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Title: Fourteenth Century Verse & Prose

Author: Various

Editor: Kenneth Sisam

Release Date: September 15, 2013 [EBook #43736]

Language: English

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[Transcriber's Note: This text has words or letters enclosed in caret
brackets < > that were added by the author to complete the manuscript;
corrupt readings retained in the text are indicated in the original by
daggers [+][+]. #Bold# text has been marked by #; _underscores_ have
been used to indicate _italic_ fonts; an emphasis by font change of
single letters within an _it~a~lic_ context has been indicated by ~.
For transcription of unusual letters and errata see the Transcriber's
Note at the end. Original spelling variants and punctuation have not
been standardized. The companion volume, _A Middle English Vocabulary,
designed for use with SISAM's Fourteenth Century Verse & Prose_, by J.
R. R. Tolkien is available at PG #43737.]


Fourteenth Century

VERSE & PROSE

edited by

KENNETH SISAM

OXFORD

AT THE CLARENDON PRESS

M D CCCC XXI

      Oxford University Press
      _London   Edinburgh   Glasgow   Copenhagen
      New York   Toronto   Melbourne   Cape Town
      Bombay   Calcutta   Madras   Shanghai_
      Humphrey Milford
      Publisher to the UNIVERSITY

PRINTED IN ENGLAND.




CONTENTS

                                                                PAGE


      MAP                                                       viii
      INTRODUCTION                                                ix

      I. ROBERT MANNYNG OF BRUNNE'S HANDLYNG SYNNE                 1
        The Dancers of Colbek                                      4
      II. SIR ORFEO                                               13
      III. MICHAEL OF NORTHGATE'S AYENBYTE OF INWYT               32
        How Mercy increases Temporal Goods                        33
      IV. RICHARD ROLLE OF HAMPOLE                                36
        A. Love is Life                                           37
        B. The Nature of the Bee                                  41
        C. The Seven Gifts of the Holy Ghost                      42
      V. SIR GAWAYNE AND THE GRENE KNIGHT                         44
        The Testing of Sir Gawayne                                46
      VI. THE PEARL, ll. 361-612                                  57
      VII. THE GEST HYSTORIALE OF THE DESTRUCTION OF TROY         68
        Prologue                                                  69
        The XXXI Book: Of the Passage of the Grekys fro Troy      72
      VIII. PIERS PLOWMAN                                         76
        A. From the B-Text, Passus VI                             78
        B. From the C-Text, Passus VI                             89
      IX. MANDEVILLE'S TRAVELS                                    94
        Ethiopia.--Of Diamonds                                    96
        Beyond Cathay                                            100
        Epilogue                                                 104
      X. JOHN BARBOUR'S BRUCE                                    107
        An Assault on Berwick (1319)                             108
      XI. JOHN WICLIF                                            115
        A. The Translation of the Bible                          117
        B. Of Feigned Contemplative Life                         119
      XII. JOHN GOWER                                            129
        A. Ceix and Alceone                                      131
        B. Adrian and Bardus                                     137
      XIII. JOHN OF TREVISA'S TRANSLATION OF HIGDEN'S
          POLYCHRONICON                                          145
        A. The Marvels of Britain                                146
        B. The Languages of Britain                              148
      XIV. POLITICAL PIECES                                      151
        A. On the Scots, by Minot                                152
        B. The Taking of Calais, by Minot                        153
        C. On the Death of Edward III                            157
        D. John Ball's Letter to the Peasants of Essex           160
        E. On the Year 1390-1                                    161
      XV. MISCELLANEOUS PIECES IN VERSE                          162
        A. Now Springs the Spray                                 163
        B. Spring                                                164
        C. Alysoun                                               165
        D. The Irish Dancer                                      166
        E. The Maid of the Moor                                  167
        F. The Virgin's Song                                     167
        G. Judas                                                 168
        H. The Blacksmiths                                       169
        I. Rats Away                                             170
      XVI. THE YORK PLAY 'HARROWING OF HELL'                     171
      XVII. THE TOWNELEY PLAY OF NOAH                            185

      NOTES                                                      204
      APPENDIX: THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE IN THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY   265




[Illustration: Names of Middle English texts placed on a map of England
and Wales.]




