn to,
Hys wyf leue he yaf and auctoryte
For her bothyns profyht what hyr lyst to do.
Thus longe to-gedyr lyuyd these two,
Langrauye & Elyzabeth, ful uerteuously,
And up-on a day she hym þus seyd to:
‘Dere spouse, whom next god most tendyrly
I loue & euere haue done treuly,
I counsel you fully you to delyte
To leuyn alle þese ocupacyouns werdly,
And þe londe of behest for to vysyte,
I mene ierusalem, & al þat cuntre
In wych cryst made hys bodyly pylgrimage,
An for oure sake þer deyid on a tre,
Betrayid by þe iewys cruel outrage;
Wych now hethyn men kepyn in seruage.
Where, yf þou woldyst wyth a deuouth entent
To delyueryn yt exercysyn þi corage,
I ne kan seen where yt myht bettyr be spent.
Bettyr, no! ner nowher ellys so weel
In þis werd, y dar ryht boldly seye!
For who be þe cours of þe fatal whele
In þat holy iourne happe for to deye,
If he be clene he goth a sykyr weye
To heuenewarde, for he may not fayle.
Wherfore, husbonde, I you counsel & preye
For soule hele forsake not þis trauayle.’
Thus, thorgh þese wordys & many mo
Of Elyzabeth, Langrauye was steryd treuly
To Ierusalem on pylgrimage for to go
And ageyn þe hethene to fyhtyn manly.
And whan he hym made al redy
And shuld furth passyn on hys pylgrimage,
To takyn hys leue he cam ful goodly
To Elyzabeth stondyng in opyn pla[g]e.
And þer anoon ful many a wattryng face
275

Of lordys & ladyis men myht aspye,
And þe comouns þer clothys dede al to-race,
And weptyn eek wyth-outyn remedye.
And summe lowde: ‘allace, allace!’ dede crye.
‘Why forsakyst us, oure lord, o Langrauy?’
But Elyzabeth hyr eyne from terys kept drye,
And þus to hym seyde ful wummanly:
‘Wyth what affeccyoun & how enterely
I þe loue, dere spouse, & euyr haue do,
No man knowyth but god & þou & I,
Wych not oonly in fleshe bodyly, lo,
By þe knot of spousayle ioynyd hath us two,
But in spyryth eek thorgh hys cheryte
So to-gedyr confedryd hath so
That impossyble ys vndo þe knot to be.
But why y now shuld wepe in ony wyse
Resonable cause kan I noon se,
Syth I se þe goon to doon hym seruyse
Whom I loue in most souereyn degre.
Sumtyme I sorwyd whan thow wentyst fro me,
But now neythyr sorwyn ne wepyn I may,
Be so þat cryst thorgh hys benygnyte
The grace yiue to seruyn hym to hys pay.’
Thus Langrauye, as crystys owyn knyht,
Armyd in uertu & in cheryte,
Leue takyn goodly of euery wyht,
To Ierusalem forth took hys iourne.
Where whan [he] had a certeyn tyme be,
And in goddys cause quyt hym ful manly
The froyht of hys labour þere receyuyd he,
And deyid & went to goddys mercy.
And þus entryd Elyzabeth consequently
The state of wydewod, in wych þat she
Exercysyd was ful uerteuously
And assaylyd wyth ful myche aduersyte,
And hyr pacyence assayid in sundry degre.
But she so was rotyd in stedefastnesse
276

