 | Chateau d'amour |  |
354
KING AND FOUR DAUGHTERS
Jhesu Cryst, heuyn kynge,Be at my begyninge.
Ther is no man þat may ȝelpe
Bot he hath nede of Godys helpe.
Fader and Sone and Holy Goste,
One God of myȝhtys moste.
He helpe vs at oure nede;
Wiþouten hym may we not sped.
I sate and lokyd on a romance,
Was made in þe lond of France;
Grostyd it made out of dyuine,
All in French out of Latyne.
He saw all men hade not vertu
To know Latyn, Ebrew, and Grew,
The[r]for in French he mad it þer,
That men myȝt wyte what it were.
Ȝit may not all men French vnderstond,
And namely men of Ingelond.
Therfor, soth as I þe tolde,
Ryme on Inglych make [I] wolde,
That men myȝht haue þerof solace.
Now, God, þerto gyfe vs grace!
De principio creacionis mundi
Now at þe fyrst begyningeI schall tell of þe werld makyng,
And how it was fyrste gyuen to Adam,
Of whom oure fyrst synne camme,
And also of paradys iwys,
That was full of werldys blys,
And of heuen, þat is so hye,
How it was lorne thorow folye,
How it come after to mankynd,
As ȝe may afterwerd fynd.
Wiþin vj deys ryȝht
355
Allmyȝhty God, þat is þe beste,
The vij dey he gan reste.
Therof ȝe haue herd telle.
God kep vs fro þe peyn of helle!
When God allmyȝhty of nouȝht
Heuyn and erth all hade wrought,
Wiþ all þe pourtynans small and grete,
Lord, þat was feyr and swete!
Now is þe sone clere and lyȝht:
That tyme it was vij so bryȝht;
The mone þat schynes no[w] by nyȝht,
Than it schone also bryȝht
As do[s] þe sone now onne deye.
And sey therof no man naye:
I tell ȝew now sothlye,
It wytnes þe prophet Isaye,
And at hym I take wytnesse
That euery thyng more and lesse,
In erth, in ayer, water, and flode,
Seth Adam synned, was not so gode
Als it was fyrste beforne,
Or Adam and Eue wer forlorne.
Lorne was Adam and all hys kynne
For þat ilke foule synne,
And all þer kynne, as I ȝow telle,
Euerychon þei went to helle.
Wrong was it not bote skyll,
So euery man may [se] þat wyll.
Gode is to thinke þeron aryȝht,
For to loue God allmyȝht.
De medio mundi et de fine
When þat God þe werld had wrouȝt,
So that ther ne feyled nouȝht,
Neþer of more ne lesse,
Bestys and treys, frute and grasse,
Fowlys in þe eyer, fyssches in flode,
Sterrys and mone, sone, feyre and gode,
At þe laste after all thys
Than made he Adam iwys,
In þe veyll of Ebron of cley gent,
Lyke hymselue verament;
After þe holy trinyte
He made hys saule, I telle þe;
In þe body he dyde a lyuing goste,
Of all bestys power gafe hym moste.
That was loue and grete grace
To make hym lyke hys awne face.
He made hym wytty and wyse,
And led hym into paradyse.
Than thouȝht God allmyȝhty þer
He wold not he alone were;
When þat God thus thouȝt and seyd,
Clepyd Adam þer he was leyd;
Of hys lefte syde he toke a rybe-bone,
Therof he made Eue anone.
Eue befor Adam he brouȝht,
To wytte how he by hyr thouȝht.
Than seyd Adam and thouȝt it gode:
“Thys is my flesch and my blode.”
In paradys in that stounde
Ther was wedloke fyrst ifonde.
For þat skyll euery man of lyfe
Is holden to loue hys wyfe,
After þat sche is worthey;
That wyll God allmyȝhty.
God gaf þan Adam wytte and skylle,
Grete power and fre wylle,
Power ouer all erthely thyng,
And gaff hym lyfe wiþouten endyng;
Of paradys he made hym fre
Ouer all thyng, saue a tre.
He gafe hym tyme to be þerine,
Iff þat he had don no synne,
Wiþouten hete, wiþouten chele
Ther to a lyffyd in long wele,
Wiþouten wo and seknes,
Wiþ mekyll ioy and bryȝhtnes.