INTRODUCTION


I

Two periods of our early history promise most for the future of English
literature--the end of the seventh with the eighth century; the end of
the twelfth century with the thirteenth.

In the first a flourishing vernacular poetry is secondary in importance
to the intellectual accomplishment of men like Bede and Alcuin (to name
only the greatest and the last of a line of scholars and teachers) who,
drawing their inspiration from Ireland and still more from Italy direct,
made all the knowledge of the time their own, and learned to move easily
in the disciplined forms of Latin prose.

During the second the impulse again came from without. In
twelfth-century France the creative imagination was set free. In
England, which from the beginning of the tenth century had depended more
and more on France for guidance, the nobles, clergy, and entertainers,
in whose hands lay the fortunes of literature, had a community of
interest with their French compeers that has never since been
approached. So England shared early in the break with tradition; and
during the thirteenth century the native stock is almost hidden by the
brilliant growth of a new graft.

Every activity of the mind was quickened. A luxuriant invention of forms
distinguished the Gothic style in architecture. All the decorative arts
showed a parallel enrichment. Oxford (at least to insular eyes) was
beginning to rival Paris in learning, and to contribute to the
over-production of clerks which at first extended the province of the
Church, and finally, by breaking the bounds set between ecclesiastics
and laymen, played an important part in the secularization of letters.
The friars, whose foundation was the last great reform of the mediaeval
Church, were at the height of their good fame; and one of them, the
Franciscan Roger Bacon, by his work in philosophy, criticism, and
physical science, raised the name of English thinkers to an eminence
unattained since Bede. If among the older monastic orders feverish and
sometimes extravagant reforms are symptoms of decline, the richness of
Latin chronicles like those of Matthew Paris of St. Albans is evidence
that in some of the great abbeys the monks were still learned and
eloquent. Nor was Latin the only medium in which educated Englishmen
were at home. They wrote French familiarly, and to some extent repaid
their debt to France by transcribing and preserving Continental
compositions that would else have perished.

Apart from all these activities, the manifestations of a new spirit in
English vernacular works are so important, and the break with the past
is so sharp, that the late twelfth century and the thirteenth would be
chosen with more justice than Chaucer's time as the starting-point for a
study of modern literature.

Then romance was established in English, whether we use the word to
mean the imaginative searching of dark places, or in the more general
sense of story-telling unhampered by a too strict regard for facts.
Nothing is more remarkable in pre-Conquest works than the Anglo-Saxon's
dislike of exaggeration and his devotion to plain matter of fact. Here
is the account of the whales in the far North that King Alfred received
from Ohthere (a Norseman, of course, but it is indifferent):--'they are
eight and forty ells long, and the biggest fifty ells long'. Compare
with this parsimony the full-blooded description of the griffins in
_Mandeville_:--'But o griffoun hath the body more gret, and is more
strong, [th]anne eight lyouns, of suche lyouns as ben o this half; and
more gret and strongere [th]an an hundred egles suche as we han amonges
vs, &c.', and you have a rough measure of the progress of fiction.

To take pleasure in stories is not a privilege reserved for favoured
generations: but special conditions had transformed this pleasure into a
passion. When Edward I became King in 1272, Western Europe had enjoyed a
long period of internal peace, during which national hatreds burnt low.
The breaking down of barriers between Bretons and French, Welsh and
English, brought into the main stream of European literature the Celtic
vein of idealism and delicate fancy. At the universities, in the
Crusades, in the pilgrimages to Rome or Compostella, the nations
mingled, each bringing from home some contribution to the common stock
of stories; each gaining new experiences of the outside world, fusing
them, and repeating them with embellishments. To those who stayed at
home came the minstrels in the heyday of their craft--they were freemen
of every Christian land who reported whatever was marvellous or
amusing--and at second hand the colours of the rediscovered world seemed
no less brave. It was an age greedy for entertainment that fed a rich
sense of comedy on the jostling life around it; and to serve its ideals
called up the great men of the past--Orpheus opening the way to
fairyland, the heroes of the Trojan war, Alexander; Arthur and the
Knights of the Round Table and Merlin the enchanter; Charlemagne with
his peers--or won back from the shadows not Eurydice alone, but Helen
and Criseyde, Guinevere and Ysolde, Rymenhild and Blauncheflour.

