5
10
15
20
25
30
35
40
45
50
55
60
65
70
75
80
85
90
95
100
105
110
115
120
125
130
135
140
145
150
155
160
165
170
175
180
185
190
195
200
205
210
215
220
225
230
235
240
245
250
255
260
265
270
275
280
285
290
295
300
305
310
315
320
325
330
335
340
345
350
355
360
365
370
375
380
385
390
395
400
405
410
415
420
425
430
435
440
445
450
455
460
465
470
475
480
485
490
495
500
505
510
515
520
525
530
535
540
545
550
555
560
565
570
575
580
585
590
595
600
605
610
615
620
625
630
635
640
645
650
655
660
665
670
675
680
685
690
695
700
705
710
715
720
725
730
735
740
745
750
755
760
765
770
775
780
785
790
795
800
805
810
815
820
825
830
835
840
845
850
855
860
865
870
875
880
885
890
895
900
905
910
915
920
925
930
935
940
945
950
955
960
965
970
975
980
985
990
995
1000
1005
1010
1015
1020
1025
1030
1035
1040
1045
1050
1055
1060
1065
1070
1075
1080
1085
1090
1095
1100
1105
1110
1115
1120
1125
1130
1135
1140
1145
1150
1155
1160
1165
1170
1175
1180
1185
1190
1195
1200
1205
1210
1215
1220
1225
1230
1235
1240
1245
1250
1255
1260
1265
1270
1275
1280
1285
1290
1295
1300
1305
1310
1315
1320
1325
1330
1335
1340
1345
1350
1355
1360
1365
1370
1375
1380
1385
1390
1395
1400
1405
1410
1415
1420
1425
1430
1435
1440
1445
1450
1455
1460
1465
1470
1475
1480
1485
1490
1495
1500
1505
1510
1515
1520
1525
1530
1535
1540
1545
1550
1555
1560
1565
1570
1575
1580
1585
1590
1595
1600
1605
1610
1615
1620
1625
1630
1635
1640
1645
1650
1655
1660
1665
1670
1675
1680
1685
1690
1695
1700
1705
1710
1715
1720
1725
1730
1735
1740
1745
1750
1755
1760
1765
1770
1775
1780
1785
1790
1795
1800
1805
1810
1815
1820
1825
1830
1835
1840
1845
1850
1855
1860
1865
1870
1875
1880
1885
1890
1895
1900
1905
1910
1915
1920
1925
1930
1935
1940
1945
1950
1955
1960
1965
1970
1975
1980
1985
1990
1995
2000
2005
2010
2015
2020
2025
2030
2035
2040
2045
2050
2055
2060
2065
2070
2075
2080
2085
2090
2095
2100
2105
2110
2115
2120
2125
2130
2135
2140
2145
2150
2155
2160
2165
2170
2175
2180
2185
2190
2195
2200
2205
2210
2215
2220
2225
2230
2235
2240
2245
2250
2255
2260
2265
2270
2275
2280
2285
2290
2295
2300
2305
2310
2315
2320
2325
2330
2335
2340
2345
|
Prologue
These erdely dwellers whech lyve now here
Are lykened to bees whech dwell in hyve,
Or ellys to dranes, if that ye lyst to lere.
It faryth with men ryght thus in her lyve:
Summe wyll labour and summe wyll nevyr thryve.
Dyverse conceytes there be, and diverse eke degrees.
The goode laboureres are likened to the bees,
Specyaly thei that oute of Goddys lawe
Of dyvers partyes 1, syttyng on the floures,
Lerne and teche, bothe soke and drawe,
Of goode exaumples of holy predecessoures
Swete conceytes, wel famed savoures:
Alle these be bees whech to the housolde bryng
Alle her stuffe and alle her gaderyng.
Othir there be whech are not profitable:
Thei ete and drynk, devowre eke and wast;
Thei labour noght but if it be at table,
For onto werk have thei no grete hast.
Fylle wele her bely and geve hem goode repast,
Than wyll thei slepe sekyr with the best.
We sey not of hem but "dranes lofe well rest."
Yet to goostly laboure dranes wyll not drawe
For that in her thoughtis thei have noon delectacyoun
In the heryng yet of Goddys lawe.
Thei not encresse ne promote her stacyoun,
For thei hemselve to goostly occupacyoun
Wyll not draw at no mannes reqwest.
Suffyseth hem her full bely and rest.
Thus semeth it to me that Holy Scripture is
In manere of a felde with flowres fayre arayde,
And Holy Kyrk is benethe iwys.
Sche is the hyve with many stormes afrayed;
The vertuous bees in this hyve have portrayed
Her dyverse celles of hony and of wax.
What all this menyth, if ye lyst to axe,
Ye may it lerne. I sey the grete labour
That goode men have to rede exaumples olde,
It is to hem of solace newe socour
Her vertuous levyng stabyly to beholde
And eke to fyght with corage fresch and bolde
Ageyns this wordly deceyvable affluence,
Ageyne the fleschly slulkyd neclygens.
On of these bees was this same qweene,
The mayd Kateryne, whech with besynesse
Of every floure whech was fayre to seene
Sokyd oute hony of gret holynesse,
Bare it to hyve, and there sche gan it dresse -
For it wyll do servyse bothe to God and man.
That same lycoure whech sche gaderyd than,
This hony gadered sche fere and woundyr wyde:
In the lawe of nature laboured sche formest,
Where sche the vyces lerned to ley osyde
And vertues to chese as a clenly nest,
To do to no man, dwelle he est or west,
Werre than he wolde he schuld onto hym do. 2
This ladye gadered in this felde ryght soo:
In the wretyn lawe sche gadered eke mech thing,
The ten comaundmentys to kepe treuly in mynde.
There lerned sche the mervelous begynnyng
Bothe of the world and eke of mankynde;
There lerned sche the lame and eke the blynde
To fostyr and clothe, bothe helde and ying;
This was hir laboure, this was hir gaderyng.
In the lawe of grace soked sche swettere mete
Of ryper floures: feyth, hope, and charyté.
Sche bare hem, and there sche gan hem lete
Into this hyve, to Holy Chyrches secré -
There ly thei yet as tresoure, trost thu me.
Who that wyll laboure may fro that swetnes wryng
Mech bettyr than ony galey can bryng.
And forthe in this swetnesse wyll we now procede,
Whech that sche gadered, this lady, here lyvande.
God send us parte ryght as we have nede
In vertuous lyvyng stably to stande
And for to come to that hevenly lande
Where sche is now, for forthe to hir processe,
Undyr hir socoure, streyt I wyll me dresse.
Chapter 1
In the tyme of Costus, as oure bokys telle,
Were thre emperoures in Rome cyté.
The fyrst was a man of hert full felle,
Maximinus Galerius, ryght so hyght he.
The secunde hyght Maximian, the threde, pardé,
Was namede at that tyme Dyocleciane -
He was many a Crysten mannes bane.