Seuyn so bryȝht he schuld hafe bene
As is þe sone þat now is sene.
Syche a blys God had hym lente,
And at þe last to heuyn haue went.
Now was þer a feyr franches,
Was ordenyd to Adam and all hys,
Sych an herytage euermo
To haue wonyd in wiþouten wo.
In paradys Adam had two lawys,
As we telle in owre sawys:
He schuld haue kepyd in hys lyfe
The naturall and þe posytyfe.
The naturall law was skyll and ryȝht,
To be buxsom to God allmyȝht,
That dyde hym þat grete curtasy,
Of paradys gaue hym þe masterry.
A commandment onne hym he leyde,
And off all hys frute he seyde:
“Bot a tre I the forbyde,
Ete þou not þerof for non nede!
Iff þou ete þerof, I þe sey,
Sone þerafter þou schall dey.
Iff þou my commaundment kepe in pese,
Than þou schall haue þat ilke grace.
Paradyse and bestys, water and londe
Schall be obedyent to þi honde.”
Off all þe blys of paradys
Adam had seseyn iwys.
Alas, sone it was ago,
All þe ioy þat he had tho!
Alas, þerfor may we synge,
And sore wepe and handys wryng!
Oure herytage we schuld haue,
And we hade not don þat skathe.
The comandment we dyd nouȝht;
Therfor sore it was bouȝht,
And for þat trespas þat was done
All we wer made thrall full sone.
The naturall and þe posytyfe
Adam breke for lufe of hys wyfe;
Buxumer he was for to do
The dede þat hys wyfe bad hym do,
Than to God, þat hym hade wrouȝht.
Alas, þerfor, what was hys thouȝht!
Than was he oute and had lorne
The sesyn þat he had beforne;
Hys herytage was hym benome,
And all them þat after hym come,
Oute of ioy into grete care
Hysselue and hys kyne to fare.
Wiþ swynke and suete was he bonde—
Wher schall any hele be fonde?
Alas þat synne, it was so stronge,
For among all thing it sprong:
Both þe sterres, sone, and mone,
Off þat synne þei had to-done;
Foulys in þe eyer, bestys in lond,
All þei had þerof a onde,
Fysschys, erbys, frute, and tre,
All þe wers for to be;
Euery thyng, both more and les,
For þat synne lest ther godnes.
Adam for hys defaute iwys
Lost hys herytage, and all hys,
For syn is non oþer thyng
Bo[t] sor defaute of wele-doyng.
For defaute he lefte þe ioys suete,
And þat was skyll: so do men ȝete;
For defaute euery wyght
Hys herytage may lese ryȝht.
At kyngys courte in euery londe
Ȝit men haue sych lawys fonde.
For defaute Adam les
That he myȝht haue leuyd in pes.
Alas, þat was grete pyte!
Now be we thrall þat are wer fre:
Thrall he is þat to hym longys
What seruys he vnderfongys.
He þat is so thrall becom,
Hys power is hym benome.
When he seruys in seruage,
He had no franches of herytage;
Than when he is all thrall becom,
His fre herytage is hym benome.
He may not pleyn in non wys
Wiþ whom he is in sych seruys;
He ne schuld no thyng be herd,
His wordys be all insperd.
His herytage if he wyll wynne,
He behouys to do anoþer thyng:
He muste seke if he may fynd
A man þat borne is of fre kynd,
And þat he be of ryȝht lynage,
For to clame his herytage,
And þat he may well and wele canne,
And þat he be a gode fre man,
That he not of þat appull ete
That Adam thouȝt fyrst so suete.
He behoueth to be wiþoutyn synne,
And all oure lawys hym wiþine:
The ij lawys of paradys sykerly,
And þat of þe mounte of Synay
That was gyuen to Moyses,
That he held neuer wiþouten les,
In whom was se oure wekyd wrynke.
Off sych a man who myȝht thinke
That myȝht be wiþouten synne,
Hys herytage þus to wynne?
He[r]on schall my mater duelle,
For a tale I wyll ȝou telle
That acordys to sych a man.
Now wyll I tell ȝow, if I canne.