While she still claimed to direct public taste, the Church could not be
indifferent to the spread of romance. A policy of uniform repression was
no longer possible. Her real power to suppress books was ineffective to
bind busy tongues and minds; popular movements were assured of a measure
of practical tolerance when order competed with order and church with
church for the goodwill of the people; and even if the problem had been
well defined, a disciplined attitude unvarying throughout all the
divisions of the Church was not to be expected when her mantle covered
clerks ranging in character from the strictest ascetic to that older
Falstaff who passed under the name of Golias and found his own Muse in
the tavern,--

      _Tales versus facio quale vinum bibo;
      Nihil possum scribere nisi sumpto cibo;
      Nihil valet penitus quod ieiunus scribo,--
      Nasonem post calices carmine praeibo!_

So it came about that while some of the clergy denounced all minstrels
as 'ministers of Satan', others made a truce with the more honest among
them, and helped them to add to their repertories the lives of saints.
Officially 'trifles and trotevales' were still censured: but it seemed
good to mould the _chansons de geste_ to pious uses,[1] and to purify
the court of King Arthur, which popularity had led into dissolute ways,
by introducing the quest of the Graal. And if Rolle preached sound
doctrine when he ranked among the Sins of the Mouth 'to syng seculere
sanges and lufe [th]am', their style and music were not despised as
baits to catch the ears of the frivolous: when a singer began

      Ase y me rod [th]is ender dai
      By grene wode to seche play,
      Mid herte y [th]ohte al on a may,
      Suetest of alle [th]inge,--

the lover of secular songs would be tempted to listen; but he would stay
to hear a song of the Joys of the Virgin, to whose cult the period owes
its best devotional poetry.

[Foot-note 1: For illustrations from Old French, see _Les L'egendes
Epiques_ by Professor Joseph B'edier, 4 vols., Paris 1907-, a book that
maintains the easy pre-eminence of the French school in the appreciation
of mediaeval literature.]

The power of the Church to mould the early growth of vernacular
literature is so often manifested that there is a risk of
underestimating the compromises and surrenders which are the signs of
its wane. The figures of romance invaded the churches themselves,
creeping into the carvings of the portals, along the choir-stalls, and
into the historiated margins of the service books. Ecclesiastics
collected and multiplied stories to adorn their sermons or illustrate
their manuals of vices and virtues. In the lives of saints marvels
accumulated until the word 'legend' became a synonym for an untrue tale.
Though there are moments in the fourteenth century when the
preponderance of the clerical over the secular element in literature
seems as great as ever, by the end of the Middle Ages the trend of the
conflict is plain. It is the Church that draws back to attend to her own
defences, which the domestic growth of pious fictions has made
everywhere vulnerable. But imaginative literature, growing always
stronger and more confident, wins full secular liberty.

Emancipation from the bondage of fact, and to some extent from
ecclesiastical censorship, coincided with the acquisition of a new
freedom in the form of English poetry. Old English had a single
metre--the long alliterative line without rime. It was best suited to
narrative; it was unmusical in the sense that it could not be sung; it
had marked proclivities towards rant and noise; and like blank verse it
degenerated easily into mongrel prose.

Degeneration was far advanced in the eleventh century; and about the end
of the twelfth some large-scale experiments show that writers were no
longer content with the old medium. In _Layamon_, the last great poem in
this metre before the fourteenth century, internal rime and assonance
are common. Orm adopted the unrimed _septenarius_ from Latin, but
counted his syllables so faithfully as to produce an intolerable
monotony. Then French influence turned the scale swiftly and decisively
in favour of rime, so that in the extant poetry of the thirteenth
century alliteration is a secondary principle or a casual ornament, but
never takes the place of rime.

