THE TEXTS
A single manuscript is chosen as the basis of each text, and neither its readings nor its spellings are altered if they can reasonably be defended. Where correction involves substitution, the substituted letters are printed in italics, and the actual reading of the manuscript will be found in the Footnotes (or occasionally in the Notes). Words or letters added to complete the manuscript are enclosed in caret brackets < >. Corrupt readings retained in the text are indicated by daggers ††. Paragraphing, punctuation, capitals, and the details of word division are modern, and contractions are expanded without notice, so that the reader shall not be distracted by difficulties that are purely palaeographical. A final e derived from OFr. é(e) or ie, OE. -ig, is printed é, to distinguish it from unaccented final e which is regularly lost in Modern English.
The extracts have been collated with the manuscripts, or with complete photographs, except Nos. IV (Thornton MS.), VII, VIII b, XI a, XVII, the manuscripts of which I have not been able to consult. The Footnotes as a rule take no account of conjectural emendations, variants from other manuscripts, or minutiae like erasures and corrections contemporary with the copy.
SELECT BIBLIOGRAPHY[28]
[28] Books primarily of reference are distinguished by an asterisk. Details relating to texts, manuscript sources, editions, monographs, and articles that have appeared in periodicals, will be found in the bibliographical manuals cited.
DICTIONARIES.
*A New English Dictionary on Historical Principles, ed. Sir J. A. H. Murray, H. Bradley, W. A. Craigie, C. T. Onions, Oxford 1888—[quoted as N.E.D.].
*Stratmann, F. A. A Middle English Dictionary, new edn. by H. Bradley, Oxford 1891.
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL.
*Brown, Carleton. A Register of Middle English Religious and Didactic Verse (Part I, List of MSS.; Part II, Indices), Oxford 1916-20 (Bibliographical Society).
*Hammond, Miss E. P. Chaucer: A Bibliographical Manual, New York 1908.
*Wells, J. E. A Manual of the Writings in Middle English, 1050-1500, New Haven, &c., 1916; Supplement, 1919.
LITERATURE AND LEARNING.
Chambers, E. K. The Mediaeval Stage, 2 vols., Oxford 1903.
Clark, J. W. The Care of Books, Cambridge (new edn.) 1909.
Ker, W. P. English Literature, Mediaeval, London 1912. [A good brief orientation.]
Legouis, E. Chaucer (transl. L. Lailavoix), London 1913.
Rashdall, H. The Universities of Europe in the Middle Ages, 2 vols., Oxford 1895.
CHURCH HISTORY.
Capes, W. W. The English Church in the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries, London 1909.
*Dugdale, Sir William. Monasticon Anglicanum, new edn. by Caley, Ellis and Bandinel, 6 vols., London 1846. [Gives detailed histories of the English religious houses.]
Gasquet, Cardinal F. A. English Monastic Life, London, 4th edn. 1910.
GENERAL HISTORY.
Ashley, W. J. An Introduction to English Economic History and Theory, 2 vols., London 1888-93.
Bateson, Mary. Mediaeval England (1066-1350), London 1903. [A brief and exact social history.]
Cutts, E. L. Scenes and Characters of the Middle Ages, London 1872; 3rd edn. 1911. [Useful for its illustrations from MSS.]
Gasquet, Cardinal F. A. The Black Death of 1348 and 1349, London, 2nd edn. 1908.
Jessopp, A. The Coming of the Friars and other Historical Essays, London, 4th edn. 1890.
Jusserand, J. J. English Wayfaring Life in the Middle Ages (transl. L. Toulmin Smith), London 1889, &c.; revised 1921. [Invaluable.]
Lechler, G. V. John Wiclif and his English Precursors (transl. P. Lorimer), 2 vols., London 1878.
Oman, Sir Charles Wm. C. The Great Revolt of 1381, Oxford 1906.
Reville, A., et Petit-Dutaillis, Ch. Le Soulèvement des Travailleurs d'Angleterre en 1381, Paris 1898.
Riley, H. T. Memorials of London and London Life (1270-1419), London 1868.
*Rogers, J. E. T. A History of Agriculture and Prices in England (1259-1793). 7 vols., Oxford 1866-1902. [Rich in facts.]
Smith, S. Armitage. John of Gaunt, London 1904.
*Stubbs, Wm. The Constitutional History of England, 3 vols., Oxford (1st edn. 1874-78), 1903-6.
Tout, T. F. The History of England from the Accession of Henry III to the Death of Edward III (1216-1377), London 1905; new edn. 1920.
Trevelyan, G. M. England in the Age of Wycliffe, London 1899; new edn., 1909. [A brilliant study.]
WORKS RELATING CHIEFLY TO FRANCE.
Enlart, C. Le Costume (vol. iii of his Manuel d'Archéologie Française), Paris 1916.
Faral, E. Les Jongleurs en France au Moyen Âge, Paris 1910.
Paris, G. La Littérature Française au Moyen Âge, Paris, 5th edn. 1909. [A model handbook.]
I ROBERT MANNYNG OF BRUNNE'S HANDLYNG SYNNE A.D. 1303
What is known of Robert Mannyng of Brunne is derived from his own works. In the Prologue to Handlyng Synne he writes:
To alle Crystyn men vndir sunne,
And to gode men of Brunne,
And speciali, alle be name,
Þe felaushepe of Symprynghame,
Roberd of Brunne greteþ ȝow
In al godenesse þat may to prow;
Of Brunne wake yn Kesteuene,
Syxe myle besyde Sympryngham euene,
Y dwelled yn þe pryorye
Fyftene ȝere yn cumpanye....
And in the Introduction to his Chronicle:
Of Brunne I am; if any me blame,
Robert Mannyng is my name;
Blissed be he of God of heuene
Þat me Robert with gude wille neuene!
In þe third Edwardes tyme was I,
When I wrote alle þis story,
In þe hous of Sixille I was a throwe;
Danȝ Robert of Malton, þat ȝe know,
Did it wryte for felawes sake
When þai wild solace make.
From these passages it appears that he was born in Brunne, the modern Bourn, in Lincolnshire; and that he belonged to the Gilbertine Order. Sempringham was the head-quarters of the Order, and the dependent priory of Sixhill was near by. It has been suggested, without much evidence, that he was a lay brother, and not a full canon.
His Chronicle of England was completed in 1338. It falls into two parts, distinguished by a change of metre and source. The first, edited by Furnivall in the Rolls Series (2 vols. 1887), extends from the Flood to A.D. 689, and is based on Wace's Brut, the French source of Layamon's Brut. The second part, edited by Hearne, 2 vols., Oxford 1725, extends from A.D. 689 to the death of Edward I, and is based on the French Chronicle of a contemporary, who is sometimes called Pierre de Langtoft, sometimes Piers of Bridlington, because he was a native of Langtoft in Yorkshire, and a canon of the Austin priory at Bridlington in the same county. Mannyng's Chronicle has no great historical value, and its chief literary interest lies in the references to current traditions and popular stories.
Handlyng Synne is a much more valuable work. It was begun in 1303:
Dane Felyp was mayster þat tyme
Þat y began þys Englyssh ryme;
Þe ȝeres of grace fyl þan to be
A þousynd and þre hundred and þre.