That in no wyse she hurt myht be,
For alle thyng she suffryd wyth gladnesse.
Anoon þan as by þe trumpet of fame
Blowe was thorgh-out al Turyngye
Langrauyis deth, Elyzabethys grame
Began to growyn, for euene sodeynly
Langrauyis brothyr, by uery tyrauntrye,
As she a wastour & a dystroyour had be,
From hyr dowarye hyr drof ful vnpytouslye
And from alle þat she hadde in ony degre.
And whan she was brought to swych pouerte
That she ne hadde where hyr heed to leye,
In a tauerners hous in a swyncote lay she
Tyl mydnyht, & þan she took þe weye
To a place of menours, [&] hem dede preye
Te deum laudamus to synge wyth deuocyoun,
That he hyr maad wurthy, er she dede deye,
To suffren despyht & persecucyoun.
The next day aftyr compellyd she was
Wyth hyr yunge chyldryn & hir maydyns also
Of oon of hyr enmyis to dwellyn in þe place,
Where a streyht loggyng was sygnyd hyr to.
And both hyr ost & hyr ostes hyr dede do
Alle þe greuaunce þat þei coude deuyse.
And whan she þis sey, ful humbylly, lo,
Bad þe wallys fare wele, seying þis wyse:
‘Yf I hadde foundyn in þis place here
In men & wummen ony gentylnesse,
I wolde han leue take of hem wyth a glad chere.
But syth I noon fynde, I me hens wyl dresse.’
And þus constreynyd by ful greth dystresse,
To hyr fyrst herberwe ageyn she went.
But fyrst hyr chyldryn for þere tendyrnesse
To be norsshyd to sundry placys she sent.
And onys hyr [h]appyd to pacyn forth by
A ryht foule weye, whedyr she wold goon,
Wych ryht depe was & ryht vnesy,
277

Wher-yn was leyde ful many a stoon,
Many a blok & many an hors-boon,
In wych men myht skape goyng warlye,
And ellys pleynly þer myht noon
Scapyn awey wyth clothys drye.
And euene as she entryd had þe strete,
An old wumman, to whom hyr mercy
She oftyn had shewyd, she ther dede mete;
But weye she hyr yeuyn nolde, treuly,
An so in þe slooth she fel rewly.
And as sone as she myht she dede upryse,
And was not wroth but low meryly,
And wypt hyr clothys in ful besy wyse.
Aftyr þis an abbesse of greth dygnyte,
Wych hyr graundam was by lyneal descence,
Hauyng compassyoun of hyr pouerte,
To þe bysshope hyr broht of hauenberegence,
Wych was hyr eme, a man of greth reuerence;
And he hyr receyuyd ful honestly,
Purposyng to doon al hys dylygence
Hyr ayen to maryin ful solemnely.
And whan hyr maydyns þis herd preuyly,
Wych wyth hyr had vowyd to ke[pe] chastyte,
In her hertys inward þei wer sory,
Dredyng uttyrly þat yt so shuld be.
Wherfore þei weptyn þat pyte was to se;
And wan þei yt hyr tolde, ful sore wepyng
She fyrst was astoynyd of þat nouelte,
And þus aftyr þem counfortyd, mekely seying:
‘I truste in my god oonly, for whos loue
Perpetuel avowyd I haue contynence,
Þat he wyl my purpose gracyously approue,
And brekyn to þat contrarye euery vyolence,
And geyn al mannys counsel make resystence.
And yf I noon oþir wyse may me sure make,
Kuttyn of my nose I shal in here presence;
278

Þan me so dyfformyd no man shal wyl take.’
And forth-wyth at þe bysshopys comaundement
Thys blyssyd Elyzabeth ful of humyly[t]e
Maugre hyr teth to a castel was sent,
Ther to abydyn hyr frendys decre,
And to sum wurthy man maryid to be.
But she hyr comyttyd to god in hyr thouht.
And in þe mene tyme fro be-yonde þe se
Hyr husbondys bonys by goddys grace wer broht.
Thanne anoon ageyn she fecchyd was þens
Wyth þe seyd bonys to metyn deuouthly.
And whan þat she was commyn, wyth greth reuerence
The bysshope & she wyth a greth cumpany
Them ageynys wentyn processyonally.
And whan þei were receyuyd, she dede conuerte
To godward in heuene hyr eyne mekely,
Thus to hym seying wyth a deuouth hert:
‘Euere-lestyng honour, lorde, be to þe,
Wych in myne husbondys bonys home sendynge
Hast vouchyd-saf of þi benygnyte
Thy wrechyd handmayd to yiuyn gladynge.
Thow knowyst wel, lorde, thow y hym þe lyuynge
Louyd next þe, yet, lord, for þine honoure
I gladly hym wantyd, & wyth-oute wepynge
To Ierusalem I sent hym yt for to sokour.
And al-be-yt to me ful delectable yt were
Wyth hym to han lyuyd euere in swyche pouerte
That yche of vs shulde haue been a beggere,
And thorgh al þe werd sowt oure necessyte,
Yet wold I not, lord, wytnesse of the,
Ageyn þi wyl hys raunson appende
Oon heer of myn hede; wherfore hym & me
Oonly to þi grace I lowly recomende.’
And whan she þis wyse receyuyd had
Hyr husbondys bonys fro be-yunde þe se,
Inwardly in hert she was ful glad.
And anoon she wyth greth solemnyte
279