The fyrst emperour, Maximinus Galerye,
Dwelt styll at Rome and kept there the pes;
The domes, the sacryfyces, dyd he thoo gye.
The other too men, withouten any lees,
Were sent owte with ful grete prees
To brenne and sle, to take and to save -
This was offyce bothe to knyght and knave.
But these same too, for very werynesse,
Left her honoure and resygned her ryght.
Full grete excuse had thei in sekyrnesse:
Thei seyd her grete labour and her fyght
Avayle hem ryght noght now it myght,
For the more thei dyd the more thei had to doo.
Werfore in sykyrnesse thus thei too
Resygned her ryght onto this same man,
And he undyr him made thre emperoures
To help his empyre al that thei may or can
In all batayles, in all scharp schowres,
To wyne cytes, castelles, town, and towres.
The fyrst hyght Maximinus, as seyth the gest;
He was assygned to governe all the Est.
And to the secunde, whech hyght thoo Severe,
Was eke assygned the kepyng of Lumbardye,
Of Almayn, Tussy, the story seyth so here,
And many othir cuntres in that partye
Undyr his powere were tributarye.
Eke of Brytayn, the londe in whech we dwelle,
Was Constantyne mad lorde, sothe to telle.
This fyrst emperour, Maximinus Galerius,
For pryde and sorow and synfull lyffe
Was kylled in a batayle - the story seyth thus.
He had defowled many a mayde and wyffe,
And therfore, or he deyed oute of this stryffe,
He stank on erde as evyr dyd carayn -
Let him go walk in Salysbury playn!
Thoo toke the Romaynes the yong Maxens,
Sone onto Maximyne that was in Est.
Thei corowned him realy with grete expens,
With mych solemnyté and full grete fest.
The fame went oute to more and to lest
That he was emperour and his fadyr forsake.
This made his fadyr, schort tale to make,
To leve his conqwest and com to Rome there.
But or he cam there his pryde was i-cast:
In Cycile he deyd - ryght so dyde I lere
Of cronycles whech that I sey last.
There blew he owte his endyng blast,
And there lyghte he to abyde his chauns,
Wheythyr it be to wepyng or ellys to dawns.
Thys Severus eke that dwelt in Lumbardye
Gadered up Almayne and all his myght,
For with this eleccyoun had he grete envye;
Therfor bothe be day and eke be nyght
He laboureth be wrong and eke with ryght
To dystroye this Maxence, sothe for to sayn,
That he myght reygne whan he were slayn.
But or he cam fully at this same Rome,
He was slayn of his sowdyoures be the weye.
Than was there no more for to done
But Maxence reygneth, sothe for to seye,
As now alone; every man must obeye
If he wyll kepe his lyffe o lofte -
But if he do so, he slepe noght ellys softe.
Thus regned this Maxence in Rome al alone.
No man speke to him whatevyr he wyll doo:
There was no mayde, no wyffe, ne no matrone,
But whan he sent thei must come him too
To suffyr his lust, to suffyr what he wyll doo.
What husbond lett it, he schuld anoon be dede -
Upon his gate thei schuld sett his heede.
He turned the lawe; all went than be powere.
The pepyll cursyd the wombe that him had born.
Was no man durst in opyn langage there
Onys sey to him, "Lord your lawe is lorn."
Of all the senate sett he but a scorn.
Pryde and powere had enhaunsed him soo
All that he coveyte, he wold haf it doo.
Chapter 2
Tho the Romaynes with a comoun consent
Letteres pryvyli of gret sentens ded wryght
And into Bretayn to Constantyn hem sent,
In whech thei prayd him, as he was a knyte,
That he come help hem ageyn this tyraunt to fyght;
Thei wold betray him, thei seyd, he schuld not spede.
This was her ende: "Com help us at oure nede!"
Anon this man ded gader a grete strenght,
Bothe of this londe and of Fraunce there too,
Evyr gan his ost encrese in brede and lenght
Be every cuntré in whech he gan goo.
In Ytayle reyswd he up puple many moo
Than evyr ded Severe, ryth for this tyrannye
Of this fals Maxence and for his leccherye.
He is at Rome. The hostys togedyr mette,
But Maxence trostyth oonly on the cyté there.
He is deceyvyd: alone thei him lette
With his howsholde in mech care and fere.
Be this ensaumple wyse men may well lere
To trost in the puple, for thei wyll fayl at nede,
So ded thei here, so streyt fro him thei yede
To Constantyn, that now came fro Brytayn.
Thus is he fledde, the same Maxencius,
Deceyvyd ryghtfully thus be her trayn -
Ryght for his lyvyng, that was so vicyous.
He fledd to Pers and there as man vyctorous
Dede grete thingis and many strengthes wan.
Soo as for lord, and for he was a man,
Thei crowned him there and called him king of Pers.
Thus hath Constantine wonne the feeld this day,
The othir tyraunt is put al to the wers.
Al this is told to this ende, sooth to say,
To knowe how Maxcens with soo grete aray
Cam to Alisaundre, swech maystries for to make,
Whan he this lady ded arreste and take.
For whan he was thus exalted in Pers,
Thus set in astate, and in his faderes office,
Tho wex he in condiciouns evyre wers and wers,
And more enclined to synne and to vice.
He sente oute letteres onto every justise,
To serche the Cristene, to hange hem and to drawe,
For truly, he seith, he wil destroye that lawe.
These letteres come to Surry al aboute,
And he himself folwed aftir hem sone.
The copy of hem I wil, withouten doute,
Write here in English, me thinkith it is to done:
"The lord of lordis that dwellith undir the mone,
Maxcens, the emperour of Pers, withouten pere,
Greteth weel oure lyges thurghoute oure empere.
"We wil ye wete oure faderes here beforn
That worchiped goddis with her dew servise
Were nevyre in batayle neythir convicte ne lorn,
Sweche was the keepynge of goddis tho ben wise
Ovyr her puple. Therfore, we as justise
And as a preest in religion of Saturne
Wil that ye alle fro alle veyn lawes turne,
"Most special fro Crist, whech heyng on tre,
That no man be soo hardy Him for to name.
What maner God schuld He now be
That was i-brout into swiche fame
To be hanged on a tre with so moche schame?
Therfore, noo man dwellynge now in oure lond
Schal be so hardy, neythir fre ne bond,
"To name Him oones or for to sette
His merke in the forhed, as is the usage
Of alle these Cristen. We wil hem lette
Of alle her cerymonies and her pilgrimage -
If that thei forgete, thei schul have wage
Swech as thei deserve, for to have
Lordschip ne richesse schal hem not save.
"Therfore, what man ony goddis honour
Othir than we doo now in oure sette,
We wil that thei be take with officeris oure
And led to prison withouten ony lette.
We wil ordeyn for hem swech a gette
Thei schul nevyre eft swech maystries make
In all her lyve, and that we undirtake."
