University of Virginia Library

[XLVIII. Sayings of St. Bernard: Man's three Foes.]

Seint Bernard seiþ in his Bok
Þat Mon is worm & wormes Cok,
And wormes he schal feden;
Whon his lyf is him bi-reued,
In his Rug and in his heued
Wol foule wormes breden.

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512

Þe fflesch schal melten from þe bon,
Þe Senewes sundren euerichon,
Þe Bodi schal de-fyen;
And ȝe þat wolen þe soþe sen,
Vnder þe graues þer þey ben,
And lokeþ hou þei lyȝen.

Þi fflesch fiȝteþ aȝeyn þi gost.
Whon þou schalt dyen þou hit nost,
Wheþer day or niht;
Woltou niltou, þou schalt dyȝen,
Ne may no Raunsoun þe for-buyȝen—
Þou greiþ þe whil þou miht!

Mon, þou art of feble fom,
Þow ne hast her no siker hom,
Ȝif þow bi-seo þe ariht;
Vre riht wonynge were elles-where.
Lord let vs comen þere
ffor his muchele miht.

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513

Of feble froþ, Mon, is þi lyf,
Whon deþ draweþ his kene knyf,
I rede þat þou þe schryue;
ffor ȝif þou be-seo þi-self a-riht,
ffinstou not her but flit & fiht,
Whiles þou art in þis lyue.

Vnstable is þi lyf I-diht,
Nou art þou heuy, nou artou liht,
Sturtynde as a Ro;
Nou þou richest, & now þou porest,
Nou art þou sek, now þou rekeuerest,
In wandreþ and In wo.

Þi fflesch seiþ Niht and day
“I wole haue ese while I may,”
Þi soule seiþ “nay,
Ac ȝif þou bere hit to muchel meþ,
Hit wol þe worchen soule deþ
And wo þat la[s]teþ ay.”

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514

Þus striueþ euer more þei two,
Þat on eggeþ to, þat oþur fro,
Ne conne þei neuer blynne;
Ac, wel we mowen vs-seluen i-sen,
Þe soule ouȝte Maister ben
Al þe pris for to wynne.

Mon, I rede þat þou be wys,
And ȝif þou falle, sone arys,
Ne ligge þou none stounde.
ffor ȝif þou worche wel wiþ þis,
Þe godspel seiþ, and soþ hit is,
Þat þou hast blisse I-founde.

Mon, beo nouȝt þi-self vn-couþ,
Ac loke what comeþ out at þi Mouþ
And elles-wher a-bouten;
And ȝif þou nyme rihtliche keep,
ffyndest þou non so vyl donge-hep,
Wiþ-Innen no wiþ-owten.

Ac þou hast in þat vyle hous
A þing þat is ful precious,
And dere it was I-bouht;

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515

Ac I þe holde for wylde and wood,
Ȝif þou ȝiue so muchel good
To þe ffeond for nouht.

Mon, þou hast þreo luþer fon,
Heore nomes con I wel vchon
Ȝif I schal touchen alle:
Þyn oune flesch, þe world, þe fend.
Ac he þat schulde best be þi frend
Doþ þe raþest to falle,

And þat is þi flesch, þi furste fo,
Þat þou pamprest and seruest so,
Ȝif ich hit dorste seyen.
Þou dost þi soule muche wrong,
Whon þou makest his fo so strong
To fihten him aȝeyn.

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516

Of þe furste fo so fel
Muche wonder hit is to tel,
Hose schulde riht be-gynne:
Þat such a foul stinkynde sek
Haþ such a burþen in his nek
Of serwe and of synne.

Þis Careyn þat þou berest a-bouten,
So vyl wiþ-Innen and wiþ-outen,
A luytel wormes mete;
Euer þe bet þat þou him do,
Siker be þou, euer-mo
Þe worse he wol þe gete.

And ȝif þou þenke her-vppon
Hou vyl a vessel hit is on,
ffor al þe metes and drynkes,
Hou hit schal foulore smelle & smake
Þen eny careyne þat is forsake
Of best þat breþe stinkes.

ffor hose bi-heolde þi bodi ariht
After þi deþ a fourtene niht,
Neore he þi frend neuer so good,
Þat he nolde hiȝen him away
And þynken seuen ȝer of a day
Þat he bi þe stod.—

Þyn oþer fo Is a wonder þing,
Þis world, wiþ diuerse fondyng
Tempteþ þe more & more;

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517

ffals hit is and feir hit semeþ,
And whon hit aller best þe qwemeþ,
Hit greueþ þe ful sore.
Þis ffo haþ so ablendet þe
Þat þou miȝt nouȝt bi-fore þe se
How vyl þou art and pore,
Hou bare in to þis world þou come,
Ne hou bare þou wendest home
In to þi puttes ore.