In þat tyme turnede y þys
On Englyssh tunge out of Frankys
Of a boke as y fonde ynne,
Men clepyn þe boke 'Handlyng Synne'.
The source was again a French work written by a contemporary Northerner—William of Wadington's Manuel de Pechiez. The popularity of such treatises on the Sins may be judged from the number of works modelled upon them: e.g. the Ayenbyte of Inwyt, Gower's Confessio Amantis, and Chaucer's Parson's Tale. Their purpose was, as Robert explains, to enable a reader to examine his conscience systematically and constantly, and so to guard himself against vice.
Two complete MSS. of Handlyng Synne are known: British Museum MS. Harley 1701 (about 1350-75), and MS. Bodley 415, of a slightly later date. An important fragment is in the library of Dulwich College. The whole text, with the French source, has been edited by Furnivall for the Roxburghe Club, and later for the Early English Text Society. It treats, with the usual wealth of classification, of the Commandments, the Sins, the Sacraments, the Requisites and Graces of Shrift. But such a bald summary gives no idea of the richness and variety of its content. For Mannyng, anticipating Gower, saw the opportunities that the illustrative stories offered to his special gifts, and spared no pains in their telling. A few examples are added from his own knowledge. More often he expands Wadington's outlines, as in the tale of the Dancers of Colbek. Here the French source is brief and colourless. But the English translator had found a fuller Latin version—clearly the same as that printed from Bodleian MS. Rawlinson C 938 in the preface to Furnivall's Roxburghe Club edition—and from it he produced the well-rounded and lively rendering given below.
Robert knew that a work designed to turn 'lewde men' from the ale-house to the contemplation of their sins must grip their attention; and in the art of linking good teaching with entertainment he is a master. He has the gift of conveying to his audience his own enjoyment of a good story. His loose-knit conversational style would stand the test of reading aloud to simple folk, and he allows no literary affectations, no forced metres or verbiage, to darken his meaning:
Haf I alle in myn Inglis layd
In symple speche as I couthe,
Þat is lightest in mannes mouthe.
I mad noght for no disours,
Ne for no seggers, no harpours,
But for þe luf of symple men
Þat strange Inglis can not ken;
For many it ere þat strange Inglis
In ryme wate neuer what it is,
And bot þai wist what it mente,
Ellis me thoght it were alle schente.
(Chronicle, ll. 72 ff.)
The simple form reflects the writer's frankness and directness. He points a moral fearlessly, but without harshness or self-righteousness. And the range of his sympathies and interests makes Handlyng Synne the best picture of English life before Langland and Chaucer.
THE DANCERS OF COLBEK MS. Harley 1701 (about A.D. 1375); ed. Furnivall, ll. 8987 ff.
Karolles, wrastlynges, or somour games, 1
Whoso euer haunteþ any swyche shames
Yn cherche, oþer yn chercheȝerd,
Of sacrylage he may be aferd;
Or entyrludes, or syngynge, 5
Or tabure bete, or oþer pypynge—
Alle swyche þyng forbodyn es
Whyle þe prest stondeþ at messe.
Alle swyche to euery gode preste ys lothe,
And sunner wyl he make hym wroth 10
Þan he wyl, þat haþ no wyt,
Ne vndyrstondeþ nat Holy Wryt.
And specyaly at hygh tymes
Karolles to synge and rede rymys
Noght yn none holy stedes, 15
Þat myȝt dysturble þe prestes bedes,
Or ȝyf he were yn orysun
Or any ouþer deuocyun:
Sacrylage ys alle hyt tolde,
Þys and many oþer folde. 20
But for to leue yn cherche [for] to daunce,
Y shal ȝow telle a ful grete chaunce,
And y trow þe most þat fel
[Ys] soþe as y ȝow telle;
And fyl þys chaunce yn þys londe, 25
Yn Ingland, as y vndyrstonde,
Yn a kynges tyme þat hyght Edward
Fyl þys chau<n>ce þat was so hard.
Hyt was vppon a Crystemesse nyȝt
Þat twelue folys a karolle dyȝt, 30
Yn wodehed, as hyt were yn cuntek,
Þey come to a tounne men calle Colbek.
Þe cherche of þe tounne þat þey to come
Ys of Seynt Magne, þat suffred martyrdome;
Of Seynt Bukcestre hyt ys also, 35
Seynt Magnes suster, þat þey come to.
Here names of alle þus fonde y wryte,
And as y wote now shul ȝe wyte:
Here lodesman, þat made hem glew,
Þus ys wryte, he hyȝte Gerlew. 40
Twey maydens were yn here coueyne,
Mayden Merswynde and Wybessyne.
Alle þese come þedyr for þat enchesone
Of þe prestes doghtyr of þe tounne.
Þe prest hyȝt Robert, as y kan ame; 45
Aȝone hyght hys sone by name;
Hys doghter, þat þese men wulde haue,
Þus ys wryte, þat she hyȝt Aue.
Echoune consented to o wyl
Who shuld go Aue oute to tyl, 50
Þey graunted echone out to sende
Boþe Wybessyne and Merswynde.
Þese wommen ȝede and tolled here oute
Wyþ hem to karolle þe cherche aboute.
Beu<u>ne ordeyned here karollyng; 55
Gerlew endyted what þey shuld syng.
Þys ys þe karolle þat þey sunge,
As telleþ þe Latyn tunge:
'Equitabat Beuo per siluam frondosam,
Ducebat secum Merswyndam formosam. 60
Quid stamus? cur non imus?'
'By þe leued wode rode Beuolyne,
Wyþ hym he ledde feyre Merswyne.
Why stonde we? why go we noght?'
Þys ys þe karolle þat Grysly wroght; 65
Þys songe sunge þey yn þe chercheȝerd—
Of foly were þey no þyng aferd—
Vnto þe matynes were alle done,
And þe messe shuld bygynne sone.
Þe preste hym reuest to begynne messe, 70
And þey ne left þerfore neuer þe lesse,
But daunsed furþe as þey bygan,
For alle þe messe þey ne blan.
Þe preste, þat stode at þe autere,
And herd here noyse and here bere, 75
Fro þe auter down he nam,
And to þe cherche porche he cam,
And seyd 'On Goddes [behalue], y ȝow forbede
Þat ȝe no lenger do swych dede,
But comeþ yn on feyre manere 80
Goddes seruyse for to here,
And doþ at Crystyn mennys lawe;
Karolleþ no more, for Crystys awe!
Wurschyppeþ Hym with alle ȝoure myȝt
Þat of þe Vyrgyne was bore þys nyȝt.' 85
For alle hys byddyng lefte þey noȝt,
But daunsed furþ, as þey þoȝt.
Þe preste þarefor was sore agreued;
He preyd God þat he on beleuyd,
And for Seynt Magne, þat he wulde so werche— 90
Yn whos wurschyp sette was þe cherche—
Þat swych a veniaunce were on hem sent,
Are þey oute of þat stede were went,
Þat <[þey]> myȝt euer ryȝt so wende
Vnto þat tyme tweluemonth ende;95
(Yn þe Latyne þat y fonde þore
He seyþ nat 'tweluemonth' but 'euermore';)
He cursed hem þere alsaume
As þey karoled on here gaume.