Hem dede beryin; & aftyr þat seyd she
Thys wys to þe bysshope in wurdys pleyn:
‘Syr, syth my lord ys now comyn home to me,
Othyr husbonde wyl I neuere haue noon, certeyn.’
And þat þe hundyrdfold fruht she ne shuld lese
Wych longyth to hem þat wyth stedefastnesse
Of crystys gospel þe perfeccyoun do chese,
And fro þe lyfth hand passyth of wrechydnesse
To þe ryht hand of heuenely blysfulnesse,
The state she entryd of pore relygyoun,
Wylful pouerte wyth chast clennesse
Kepyng, & of obedyence þe subieccyoun.
Hyr habyth contemptyble & of lytyl valu
Was russet, þe werst þat myht be founde,
Wych ful oftyn wyth cloth of a-nothyr heu
Was lengthyd þat yt myht touche þe grounde
And for al nyce pryde she wold confounde,
Whanne hyr sleuys wer rent wer seruyd þe same.
And for she in mekenesse so dede habounde,
To spynnyn & cardyn she hadde no shame.
And whan hyr fadyr, þe kyng of vngary,
As ys seyd beforn, al þis dede here,
How she was brouht to pouerte & myserye,
An erl he sent, wych he louyd entere,
Thedyr anoon hyr to counfortyn & chere,
And to steryn hyr to returne to hym ageyn.
And whan to hyr presence he gan appere,
He astoynyd was, & þus dede seyn:
‘Was neuere kyngys doughtyr, I trow certeyn,
So euyl arayid & in so rode degre
Seyn syttyng & vsyn werkys vyleyn!’
And anoon doun knelyng to hyre seyd he:
‘Leue al thys, lady, & return wyth me
Home to your fadyr wyth-owt more let.’
But for nouht he coude seyn yt nolde be,
For þus to lyuyn & deyin hyr hert was set.
And þat hyr hert myht oonly to god up pace,
And so no lettyng shuld han hyr deuocyoun,
280

She hym preyid enterly of hys specyal grace
That he hyr grauntyn wold of al temporal possessyoun
Contempt, & from hyr hert al delectacyoun
Of hyr chyldryn takyn in euery degre,
And ageyn al spyht & eek desolacyoun
Constaunth & pacyent euere for to be.
And whan she had preyid hertyly þis wyse,
To hyr maydyns she seyd: ‘god my preyere
So hath herd þat I as dung now despyse
Al temporal þingis, & my chyldryn here
To me þan oþir mennys be no more dere;
And despyht & reproue I set ryht not by.
And þerfore me semyth wyth myn herte entere
I loue no thyng ellys but god hym-self oonly.’
Eek Maystyr Conrade, hyr for to proue,
Ioynyd hyr oftyn þingys to hyr ful conrary.
And two maydyns wych she lengest dede loue,
Wych wyth hyr of youthe had be contunely,
He put a-way out of hyr cumpany.
And þis he dede oonly to þat ende,
That hyr dygnytes & hyr fyrst glory
They shulde not reducyn o[n]t[o] hyr mynde.
But in al hys preceptys, euene by & by,
Wych he hyr bad, wyth-out resystence
Or murmur or grocchyng, eueremore redy
She was foundyn to hys obedyence,
And þer-wyth constaunte to pacyence;
By wych hyr soule she myht possede,
And by meke obecyaunce wyth-outyn vyolence,
She myht vyctory han & heuene to mede.
And oft she seyde: ‘yf for god drede y
An erdely man, þe heuenely iuge to fere
Mych more I owe; & þerfore trewely
To þis pore man, wyche ys but a beggere,
I chese to be subiect & obedyent rathere
Than to ony oþir more ryche man,
281