So that ther ne feyled nouȝht,
Neþer of more ne lesse,
Bestys and treys, frute and grasse,
Fowlys in þe eyer, fyssches in flode,
Sterrys and mone, sone, feyre and gode,
At þe laste after all thys
356
In þe veyll of Ebron of cley gent,
Lyke hymselue verament;
After þe holy trinyte
He made hys saule, I telle þe;
In þe body he dyde a lyuing goste,
Of all bestys power gafe hym moste.
That was loue and grete grace
To make hym lyke hys awne face.
He made hym wytty and wyse,
And led hym into paradyse.
Than thouȝht God allmyȝhty þer
He wold not he alone were;
When þat God thus thouȝt and seyd,
Clepyd Adam þer he was leyd;
Of hys lefte syde he toke a rybe-bone,
Therof he made Eue anone.
Eue befor Adam he brouȝht,
To wytte how he by hyr thouȝht.
Than seyd Adam and thouȝt it gode:
“Thys is my flesch and my blode.”
In paradys in that stounde
Ther was wedloke fyrst ifonde.
For þat skyll euery man of lyfe
Is holden to loue hys wyfe,
After þat sche is worthey;
That wyll God allmyȝhty.
God gaf þan Adam wytte and skylle,
Grete power and fre wylle,
Power ouer all erthely thyng,
And gaff hym lyfe wiþouten endyng;
Of paradys he made hym fre
Ouer all thyng, saue a tre.
He gafe hym tyme to be þerine,
Iff þat he had don no synne,
Wiþouten hete, wiþouten chele
Ther to a lyffyd in long wele,
Wiþouten wo and seknes,
Wiþ mekyll ioy and bryȝhtnes.
Seuyn so bryȝht he schuld hafe bene
As is þe sone þat now is sene.
Syche a blys God had hym lente,
357
Now was þer a feyr franches,
Was ordenyd to Adam and all hys,
Sych an herytage euermo
To haue wonyd in wiþouten wo.
In paradys Adam had two lawys,
As we telle in owre sawys:
He schuld haue kepyd in hys lyfe
The naturall and þe posytyfe.
The naturall law was skyll and ryȝht,
To be buxsom to God allmyȝht,
That dyde hym þat grete curtasy,
Of paradys gaue hym þe masterry.
A commandment onne hym he leyde,
And off all hys frute he seyde:
“Bot a tre I the forbyde,
Ete þou not þerof for non nede!
Iff þou ete þerof, I þe sey,
Sone þerafter þou schall dey.
Iff þou my commaundment kepe in pese,
Than þou schall haue þat ilke grace.
Paradyse and bestys, water and londe
Schall be obedyent to þi honde.”
Off all þe blys of paradys
Adam had seseyn iwys.
Alas, sone it was ago,
All þe ioy þat he had tho!
Alas, þerfor may we synge,
And sore wepe and handys wryng!
Oure herytage we schuld haue,
And we hade not don þat skathe.
The comandment we dyd nouȝht;
Therfor sore it was bouȝht,
And for þat trespas þat was done
All we wer made thrall full sone.
The naturall and þe posytyfe
Adam breke for lufe of hys wyfe;
Buxumer he was for to do
The dede þat hys wyfe bad hym do,
Than to God, þat hym hade wrouȝht.
Alas, þerfor, what was hys thouȝht!
Than was he oute and had lorne
358
Hys herytage was hym benome,
And all them þat after hym come,
Oute of ioy into grete care
Hysselue and hys kyne to fare.
Wiþ swynke and suete was he bonde—
Wher schall any hele be fonde?
Alas þat synne, it was so stronge,
For among all thing it sprong:
Both þe sterres, sone, and mone,
Off þat synne þei had to-done;
Foulys in þe eyer, bestys in lond,
All þei had þerof a onde,
Fysschys, erbys, frute, and tre,
All þe wers for to be;
Euery thyng, both more and les,
For þat synne lest ther godnes.
Adam for hys defaute iwys
Lost hys herytage, and all hys,
For syn is non oþer thyng
Bo[t] sor defaute of wele-doyng.
For defaute he lefte þe ioys suete,
And þat was skyll: so do men ȝete;
For defaute euery wyght
Hys herytage may lese ryȝht.
At kyngys courte in euery londe
Ȝit men haue sych lawys fonde.