As sone as þe preste hadde so spoke 100
Euery hand yn ouþer so fast was loke
Þat no man myȝt with no wundyr
Þat tweluemo<n>þe parte hem asundyr.
Þe preste ȝede yn, whan þys was done,
And commaunded hys sone Aȝone 105
Þat <[he]> shulde go swyþe aftyr Aue,
Oute of þat karolle algate to haue.
But al to late þat wurde was seyd,
For on hem alle was þe veniaunce leyd.
Aȝone wende weyl for to spede; 110
Vnto þe karolle as swyþe he ȝede,
Hys systyr by þe arme he hente,
And þe arme fro þe body wente.
Men wundred alle þat þere wore,
And merueyle mowe ȝe here more, 115
For, seþen he had þe arme yn hand,
Þe body ȝede furþ karoland,
And noþer <[þe]> body ne þe arme
Bledde neuer blode, colde ne warme,
But was as drye, with al þe haunche, 120
As of a stok were ryue a braunche.
Aȝone to hys fadyr went,
And broght hym a sory present:
'Loke, fadyr,' he seyd, 'and haue hyt here,
Þe arme of þy doghtyr dere, 125
Þat was myn owne syster Aue,
Þat y wende y myȝt a saue.
Wyth veniaunce on þy owne flessh.
Fellyche þou cursedest, and ouer sone; 130
Þou askedest veniaunce,—þou hast þy bone.'
Ȝow þar nat aske ȝyf þere was wo
Wyth þe preste, and wyth many mo.
Þe prest, þat cursed for þat daunce,
On some of hys fyl harde chaunce. 135
He toke hys doghtyr arme [forlorn]
And byryed hyt on þe morn;
Þe nexte day þe arme of Aue
He fonde hyt lyggyng aboue þe graue.
He byryed <[hyt]> on anouþer day,140
And eft aboue þe graue hyt lay.
Þe þrydde tyme he byryed hyt,
And eft was hyt kast oute of þe pyt.
Þe prest wulde byrye hyt no more,
He dredde þe veniaunce ferly sore; 145
Ynto þe cherche he bare þe arme,
For drede and doute of more harme,
He ordeyned hyt for to be
Þat euery man myȝt wyth ye hyt se.
Þese men þat ȝede so karolland, 150
Alle þat ȝere, hand yn hand,
Þey neuer oute of þat stede ȝede,
Ne none myȝt hem þenne lede.
Þere þe cursyng fyrst bygan,
Yn þat place aboute þey ran, 155
Þat neuer ne felte þey no werynes
As many †bodyes for goyng dos†,
Ne mete ete, ne drank drynke,
Ne slepte onely alepy wynke.
Nyȝt ne day þey wyst of none,160
Whan hyt was come, whan hyt was gone;
Frost ne snogh, hayle ne reyne,
Of colde ne hete, felte þey no peyne;
Heere ne nayles neuer grewe,
Ne solowed cloþes, ne turned hewe; 165
Þundyr ne lyȝtnyng dyd hem no dere,
Goddys mercy ded hyt fro hem were;—
But sungge þat songge þat þe wo wroȝt:
'Why stonde we? why go we noȝt?'
What man shuld þyr be yn þys lyue 170
[Þat] ne wulde hyt see and þedyr dryue?
Þe Emperoure Henry come fro Rome
For to see þys hard dome.
Whan he hem say, he wepte sore
For þe myschefe þat he sagh þore. 175
He ded come wryȝtes for to make
Coueryng ouer hem, for tempest sake.
But þat þey wroght hyt was yn veyn,
For hyt come to no certeyn,
For þat þey sette on oo day 180
On þe touþer downe hyt lay.
Ones, twyys, þryys, þus þey wroȝt,
And alle here makyng was for noȝt.
Myght no coueryng hyle hem fro colde
Tyl tyme of mercy þat Cryst hyt wolde. 185
Tyme of grace fyl þurgh Hys myȝt
At þe tweluemonth ende, on þe ȝole nyȝt.
Þe same oure þat þe prest hem banned,
Þe same oure atwynne þey †woned†;
Þat houre þat he cursed hem ynne, 190
Þe same oure þey ȝede atwynne,
And as yn twynkelyng of an ye
And on þe pauement þey fyl alle downe
As þey had be dede, or fal yn a swone. 195
Þre days styl þey lay echone,
Þat none steryd oþer flesshe or bone,
And at þe þre days ende
To lyfe God graunted hem to wende.
Þey sette hem vpp and spak apert 200
To þe parysshe prest, syre Robert:
'Þou art ensample and enchesun
Of oure long confusyun;
Þou maker art of oure trauayle,
Þat ys to many grete meruayle, 205
And þy traueyle shalt þou sone ende,
For to þy long home sone shalt þou wende.'
Alle þey ryse þat yche tyde
But Aue,—she lay dede besyde.
Grete sorowe had here fadyr, here broþer; 210
Merueyle and drede had alle ouþer;
Y trow no drede of soule dede,
But with pyne was broght þe body dede.
Þe fyrst man was þe fadyr, þe prest,
Þat deyd aftyr þe doȝtyr nest. 215
Þys yche arme þat was of Aue,
Þat none myȝt leye yn graue,
Þe Emperoure dyd a vessel werche
To do hyt yn, and hange yn þe cherche,
Þat alle men myȝt se hyt and knawe, 220
And þenk on þe chaunce when [men] hyt sawe.
Þese men þat hadde go þus karolland
Alle þe ȝere, fast hand yn hand,
Þogh þat þey were þan asunder
Ȝyt alle þe worlde spake of hem wunder. 225
Þat same hoppyng þat þey fyrst ȝede,
Þatdaunce [ȝede] þey þurgh land and lede,
And, as þey ne myȝt fyrst be vnbounde,
So efte [togedyr] myȝt þey neuer be founde,
Ne myȝt þey neuer come aȝeyn 230
Togedyr to oo stede certeyn.
Foure ȝede to þe courte of Rome,
And euer hoppyng aboute þey nome,
†Wyth sundyr lepys† come þey þedyr,
But þey come neuer efte togedyr. 235
Here cloþes ne roted, ne nayles grewe,
Ne heere ne wax, ne solowed hewe,
Ne neuer hadde þey amendement,
Þat we herde, at any corseynt,
But at þe vyrgyne Seynt Edyght, 240
Þere was he botened, [Seynt] Teodryght,
On oure Lady day, yn lenten tyde,
As he slepte here toumbe besyde.
Þere he had hys medycyne
At Seynt Edyght, þe holy vyrgyne. 245
Brunyng þe bysshope of seynt Tolous
Wrote þys tale so merueylous;
Seþþe was hys name of more renoun,
Men called hym þe pope Leoun.
Þys at þe court of Rome þey wyte, 250
And yn þe kronykeles hyt ys wryte
Yn many stedys beȝounde þe see,
More þan ys yn þys cuntré.
Þarfor men seye, an weyl ys trowed,
'Þe nere þe cherche, þe fyrþer fro God'. 255
So fare men here by þys tale,
Some holde hyt but a troteuale,
Yn oþer stedys hyt ys ful dere
And for grete merueyle þey wyl hyt here.