The sudden and complete eclipse of a measure so firmly rooted in
tradition is surprising enough; but the wealth and elaborateness of the
new forms that replaced it are still more matter for wonder. It is
natural to think of the poets before Chaucer as children learning their
art slowly and painfully, and often stumbling on the way. Yet in this
one point of metrical technique they seem to reach mastery at a bound.

That the development of verse forms took place outside of English is
part of the explanation. Rimed verse had its origin in Church Latin. In
the monastic schools the theory of classical and post-classical metres
was a principal study; and the practical art of chant was indispensable
for the proper conduct of the services. Under these favourable
conditions technical development was rapid, so that in such an early
example of the rimed stanza as the following, taken from a poem that
Godescalc wrote in exile about the year 845,--

      _Magis mihi, miserule,
      Flere libet, puerule,
      Plus plorare quam cantare
      Carmen tale iubes quale,
        Amor care.
      O, cur iubes canere?[2]--_

the arrangement of longer and shorter lines, the management of rime or
assonance, and the studied grouping of consonant sounds, give rather the
impression of too much than too little artifice.

[Foot-note 2: _Poetae Latini Aevi Carolini_, vol. iii (ed. L. Traube),
p. 731.]

From Church Latin rime passed into French, and with the twelfth century
entered on a new course of development at the hands of the _trouveres_
and the minstrels. The _trouveres_, or 'makers', studied versification
and music as a profession, and competed in the weaving of ingenious
patterns. Since their living depended on pleasing their audience, those
minstrels who were not themselves composers spared no pains to sing or
recite well the compositions of others; and good execution encouraged
poets to try more difficult forms.

The varied results obtained in two such excellent schools of experience
were offered to the English poets of the thirteenth century in exchange
for the monotony of the long line; and their choice was unhesitating. In
an age of lyrical poetry they learned to sing where before they could
only declaim: and because the great age of craftsmanship had begun, the
most intricate patterns pleased them best. Chaucer was perhaps not yet
born when the over-elaboration of riming metres in English drew a
protest from Robert Mannyng:[3] and when, after a period of hesitancy,
rimed verse regained its prestige in Chaucer's prime, nameless writers
again chose or invented complex stanza forms and sustained them
throughout long poems. If _The Pearl_ stood alone it might be accounted
a literary _tour de force_: the York and Towneley plays compel the
conclusion that a high standard of metrical workmanship was appreciated
by the common people.

[Foot-note 3:

      If it were made in _ryme couwee_,
      Or in strangere, or _enterlac'e_,
      [Th]at rede Inglis it ere inowe
      [Th]at couthe not haf coppled a kowe,
      [Th]at outhere in _couwee_ or in _baston_
      Som suld haf ben fordon.

      (_Chronicle_, Prologue, ll. 85 ff.)]

Thus far, by way of generalization and without the _caveats_ proper to a
literary history, I have indicated some aspects of the preceding period
that are important for an understanding of the fourteenth century. But
it would be misleading to pass on without a word of reservation. There
is reason to suppose that the extant texts from the thirteenth century
give a truer reflection of the tastes of the upper classes, who were in
closest contact with the French, than of the tastes of the people. But
however this may be, they do not authorize us to speak for every part of
the country. All the significant texts come from the East or the
South--especially the western districts of the South, where an
exceptional activity is perhaps to be connected with the old preference
of the court for Winchester. In the North and the North-West a silence
of five centuries is hardly broken.


II

Judged by what survives, the literary output of the first half of the
fourteenth century was small in quantity; though it must be remembered
that, unlike the thirteenth and sixteenth centuries which made a fresh
start and depended almost entirely on their own production, the
fourteenth inherited and enjoyed a good stock of verse, to which the new
compositions are a supplement.

Our first impression of this new material is negative and disappointing.
The production of rimed romances falls off: their plots become
increasingly absurd and mechanical; the action, so swift in the early
forms, moves sluggishly through a maze of decorative descriptions; and
their style at its best has the pretty inanity of _Sir Thopas_. The
succession of merry tales--such as _Dame Siriz_, or _The Fox and the
Wolf_[4] where Reynard, Isengrim, and Chauntecleer make their first bow
in English--is broken until the appearance of the _Canterbury Tales_
themselves. To find secular lyrics we must turn to the very beginning
or the very end of the century, and Chaucer himself does not recover the
fresh gaiety of the earlier time.