For defaute Adam les
That he myȝht haue leuyd in pes.
Alas, þat was grete pyte!
Now be we thrall þat are wer fre:
Thrall he is þat to hym longys
What seruys he vnderfongys.
He þat is so thrall becom,
Hys power is hym benome.
When he seruys in seruage,
He had no franches of herytage;
Than when he is all thrall becom,
His fre herytage is hym benome.
He may not pleyn in non wys
359
He ne schuld no thyng be herd,
His wordys be all insperd.
His herytage if he wyll wynne,
He behouys to do anoþer thyng:
He muste seke if he may fynd
A man þat borne is of fre kynd,
And þat he be of ryȝht lynage,
For to clame his herytage,
And þat he may well and wele canne,
And þat he be a gode fre man,
That he not of þat appull ete
That Adam thouȝt fyrst so suete.
He behoueth to be wiþoutyn synne,
And all oure lawys hym wiþine:
The ij lawys of paradys sykerly,
And þat of þe mounte of Synay
That was gyuen to Moyses,
That he held neuer wiþouten les,
In whom was se oure wekyd wrynke.
Off sych a man who myȝht thinke
That myȝht be wiþouten synne,
Hys herytage þus to wynne?
He[r]on schall my mater duelle,
For a tale I wyll ȝou telle
That acordys to sych a man.
Now wyll I tell ȝow, if I canne.
It was a kyng nobull and riche,
That had a sone, þat was hym lyche:
Off wytte and power lyke hym he was,
Like þe fader in all case.
That þe fader wyst þe son thouȝt,
All thorow þe sone þe fader wrouȝt;
What þe fader wold haue wrouȝt,
The sone it dyde, for he knew his thought;
In his kyndom all nedys
Wer fullfylled thorow hys dedys.
Foure douȝteres had þe kyng,
And euerych of þem had somethyng
Off hys wyte and hys powere,
Iche-one as þei had myster,
And neuerþeles all was þe kyngys,
The iiij douȝtures wiþ all þer thyngys,
For wiþouten þem euery dele
Myȝht he not reule hys kyngdom wele.
Feyre names þei had euerychon,
I schall þem telle ryȝht anone:
The fyrst douȝter hyght Mersy;
That is a feyre name sykerly;
The secund douter hyght Sothnes,
And þe thyrd Ryghtfullnes;
The iiij douȝter hyght Pese—
Feyr names wiþouten lese.
Wiþoute þe foure þat I named
May no thing ryght be demed.
Thys ryche kyng had a man
Thorow whom mych wrech began,
And hym louyd wele þe kyng
And made hym mayster of mych thyng.
Bot a comandment he hym toke
And seyd when he þat forsoke,
He schuld to turment, vnderstond this,
Oute of hys courte, and all hys.
Thys seruant ȝede forth wiþ þat,
Hys commandment sone he brake.
Iugement on hym was leyd
After þat þe kyng had seyd;
To iiij turmentowres he was take,
Hys iugement on hym to make.
The turmentowres, as bad þe kyng,
They schuld hym do an euyll dubyng:
The one schuld hym depriuen faste,
The oþer hym [f]le whyll hys lyfe laste,
The oþer hym strangyll ryght also,
The oþer hym fetyr, so dyde þei tho.
Mercy, þe douȝter, all þis [s]ey and herd
How he was in prison sperd.
To hyr fader sche com anone
And askyd hym what for to done:
“Thy douȝter, fader, þou wote I ame,
Mersy I hyght, of þe I camme,
Off þi ȝifte I vnderstode,
To haue mersy wiþ myld mode.
Therfor, fader, I pray þe here
That þou herkyn my prayere:
Haue mersy of þat ilke wyght
That in prison is euyll dyght!
Hys enmyse dyd to hym trespas,
Fader, of hym haue mersy and grace!
Hys enmyse for envye
They dude hym þat trecherye.
Do now, fader, þat I craue,
Ȝiff þou wyll me þi douȝter haue!
Mersy I ame; yff þou wyll me,
Thou must haue mersy and pyte.
Wiþ gode skyll he muste be sauyd,
For I, þe douȝter, haue þe crauyd.
For hym mersy schall be my crye,
Whyll þat I may fynd mersy.”