This is the sentens of the letteres longe
Whech he sente oute onto al the Est,
Commaundynge lordis and knythes stronge
That thei come in hast, bothe more and leest,
And in most special onto that grete feest
Whech he wil make with ful grete store
That ilke same day whech he was bore.
The messangeres arn goon bothe fer and wide
To bere these copyes into divers londe.
The emperour himself, he wil abide
Onto that tyme, as I undirstonde,
In grete Alisaundre, with ful myty honde,
In whech cité eke this noble qween soo dere
With a pryvy mené leved al in prayere.
To this cité cam king and soo ded qween,
Thedir cam lordis mo than I can telle:
The innes arn ful as hyves of been,
There is now not elles but bye and selle,
In special mete and drynk, for there was nevyre welle
More plenteuous of water than was the cité of mete,
Soo were thei stored there, the marchauntis grete.
Whanne alle were come whech schuld be there,
The Emperour thre poyntis dede tho declare,
Whech poyntis he seyde, withouten dwere,
Even as thei in sentens stoode platt and bare,
He wold every man, what-so-evyre he ware
Or in what party he dwelt of his dominacyoun,
Schuld kepe hem in peyn of dampnacyoun.
Chapter 3
The fyrst poynt was that Cristen all and summe
Must leve her feyth and that grete honoure
Whech that thei do to Cryste, Goddys Sunne,
Whom eke thei clepe now her salvatoure:
"His dyscyples into full grete errour
Have browte all men that wyll tend hem too,
Ryght with the feyned miracles that thei doo.
"Therfore wyll we that thei now alle
To oure presence for to see and here
What manere decré that we geve schall.
Onto swech wycchys bothe fer and nere
We think for to mak oure lawe full clere,
And whan all are loked to chese the best,
This is the relygyoun that we hafe keste."
The secunde poynt whech he schewyd thoo
Was this: he seyd thei had rememberauns
How that of Rome not long agoo
He helde the honoure and all the governauns,
But betrayed he was with hem of Bretayn and Frauns,
Whech on Constantyne had browte in fere,
A grete puple and a stately powere.
Thus had this traytour, he seyd, this Constantyne,
As a fals intrusore entred into his lande,
Wonne his cyté with gunnes and wyth myne,
There myght no walle ne noo toure thoo stande.
Thus bare Maxence the lordes on hande
Whech were with him at Alysaundre that tyde.
Wherfore, sekyrly, he seyth, he wyll ryde
Evene to Rome his ryght to conqwere,
To venge him on this tyraunt, on this Constantyne.
Wherfore, he prayed the lordes that be there
That thei schal be redy with bowes and engyne,
For he wyll rewarde hem with gyftis good and fyne,
With rentys, londys, castelles, and toures eke.
If thei wynne Rome, rychesse nede hem not seke.
The thyrd poynt whech that he purposyd there,
Sittyng himself ryght in the parlement,
He seyde he wold renew, withouten dwere,
Alle thoo servyses and all that dew rent
Whech to the goddis was ordeynd be comon assent.
The goddis, he seyd, schuld be more propicious
If that her cerymonyes were renewyd thus.
A byschop stood up thoo, with mytere and with crose,
Swech as thei used thoo in her lawe.
There was cryede every man kepe close
His mouthe and his tunge and herken to his sawe.
Whan he had his brethe a lytyl whyll i-draw,
Thus spake he than, in maner of sermonyng:
"I wyll ye wetyn," he seyth, "that Jupiter that hye kyng
"Hath turned awey his good conservacye
From all oure nacyon. I tell yow schortly why:
We have forsak him and fall in maumentrye.
Many of us here, I drede me, are gyltye
In this same matere. Wherfor, Jupiter allmyghtye
And Saturn his fadyr, be pryvy apparicyon
In slepe, gove warnyng be very revelacyoun.
"Thei bode we schuld the puple teche to renewe
The held cerymonyes and the elde rytes
Whech oure fadres used or we anything knew,
And so used many lordes and many knytes.
Who geveth us helpe in pees or in fytys
But Jupiter alone? Helth evyr upon him,
Honour and servyse to him and to his kyn!
"No man may make so grete maystrye
As Jupiter dothe whan he with hangyr qwakyth.
The grete thundyr whech he maketh flye,
The orrible lytenyngys eke whych he makyth,
Alle these schew to us that what man him forsakyth,
He is ful lykly with venjaunce to be brente.
Turn to him ageyn, therfore, lest ye be not schent;
"Leve all this newe thingys, kepe styll your olde.
What, schall Cryst among goddys put Him in place?
The schepperdys and plowmen in feld and in folde,
Thei wote ful well it stant not in mannys grace
Onto all the world salvacyon to purchase,
As sey this Crysten (for Cryst, as seyth her boke,
With His blode fro the world all synnes toke).
"He must be eterne that schall swech thingys doo,
That schall geve encrese to ilke generacyoun,
For to a godd of ryght this it longyth, loo,
To have in his nature evyrlestyng duracyoun.
Repelleth fro youre counsell this Crysten nacyoun -
This charge I yow in the goddys name -
Save your sowles and your bodyes fro blame."
This was the sentens of this grete sermoun
Whech that the byschopp at that tyme spake,
And this was eke his determinacyoun:
That no man in that londe, but he wyll into the rak
And on that same ly with a broken bak,
Be so hardy in no manere wyse
Speke ageyn the goddys or her servyse.
Chapter 4
The cyté of Alysaundre whech is full large,
It is now repleschyd, withoute and withinne,
With lordes and ladyes; there was many a barge
At the princypale porte, for thei lay not thynne.
Welle is he at ese that may cacch an inne,
The puple was so grete, the pres was so strong.
There is now not elles but trumpyng and song,
For the nyte was come of that festful day
In whech Maxence was bore. Therfore he dyd crye
That every man there schall in his best aray
Sercle the cyté with noyse and mynstralsye.
He that schall slepe this nyght must be full slye
That he be not perceyvyd for indygnacyoun
Whech he schall have for he went not his stacyoun. 3
There was noyse of trumpys and noyse of men,
Mech more of bestys that deyd in her bloode,
For all that nyght, sekyrly ye may ful well ken,
The bocheres laboured as thei had be wode.
The waschyng of the carcays down in the flode,
Schewid the grete morder of the bestys slayn -
The water was as blody, saverly dare I sayn.
To the tempill thei goo the next day betyme,
The bischoppis have arayed hem to do the servyse.
There was no matens seyd, servyse, ne pryme,
Thei had anodyr usage than I can devyse. 4
Thus mech can I sey: the emperour as justyse
Was sett upon hye that he myth all see,
Who the puple honoured that solempnité.
Thei knelyd and thei cryed with marred devocioun,
All this beheld the emperour with sad yye,
For evermore hath he a fals suspecioun
That some are there whech will not sacryfye.
The fyrst god of all, whech stod most hye,
Was the bryth sunne with his hors and carte,
Whech was i-grave of full sotyll art.