He scheweþ þe wele & worldes wynne
And dilyces so mony kinne,
And eggeþ þe þer-to;
He reueþ þe mony a nihtes rest.
fforsake schuldestou such a gest
Þat þe con seruen so.
ffor whon þou hast gedred al þi pride,
Comeþ deþ on þat oþer syde
And reueþ þe al I-feere.
And whon he haþ þe doun I-cast,
He wol deceyuen þe atte last,
As hit þin neuer nere.

Ac to þi put he wol þe leden,
And leue þe þere wormes to feden—
Loke whuch a seruise!
He serueþ þe of & of no more;
Þat al þi lyue lustnest his lore,
He quyteþ þe on þis wyse.
And riȝt so schaltou go þi wey
Naked and bare—weylawey!
Wrecche, hou hastou sped!

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518

And ȝif þou haue eny good wrouȝt
In word, in werk or in þouȝt,
Þat berest þou to þi bed.

Þe þridde fo, I may þe telle,
Þat is þe foule fend of helle,
Þe worste fo of alle.
Vnderstonde, he loueþ þe nouȝt,
He wol chaungen al þi þouȝt
And maken þe foule to falle.

Vnderstonde, he nolde þe no good,
He wolde marren al þi mood—
Þow war þe from his hok!
And ȝif þou do as I þe seye,
Al his wrenches miht þou leye
Al mid his oune crok.

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520

Ȝif þe fend þorw his fondyng
Or for defaute of wiþ-stondyng
In eny synne haþ þe cast,
A-Rys vp as a Champioun,
Stond stif and fal no more a-doun
ffor such a wyndes blast.

Þow go In to þe feire feld
And tak vr lord to þi scheld,
Þin hond þou strecche and fonde,
And þenk vppon him wiþ mylde mod
Þat for þe ȝaf his herte-blod
And get þat lyflich londe.

Þow take þe crois to þi staf
And þenk on him þat þeron ȝaf
His lyf þat was so lef;
Wite wel þi fot wiþ staues ord
And mak þe traytur speke þe word
And wrek þe on þat þef.

ffiht faste for þyn owne riht
And get þe heuene-blisse briht,
While þou hast tyme þer-to;
Þin owne heritage hit is,
And þerof schaltou neuer mis
But ȝif þou hit fordo.

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521

Ac ȝif þow haue wel in muynde
Hou feble þat þou art of kuynde,
And hou þou gost to nouȝt,
Hit mihte wel þin herte whetten
And of fflesches lustes letten,
Weore þou wel bi-þouȝt.

Where ben heo þat bi-foren vs weren,
Þat houndes ladden & haukes beeren
And hedden feld and wode;
Þis Riche ladys in heore bour,
Þat wereden gold in heore tressour,
Wiþ heore brihte rode?

Þei eeten and dronken & maden hem glad,
In Ioye was al heore lyf I-lad,
Men knelede hem bi-foren:
Þei beren hem here so stout and hiȝe,
Ac in twynklyng of an eiȝe
Heore soules were for-loren.

Wher is þat gomen and þat song,
Þat traylyng & þat comelich ȝong,
Þo haukes and þe houndes?
Al þat Ioye is went a-wey,
Heore weole is comen to weilawei,
To monye harde stoundes.

Heore paradys þei hedden hyr,
And now þei liggen in helle-fyr,
Þer pit and peyne is euere;
Strong is þere in peyne and wo,
Ac hopen þar hem neuer-mo,
ffor out ne comen þei neuere.

Allas, þat þei euere were boren or bred
Þat heer on eorþe such lyf han led
And deserued such meedes,
To brennen in þe fuir of helle,
Euer-more þer-Inne to dwelle
And glowen in þo gledes!

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522

Ac Moder & Mayden, heuene-Qween,
As we hopen þat þou wol ben
Vr warant from þe fende:
Þou help vs dedly synne to fleen,
And þat we mote þi sone seen
World wiþ-outen ende.