A tale hyt ys of feyre shewyng, 260
Ensample and drede aȝens cursyng.
Þys tale y tolde ȝow to <make> ȝow aferde
Yn cherche to karolle, or yn chercheȝerde,
Namely aȝens þe prestys wylle:
Leueþ whan he byddeþ ȝow be stylle. 265
21 [for (2nd)] om. MS. Bodley 415.
24 [Ys as soþ] as þe gospel MS. Bodley.
78 [behalue]] halfe MS. Bodley.
94 [þey]] so MS. Bodley: om. MS. Harley.
106 [he]] so MS. Bodley.
118 [þe]] so MS. Bodley.
136-7 [forlorn̄]... morn̄ MS.
140 [hyt]] so MS. Bodley: om. MS. Harley.
171 [Þat]] Þat hyt MS. Harley.
221 [men]] þey MS. Bodley.
227 [ȝede]] wente MS. Bodley.
229 [togedyr]... neuer] myȝt þey neuer togedyr MS. Bodley.
241 [Seynt] om. MS. Bodley.
II SIR ORFEO
Sir Orfeo is found in three MSS.: (1) the Auchinleck MS. (1325-1350), a famous Middle English miscellany now in the Advocates' Library, Edinburgh; (2) British Museum MS. Harley 3810 (fifteenth century); (3) Bodleian MS. Ashmole 61 (fifteenth century). Our text follows the Auchinleck MS., with ll. 1-24 and ll. 33-46 supplied from the Harleian MS. The critical text of O. Zielke, Breslau 1880, reproduces the MSS. inaccurately.
The story appears to have been translated from a French source into South-Western English at the beginning of the fourteenth century. It belongs to a group of 'lays' which claim to derive from Brittany, e.g. Lai le Freine, which has the same opening lines (1-22); Emaré; and Chaucer's Franklin's Tale.
The story of Orpheus and Eurydice was known to the Middle Ages chiefly from Ovid (Metamorphoses x) and from Virgil (Georgics iv). King Alfred's rendering of it in his Boethius is one of his best prose passages, despite the crude moralizing which makes Orpheus's backward glance at Eurydice before she is safe from Hades a symbol of the backslider's longing for his old sins. The Middle English poet has a lighter and daintier touch. The Greek myth is almost lost in a tale of fairyland, the earliest English romance of the kind; and to provide the appropriate happy ending, Sir Orfeo is made successful in his attempt to rescue Heurodis. The adaptation of the classical subject to a mediaeval setting is thorough. An amusing instance is the attempt in the Auchinleck MS. to give the poem an English interest by the unconvincing assurance that Traciens (which from 'Thracian' had come to mean 'Thrace') was the old name of Winchester (ll. 49-50).
<[We redyn ofte] and fynde ywryte,
As clerkes don us to wyte,
The layes that ben of harpyng
Ben yfounde of frely thing.
Sum ben of wele, and sum of wo, 5
And sum of ioy and merthe also;
[Sum of] trechery, and sum of gyle,
And sum of happes þat fallen by whyle;
Sum of bourdys, and sum of rybaudry,
And sum þer ben of the feyré. 10
Of alle þing þat men may se,
Moost [o loue] forsoþe þey be.
In Brytayn þis layes arne ywryte,
Furst yfounde and forþe ygete,
Of aventures þat fillen by dayes, 15
Wherof Brytouns made her layes.
When þey myght owher heryn
Of aventures þat þer weryn,
Þey toke her harpys wiþ game,
Maden layes and ȝaf it name. 20
Of aventures þat han befalle
Y can sum telle, but nouȝt all.
Herken, lordyngys þat ben trewe,
And y wol ȝou telle of Sir Orphewe.>
Orfeo was a king, 25
[In Inglond] an heiȝe lording,
A stalworþ man and hardi bo,
Large and curteys he was also.
His fader was comen of King Pluto,
And his moder of King Iuno, 30
Þat sum time were as godes yhold,
For auentours þat þai dede and told.
<[Orpheo] most of ony þing
Louede þe gle of harpyng;
Syker was euery gode harpoure 35
Of hym to haue moche honoure.
Hymself loued for to harpe,
And layde þeron his wittes scharpe.
He lernyd so, þer noþing was
A better harper in no plas; 40
In þe world was neuer man born
Þat euer Orpheo sat byforn,
And he myȝt of his harpyng here,
He schulde þinke þat he were
In one of þe ioys of Paradys, 45
Suche ioy and melody in his harpyng is.>
Þis king soiournd in Traciens,
Þat was a cité of noble defens;
[For Winchester] was cleped þo
Traciens wiþouten no. 50
[Þe king] hadde a quen of priis,
Þat was ycleped Dame Herodis,
Þe fairest leuedi, for þe nones,
Þat miȝt gon on bodi and bones,
Ful of loue and of godenisse; 55
Ac no man may telle hir fairnise.
Bifel so in þe comessing of May,
When miri and hot is þe day,
And oway beþ winter-schours,
And eueri feld is ful of flours, 60
And blosme breme on eueri bouȝ
Oueral wexeþ miri anouȝ,
Þis ich quen, Dame Heurodis,
Tok to maidens of priis,
To play bi an orchard side,
To se þe floures sprede and spring,
And to here þe foules sing.
Þai sett hem doun al þre
Vnder a fair ympe-tre, 70
And wel sone þis fair quene
Fel on slepe opon þe grene.
Þe maidens durst hir nouȝt awake,
Bot lete hir ligge and rest take.
So sche slepe til afternone, 75
Þat vndertide was al ydone.
Ac as sone as sche gan awake,
Sche crid and loþli bere gan make,
Sche froted hir honden and hir fet,
And crached hir visage, it bled wete; 80
Hir riche robe hye al torett,
And was [reuey<se>d] out of hir witt.
Þe tvo maidens hir biside
No durst wiþ hir no leng abide,
Bot ourn to þe palays ful riȝt, 85
And told boþe squier and kniȝt
Þat her quen awede wold,
And bad hem go and hir athold.
Kniȝtes vrn, and leuedis also,
Damisels sexti and mo, 90
In þe orchard to þe quen hye come,
And her vp in her armes nome,
And brouȝt hir to bed atte last,
And held hir þere fine fast;
Ac euer sche held in o cri, 95
And wold vp and owy.
When Orfeo herd þat tiding,
Neuer him nas wers for no þing.
He come wiþ kniȝtes tene
To chaumber riȝt bifor þe quene,100
And biheld, and seyd wiþ grete pité:
'O lef liif, what is te,
Þat euer ȝete hast ben so stille,
And now gredest wonder schille?
Þi bodi, þat was so white ycore, 105
Wiþ þine nailes is al totore.
Allas! þi rode, þat was so red,
Is al wan as þou were ded;
And also þine fingres smale
Beþ al blodi and al pale. 110
Allas! þi louesom eyȝen to
Lokeþ so man doþ on his fo.
A! dame, ich biseche merci.
Lete ben al þis reweful cri,
And tel me what þe is, and hou, 115
And what þing may þe help now.'
Þo lay sche stille atte last,
And gan to wepe swiþe fast,
And seyd þus þe king to:
'Allas! mi lord, Sir Orfeo, 120
Seþþen we first togider were,
Ones wroþ neuer we nere,
Bot euer ich haue yloued þe
As mi liif, and so þou me.