Next was the mone, whech we clepe Diane,
With hir wellis nyne and the maydenes eke.
Next here was Saturne, with his bittir bane,
With his sekyll in hand. Many men him seke,
For non other cause but whan thei are seke,
Thei wene than it were of his venjaunce, 5
So cruell is his planete in his governaunce.
The auter next him was ful well arayed
On whech that Jubiter stode all on hye
With his wyfe Juno ful well i-porterayed.
Venus the fayre, sche stood next by,
With hir blynd sone Cupide, so wene I.
Thei calle him so that owe him servyse -
I owe him non, for maumentrye I despyse.
Mech more thing was there not to purpos nowe,
But thus mech I telle: there were grete offeryngis.
Thei spared neythir hors, ox, bere, ne kowe,
But sle and sle, these were her cryingis.
The bischoppis and the prestys, thei do her thingis;
The mynstrelles fayl not, for thei schul have wage;
Every man makyth noyse aftir his age.
The elde seyd thei sey nevyr in her dayes
Swech anothir sacryfyce as this emperour
Hath renewed in her tempyll in many maner wayes:
"The grete goddes all, thei send him honour,
Long lyffe and stable, make him a conqwerour."
The yong men daunsed joylyly on the ground -
There was revell among hem; lyghtly and round
Traced thei that tyme at that solempnité.
The noyse is herd aboute a myle on every syde.
Thus leve I hem in myrth these seres stoute;
Thus ar thei occupyed in mechil pryde.
The emperour himselve lokyth on every syde
Who do most reverens to his goddes there.
This made the Crysten to have ful grete fere.
Chapter 5
Oure noble mayde, oure holy devoute qwene
To whom this story longyth as now only,
This holy virgine Kateryne, hir I mene,
Was thoo in silens sittyng in hir stody,
All contemplatyff, sperde fro hir meny;
The wordly welthis are nowe fro hir shake,
Aftir that tyme that Cryst hath hir thus take
To wyff or spouse, rede ryth as ye list.
This mayd was there and herd thoo this cry.
"O Jesu," seyd sche, "I wold now that I wist
What that it menyth, the noyse that is so hy."
Knytys were walkyng, thre or foure fast by,
Waytyng upon hir. Thus to hem seyd sche:
"This grete noyse, seres, what may it be?"
"Iwis, madame," thoo seyd a elde servaunt,
"The emperour Maxence this day was he bore;
He hath comaunded to eld man and to faunt
The elde rythes, the servises, to restore,
Whech to the goddes long and have do yore.
This is the cry, if ye will wet algate.
No man of lyve, pore ne of astate,
"Is not so hardy this mater to disobeye -
Thei schal be dede that ageyns it speke.
Kepe stille youre closet; there is no more to sey. 6
It is not oure powere his will for to breke.
Lete hem calle, lady, lete hem cry and creke.
Suffisith you if ye may lyve in pees.
The man is comorous, withouten ony lees,
"For he have made, if ye will leve me,
A strong decré whech he will we kepe,
That all sectes of his sect now shull be. 7
The childe anon as he gynnyth to crepe
Schal be tawth upon the goddes to clepe,
In peyne of deth the faderes shul him teche -
This herde I this day the grete bischop preche.
"Wherfore, madame, now is come that hour
That was thoo drede of youre frendys alle,
Whan that ye wold receyve no concelloure,
For no thing that men myght on you calle.
I am ful sory, for now are lyckly to falle
All tho myshappys whech were seyd before.
Avise you wele what ye wil do therfor."
Whan this mayd had herd these wordys alle,
Sche gan remembyr how oure Lady seyd
Whan sche passed fro hir, what schuld befalle.
Sche spake thus: "To yow I telle, my mayde,
Ye schalle hereaftir be ful sore afrayde
Of a enmy both to my Son and me."
At hir leve takyng swech wordis seyd sche,
Oure blyssyd Lady Mary, to this qwene.
"Therfor," this qwene thought, "now is the hour
Whech sche behestyd, now is it wel i-sene,
Ryth be the boldnes of this emperour
Whech ageyn oure Makere and Creatour
Thus boldly rysyth in destruccioun of His name
Whos wyffe I am and servaunt to His dame."
Thoo sche remembred what covenaunt that she made
Rith in hir baptim, whan she waschid was,
Eke in hir weddyng with behestis ful sadde,
That she schulde nevyr for more ne for las,
Thow sche were throwe in hote caudron of brasse,
Forsake hir love whech she had only chose.
Thoo wex she ruddy and fayre as a rose,
Rith in remembrauns of that swete spousayle
Whech that she caute be ledyng of Adriane.
It is so emprended within hir entrayle
Of wordly lustys there shall no fekill fane
Blow it awey 8; neythir Juno, Venus, ne Diane
Fro in hir hert this love thei shul not race.
Thus walkyd she forth softly than apace,
Ful sore astoyned what is hir best to doo.
If she holde silens than is she not trewe
Of hir behestis, rith so thoute she, loo;
The fayre ryng whech was sumwhat blewe
Whech was eke gove hir at hir weddyng newe
Sche thoo behelde, and seyd thus be hir one:
"Fy on the world, fy on crown and trone!
"I shal kepe that trewth whech that I made
Onto my husbond, thow I shuld be dede.
I shal the soner com to Him that me made,
For in this worlde is nouth but slepe and brede.
Allas that evyr ony lord or hede
Shuld thus boldly men dragge and drawe
Ageyns all treughth, ageyns a rithful lawe!
"Why sufferth my spouse now swech cursyd men
To breke His chirchis, His servauntis for to kyll?
O cause there is only, that wele I ken:
His servauntis here shul not have her will;
Who loveth this world, that love will him spill.
Tribulacion is ordeyned for His servauntis here
Whech to hevyn shul streyt fro the bere." 9
Chapter 6
Thus walketh she forth, sobyrly apace,
Thorowe hir pales; she hath forgote all thing.
Thei folowe hir eke, the servauntis of that place,
Not many, but summe, for thei go to the kyng;
Thei wote not eke what she in hir goyng
Purposith to do, for betwix love and fere
Stakere the servauntis all that sche hath there.
The tempill gates so full of puple now be,
So ful repleschid no man may entere there.
And evyr onto the porters thus sayd she,
"Late us enter, late us oure erand bere
Onto the emperour, for and he wist what we were
He wold not suffyr us no while stand without.
We will him lerne sone, withouten doute,
"These solempnites bettir for to make,
Not to no vanité, to no presumpcioun,
But to His worchip that all thing dede make."
This was at that tyme hir peroracion.
Thoo mette she lordes of ful straunge nacioun
Whech had performed her offeryngis and i-doo
Forth to her innes thei dressyd hem to goo.
The emperoures sone cam with these lordis in fere,
But whan thei sey this lady so bryth and shene
Thei turned her jornay and with ful mere chere
Thus spake thei all full godly to the qwene:
"Madame," thei seyde, "the grete puple that ye sene
Are com fro fer with grete devocion.