To escheu al occasyouns þat I myht lere
By wych temporal counfort I ony myht han.’
Aftyr þis yt happyd in-to a nunnery
Hyr onys to entryn wyth-owtyn hys leue,
Requyryd of þe nunnys ful deuouthly,
Wych hym so sore dede agreue,
That not wyth wurde oonly he hir dede repreue,
But he hyr so sore eek dede betyn be
That thre wokys aftyr both morwe & eue
The merkys of hyr wundys men myht se.
And þan to hyr maydyns she dede seye,
Both for here & hyre owyn consolacyoun:
‘Lyche as, whan a flode rysyth up heye,
Gres goth vndyr, & whan yt fallyth doun
Gres surmountyth, so, whan afflycccyoun
To us comyth, we owyn wyth mekenesse
Us to submyt, & whan yt sesyth we moun
Rysyn up to god wyth [g]o[s]tly gladnesse.’
And so wele she groundyd was in loulynesse
That she nolde suffryn in no maner wyse,
Hyr maydyns hyr clepyn ‘lady’ nere ‘maystresse’,
Nere, whan she cam, ageyn hyr for to ryse,
As among ientelys yt ys þe guyse;
Nere in þe plurere noumbyr spekyn hyr to
But oonly in þe syngulere, she hem dede deuyse,
As souereyns to subiectys be won to do.
She dysshys in þe kechyn ful oftyn also
Wolde wasshyn & wypyn; to exclude lettyng,
Hyr maydyns she sent oþir thyngys to do
In þe mene tyme of þis doyng.
And ful oftyn she seyd, wyth chere smylyng,
If ony lyf of more despecteuousnesse
She coude han fondyn in ony thyng,
She hyt wold han chosyn wyth greth gladnesse.
Aftyr þis, þat she myht wyth marye
Of þe best part han sum porcyoun,
Hyr-self ful dylygently she dede applye
To ben exercysyd in contemplacyoun,
282

In wych she had so greth consolacyoun
That aftyr terys wych she shedde copyously
She had many an heuenely vysytacyoun,
And men to loue god she steryd besyly.
And þis grace she had most syngulerly,
That when she sempte most mery to be,
Than of pore deuocyoun most copyously
She terys out shedde, ful of pyte;
And þat was doon in so meruelous degre
That wepyng & ioying to ony manys syht
To-gedyr she was, for no deformyte
Ner rymple aspyin in hyr no man myht.
‘For tho wych in wepynge,’ quod she,
‘Deformen her chere inordynally
And altryn her face in sundry degre,
God to skornyn þei seme treuly;
But so to doon yt ys vncomely.
Wherfore yche man for hys byhoue
That he yeuyth god, yeue yt gladly,
For a glad yiuer god doth loue.’
And in þis astate of contemplacyoun
Wych she wyth Marye dede excercyse,
Many an holy reuelacyoun
And many a vysyoun of hy empryse
To hyr was shewyd in sundry wyse,
Of wych oon I now entende
Here to tellyn, as doth deuyse
Ianuence in hys golden legende.
Onys swych tym as euery man
That crystene ys doth hys deuer
Wyth al þe dylygence þat he kan
From synne to make hys conscynce cler,
I mene in lente, wyth þe feer
Enflawmyd of perfyht cheryte,
In a cherche in deuouth preyer
As she lay, thus vysytyd was she.
On-to þe awter as she hyr eyne
Vpward kest wyth greth dylygence,
283

So sadly fyxid þei wer both tweyne
And stablysshyd wyth so greth reuerence
As she had ben in goddys presence;
And þis enduryd a ful longe space,
Wher wyth heuenely influence
And gostly conforth she refresshyd was.
But whan she home cam, & for febylnesse
In hyr maydyns lappe lenyd softly,
Owt at a wyndow she dede dresse
To heueneward hyr eyne ful deuouthly,
And anoon forth-wyth euene sodeynly
Swych gladnes in hyr þer dede appere
And swych ioye þat [r]yht enterly
She low, & wyth hy hertly chere.
And whan she longe in þis vysyoun
Of greth gladnesse had counfortyd be,
Sodeynly hyr hert syne she kest doun
And shed oute terys in greth plente.
And eftsonys she low as fyrst dede she,
And aftyr wept ageyn ful plenteuously;
And tyl complyn tym in swych degre
She altenyd þe tyme meruelously.
And whan þat she longe in þis manere
Contunyd had, no word seyng,
At þe last wyth a ful glad chere
She gan to oysyn þis talkyng,
As she had answerd to a-nothyr spekyng:
‘Ya, lord, wylt þou ben wyth me?
So to be wyth þe yt ys my lykyng,
And from þe neuere departyd to be.’
And aftyr þis, whan she preyid was
Of hyr maydyns wyth humble supplycacyoun
That she wolde of a specyal graas,
To goddys worshepe & here edyfycacyoun,
Declaren to hem hyr reuelacyoun
That she had þan, & what yt ment,
284