Ac now we mot delen ato; 125
Do þi best, for y mot go.'
'Allas!' quaþ he, 'forlorn icham.
Whider wiltow go, and to wham?
Whider þou gost, ichil wiþ þe,
And whider y go, þou schalt wiþ me.' 130
'Nay, nay, sir, þat nouȝt nis;
As ich lay þis vndertide,
And slepe vnder our orchard-side,
Þer come to me to fair kniȝtes 135
Wele y-armed al to riȝtes,
And bad me comen an heiȝing,
And speke wiþ her lord þe king.
And ich answerd at wordes bold,
Y durst nouȝt, no y nold. 140
Þai priked oȝain as þai miȝt driue;
Þo com her king also bliue,
Wiþ an hundred kniȝtes and mo,
And damisels an hundred also,
Al on snowe-white stedes; 145
As white as milke were her wedes:
Y no seiȝe neuer ȝete bifore
So fair creatours ycore.
Þe king hadde a croun on hed,
It nas of siluer, no of gold red, 150
Ac it was of a precious ston,
As briȝt as þe sonne it schon.
And as son as he to me cam,
Wold ich, nold ich, he me nam,
And made me wiþ him ride 155
Opon a palfray, bi his side,
And brouȝt me to his palays,
Wele atird in ich ways,
And schewed me castels and tours,
Riuers, forestes, friþ wiþ flours, 160
And his riche stedes ichon;
And seþþen me brouȝt oȝain hom
Into our owhen orchard,
And said to me þus afterward:
"Loke, dame, to-morwe þatow be 165
And þan þou schalt wiþ ous go,
And liue wiþ ous euermo;
And ȝif þou makest ous ylet,
Whar þou be, þou worst yfet, 170
And totore þine limes al,
Þat noþing help þe no schal;
And þei þou best so totorn,
Ȝete þou worst wiþ ous yborn."'
When King Orfeo herd þis cas, 175
'O we!' quaþ he, 'allas, allas!
Leuer me were to lete mi liif,
Þan þus to lese þe quen mi wiif!'
He asked conseyl at ich man,
Ac no man him help no can. 180
Amorwe þe vndertide is come,
And Orfeo haþ his armes ynome,
And wele ten hundred kniȝtes wiþ him
Ich y-armed stout and grim;
And wiþ þe quen wenten he 185
Riȝt vnto þat ympe-tre.
Þai made scheltrom in ich a side,
And sayd þai wold þere abide,
And dye þer euerichon,
Er þe quen schuld fram hem gon. 190
Ac ȝete amiddes hem ful riȝt
Þe quen was oway ytuiȝt,
Wiþ fairi forþ ynome;
Men wist neuer wher sche was bicome.
Þo was þer criing, wepe and wo. 195
Þe king into his chaumber is go,
And oft swoned opon þe ston,
And made swiche diol and swiche mon
Þat neiȝe his liif was yspent:
He cleped togider his barouns,
Erls, lordes of renouns;
And when þai al ycomen were,
'Lordinges,' he said, 'bifor ȝou here
Ich ordainy min heiȝe steward 205
To wite mi kingdom afterward;
In mi stede ben he schal,
To kepe mi londes ouer al.
For, now ichaue mi quen ylore,
Þe fairest leuedi þat euer was bore, 210
Neuer eft y nil no woman se.
Into wildernes ichil te,
And liue þer euermore
Wiþ wilde bestes in holtes hore.
And when ȝe vnderstond þat y be spent, 215
Make ȝou þan a parlement,
And chese ȝou a newe king.
Now doþ ȝour best wiþ al mi þing.'
Þo was þer wepeing in þe halle,
And grete cri among hem alle; 220
Vnneþe miȝt old or ȝong
For wepeing speke a word wiþ tong.
Þai kneled adoun al yfere,
And praid him, ȝif his wille were,
Þat he no schuld nouȝt fram hem go. 225
'Do way!' quaþ he, 'it schal be so.'
Al his kingdom he forsoke;
Bot a sclauin on him he toke;
He no hadde kirtel no hode,
Schert, [<no>] no noþer gode.230
Bot his harp he tok algate,
And dede him barfot out atte ȝate;
O way! what þer was wepe and wo,
When he, þat hadde ben king wiþ croun, 235
Went so pouerlich out of toun!
Þurch wode and ouer heþ
Into þe wildernes he geþ.
Noþing he fint þat him is ays,
Bot euer he liueþ in gret malais. 240
He þat hadde ywerd þe fowe and griis,
And on bed þe purper biis,
Now on hard heþe he liþ,
Wiþ leues and gresse he him wriþ.
He þat hadde had castels and tours, 245
Riuer, forest, friþ wiþ flours,
Now, þei it comenci to snewe and frese,
Þis king mot make his bed in mese.
He þat had yhad kniȝtes of priis
Bifor him kneland, and leuedis, 250
Now seþ he noþing þat him likeþ,
Bot wilde wormes bi him strikeþ.
He þat had yhad plenté
Of mete and drink, of ich deynté,
Now may he al day digge and wrote 255
Er he finde his fille of rote.
In somer he liueþ bi wild frut
And berien bot gode lite;
In winter may he noþing finde
Bot rote, grases, and þe rinde. 260
Al his bodi was oway duine
For missays, and al tochine.
Lord! who may telle þe sore
Þis king sufferd ten ȝere and more?
His here of his berd, blac and rowe, 265
To his girdelstede was growe.
His harp, whereon was al his gle,
He hidde in an holwe tre;
And, when þe weder was clere and briȝt,
He toke his harp to him wel riȝt, 270
And harped at his owhen wille.
Into alle þe wode þe soun gan schille,
Þat alle þe wilde bestes þat þer beþ
For ioie abouten him þai teþ;
And alle þe foules þat þer were 275
Come and sete on ich a brere,
To here his harping afine,
So miche melody was þerin;
And when he his harping lete wold,
No best bi him abide nold. 280
He miȝt se him bisides
Oft in hot vndertides
Þe king o fairy wiþ his rout
Com to hunt him al about,
Wiþ dim cri and bloweing; 285
And houndes also wiþ him berking;
Ac no best þai no nome,
No neuer he nist whider þai bicome.
And oþer while he miȝt him se
As a gret ost bi him te 290
Wele atourned ten hundred kniȝtes,
Ich y-armed to his riȝtes,
Of cuntenaunce stout and fers,
Wiþ mani desplaid baners,
And ich his swerd ydrawe hold, 295
Ac neuer he nist whider þai wold.
And oþer while he seiȝe oþer þing:
Kniȝtes and leuedis com daunceing
In queynt atire, gisely,
Queynt pas and softly; 300
Tabours and trunpes ȝede hem bi,
And al maner menstraci.
And on a day he seiȝe him biside
Sexti leuedis on hors ride,
Gentil and iolif as brid on ris,— 305
Nouȝt o man amonges hem þer nis.
And ich a faucoun on hond bere,
And riden on haukin bi o riuere.
Of game þai founde wel gode haunt,
Maulardes, hayroun, and cormeraunt; 310
Þe foules of þe water ariseþ,
Þe faucouns hem wele deuiseþ;
Ich faucoun his pray slouȝ.
