 | [Poems from the Vernon MS] |  |
162
VII. [Of a prest þat lay by a nonne.]
In Bok we fynde, as we Rede,
Of a preest, was wylde of dede,
Þat was I-wounde in mony a vice,
But at þe laste he was not nyce
And to synne so wel dude wone
Þat wiþ a Nonne he hedde to done.
Þerof wolde he him not schryue
Til þat he schulde lete þe lyue.
Ȝit he serued vre Ladi
Day bi day ful specialy,
Matyns and vres day Bi day
Of hire he seide wiþ-oute delay.
At þe laste he fel seek,
And schulde be ded as we schulen ek.
Of a preest, was wylde of dede,
Þat was I-wounde in mony a vice,
But at þe laste he was not nyce
And to synne so wel dude wone
Þat wiþ a Nonne he hedde to done.
Þerof wolde he him not schryue
Til þat he schulde lete þe lyue.
Ȝit he serued vre Ladi
Day bi day ful specialy,
Matyns and vres day Bi day
Of hire he seide wiþ-oute delay.
At þe laste he fel seek,
And schulde be ded as we schulen ek.
Vr ladi þat he hedde in Reuerence
Wolde he schulde clanse his Concience,
And þat hym fel riht wel in Mynde,
A trusti frend ȝif he mihte fynde.
A prest þer was he louede wel,
He tolde his lyf to Eueridel;
He sykede sore and criede Merci
Þat god schulde on him haue pite forþi,
And for his synnes was sori.
He preyed þe prest ful feiþfuli
Þat, as þei hedden be felawes long,
He schulde þenken on him a-mong
His Masse and his Almes-dede,
Þat God mihte quite hym his Mede
And þat his soule þat was vngeyne
Þe sannore mihte passe out of peyne.
Þat oþer, þat he wolde, he seide.
After he dyȝede, In eorþe was leyde.
Wolde he schulde clanse his Concience,
And þat hym fel riht wel in Mynde,
A trusti frend ȝif he mihte fynde.
A prest þer was he louede wel,
He tolde his lyf to Eueridel;
He sykede sore and criede Merci
Þat god schulde on him haue pite forþi,
And for his synnes was sori.
He preyed þe prest ful feiþfuli
Þat, as þei hedden be felawes long,
He schulde þenken on him a-mong
His Masse and his Almes-dede,
Þat God mihte quite hym his Mede
And þat his soule þat was vngeyne
Þe sannore mihte passe out of peyne.
Þat oþer, þat he wolde, he seide.
After he dyȝede, In eorþe was leyde.
Þe prest forsoþe for-ȝat hym nouht,
But euere hedde hym in his þouht,
Al þat ȝeer, day Bi day,
He song his Masse, as I ow say,
But euere hedde hym in his þouht,
Al þat ȝeer, day Bi day,
He song his Masse, as I ow say,
Þat O day he song of vre Ladi,
Þat oþer of Requiem, sikerli.
Þat oþer of Requiem, sikerli.
163
Al þe ȝer þis Charge he nom.
Atte laste his Mynde-day com.
As he stod at his Masse þo,
After þe sacryng In Memento,
Atte laste his Mynde-day com.
As he stod at his Masse þo,
After þe sacryng In Memento,
He sauh stonden him bi-fore
Þe ffeireste ladi þat euere was bore,
Vppon þe Auter þer he stod.
Heo seide to him wiþ Mylde Mod:
“Þou hast me trauaylet wiþ þi preyere,
Now at þis tyme to ben here.
As þou hast preyed in þi Messe,
I haue geten forȝiuenesse
To þi felawe of my sone dere
Of al þat euere he mis-dude here;
Of his peyne he is releset,
And his Ioye schal ben encreset;
Lo wher he kneleþ þe bi-hynde:
To ben I-hoselet he haþ in Mynde.”
Þe ffeireste ladi þat euere was bore,
Vppon þe Auter þer he stod.
Heo seide to him wiþ Mylde Mod:
“Þou hast me trauaylet wiþ þi preyere,
Now at þis tyme to ben here.
As þou hast preyed in þi Messe,
I haue geten forȝiuenesse
To þi felawe of my sone dere
Of al þat euere he mis-dude here;
Of his peyne he is releset,
And his Ioye schal ben encreset;
Lo wher he kneleþ þe bi-hynde:
To ben I-hoselet he haþ in Mynde.”
Þe prest torned hym softely
And sauh him knele faste by;
Anon wiþ godes Bodi
Hoselde him deuoutli.
And sauh him knele faste by;
Anon wiþ godes Bodi
Hoselde him deuoutli.
Þen sauh þe prest vr ladi þer
Come a-doun of þat Auter
And take his felawe bi þe honde,
Out of þe Chirche forte fonde.
Of þis siht he was ful fayn,
And tornede to his Masse a-ȝayn;
Þerof þenne he made an ende,
Preyed god grace him to sende
Þorw preyere of his Moder dere,
So to lyuen and to don here,
After þis world þat is al wast
To haue þe blisse þat euer schal last.—
Come a-doun of þat Auter
And take his felawe bi þe honde,
Out of þe Chirche forte fonde.
Of þis siht he was ful fayn,
And tornede to his Masse a-ȝayn;
Þerof þenne he made an ende,
Preyed god grace him to sende
Þorw preyere of his Moder dere,
So to lyuen and to don here,
After þis world þat is al wast
To haue þe blisse þat euer schal last.—
Wel are we holden day and niht
Worschipen hire wiþ al vr miht
Þat euer is so redi diht
To bringen vs alle to heuene-liht.
And þat hit mote so be,
Seyeþ to hire an Aue!
Worschipen hire wiþ al vr miht
Þat euer is so redi diht
To bringen vs alle to heuene-liht.
And þat hit mote so be,
Seyeþ to hire an Aue!
| [Poems from the Vernon MS] | |