[Foot-note 4: Both are in Bodleian MS. Digby 86 (about 1280), and are
accessible in G. H. McKnight's _Middle English Humorous Tales_, Boston
1913.]

The decline of these characteristic thirteenth-century types becomes
less surprising when we notice that literature has changed camps. The
South, more especially the South-West, is now almost silent: the North
and the North-West reach their literary period. Minot and Rolle are
Northerners, Wiclif is a Yorkshireman by birth, the York and Towneley
Miracle cycles are both from the North, and with Barbour the literature
of the Scots dialect begins; Robert Mannyng belongs to the North-East
Midlands; while _Sir Gawayne_, _The Pearl_, and _The Destruction of
Troy_ represent the North-West. This predominance in the present volume
rests on no mere chance of selection, since the Northern (Egerton)
version of _Mandeville_ might have been preferred to the Cotton; and if
the number of extracts were to be increased, the texts that first come
to mind--_Cursor Mundi_ (about 1300),[5] _Prick of Conscience_ (about
1340), _Morte Arthure_ (about 1360), the Chester Plays--are Northern and
North-Western.

[Foot-note 5: Early English Text Society, ed. R. Morris. Unless other
editions are mentioned, the longer works which are not represented by
specimens may be read among the Early English Texts.]

It is impossible to give more than a partial explanation of the change
in the area of production. But as the kinds of poetry that declined
early in the fourteenth century are those that owed most to French
influence, it is reasonable to assume that in the South the impulse that
produced them had spent its force. The same pause is observable at the
same time in France, where it coincides with the transition from oral
poetry to more reflective compositions written for the eye of a reader.
It is the pause between the passing of the minstrels and the coming of
men of letters.

Such changes were felt first in the centres of government, learning, and
commerce, whence ideas and fashions spread very slowly to the country
districts. At this time the North, and above all the North-West, was the
backward quarter of England, thinly populated and in great part
uncultivated. An industrial age had not yet dotted it with inland
cities; and while America was still unknown the western havens were
neglected.[6] In these old-fashioned parts the age of minstrel poetry
was prolonged, and the wave of inspiration from France, though it came
late, stirred the North and North-West after the South had relapsed into
mediocrity or silence.

[Foot-note 6: See p. 150.]

So, about the middle of the century, imaginative poetry found a new home
in the West-Midlands. As before, poets turned to French for their
subjects, and often contented themselves with free adaptation of French
romances. They accepted such literary conventions as the Vision, which
was borrowed from the _Roman de la Rose_ to be the frame of _Wynnere and
Wastoure_ (1352)[7] and _The Parlement of the Thre Ages_,[8] before it
was used in _Piers Plowman_ and _The Pearl_ and by Chaucer. But time and
distance had weakened the French influence, and the new school of poets
did not catch, as the Southern poets did, the form and spirit of their
models.

[Foot-note 7: Ed. Sir Israel Gollancz, Oxford 1920.]

[Foot-note 8: Ed. Gollancz, Oxford 1915.]

They preferred the unrimed alliterative verse, which from pre-Conquest
days must have lived on in the remote Western counties without a written
record; and for a generation rime is overshadowed. The suddenness and
importance of this revival in a time otherwise barren of poetry will
appear from a list of the principal alliterative poems that are commonly
assigned to the third quarter of the century:--_Wynnere and Wastoure_,
_The Parlement of the Thre Ages_, _Joseph of Arimathie_ (the first
English Graal romance), _William of Palerne_, _Piers Plowman_ (A-text),
_Patience_, _Sir Gawayne and the Green Knight_, _The Destruction of
Troy_, _Morte Arthure_.