Þat seiȝe Orfeo, and louȝ:
'Parfay!' quaþ he, 'þer is fair game, 315
Þider ichil, bi Godes name!
Ich was ywon swiche werk to se.'
He aros, and þider gan te.
To a leuedi he was ycome,
Biheld, and haþ wele vndernome, 320
And seþ bi al þing þat it is
His owhen quen, Dam Heurodis.
Ȝern he biheld hir, and sche him eke,
Ac noiþer to oþer a word no speke.
For messais þat sche on him seiȝe, 325
Þat had ben so riche and so heiȝe,
Þe teres fel out of her eiȝe.
Þe oþer leuedis þis yseiȝe,
And maked hir oway to ride,
Sche most wiþ him no lenger abide. 330
'Allas!' quaþ he, 'now me is wo.
Whi nil deþ now me slo?
Allas! [wreche], þat y no miȝt
Allas! to long last mi liif, 335
When y no dar nouȝt wiþ mi wiif,
No hye to me, o word speke.
Allas! whi nil min hert breke?
Parfay!' quaþ he, 'tide wat bitide,
Whider so þis leuedis ride, 340
Þe selue way ichil streche;
Of liif no deþ me no reche.'
His sclauain he dede on also spac,
And henge his harp opon his bac,
And had wel gode wil to gon,— 345
He no spard noiþer stub no ston.
In at a roche þe leuedis rideþ,
And he after, and nouȝt abideþ.
When he was in þe roche ygo
Wele þre mile oþer mo, 350
He com into a fair cuntray,
As briȝt so sonne on somers day,
Smoþe and plain and al grene,
Hille no dale nas þer non ysene.
Amidde þe lond a castel he siȝe, 355
Riche and real, and wonder heiȝe.
Al þe vtmast wal
Was clere and schine as cristal;
An hundred tours þer were about,
Degiselich, and bataild stout; 360
Þe butras com out of þe diche,
Of rede gold y-arched riche;
Þe vousour was anow<rn>ed al
Of ich maner diuers animal.
Wiþin þer wer wide wones 365
Al of precious stones.
Þe werst piler on to biholde
Al þat lond was euer liȝt,
For when it schuld be þerk and niȝt, 370
Þe riche stones liȝt gonne,
As briȝt as doþ at none þe sonne.
No man may telle, no þenche in þouȝt,
Þe riche werk þat þer was wrouȝt;
Bi al þing him þink þat it is 375
Þe proude court of Paradis.
In þis castel þe leuedis aliȝt;
He wold in after, ȝif he miȝt.
Orfeo knokkeþ atte gate,
Þe porter was redi þerate, 380
And asked what he wold haue ydo.
'Parfay!' quaþ he, 'icham a minstrel, lo!
To solas þi lord wiþ mi gle,
Ȝif his swete wille be.'
Þe porter vndede þe ȝate anon, 385
And lete him into þe castel gon.
Þan he gan bihold about al,
And seiȝe †ful† liggeand wiþin þe wal
Of folk þat were þider ybrouȝt,
And þouȝt dede, and nare nouȝt. 390
Sum stode wiþouten hade,
And sum non armes nade,
And sum þurch þe bodi hadde wounde,
And sum lay wode, ybounde,
And sum armed on hors sete, 395
And sum astrangled as þai ete,
And sum were in water adreynt,
And sum wiþ fire al forschreynt
Wiues þer lay on childbedde,
Sum ded, and sum awedde; 400
And wonder fele þer lay bisides,
Riȝt as þai slepe her vndertides.
Eche was þus in þis warld ynome,
Wiþ fairi þider ycome.
Þer he seiȝe his owhen wiif, 405
Dame Heurodis, his [lef] liif,
Slepe vnder an ympe-tre:
Bi her cloþes he knewe þat it was he.
And when he hadde bihold þis meruails alle,
He went into þe kinges halle. 410
Þan seiȝe he þer a semly siȝt,
A tabernacle blisseful and briȝt,
Þerin her maister king sete,
And her quen fair and swete.
Her crounes, her cloþes, schine so briȝt, 415
Þat vnneþe bihold he hem miȝt.
When he hadde biholden al þat þing,
He kneled adoun bifor þe king.
'O lord,' he seyd, 'ȝif it þi wille were,
Mi menstraci þou schust yhere.' 420
Þe king answerd: 'What man artow,
Þat art hider ycomen now?
Ich, no non þat is wiþ me,
No sent neuer after þe;
Seþþen þat ich here regni gan, 425
Y no fond neuer so folehardi man
Þat hider to ous durst wende,
Bot þat ichim wald ofsende.'
'Lord,' quaþ he, 'trowe ful wel,
Y nam bot a pouer menstrel; 430
And, sir, it is þe maner of ous
To seche mani a lordes hous;
Þei we nouȝt welcom no be,
Ȝete we mot proferi forþ our gle.'
Bifor þe king he sat adoun,435
And tok his harp so miri of soun,
And tempreþ his harp, as he wele can,
And blisseful notes he þer gan,
Þat al þat in þe palays were
Com to him for to here, 440
And liggeþ adoun to his fete,
Hem þenkeþ his melody so swete.
Þe king herkneþ and sitt ful stille,
To here his gle he haþ gode wille;
Gode bourde he hadde of his gle, 445
Þe riche quen also hadde he.
When he hadde stint his harping,
Þan seyd to him þe king:
'Menstrel, me likeþ wele þi gle.
Now aske of me what it be, 450
Largelich ichil þe pay.
Now speke, and tow miȝt asay.'
'Sir,' he seyd, 'ich biseche þe
Þatow woldest ȝiue me
Þat ich leuedi, briȝt on ble, 455
Þat slepeþ vnder þe ympe-tre.'
'Nay,' quaþ þe king, 'þat nouȝt nere!
A sori couple of ȝou it were,
For þou art lene, rowe, and blac,
And sche is louesum, wiþouten lac; 460
A loþlich þing it were forþi
To sen hir in þi compayni.'
'O sir,' he seyd, 'gentil king,
Ȝete were it a wele fouler þing
To here a lesing of þi mouþe, 465
So, sir, as ȝe seyd nouþe,
What ich wold aski, haue y schold,
And nedes þou most þi word hold.'
Þe king seyd: 'Seþþen it is so,
Take hir bi þe hond, and go; 470
Of hir ichil þatow be bliþe.'
He kneled adoun, and þonked him swiþe;
His wiif he tok bi þe hond,
And dede him swiþe out of þat lond,
And went him out of þat þede,— 475
Riȝt as he come þe way he ȝede.
So long he haþ þe way ynome,
To [Winchester] he is ycome,
Þat was his owhen cité;
Ac no man knewe þat it was he. 480
No forþer þan þe tounes ende
For knoweleche <he> no durst wende,
Bot wiþ a begger y<n> bilt ful narwe,
Þer he tok his herbarwe,
To him and to his owhen wiif, 485
As a minstrel of pouer liif,
And asked tidinges of þat lond,
And who þe kingdom held in hond.