Blame hem noght, thow thei wold have don. 10
"But we shall, lady, for youre reverence,
Turne with yow onto the tempill agayn.
We shall make space with strenght and resistence,
That ye shall enter, schortly for to seyn."
With mace and manace thei made bare the pleyn,
Till she was entrede rith to the hye autere.
Than seyd she swech wordis lich as ye shull here.
Thus she began and thus she spake to him:
"Both kend and curtesie wold teche us this,
To honour thi crown because of thi kyn,
And yet for thi degré mech more iwis.
Alle these shulde excite us thee for to blys
And for to loute with reverens, ne were o thing
Whech thu hast do agayns the grete kyng,
"Lorde of all lordes, Jesu Crist I mene:
Thu takyst here fro Him His hye honour
And gevest it to maumentis, as is wele sene,
Whech may neythir help thee ne eke socour
In non of thi causes, in no maner dolour. 11
But if thu wold leve this cursid ydolatrye
And know thi God that sitt above ful hye,
"Whech made the sune, sterres, and the mone,
Than wold we honour thee with dew servyse,
Knele down onto thee and oure homage ful sone
For to bryng onto thee as oure justyce.
But because ageyn Cryst thu makyst men to ryse
And worchip swech develles that be in helle,
Therfor, sothly, sire, I will thee telle,
"Oure servise will we for a tyme withdrawe
Rith fro thi persone till thou thee amende.
Turne fro this cursydnes, fro this wickyd lawe,
Knowe nowe thi makere that all thing can send,
Onto His byddyng loke thou condescende,
Than shall thu have more prosperité
Than evyr thou had yete, trost upon me.
"These Cristen men here, whech are i-drawe
To offyr to thin idolis magré her hede,
Agens all reson ageyns all the lawe,
Thu thretist hem with turment and with dede,
With bath of picth and beverych of lede.
I sorow for her sake; thei dare non othir doo.
If thei were stabill, thei shuld not werke so.
"Thi goddes are develes and thi prestis eke,
Deceyvores of the puple, rith for covetyse;
Thei wote as wele as I, thow men hem seke -
These maumentis, I mene - thei can not sitt ne ryse,
Thei ete not, thei drynke not in no maner wyse.
Mouth without spech, fote that may not goo,
Handes eke have thei and may no werke doo.
"Wherfor, turne thin herte fro this illusion,
Knowe thi Godde that made the and all thing for thee,
Be not unkend in thi condicion,
Ageyns thi makere, ageyn the Trinyté.
But if thu be amended, thu shall leve me,
Grete peynes God shall thee send,
Whech peynes shul nevyr have a ende."
Chapter 7
The emperour behelde hir wordis and hir chere,
Wondiryng sore how she durst be so bolde,
Befor swech puple, rith in his presens there,
And not consyderyng the fest whech he had holde,
For that same tale whech sche hath now tolde
Durst no man telle but if he wold be dede.
Hir fayre coloure betwix qwite and rede
Whech shone ful bryth he gan to beholde,
Astoyned with hir beuté, party with hir plesauns. 12
Ful sobirly his harmes thoo gan he folde,
And thus he seyd with angry countenauns:
"Beware, good woman, of that grete venjauns
Whech oure goddes on her enmyes hath take.
Many a proude man ful low have thei shake.
"For but her mercy were more than her justice,
Ye shuld sone falle in that sory trappe
Whech thei have ordeynyd to thoo that hem despyce -
A woofull chaunce hafe thei and a sory happe.
Beware, systyr, that thei yow noght clappe
With her venjauns, ryght for youre blaspheme!
Ye speke of helle, ye speke also of hevyne,
"And thei may graunt yow bothe to your wage.
Kepe your tung clos, kepe your lyff on loft.
Ne were the reverens of your grete lynage,
Ye schuld not this nyght slepe, I trow, ryght soft.
Ye were wel worthy to be lyft on lofte
Ryght on a gybbet for your byttyr spech
With whech ye now ageyn oure goddis preche."
Chapter 8
Thoo seyd the mayde with ful sad vysage:
"How be thei goddys, these maumentys that we see?
Rede in your boke, loke in her lynage,
Than schall thu know that erdely as we bee
Were thei sumtyme, for your Saturn, pardé,
Was sumtyme kyng, as bokes telle, of Crete,
And so was Jubiter, thus seyth youre poete.
"Because thei myght not bothe in that lond acorde,
Jubiter, the sun, made Saturn, his fader, to fle
Ryght into Ytale, your bokes wyll it recorde,
In whech tyme there thoo regned he
Janus ye call with dobyll face, pardé,
Because he lokyth to the elde yere and the new.
Than is this soth, than is this tale trew,
"That men thei were and are noght eterne.
How schuld thei be goddys whan thei were made?
It longyth to a godde to be sempyterne! 13
Ful falsly the puple ye deceyve and glade.
He is a Godd that may nevyr fayle ne fade,
He is a Godd that mad all thing of nowte,
He is a Godd of whom your goddys were wrowte."
Chapter 9
The emperour thouth thoo bysyly in his mynde,
In worchep and strenght of his beleve,
Bothe with ensaumples of craft and of kynde,
His secte wyll he trew and stable preve.
"Mayde," he seyth, "I trow I shall you meve
Fro that ground that ye have newly take.
Lete youre wordis as for a while now slake,
"For I will preve now opynly first of alle
That youre sect, whech ye Cristen clepe,
May not stand, for it must nedis falle
Right for the impossibiles whech therin ye hepe.
Alle that I sey now loke that ye sadly repe.
How shulde a mayde in hir wombe bere
A child and she mayde as she was ere?
"This thing is contrarie, ye may se, to nature;
This thing is impossible onto scoles alle.
Remeveth youre hert, for I you ensure
In swech errour ye may so depe down falle
That thow ye aftir mercy cry and calle
We may not graunt you, because that oure lawe
Will condempne yow to be hange and drawe.
"Therfor chaunge youre feyth, I rede, and forsake
Swech maner opiniones that ilke man o lyve
As for heresies evyr more hath take.
Ye sey a childis blode with woundis fyve
Shuld washe fro every man and every wyve,
From every childe her synnes echon -
These fonned conceytes reson have non."
Chapter 10
Unto these wordes whech sempt so wyse
Answerd the qwene with ful grete constauns:
"Sere emperour," sche seyd, "I wolde devyse
To prove onto you with grete circumstauns -
But that the tyme lettith us of swech daliauns -
That youre groundis are no thing trewe
Of youre beleve, neythir the elde ne the newe.
"Ye take the barke, whech is open to the yye,
Then ye fede you ryght in youre dotage.
The swete frute whech withinne doth lye,
Ye desyre it nought. Lo, swech is the wod rage
Of youre customes in all youre age:
The leves ye take, the frute leve ye stille.
More opynly my sentens declare I wille:
"Who sekith roses there no rose growe?
Who sekith grapes oute of the brere?