At the time alliterative verse was fitted to become the medium of
popular literature. Prose would not serve, because its literary life
depends on books and readers. Up to the end of the century (if we
exclude sermons and religious or technical treatises, where practical
considerations reinforced a Latin tradition) the function of prose in
English literature is to translate Latin or French prose;[9] and even
this narrow province is sometimes invaded by verse. Yet it was not easy
to write verse that depended on number of syllables, quantity, or rime.
The fall of inflexions brought confusion on syllabic metres; there were
great changes in the quantity and quality of vowels; and these
disturbances affected the dialects unevenly.[10] It must have been hard
enough for a poet to make rules for himself: but popularity involved the
recital of his work by all kinds of men in all kinds of English, when
the rimes would be broken and the rhythm lost. It is perhaps unfair to
call Michael of Northgate's doggerel (p. 33) to witness the misfortunes
of rimed metres. But the text of _Sir Orfeo_ from the Auchinleck
manuscript shows how often Englishmen who were nearly contemporary with
the composer had lost the tune of his verses. The more fortunate makers
of alliterative poems, whose work depended on the stable yet elastic
frame of stress and initial consonants, possessed a master-key to the
dialects.

[Foot-note 9: Chaucer's prose rendering of the _Metra_ of Boethius is an
apparent exception, but Jean de Meung's French prose version lay before
him.]

[Foot-note 10: See the Appendix.]

Adaptability made easier the diffusion of alliterative verse: but its
revival was not due to a deliberate choice on practical grounds. It was
a phase of a larger movement, which may be described as a weakening of
foreign and learned influences, and a recovery of the native stock. And
the metrical form is only the most obvious of the old-fashioned elements
that reappeared. In spirit, too, the authors of the alliterative school
have many points of kinship with the Old English poets. They are more
moderate than enthusiastic. Left to themselves, their imaginations move
most easily among sombre shapes and in sombre tones. They have not the
intellectual brilliance and the wit of the French poets; and when they
laugh--which is not often--the lightness of the thirteenth century is
rarer than the rough note of the comic scenes in the Towneley plays. It
is hard to say how much the associations and aptitudes of the verse
react on its content: but _Sumer is icumen in_, which is the essence of
thirteenth-century poetry, is barely conceivable in Old English, where
even the cuckoo's note sounded melancholy; and it would come oddly from
the poets of the middle fourteenth century, who have learned from the
French _trouveres_ the convention of spring, with sunshine, flowers, and
singing birds, but seem unable to put away completely the memory of
winter and rough weather.

In the last quarter of the century the tide of foreign influence runs
strong again; and the work of Gower and Chaucer discloses radical
changes in the conditions of literature which are the more important
because they are permanent. The literary centre swings back to the
capital--London now instead of Winchester--which henceforth provides the
models for authors of any pretensions throughout England and across the
Scottish border. In Chaucer we have for the first time a layman, writing
in English for secular purposes, who from the range and quality of his
work may fairly claim to be ranked among men of letters. The strictly
clerical writers had been content to follow the Scriptures, the Fathers
and commentators, the service books and legendaries; and Chaucer does
not neglect their tradition.[11] The minstrels had exploited a popular
taste for merry tales 'that sownen into synne'; and he borrowed so
gladly from them that many have doubted his repentance.[12] But his
models are men of letters:--the Latin poets headed by Ovid, who was
Gower's favourite too; French writers, from the satirical Jean de Meung
to makers of studied 'balades, roundels, virelayes' like Machaut and
Deschamps; and the greater Italian group--Boccaccio, Petrarch, and
Dante. Keeping such company, he was bound to reject the rusticity of the
alliterative school, and the middle way followed by those who added a
tag of rime at the end of a rimeless series (as in _Sir Gawayne_), or
invented stanzas in which alliteration remains, but is subservient to
rime (as in _The Pearl_ and the York plays). After his day, even for
Northerners who wish to write well, there will be no more '_rum-ram-ruf_
by lettre'.[13]

[Foot-note 11:

      And for to speke of other holynesse,
      He hath in prose translated Boece,
      And of the Wrechede Engendrynge of Mankynde
      As man may in pope Innocent ifynde,
      And made the Lyfe also of Seynt Cecile;
      He made also, gon ys a grete while,
      Origenes upon the Maudeleyne.

      (_Legend of Good Women_, Prologue A, ll. 424 ff.)]

[Foot-note 12: _Parson's Tale_, at the end.]