Þe pouer begger in his cote
Told him euerich a grot: 490
Hou her quen was stole owy
Ten ȝer gon wiþ fairy;
And hou her king en exile ȝede,
Bot no man nist in wiche þede;
And hou þe steward þe lond gan hold; 495
And oþer mani þinges him told.
Amorwe, oȝain nonetide,
He maked his wiif þer abide;
Þe beggers cloþes he borwed anon,
And heng his harp his rigge opon, 500
And went him into þat cité,
Þat men miȝt him bihold and se.
Erls and barouns bold,
Buriays and leuedis him gun bihold.
'Lo,' þai seyd, 'swiche a man! 505
Hou long þe here hongeþ him opan!
Lo, hou his berd hongeþ to his kne!
He is yclongen also a tre!'
And as he ȝede in þe strete,
Wiþ his steward he gan mete, 510
And loude he sett on him a crie:
'Sir steward,' he seyd, 'merci!
Icham an harpour of heþenisse;
Help me now in þis destresse!'
Þe steward seyd: 'Com wiþ me, come; 515
Of þat ichaue þou schalt haue some.
Euerich gode harpour is welcom me to,
For mi lordes loue Sir Orfeo.'
In þe castel þe steward sat atte mete,
And mani lording was bi him sete. 520
Þer were trompour<s> and tabourers,
Harpours fele, and crouders.
Miche melody þai maked alle,
And Orfeo sat stille in þe halle,
And herkneþ. When þai ben al stille, 525
He toke his harp and tempred schille,
Þe bli<sse>fulest notes he harped þere
Þat euer ani man yherd wiþ ere;
Ich man liked wele his gle.
Þe steward biheld and gan yse, 530
And knewe þe harp als bliue.
'Menstrel,' he seyd, 'so mot þou þriue,
Where hadestow þis harp, and hou?
Y pray þat þou me telle now.'
'Lord,' quaþ he, 'in vncouþe þede, 535
Þer y founde in a dale
Wiþ lyouns a man totorn smale,
And wolues him frete wiþ teþ so scharp.
Bi him y fond þis ich harp; 540
Wele ten ȝere it is ygo.'
'O,' quaþ þe steward, 'now me is wo!
Þat was mi lord Sir Orfeo.
Allas! wreche, what schal y do,
Þat haue swiche a lord ylore? 545
A way! þat ich was ybore!
Þat him was so hard grace yȝarked,
And so vile deþ ymarked!'
Adoun he fel aswon to grounde.
His barouns him tok vp in þat stounde, 550
And telleþ him hou it geþ—
It nis no bot of manes deþ.
King Orfeo knewe wele bi þan
His steward was a trewe man
And loued him as he auȝt to do, 555
And stont vp and seyt þus: 'Lo,
Steward, herkne now þis þing:
Ȝif ich were Orfeo þe king,
And hadde ysuffred ful ȝore
In wildernisse miche sore, 560
And hadde ywon mi quen owy
Out of þe lond of fairy,
And hadde ybrouȝt þe leuedi hende
Riȝt here to þe tounes ende,
And wiþ a begger her in ynome, 565
And were miself hider ycome
Pouerlich to þe, þus stille,
For to asay þi gode wille,
And ich founde þe þus trewe,
Þou no schust it neuer rewe: 570
Þou schust be king after mi day.
And ȝif þou of mi deþ hadest ben bliþe,
Þou schust haue voided also swiþe.'
Þo al þo þat þerin sete 575
Þat it was King Orfeo vnderȝete,
And þe steward him wele knewe;
Ouer and ouer þe bord he þrewe,
And fel adoun to his fet;
So dede euerich lord þat þer sete, 580
And al þai seyd at o criing:
'Ȝe beþ our lord, sir, and our king!'
Glad þai were of his liue.
To chaumber þai ladde him als biliue,
And baþed him, and schaued his berd, 585
And tired him as a king apert.
And seþþen wiþ gret processioun
Þai brouȝt þe quen into þe toun,
Wiþ al maner menstraci.
Lord! þer was grete melody! 590
For ioie þai wepe wiþ her eiȝe
Þat hem so sounde ycomen seiȝe.
Now King Orfeo newe coround is,
And his quen Dame Heurodis,
And liued long afterward; 595
And seþþen was king þe steward.
Harpours in Bretaine after þan
Herd hou þis meruaile bigan,
And made herof a lay of gode likeing,
And nempned it after þe king; 600
Þat lay 'Orfeo' is yhote,
Gode is þe lay, swete is þe note.
Þus com Sir Orfeo out of his care.
God graunt ous alle wele to fare.
ll. 1-24 [from Harl.] 3810: om. MS.
ll. 7-8 [follow] ll. 9-10 in Harl.
12 [o loue]] to lowe Harl.
26 [In Inglond]] And in his tyme Harl.
33-46 [from Harl. 3810: om. MS.]
49-50 [om. Harl., Ashm.]
51 [Þe king]] He Harl.: And Ashm.
82 [reueysed]] rauysed Ashm.: reueyd MS.: wode out Harl.
230 [no]] ne Ashm.: om. MS.
333 [wreche]] wroche MS.
406 [lef]] liif MS.
478 [Winchester]] Traciens Ashm.: Crassens Harl.
III MICHAEL OF NORTHGATE'S AYENBYTE OF INWYT A.D. 1340.
Michael of Northgate was a monk of St. Augustine's, Canterbury. From a library catalogue of the monastery it appears that he was a lover of books, for he is named as the donor of twenty-five MSS., a considerable collection for those days. Their titles show a taste not merely for religious works, but for science—mathematics, chemistry, medicine, as they were known at the time. Four of these MSS. have been traced, and one of them, British Museum MS. Arundel 57, is Michael's autograph copy of the Ayenbyte. On folio 2 of the MS. are the words: Þis boc is Dan Michelis of Northgate, ywrite an Englis of his oȝene hand, þet hatte 'Ayenbyte of Inwyt'; and is of the boc-house of Saynt Austines of Canterberi, mid þe lettres. CC. 'CC.' is the press-mark given in the catalogue. A note at the end of the text shows that it was finished on October 27, 1340:
Ymende þet þis boc is uolueld ine þe eue of þe holy apostles Symon an Iudas [i.e. Oct. 27] of ane broþer of the cloystre of Sauynt Austin of Canterberi, in the yeare of oure Lhordes beringe 1340.
The Ayenbyte has been edited for the Early English Text Society by R. Morris. The title means literally 'Remorse of Conscience', but from the contents of the work it would appear that the writer meant rather 'Stimulus to the Conscience', or 'Prick of Conscience'. It is in fact a translation from the French Somme des Vices et des Vertues, compiled by Friar Lorens in 1279 for King Philip le Hardi, and long held to be the main source of Chaucer's Parson's Tale. Caxton rendered the Somme into English prose as The Royal Book. It treats of the Commandments, the Creed, the Seven Deadly Sins, the Seven Petitions of the Paternoster, and the Seven Gifts of the Holy Spirit.
Dan Michael's purpose is stated in some doggerel lines at the end:
Nou ich wille þet ye ywyte
Hou hit is ywent
Þet þis boc is ywrite
Mid Engliss of Kent.
Þis boc is ymad uor lewede men,
Vor uader, and uor moder, and uor oþer ken,
Ham uor to berȝe uram alle manyere zen,
Þet ine hare inwytte ne bleue no uoul wen.