The hye very God, this may ye wel knowe,
Is not nowe visible among us here;
He is fer above, without any dwere,
Dwellyng in blysse with His servauntis alle.
Therfor, I sey yow, thow ye cry and calle
"Upon these stokkes to send yow good grace,
To send you of myschef relef and socour,
Levyth this wele, ye shal it nevyr purchase
Because ye forsake youre creatour,
Worchip creatures and geve hem honour
To whom ye shulde no swech honour geve.
Be this example I may than wele preve
"The rotyn barke of thingis visible here,
Whech ye se outwarde, this byte ye and knawe;
The swete frute, the solace eke so dere,
Whech schuld be the parfytnes of youre lawe,
Fro that swetnes ye youreselve withdrawe
With ful grete hert of cursyd obstinacy
Whech hath you brought in ful grete heresy.
"And as long as ye thus dullyd be
In this same rudnes of opynyon,
Shul ye nevyr, sekyrly, leve now me,
Of very treuth have the possession.
Therfor repent you of youre transgressioun,
Than are ye able to receyve the feyth.
This is the treuth, what evyr ony man seyth."
Chapter 11
Thou myth a seyn at this tales ende
Many man there al othir wyse i-cheryde
Than thei were here 14; summe her browes gune bende
Rigth on thoo ydolis whech he had reryd.
For peyne and deth had hem so i-feryd
Befor this tyme, that in all her observauns
Onto the goddes thei made but feyned plesauns.
But now this lady with hir wordis swete
A newe lyth of grace onto her hertis all,
Whech befor her feyth thus had lete,
Hath brought in, for now thei gun to calle,
"Mercy Jesu, graunt us nomore to falle
Into swech errour, to swech apostasye."
This was her noyse and thus gune thei crye.
This sey the emperour and with ful hevy chere.
He gan to chaunge his coloure and his face.
"In evyl tyme," he thought, "I graunted here
Onto this mayde, whan sche cam to this place,
To sey this sermone with a sory grace. 15
Myn owne men, me thinkith, thei gyne despyse
Alle my goddes and all my sacryfyse.
"The othir seyde, whech thei Crysten calle,
Thei have caute boldnes, and that mervelously,
For in my presens thei have late down falle
Alle her offeryngis, and that sodenly."
Thus thought this man and eke ful besyly.
He than beheld the beuté of this mayde,
And than ryght thus onto hir he seyd:
"Mayde," he seyth, "here have we newly gunne
A blissyd sacryfyce onto oure goddys to make,
And ye ful onreverently ageyn oure god the sunne -
Whech every man for a god hath take -
Spend youre spech. But now I rede ye slake
Till that oure servyse endyd be this tide,
That tyme we will ye drawe you asyde.
"Apollo graunt that ye no venjauns have
For youre blaspheme newly here i-sowe!
He may you dampne and eke he may yow save -
Ye youreselve, I wote wele, this ye knowe.
Right for youre bewté aute ye stoupe ful lowe
To thanke him therof, thow there were not ellis; 16
Now are ye most, I trowe, of his rebellys."
Chapter 12
"Whi shuld Apollo bere any deité,"
Seyd the mayd, that all men myth here,
"And is but servaunt to Goddis magesté,
With his bemes schynyng fayre and clere?
He walkith no cors, neythir farre ne nere,
But at the byddyng of his makere above,
Whom we are bownd only to drede and love.
"But traytouris are we the most part, dare I seyn,
And yete He suspendyth His grete venjauns.
A opyn example before yow will I leyn:
Ye be a lord of ful grete pusauns;
Ther is no swech betwix this and Fraunce,
For as I have lernyd of all the oryente,
Youre meny calle you kyng omnypotent.
"I sett caase nowe that ageyn youre regalye
Certeyn of youre men wyth treson wold ryse,
Despite youre degré, youre persone defye.
Shuld ye not than as a trewe justyce
Youre grete powere fully exercyse
To kyll thoo traytouris that thei leve nomore?
But ye dede thus ye shuld repent it sore!
"Right thus it semeth be oure creatour,
God of hevene that all made of nought.
Ye take awey fro Him that dew honour
That He shuld have, whech He ful dere bought
Whan that in erde bysyly oure helth He soughte.
This same honour geve ye to develes ymages,
Whech ye have sett here solemply on stages.
"Loke nowe youreselve in what ye are falle -
Traytouris are ye and as traytouris shuld ye brenne,
For other name will I you non calle
Onto that tyme that ye youre Lord kenne!
Lete all these vanytes fro youre brest renne,
Goode sere emperour, and turne to youre Lorde -
Than shul ye and I ful sone acorde."
Chapter 13
Now is the emperour steyned more and more.
All her servyse as for that day is done;
This tormentith him in his hert ful sore,
For neythir to sonne, to Venus, ne to mone
Will no man lowte now and passed is the none.
Wherfor he thinkyth ryth thus in his herte:
"Thow that I ponysh this lady with peynes smert,
"Thow that I sle hir, strangill, or ellis brenne,
Yete shal hir doctrine no thing herby sees;
Wherfor I thinke a slyer wey to renne,
That hir purpos schal not thus encrese.
Ageyn oure goddes is she and ageyn oure pees.
Therfor with resones will we hir oppresse -
This hold I best ageyn hir sotylnes."
Therfor hath he nowe - and that in grete hast -
Clepid his counsell into a pryvy place.
With ful grete sadnes thoo gan he cast
How that he may fro this lady race
Hir newe oppynyon - wheythir with solace
Or ellis with peyne be best to procede.
His counsell seyd rith thus in that stede,
That he shall send aftir grete clerkis,
Lerned in gramer, rethoricke, and philosophie,
Whech have in sciens so sekir merkis
That no man ageyn hem may replye.
Thei shall sonest destroy this heresye
Of this same lady, thus seyd thei all.
Anon the emperour dede forth i-calle
Many messangeres, for letteris wille he sende
Thoroweout the lond of Cipre and Surré.
Alle thoo clerkys that will her lyvelode amende,
Thei must com nowe to this palustré,
Onto this place where this conflicte shal be.
The letteres are wryte nowe and sealed ech on;
The messageres in hast for these men are goon.
The emperour himselve, as of a specialté,
Sealed these letteres with a precious ryng,
Whech was i-grave with ful grete sotilté.
The sentens of the letteres whech that this kyng
Wrote at that tyme, if youre desyryng
Be forto lyst it, ye may here it sone:
"Maxence, the lorde, save sune and mone
"Most grettest in erde whech hath i-be,
Thre tymes consul in Rome, that cité hye,
Fader of the puple and to the deité
Of Jupiter the kyng of kynrod ful nye,
Sendith love and helth to all the clergye
Of Surré and Cipre and othir provincis all
Whech to his lordchip newly are falle.
"We will ye wyte, we send at this tyme
Onto youre Providens counsell to have.