[Foot-note 13: _Prologue to Parson's Tale_, l. 43.]


III

In outlining the main movements of the century, I have mentioned
incidentally the fortunes of certain kinds of composition,--the
restriction of the lyrical form to devotional uses; the long dearth in
the records of humorous tales; the decadence of romances in rime, and
the flourishing of alliterative romances. The popular taste for stories
was still unsatisfied, and guided authors, from Robert Mannyng to
Chaucer, in their choice of subjects or method of treatment.
Translators were busier than ever in making Latin and French works
available to a growing public who understood no language but English;
and of necessity the greater number of our specimens are translations,
ranging from the crude literalness of Michael of Northgate to the
artistic adaptation seen in Gower's tales. But the chief new
contribution of the century is the vernacular Miracle Play, with which
the history of the English drama begins.

Miracle plays grew out of the services for the church festivals of
Easter and Christmas. Towards the end of the tenth century a
representation of the Three Maries at the Sepulchre is provided for in
the English Easter service. Later, the Shepherds seeking the Manger and
the Adoration of the Magi are represented in the services for the
Christmas season. In their early form these dramatic ceremonies consist
of a few sentences of Latin which were sung by the clergy with a minimum
of dignified action.

From the eleventh to the thirteenth century the primitive form underwent
a parallel development in all parts of Europe. Records of Miracles in
England are at this time scanty and casual:--Matthew Paris notes one at
Dunstable because precious copes were borrowed for it from St. Albans,
and were accidentally burnt; another, given in the churchyard at
Beverley, is mentioned because a boy who had climbed to a post of
vantage in the church, and thence higher to escape the sextons, fell and
yet took no harm. But the scantiness of references before 1200 is in
itself evidence of growth without active enemies, and the few
indications agree with the general trend observable on the Continent.
The range of subjects was extended to include the acts of saints, and
the principal scenes of sacred history from the Fall of Lucifer to the
Last Judgement. Single scenes were elaborated to something like the
scale familiar in Middle English. By the end of the twelfth century
French begins to appear beside or in place of Latin; the French verses
were spoken, not sung; the plays were often acted outside the church;
and it may be assumed that laymen were admitted as performers alongside
the minor clergy, who seem to have been the staunchest supporters of the
plays.

The Miracle had become popular, and there is soon evidence of its
perversion by the grotesque imaginings of the people. In 1207 masking
and buffoonery in the churches at Christmas came under the ban of Pope
Innocent III, and his prohibition was made permanent in the Decretals.
Henceforth we must look for new developments to the Miracles played
outside the church. To these freedom from the restraints of the sacred
building did not bring a better reputation. Before 1250 the most
influential churchman of the time, Bishop Grosseteste of Lincoln, who
was far from being a kill-joy, urged his clergy to stamp out Miracles;
and later William of Wadington, and Robert Mannyng his translator, while
allowing plays on the Resurrection and the Nativity if decently
presented in the church, condemn the Miracles played in open places, and
blame those of the clergy who encouraged them by lending vestments to
the performers.[14]

[Foot-note 14: _Handlyng Synne_, ll. 4640 ff.]

From the first three-quarters of the fourteenth century, which
include the critical period for the English Miracles, hardly a
record survives. The memoranda on which the history of the English
plays is based begin toward the end of the century, and the texts
are drawn from fifteenth- and sixteenth-century manuscripts. Hence
it will be simplest to set out the changes that were complete by
1400 without attempting to establish their true sequence; and to
disregard the existence, side by side with the fully developed
types, of all the gradations between them and the primitive form
that might result from stunted growth or degeneration.

The early references point to the representation of single plays or
small groups of connected scenes; and such isolated pieces survive as
long as there are Miracles: Hull, for instance, specialized on a play of
Noah's Ship. But now we have to record the appearance of series or
cycles of plays, covering in chronological order the whole span of
sacred history. Complete cycles were framed on the Continent as early as
the end of the thirteenth century. In England they are represented by
the York, Towneley (Wakefield), and Chester plays, and the so-called
_Ludus Coventriae_.[15] There are also records or fragments of cycles
from Beverley, Coventry, Newcastle-upon-Tyne, and Norwich. The
presentation of the cycle sometimes occupied a day (York), sometimes two
or three successive days (Chester), and sometimes a part was carried
over to the next year's festival (_Ludus Coventriae_).