And by here inportune preyer ouyr-comyn,
She þus hem shewyd hyr entent:
‘I sawe þan,’ quod she, ‘heuene on hy
Beforn me opnyd to my semyng,
And Ihesu my loue most benygnely
Of hys good grace to me bowyng.
And whan I hys chere most bryht shynyng
Behelde, so ful I was of gladenesse
Myn hertys ioye þan wyth lawhyng
Me thouht I coude no bettyr expresse.
And eftsonys, whan yt hys goodnesse
Lykyd hys presence to wythdrawyn fro me,
I so oppressyd was wyth heuynesse
And ouyrcomyn wyth sorwe in swyche degre
As ye þan dede beholde and se;
And for I myht not hym wyth me kepe
At my wyl, whan he dede fle,
I koude noht ellys but sorwyn & wepe.
But whan yt plesyd hys mercyfulnesse
On me to rewyn & han mercy,
He shewyd me ageyn þe bryhtnesse
Of hys glad chere, & seyd goodly:
“Yf þou wyth me wylt ben, sothly
I wyl be wyth þe, be not aferde.”
And I hym answerde ageyn redyly
Euene in swyche forme as ye haue herde.’
And þan hyr maydyns gunne hyr beseche
That þe vysyoun wych at þe autere
Che had in cherche she wold hem teche.
And she hem answerd in þis manere:
‘It nedyth not you þat for to here;
But þis I wyl ye knowe treuly
That in ioye & myrth I was entere,
And þer many a prynce of god I sy.’
And not oonly þus in contemplacyoun
Thys blyssyd wumman had þat honour
To be inspyryd wyth heuenely reuelacyoun,
But hyr preyer eek had swych fauour,
285

So strong was eek & of swyche vygour,
That sum, wych cold bodyly were
And gostly, yt causyd of both feruour,
As by an exaunple ye may lere.
A yong man oo tyme she dede se,
Arayid, as she thouhte, to seculerly,
To whom she seyd in þis degre:
‘Yung man, þou lyuyst to dyssoluthly,
An seruyst not oure souereyn lord on hy.
Desyryst ony helpe of my preyere?’
‘Ya, þat I do,’ quod he, ‘sekyrly.
I beseche yow þer-of wyth herte entere.’
And she a-noon wyth ful glad chere,
Desyryng þis yung man for to wynne,
Bygan to makyn hyr preyere,
An counselyd hym eek for hys synne
To preyin also; & anoon wyth-ynne
He wex uery hoot in al hys body;
Wherfore of preying þat she wolde blynne
He hyr besowht ful benygnely.
But she preyid furth & wold not cece
Wyth deuouht herte & entent pure,
And euere hys hete dede more encrece,
Þat no lengere hym þouht he yt myht endure.
Wherfore he cryid: ‘o blysful creature,
Sesyth of preying, I beseche yow;
For so sore I brenne þat my nature
Consumyth & wastyth, but I ne woot how.’
And in uery treuth so hote was he
That he swet & rekyd meruelously,
And hys armys as he wood had be
Kest to & fro & al hys body,
As ych man myht se þat stode hym by,
Wych hym myht neyþir reule ne stere.
And so he ferd euere contunely
Whyl Elyzabeth contunyd hyr preyere.
And whan she secyd & preyid no more
Hys heet eek secyd, & he mekely
Knelyng thankyd hyr þerfore.
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And anoon he, compunct inwardly,
Seyng how strong & how myhty
Hyr preyer was, wyth an holy entent
The werd he forsuke uttyrly,
And to þe menours ordre went,
Of þe holy conuersacyoun of þis wumman,
Blyssyd Elyzabeth, who-so lyst to knowe
Mo exaunplys, he redyly may han
In Ianuencis legend, wych ys kouth & knowe;
Two or thre stondyn euene by rowe
Next þis wych last I of made mende.
But as for me, now best ys, I trow,
To eschewe prolyxite, to make an ende.
For þow I had kunnyng for to ryme
And eek to endyten as copyously
As had Gower & chaunce[r]s in þer tyme,
Or as now hath þe munk of bery,
Ioon Lytgate, yet cowd not I
Thys blyssyd wumman Elyzabeth commende
Aftyr hyr merytys suffycyently,
And þerfore to secyn I now intende.
What tym þat god þis blyssyd creature,
Thys holy Elyzabeth, þorgh hys goodnesse
Delyueryn wold from þe foule ordure
Of þis woful werdys wrechydnesse,
And bryngyn hyr up to þe gladsumnesse,
Of þe blysse of heuene to hyr [h]e sent,
To been hyr massagere, a feruent accesse;
And she yt receyuyd wyth glade entent.
And as she lay in þis syknesse,
To þe wall she hyr turnyd sodeynly;
And euyn furth-wyth of greth swetnesse
Syngyng she made a melody.
And anoon hyr maydyns stondyng by
To hyr went, & hyr dede beseche
Of þis melodyus song þe cause why
She wold fouchesaf hem for to teche.
287