We ax not of you nethir taske ne dyme,
But only oure feyth and oure sect to save,
For these Crysten folke make oure puple to rave
With sotill suasiones whech that thei use,
On whech sotiltees we oureselve muse.
"But most specialy a lady have we new i-caut,
Enforsed with eloquens mervelosly.
Mech of oure puple so hath sche taught
That fro oure feyth fle thei sodenly.
Thus party with witte, party nygromancy,
Sche pervertith oure lond in wondir wyse.
Therfor, we byd ye that are wyse,
"Ye hast now to Alisaundre for this same cause,
To loke if ye may this woman oppresse,
For this I telle you schortly in clause,
But she be ovyrcome with youre besynes,
All shul be Crysten, the more and the lesse,
And if ye convicte hir avaunsed schul ye be
With plenté of ryches, if ye trost me."
Thus are the letteres wretyn and i-goo.
The emperour is walkid forth with the mayd
Onto the pales with lordes many moo,
Whech was at that tyme ful wel arayd.
Many plesaunt wordis to hir he seyde,
And many grete behestis thoo he behyte,
To turne hir opinion yf that he myth.
He hite hir, if she wold to him consent,
To have ful powere of all maner thing,
More than any lord of his parlement,
For all men shuld bowe onto hir byddyng.
She shulde be qwene as he was kyng;
Hir ymage wold he sett in the merket place,
Whech shuld be like hir in bodye and in face,
And alle maner of men shull worchip geve
Onto that ymage as onto a goddesse.
Thei shal not chese, if that thei will leve,
Worchip shull thei hir both more and lesse.
That was his promysse, that with swech worthines
He will hir avaunce only if sche will forsake
Hir Cristen feyth and his feyth now take.
But all these promissis sett sche at nought,
This blessyd lady, ryth for Crystes sake.
This same vers was thoo in hir thought
Whech oure Lady hirselve gan make:
"Thei that are proud, God will hem forsake,
Meke He will lift for her mekenes."
Than seyd she to the emperour with sadnes,
"All this world have I, for my Lordys love,
Jhesu I mene, forsake forevyre more.
There shall no mene of drede ne of love
Put myn hert fro that grete tresore;
It shall ly full stille there as a good store
Till that I dey and yelde up my goost
Onto that Lord whom I love most.
"But sith that thi goddis of swech myth be
As thu hast pronounced here in this place,
Late hem take venjaunce nowe upon me -
If that thei may - late hem my body race.
Her myght is nought, ne nought is her grace;
Therfor I despice hem as thei stand a rowe,
For fendis are thei - ful well that I knowe!
"And, sere, to you I will touch anothir thing:
I wole ye shull encline all youre entente
To herkyne my wordis and my talkyng.
It is not unknowen to all the Orient
That both be descens and be testament
This cité is myn as for heritage
To whech ye have made nowe this pilgrimage.
"Sith ye are kyng and rythwisnes shuld kepe,
Whi make ye swech mastries in otheris mennes londe,
Compell my tenauntis, thow thei sore wepe,
To go with her offeryngis rith in her hondis,
With trumpes and taburs befor you to stonde,
Withoute my leve, withoute my licence?
This is wronge to me and to God offence!
"If yowre goddis teche you for to do thys synne,
Than are they unryghtfull in her comaundment.
If ye ageyn her byddyng thus wil begynne,
Than do ye wronge ageyn her intent.
On what maner wise ye make youre went,
I wyl not tary you with no tales long,
But thus I conclude - that ye do me wrong!"
Than was the emperour ful of malencolye.
He myght no lenger suffyr hir in his presens.
To a knyght he commawnded that stod fast by
He shal take thys lady and lede hir thens,
Put hir in prison for hir offence,
Loke he kepe hir so she go not awey -
For if that she doo full horrybyly shall he dey.
Gladly and jocundly with the knyght she goo,
As a spowse to chambre for hir Lordis love,
Nothyng dismayd, nothyng is she wroth:
Thus can oure Lord the paciens prove
Of hem that are chosyn to dwelle all above
In hevyn in His presens. But thus I lett hir lye,
And forth I shall telle of thys story.
Chapter 14
Whyll Kateryne is in prison thus i-closyd
The emperowr is rydyn into the lond
For certeyn causes; as it is supposed,
It was for brekyng of a certen bond
Betwyx too cites. As I undyrstond,
He rode to sesse the sisme that was new begun;
Iche of hem of othyr had spent many a gonne.
But he hath made pece and his jornay is sped.
He is cum home now to Alisaundyr ageyn.
The messangeres that he sent eke thei hafe led
All theys clerkis to Alisaundre eke certeyn.
Thus be they cum both, shortly to seyn,
The emperour and the clerkis thus mete in fere;
A cowncell is sett now of lordis that were there.
The philosopheres are enterd into the same cowncell
To wete why the emperour for hem hath sent.
There was a fayre syght, withowtyn ony fayll,
For owt of the costes of all the Orient
Are theys maystires chose ryght for thys entent:
To conquer thys lady be philosofie.
The nombre of hem, if I shuld not lye,
Myn auctour seyth was fyfty evyn,
Lernyd men in arte and in arsmetrike,
In rethorike, gramer, and all the Sciens Sevyn.
In all the world were non hem lyke:
They had stodyed the grownd of all musike.
The emperour is ful glad now of her cunnyng.
Thus seyd he to hem at her enteryng:
"Maysteres, we sent for yow for thys matere:
We hafe here a mayde whyche with obstinacye
Reneyhithe owre lawes whyche we use here,
For she is falle into that cursyd heresye
Whyche the Crysten clepeth, full of ypocrisye.
Sche eke so depe is into thys errowr falle
That all owre goddis devylles dothe she calle.
"And I suppose veryly ye teche but trewth,
Because that ye be so grete lernyd men.
To sle so yong a lady me thynketh rewthe;
Therfor, the ryght wey I wyll ye hir kene,
To converte hir to owre lawe, ellys I must hir brenne.
Thys is the cause why I sent for yowe.
Go cast yowre wyttes in the best maner now
"How ye wyll procede, for she shall cum anon.
Hir answeres are sly; grete is hir lernyng.
I make yow sekyr, ye shall not hens gon
Onto that tyme that ye hir bryng
Into the same feyth whych hir fadyr the kyng
Lyved all his lyf and hir modyr also:
Thys is the matere whyche I wyll hafe do."
On answerd for all, and thus spake he:
"We wene here is gadered swyche a cumpanye
In all thys world shuld not a man fynd three
So wyse, so studyous in philosofye.
But ovyr all theys maystires Ariott is most worthy.
He nedith not his labowr on a woman spend!
He shall unto hir but his disciples send,
"And if she conclude hem be auctorité,
Or ellys be reson, leve me full wele,
I wyll sey than that a goddes is she
And most worthy to be sett on the whele
Of naturall sciens. But I cannot fele
In no maner that a woman shuld cum therto.
I hafe not hard speke that ony woman dyde so."
