University of Virginia Library

Verbi auctores(!).

Of this place here nowe I am aduerted
Of this matier for to stynte a whyle;
And to procede howe Albon was conuerted
To christen fayth, the processe to compyle,
The holy martyr directe shall my style,

26

To whose worshyp first I vndertoke
The translation of this lyttell boke,
At the request and vertuous byddyng
Of my father, thabbot of that place,
A clerke noble, perfyte of lyuyng,
Hauyng in custome euery houre and space—
To auoyde slouth and vertue to purchace—
Lyke any Ampte all seasons of the yere
To gader grayne and stuffen his garner;
By whose notable compylations
Illumyned is not only his gaye library,
By also full diligent occupations
Agaynst ydlenes, to all vertue contrary,
Hat set in order, in his famous granery
A boke compyled, rycher than golde in coffers:
Lyues of poetes and prudent philosophers.
Of his name the Ethymologie
Is sayd of an home or stede of whete—
Of god prouyded doth clerely signifie
Whete-glenes of the mouthe of tholde poete,
Greyne, / frute / and floure with rhetoriques swete
Of philosophers, callyng to memory
Of his labour the laureat reportory.
And as I sayde, by his cōmaundement
I toke vpon me this translation,
First to compyle it in all my best entent
His famous knyghthode and renowne;
And nowe to tell of his conuersation
To Christis lawe, I cast me for to wryte,
Folowynge the storye his passyon to endite;
To procede, lyke as I am bounde,
For to accomplysshe brefly in substance
This lyttell boke, and call it the seconde,
Of his martyrdome and meke suffraunce,
And put aforne clerely in remembraunce
Howe Amphiball, as the cronycle sayth,
Tourned Albon vnto Christis fayth.
Eche of them (by recorde of writynge)
Was plainely without others remembraunce:
For Albon had lost the knowlegynge
Of Amphabell / and all olde acqueintaunce;
But by the meane of goddes ordynaunce
I wyll declare, / as I am bounde of det,
In Verolamy / to tell how they met,
Plainly procede, / as I vndertoke,
The residue to accomplysshe for his sake,
Make here an ende of the first boke.
But now, forsothe, / my penne I fele quake,
Voide of all colour / saue of letters blake
In this processe my dulnesse to acquite
The martirdome of Albon to endite.
Finis.