That had a sone, þat was hym lyche:
Off wytte and power lyke hym he was,
Like þe fader in all case.
That þe fader wyst þe son thouȝt,
All thorow þe sone þe fader wrouȝt;
What þe fader wold haue wrouȝt,
The sone it dyde, for he knew his thought;
In his kyndom all nedys
Wer fullfylled thorow hys dedys.
Foure douȝteres had þe kyng,
And euerych of þem had somethyng
360
Iche-one as þei had myster,
And neuerþeles all was þe kyngys,
The iiij douȝtures wiþ all þer thyngys,
For wiþouten þem euery dele
Myȝht he not reule hys kyngdom wele.
Feyre names þei had euerychon,
I schall þem telle ryȝht anone:
The fyrst douȝter hyght Mersy;
That is a feyre name sykerly;
The secund douter hyght Sothnes,
And þe thyrd Ryghtfullnes;
The iiij douȝter hyght Pese—
Feyr names wiþouten lese.
Wiþoute þe foure þat I named
May no thing ryght be demed.
Thys ryche kyng had a man
Thorow whom mych wrech began,
And hym louyd wele þe kyng
And made hym mayster of mych thyng.
Bot a comandment he hym toke
And seyd when he þat forsoke,
He schuld to turment, vnderstond this,
Oute of hys courte, and all hys.
Thys seruant ȝede forth wiþ þat,
Hys commandment sone he brake.
Iugement on hym was leyd
After þat þe kyng had seyd;
To iiij turmentowres he was take,
Hys iugement on hym to make.
The turmentowres, as bad þe kyng,
They schuld hym do an euyll dubyng:
The one schuld hym depriuen faste,
The oþer hym [f]le whyll hys lyfe laste,
The oþer hym strangyll ryght also,
The oþer hym fetyr, so dyde þei tho.
Mercy, þe douȝter, all þis [s]ey and herd
How he was in prison sperd.
To hyr fader sche com anone
And askyd hym what for to done:
361
Mersy I hyght, of þe I camme,
Off þi ȝifte I vnderstode,
To haue mersy wiþ myld mode.
Therfor, fader, I pray þe here
That þou herkyn my prayere:
Haue mersy of þat ilke wyght
That in prison is euyll dyght!
Hys enmyse dyd to hym trespas,
Fader, of hym haue mersy and grace!
Hys enmyse for envye
They dude hym þat trecherye.
Do now, fader, þat I craue,
Ȝiff þou wyll me þi douȝter haue!
Mersy I ame; yff þou wyll me,
Thou must haue mersy and pyte.
Wiþ gode skyll he muste be sauyd,
For I, þe douȝter, haue þe crauyd.
For hym mersy schall be my crye,
Whyll þat I may fynd mersy.”
Misericordia et Veritas obviaverunt sibi.
Sothnes, hyr syster, þis pleynt herd,Sone sche com and ansuerd:
“Fader, what may þis pleynt be
That Mersy, my syster, makys to þe?
Wold sche for hyr myld herte
Bryng þis prisoner owte of smerte?
Scho wold he wer fro peyn ibrouȝht,
Bot I, Sothnes, wyll it nouȝht.
A trew thyng, fader, I tell þe:
Ȝiff all thyng myȝht sauyd be
For whom my syster wyll praye,
Schall non of þe stand aye.
I ame Sothnes, herkens to me,
And þat name I hade of þe!
Men callys me kyng in euery kythe,
And ȝiff sothnes wones þe wyth,
Mersy of hym may þou haue none,
Bot I, Sothnes, fro þe gone.
Pyte off hym may non be wroght,
For hymselue wyll it nouȝht.
362
And late avenge þe of þat wyght!”
The syster Ryght þeder gan gone;
Thys wordys sche herd euerychone.
When sche þe pleynte onderstode,
Sche ansuerd wiþ myld mode:
“Fader, my name is callyd Ryght,
That name I hade of thy myght.
Seth I ame Ryght, and þou hast me,
As Soth it seys, it muste be,
For Ryght wyll in non wyse
That seruant wer in unyse.
That Soth hath seyd, I, Ryȝht, it wyll,
For it is reson and skyll.