His translation is inaccurate, and sometimes unintelligible, and the treatment is so barren of interest that the work seems to have fallen flat even in its own day, when the popular appetite for edification was keen and unspoiled. But if its literary merit is slight, linguistically it is one of the most important works in Middle English. It provides a long prose text, exactly dated and exactly localized; we have the author's autograph copy to work from; and the dialect is well distinguished. These circumstances, unique in Middle English, make it possible to study the Kentish dialect of the mid-fourteenth century under ideal conditions.
HOW MERCY INCREASES TEMPORAL GOODS.
Hou Merci multiplieþ þe timliche guodes, hyerof we habbeþ uele uayre uorbisnen, huerof ich wille hier zome telle. Me ret of Saint Germain of Aucerre þet, þo he com uram Rome, ate outguoinge of Melane, he acsede at onen of his diaknen yef he hedde eny zeluer, and he ansuerede þet
{05} he ne hedde bote þri pans, uor Say<n>t Germayn hit hedde al yeue to pouren. Þanne he him het þet he his ssolde yeue to þe poure, uor God hedde ynoȝ of guode, huerof he hise uedde uor þane day. Þe dyacne mid greate pine and mid greate grochinge yeaf þe tuaye pans, and ofhild þane þridde. Þe
{10} sergont of ane riche kniȝte him broȝte ane his lhordes haf tuo hondred pans. Þo clepede he his dyacne, and him zede þet he hedde benome þe poure ane peny, and yef he hedde yeue þane þridde peny to þe poure, þe kniȝt him hedde yzent þri hondred pans.
{15}
Efterward me ret ine þe lyue of Ion þe Amoner, þet wes zuo ycleped uor þe greate elmesses þet he dede: A riche ientilman wes yrobbed of þieues, zuo þet him naȝt ne blefte. He him com to playni to þe uorzede manne, and he him zede his cas. He hedde greate reuþe þerof, and het his
{20} desspendoure þet he him yeaue uyftene pond of gold. Þe spendere, be his couaytise, ne yeaf bote vyf. An haste a gentil wymman wodewe zente to þe uore-yzede Ion uif hondred pond of gold. Þo he clepede his spendere, and him acsede hou moche he hedde yyeue to þe kniȝte. He ansuerede
{25} 'vyftene pond.' Þe holy man ansuerede þet 'nay, he ne hedde bote vyf'; and huanne he hit wiste þe ilke zelue þet his hedde onderuonge, zuo zayde to his spendere þet yef he hedde yyeue þe viftene pond þet he hedde yhote, oure Lhord him hede yzent be þe guode wyfman a þouzond and vyf
{30} hondred pond. And huanne he acsede ate guode wyfman, þo he hedde hise ycleped, hou moche hi hedde him ylete, hi andzuerede þet uerst hi hedde ywrite ine hare testament þet hi him let a þousend and vyf hondred pond. Ac hi lokede efterward ine hare testament, and hi yzeȝ þe þousend pond
{35} defaced of hire write, and zuo ylefde þe guode wyfman þet God wolde þet hi ne zente bote vif hondred.
Efterward Saint Gregori telþ þet Saint Boniface uram þet he wes child he wes zuo piteuous þet he yaf ofte his kertel and his sserte to þe poure uor God, þaȝ his moder him byete
{40} ofte þeruore. Þanne bevil þet þet child yzeȝ manie poure þet hedden mezeyse. He aspide þet his moder nes naȝt þer. An haste he yarn to þe gerniere, and al þet his moder hedde ygadered uor to pasi þet yer he hit yaf þe poure. And þo his moder com, and wyste þe ilke dede, hy wes al out of hare
{45} wytte. Þet child bed oure Lhorde, and þet gernier wes an haste al uol.
Efterward þer wes a poure man, ase me zayþ, þet hedde ane cou; and yhyerde zigge of his preste ine his prechinge þet God zede ine his spelle þet God wolde yelde an hondreduald
{50} al þet me yeaue uor him. Þe guode man, mid þe rede of his wyue, yeaf his cou to his preste, þet wes riche. Þe prest his nom bleþeliche, and hise zente to þe oþren þet he hedde. Þo hit com to euen, þe guode mannes cou com hom to his house ase hi wes ywoned, and ledde mid hare alle þe
{55} prestes ken, al to an hondred. Þo þe guode man yzeȝ þet, he þoȝte þet þet wes þet word of þe Godspelle þet he hedde yyolde; and him hi weren yloked beuore his bissoppe aye þane prest. Þise uorbisne sseweþ wel þet merci is guod chapuare, uor hi deþ wexe þe timliche guodes.
{60}
IV RICHARD ROLLE OF HAMPOLE D. 1349.
Richard Rolle was born at Thornton-le-Dale, near Pickering, in Yorkshire. He was sent to Oxford, already a formidable rival to the University of Paris; but the severer studies were evidently uncongenial to his impulsive temperament. He returned home without taking orders, improvised for himself a hermit's dress, and fled into solitude. His piety attracted the favour of Sir John and Lady Dalton, who gave him a cell on their estate. Here, in meditation, he developed his mystical religion. He did not immure himself, or cut himself off from human companionship. For a time he lived near Anderby, where was the cell of the recluse Margaret Kirkby, to whom he addressed his Form of Perfect Living. Another important work, Ego Dormio et Cor Meum Vigilat, was written for a nun of Yedingham (Yorks.). Towards the end of his life he lived in close friendship with the nuns of Hampole, and for one of them he wrote his Commandment of Love to God. At Hampole he died in 1349, the year of the Black Death. By the devout he was regarded as a saint, and had his commemoration day, his office, and his miracles; but he was never canonized.
He wrote both in Latin and in English, and it is not always easy to distinguish his work from that of his many followers and imitators. The writings attributed to him are edited by C. Horstmann, Yorkshire Writers, 2 vols., London 1895-6. Besides the prose works noted above, he wrote, at the request of Margaret Kirkby, a Commentary on the Psalms (ed. Bramley, Oxford 1884), based on the Latin of Peter Lombard. A long didactic poem in Northern English, the Prick of Conscience, has been attributed to him from Lydgate's time onwards; but his authorship has recently been questioned, chiefly on the ground that the poem is without a spark of inspiration. It is not certain that he wrote Love is Life, which is included here because it expresses in characteristic language his central belief in the personal bond, the burning love, between God and man. The first prose selection shows that he did not disdain the examples from natural history that were so popular in the sermons of the time. The second is chapter xi of the Form of Perfect Living, which is found as a separate extract from an early date.
With Rolle began a movement of devotional piety, which, as might be expected from its strong appeal to the emotions, was taken up first among religious women; and signs of a striving for effect in his style suggest that the hermit was not indifferent to the admiration of his followers. He brings to his teaching more heart than mind. He escapes the problems of the world, which seemed so insistent to his contemporaries, by denying the world's claims. His ideas and temperament are diametrically opposed to those of the other great figure in the religious life of fourteenth-century England—Wiclif, the schoolman, politician, reformer, controversialist. Yet they have in common a sincerity and directness of belief that brushes aside conventions, and an enthusiasm that made them leaders in an age when the Church as a whole suffered from apathy.