To whom demurely þus answed she:
‘I wyl þat ye haue ful knowlechyng
That here betwyx þe wal and me
Cam sodeynly a feyre byrd flying,
SWych as I neuyr sawe in my lyuyng,
And to syng began in so sweth manere
That I ne myht ne conteyne for no thyng
But song wyth hyr, as ye dede here.’
And in þis syknesse she euere mery
Was & neuere secyd for to preye.
But whan hyr tym neyhyd ny,
That ys to seyn, whan she shuld deye,
The day beforn she þus dede seye
To hyr maydyns: ‘what wold ye do
If þe deuyl, wych ych man to trey
Is euere besy, come now yow to?’
And anoon aftyr she had seyd so,
Wyth an hy voys she gan to crye
As þow þe deuyl she had spoke to:
‘Fle fast awey, & hens the hye’—
And þus thryi[s] she dede specyfye
Thys wurd ‘fle’—‘for I the despyse!’
Aftyr wych wurdys, ful demurely
To hyr maydyns she seyd þis wyse:
‘Lo, now neyhyth þe tyme of mydnyht
In wych cryst Ihesu born wold be,
And yn þat same oure he throgh hys myht
To hys heuenely dwellyng clepyd hath me.
Now, fare wele alle!’ & þer-wyth she
In-to þe handys of hyr creatour
Yald up hyr spiryth, & anoon yt he
Led in at þe gatys of hys heuennely tour.
And not-wythstondyng þat hyr body
Foure dayis kept vnberyid was
Aftyr hyr deth, yet certeynly
288

Noon euyl odour from yt dede paas,
But rather an odour of solace,
Wych alle men meruelously dede conforte
That al þat tyme in-to þat place
The body to vysyte dede resorte.
[M]ore-ouyr of byrdys a ful greth route,
Swych as men to-forn neuere had se,
On þe cherche-rof syttyng wyth-owte,
Begunne to synge in meruelous degre,
And in here song madyn swych melode
Þat alle men wundryd þat yt dede here,
For, as yt sempt, þei seydyn a dyryge
In her maner wyt ful glad chere.
Now, blyssyd Elyzabeth, wyth hert entere
And al humblenesse, I þe beseche,
Accepte þe entent of my preyere:
For my synnys to þe heuenely leche
Be medyatryce, & a mene me teche
How wyth-owtyn ony empechement
Askapyn I may þe cruel wreche,
The day of þe last iugement.
And fynally, lady, to þe trew entent
Of hyr attende wych specyally
Thy lyf to make me yaf comaundement,
And þe in hert louyth ful affecteuosly,
I mene Dame Elyzabeth ver, sothly.
A chartyr hyr purchase here of pardoun,
And whan she shal passyn from þis owtlaury,
Of god hyr brynge to þe contemplacyoun.
Amen mercy ihesu & gramercy.
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