[Poems from the Vernon MS]

Þe secunde contemplacion is hit
Þat I seide, in holi writ.
Þei þow be lewed and con not rede,
Noþeles ful wel ȝit may þou spede
To herkene þe ffrere Sarmounyng
And oþer priue Carpyng,
And loke ȝif þou mowe ouȝt þer lere
Þin vnderstondyng to make more clere.
Þer maiȝt þow lerne, as I trowe,
Good from vuel for to knowe,
Sinne to hate, vertu to loue,
And to ȝerne þe Ioye aboue,
Þe pyne of helle for to drede,
Nouȝt loue þis world but for þi nede;

276

Alle þinges þat we of prechen,
Summe of þeos poyntes forsoþe þei techen.
Þerfore I prey ȝou, takeþ good hede
After holi writ ȝoure lyf to lede,
Godes wille so to knowe þer-Inne
Þat ȝe mowe hate dedly sinne.
And þat ȝe mowe knowe wȝuch hit bene,
I schal hem riken alle bedene,
And þe spices þat of hem launches.

Pride þe furste, haþ six Braunches:
Þe furste is cald vnbuxomnes:
Of herte hit is a gret hiȝnes,
Makeþ mon to leeten þat him is boden
And to don þat is forboden
Of God or Mon, his ouerlyng.
Þe secounde spice is Bostyng,
Þat makeþ mon forto him auaunte
Of good þat he wolde neuere haunte.
Þe þridde spice is Ypocrisye—
Schewest þe beter to Monnes eiȝe
Þen þou art þi-self wiþ-Inne,
And leetest as þou heddest neuer do synne.
Þe feorþe is clept Arrogaunce,
Þat schewes oþur mennes mischaunce
And openeþ al out heore wikkednes,
So þat þyn may seme þe les;
Of oþer mennes schendschipe
To þe þow takest worschipe.
Þe ffyfþe spice, hit is dispyt,
Oþer menne goodnes setteþ luit,
Þow seist hit is not worþ a Bore,
So þat þin may seme þe more.
Þe Sixte is cald Elacion,
Boldnesse of vuel þat þou hast don;
Þat makeþ mon for to fonde
Correxion hou he may wiþ-stonde.
Þeos ben þe spices most comuyn of pride,
Þat spreden in þis world ful wyde.

Pruide in heuene furst bi-gon,
And seþþen in eorþe to mony a Mon.

277

Of þeos þreo þinges as I schal telle,
Of Pruide moni on haþ þe smelle:
Of godes of kuynde, or of grace,
Or elles of worldes purchace.
Strengþe, feirnesse, good wit, or kynne
Bi kynde þis mon haþ him wiþ-Inne;
ffeiþ, Hope, Loue and Charite
Goodes of grace þei ben, parde;
ffeir Cloþes, Lond, Hous and Rent
Worldes purchase ben, verrement.
Of þeos þreo þinges pruide is born,
Þat makeþ mony a mon to be forlorn.

Þe secunde synne, hit is Envy:
Of oþur mennes wele hit is sori,
And of heor harm hit is fayn.
Þreo spices hit haþ, as men sayn:
In herte hit is furst, þorw vuel wille;
In word: þi neiȝebor Bakbyte and spille;
In werk, hit makeþ lered and lewed
To his neiȝebor forte beo schrewed.

Wraþþe to þi soule Is mischaunce—
Of þi neiȝebor hit wilneþ veniaunce;
Ȝif þou in herte bere hit longe,
Hattreden hit engendreþ swiþe stronge.
Herof comeþ cheste and Manasyng,
Vileynous wordes, and eke grucching,
Discord, Repref, deynous lokyng—
Þeos ben alle a foul ofspring.

Þe ffeorþe is slouþe in godes seruise.
Þe Braunches þerof I wol deuyse:
Þe furste is feyntise wiþ-oute likyng,
Þat makeþ þe heui wiþ alle þing;
Þat toþer is a tendernesse,
Þat suffreþ no disese nor duresse;
Recheleschipe is þe þridde—
Þou takest no kep what men þe bidde;
Þe feorþe is called Idelnesse,
Whon þou ne wolt worche, more ne lesse.

Þe ffyfþe is cald Auarice,
Þat haþ mony a sori spice:

278

Þerof comeþ treson, and Robberie,
fforsweryng, Oker, and Symonye,
Þefþe, Beryng of fals witnesse,
Lyȝing, and of herte hardnesse,
Þat makeþ þe no reuþe to haue
Of hem þat þe good craue.

Glotonye is þe Sixte synne,
Þat fouleþ mon wiþ-oute and wiþ-Inne.
Þe furste spice is of glotenye
To ete more þen þou mayȝt defye,
Whon þou art in hele nomeli;
Anoþer is to ete to lustili.
Glotonye makeþ mon in hast
To breke holychirche fast.
Þe þridde makeþ bisili to þenche
What maner of mete his lust may quenche.
Þe feorþe, þat makeþ mon as ded,
Þat is foul drounkenhed—
Þat is dedly, bi enchesoun
Þat hit bi-reueþ mon his resoun;
But ȝif hit come wiþ-oute fayle
Of feble brayn or gret trauayle,
Or þe drinke be strengor þen men wenen,
ffor venial synne we hit demen.

Lecherie is on of þe seuene,
Þat greueþ muche vr lord of heuene.
In to þis synne whon tweyne falle
Þat ben sengle, is lest of alle;
But ȝif þe wommon a Mayde be,
Worse is þat, þe secounde degre;
Þe þridde is clept Holorie,
Þat wedlak brekeþ, is synne ful hye;
Incest þe ferþe, whon þou lyst bi
Þi gostly kyn or bodili;
Þe worste of alle is Sodomye,
Vn-kyndely synne, foul Ribaudye—
Þerfore haþ God taken gret wreche.
Of dedly synne her endeþ my speche.

University of Virginia Library

Þe secunde contemplacion In holy writ.