Aftyr thys sermonyng untyl the next day,
The emperour comawnded knytes hem to chere,
To lede hem to her innes with full good aray -
In specyall of bokes and swyche othyr gere
As longith onto men that swyche sciens lere.
Thus leve I hem stylle in thowghtfull besynes,
And Kateryne, oure maydyn, in prison and distres.
Chapter 15
The othyr day is cum, but the emperour thowght
To assay himselfe with his pryvy councele
For to conquer hir - but it avayleth nowght,
For whan most nede is, his resonys wyll whayle,
So wele can owre mayd hir proporcyons rayle.
Lordes were there many thoo in presence,
Statly, manfull, and of grete exspence.
The Kyng of Ermenye was tho in that place
Where she was opposed of hir beleve;
So was the Kyng of Mede, a fayre man of face;
The Kyng eke of Macedon, whyche made many a preve
Ageyn thys lady but he cowde hir not mend;
The Provoste of Perse was there also,
With bischoppis and lordys many moo.
They made her resones but thei avayled nowght.
Fyrst seyd the emperowr ryght thus to thys may:
"Myn owyn systir, hedyr I hafe yow browte
Befor my specyall frendis thys day
To se whedyr ye wyll stylle in your old lay
Held your perseveraunce or ellys consent to us
And reney for evyr that traytour Jesus,
"To turn to Apollo, Venus, and Minerve,
For your prison shuld cause yow, I suppose,
To chaunge your lyfe, leste that ye sterve,
For of all maydenes, ye be the rose,
And to maydens it longeth to be led with glose.
Lat se now telle how ye avised be."
Onto theys wordis thus answerd she:
"A love hafe I, syr, whyche lykyth me so
That all worldly delyte to me is but peyn
And all worldly joye to me is but wo,
If I very trewthe to yow shuld seyn.
Therfor know thys: for a certen
I wyll nevyr chaunge whyll I hafe lyfe;
I shal be evyr to Him trewe spowse and wyfe."
Thoo seyd the emperour, "Than is all nowt
That we with oure wyttes hafe laboured yow to safe.
Turn yowre wordis, turn eke yowre thowght,
Or ellys swyche ende must ye now hafe
As longeth to traytours that thus wyll raffe.
Avise yow of two thyngis whyche ye wyll take:
Ethyr shall ye dye or yowre lawe forsake."
And eke the grete Kyng of Armenye,
Eem to Kateryne he was, as I wene,
"Cosyn," he seyd, "leve thys heresye.
Thynk of your kynrode, both kyng and qwene:
Was nevyr non of them swych thyng wold susteyn.
Alas! Why, woman, why, dyspyse ye Saturne?
He may and he wyll into a ston yow turn!"
The Kyng of Mede, whyche sat thoo besyd,
In owre Lord Jhesu he put swyche blame:
"Your God Cryst," he seyd, "is know full wyd
That He was a wyche and so was His dame,
And the grettest in wycchecrafte as is the fame.
Fye on swyche wysdam! Fye on swyche feyth!
Thys same recorde all the world seyth."
Anothir thyng was there, and he hir thus reprevyd:
She stode in thys mater, he seyd, but alone.
There is non but she that in Cryst levyd.
"Loke now," he seyd, "whedir o persone
Is more worthy to be levyd than we ichone:
Reson wyll conclude that where multitude is
There is the trewthe - a man may not mys."
The Kyng of Macedoyne, Syr Caspanus,
Onto the lady full sobyrly thus sayd:
"Yowre God, yowre Lord, whyche ye calle Jesus,
As ye sayd He was bore of a mayde,
But why sufferd He to be arayed
Of His owyn servauntis so as He was?
And a wyse lord had stond in that case,
"He wold have hanged hem of very justyce!"
Thus seyd the byschoppis, thus seyd they all,
Onto thys lady in her best wyse,
And with besynes sore on hir they calle
And she fro thys vanité nedis muste falle
And make of hir enmyes hir frendis dere.
Than spake thys lady, ryght as ye shall here:
Chapter 16
"Syr Emperour," seyd she, "I hafe or thys
Onto yowre reverens declared ful wele
Why my Lord Jhesu of servauntis His
Wold suffyr all thys peyn every dele,
But of my feyth nothyng ye fele,
So are ye hardyd with obstinacye.
Therfor hold I nowe but a grete folye
"Youre demonstraciounes for to declare.
But thus myche I say to yow everychon:
Yowre mahowude of whyche ye make swyche fare
Shall not save yow whan ye shall gon
Down into peynes, hevy as stone.
He may not deliver himsefe from that peyne
Where he is bownd with many a cheyn.
"But wycche was he nevyr, my Lord,
Ne His blyssed modyr Mary, that may,
He was God and man as bokes record,
And all tho myrakyls were put in asay
Be His mortayll enmes with full gret afray
And evyr were thei fownde trew and stedfast.
Therfor, ley down that orible blaste
"Of your cursyd tungis, ye lordis, I yow praye.
Berke now namore ageyn that holy name,
For ye shall sumtyme se that day
Ye shall for thys berkyng be put onto blame.
Alas that ony wrechys shuld defame
So hyghe a Lord, so grete a dignité,
To Whome mote nede bowe every kne!"
Than spake the Provost of Perse full sone:
"Sende aftir theys clerkis, syr, and let hem sey;
They can owre feythe, they wote what is to done.
Lat hir beleve hem or ellys shall she deye!
She shall chese on, there is non othyr weye.
With thys long clateryng, tyme lese we here.
They wyll oppose hir in othyr manere."
Chapter 17
The phylosophers are enterd to the councell.
The emperowr seyd thus: "Thys is the howr
In whyche we shall se if conyng wyll avaylle.
Therfor, maysters, do now yowre labowre,
For ye muste defende us from thys scharp schowre
With whyche we are haylyd now on every syde;
But ife ye spede owre feyth wyll sone slyde."
They answerd ageyn: thei seyd they had skorne
That so many men ageyn a mayden yinge
Shuld now dispute, for he is not borne
In erde as yete that durst stere ony thyng
Ageyn her conclusyones, neythir duke ne kyng.
Swyche grete rowse was made tho in that place:
"Lete hir cum," they seyd, "lete us se hir face."
But whyll they were karpyng in thys matere,
A knyght is gun to hir in prison in haste,
Warnyng hir as a gentyll officere,
In what manere the emperour will hir ataste.
What nedyth now moo wordys for to waste?
The lady seyd that it was glad tydyng;
There cowde no man gladdere to hir bryng.
Thoo fell sche down plat, all in a traunce,
Commendyng hir cause ryght onto Godd alone:
"Graunt me," sche sayde, "Lord, perseveraunce,
To serve Thi Godhed whech syttyth in trone,
Of whech Godhed Thi Sone, the secunde persone,
Deyd in erde for synne of all mankynde,
Whech onto Him ful ofte He fynt onkynde.
"Thou graunt me, Lord, this day eloquens
To safe |