Late þou hym in priso[n] be,
Tyll þou hym iuge befor þe!
For Ryght wyll haue all onderhond,
That he, Soth, do onderstond;
Ryght gyffes iche man be Sothe his rede,
Be it to gode, be it to quede.
Whyll þat he thyn hest held,
We wer wiþ hym wiþ spere and scheld,
Both Mersy, Soth, and Ryght,
And Pese, my syster, wiþ all oure myȝt.
Vs all iiij he hath forsake,
Right wyll þerfor vengeans take.”
Non god word was þer speke,
When þat Mersy was oute steke.
Than was þat wrech wiþ peynes schent,
Hys god benom, hys clothes rente;
In peyn was he manyfolde,
As Soth and Ryght bothe it wolde.
And also þat of hym com,
All þei had þe same dome.
Soth and Ryght wiþouten les
Went wiþout Mersy and Pes,
And be contre as þei wend,
All þat wreches kynd þei schent;
So fast þei gan þem doun dryue
That þei left neuer one of lyue.
363
viij þat left of lyue and nomo:
That was Noe and his thre sones—
Ther wer no mo left in no wonys—
In Noys schype wiþ þer wyues,
Wherin þei sauyd þer lyues.
That was þan a reufull syght,
And ȝit it was bote soth and ryȝht.
The syster Pes myȝht nowher be,
Sche was sent out contre,
For sche may for no thyng
Be among wreth and werryng.
Than was Pes in mych care,
When sche saw þe werld þus fare.
To hyr fader hyr wey sche leyd,
And com to hym sone and seyd:
“Fader, I ame þi douȝter Pes,
I auȝht be at thy dese.
Thou arte kynge of pes so dere:
My fader, þan must þou here!
My two systeres, Soth and Ryght,
Wiþ Pes and Mersy þei hold fyght;
All wiþout oure asente
They don all þer iugement.
I, Pese, and my syster Mersy bothe,
We com no[t] heder consell to noþe,
And we foure aw be all at one.
Thys thyng, fader, may not þus gon:
I, Pes, wyll abyde wiþ the,
Tyll all pese among þem be.
All godnes thorow pes to end is brouȝt;
Whoso hath pes, he feylys nouȝht;
Wiþouten pes is wroȝht no thyng,
Be it neuer so grete doyng.
Whoso euer aboute wyll wend,
Pese schall folow at þe ende.
Soth and Ryght it is þer fe
For to kepe þe name of me,
For þei haue non oþer nede
Bot pes to kepe in euery lede.
364
When þou pes for me gan take?
Bot I haue Mersy, my syster, wiþ me:
I may not els sauyd be.
Seth þou arte kyng of pes in lond,
My word aw to be vnderstond.
Off þe foure systeres a resyn clere
Now ryȝht wyll I schew here:
Thorow vs iiij schall all be wrouȝt,
In vnyte is all my thouȝt;
All we iiij verament
Schall make one iugement.
Therfor iugement auȝht be nouȝt,
Tyll we iiij at one be brouȝt;
All we behouyth togeder take,
Ryght iugement for to make.
Thys seruant onne non wyse
May be leuyd in þat vnyse;
Wiþouten my syster Mersy and me
Iugement may non gyuen be.
Mersy, my syster, cryes euermo
Mersy for hym þat is in wo;
Therfor I, Pes, at þe endes
Schall fond to make þe frendes.”
The kyngys son both wyse and queynt
Herd þe iiij systeres pleynt.
Wiþouten hym on non wyse
Acord may not ryȝht aryse.
“Fader,” he seyd, “thyn I ame;
Off þe, fader, fyrst I com.
Wysdom, fader, my name it is,
For whom was made þis werldys blys;
Thou and I, fader, all one we be
In wytte and myȝht and dygnyte.
Off þis contake, þat I here,
Mersy hath told me reson clere,
Wherof, fader, I haue pyte
That seruant in peyn schall so be.
Thy seruant clothing take I wyll;
Both wiþ sothnes and wiþ skyll
That iugement I wyll onderfonge
And all þat euer to ryȝht wyll longe.
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And Ryȝht and Pese I schall do kys.
All contake leyd schall be,
My wyll it is I schall saue þe.”
Iusticia et Pax osculate sunt.
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