[Foot-note 15: These are not the Coventry plays, of which only two
survive, but a cycle of plays torn from their local connexions (ed. J.
O. Halliwell, Shakespeare Society, 1841). The title is due to a
seventeenth-century librarian, who possibly had heard of no Miracle
cycle but the famous one at Coventry.]

The production of a long series of scenes in the open requires fine
weather, and once the close connexion with the church services had been
broken, there was a tendency to throw forward the presentation into May
or June. The Chester plays were given in Whitsun-week--at least in later
times. But normally the day chosen in fourteenth-century England was the
Feast of Corpus Christi (the first Thursday after Trinity Sunday), which
was made universal throughout the Church in 1311. So the Miracles get
the generic name of 'Corpus Christi Plays'.

The feature of the Corpus Christi festival was its procession. As a
result either of inclusion in this procession or of imitation, the
cycles came to be played processionally: each play had its stage on
wheels which halted at fixed stations in the streets, and at each
station the play was reenacted. This was the usage at York, Wakefield,
Chester, Coventry, and Beverley. The older practice of presentation on
fixed stages was followed in the _Ludus Coventriae_.

Our last records from the end of the thirteenth century indicated that
the open-air Miracle had been disowned by the Church from which it
sprang. Yet a century later processional performances appear on a scale
that postulates strong and competent management. In the interim the
control of the great cycles had passed from the clergy to the
municipalities, who laid upon each guild of craftsmen within their
jurisdiction the duty of presenting a play. Ecclesiastics still wrote
Miracles, and occasionally performed them; but when Canterbury, London,
Salisbury, Winchester, Oxford, which have no extant texts and few
records of popular performances, are named against York, Wakefield,
Chester, Coventry, Beverley, it is obvious that official Church
influences were no longer the chief factor in the development of
Miracles. For their growth and survival in England the cycles depended
on the interest of powerful corporations, willing to undertake the
financial responsibility of their production, and able to maintain them
against the attacks of the Lollards, or change of policy in the orthodox
Church, or the fickleness of fashion in entertainment.

The steps by which the English guilds assumed the guardianship of the
plays cannot now be retraced. We must be content to note that the
undertaking called for just that combination of religious duty, civic
patriotism, and pride of craft that inspired the work of the guilds in
their best days. And the clergy had every reason to welcome the
disciplining by secular authority of a wayward offspring that had grown
beyond their own control. The York texts, which bring us nearest to the
time when the corporations and guilds first took charge of the Miracles,
are very creditable to the taste of the city, and must represent a
reform on the irresponsible productions that scandalized the thirteenth
century. The vein of coarseness in some of the comic scenes of the
Towneley group seems to be due to a later recrudescence of incongruous
elements.

The last great change to be noted was inevitable when the plays became
popular: they were spoken in English and in rimed verse, with only an
occasional tag or stage direction or hymn in Latin to show their origin.
The variety of the texts, and of the modes and purposes of their
representation, make it impossible to assign a date to the transition
that would be generally applicable; and its course was not always the
same. There is an example of direct translation from Latin in the
Shrewsbury fragments,[16] which contain one actor's cues and parts in
three plays: first the Latin foundation is given in verse or prose, and
then its expansion in English alternate rime. That translations were
sometimes made from the French is proved by the oldest known manuscript
of a Miracle in English--an early fourteenth-century fragment of a
Nativity play, consisting of a speech in French followed by its
rendering in the same stanza form.[17] But there is no reason to doubt
that as English gained ground and secularization became more complete,
original composition appeared side by side with translation.[18]

[Foot-note 16: Shrewsbury School MS. Mus. iii. 42 (early fifteenth
century), ed. Skeat, _Academy_, January 4 and January 11, 1890. The
fragments are (i) the part of the Third Shepherd in a Nativity play;
(ii) the part of the third Mary in a Resurrection play; (iii) the part
of Cleophas in _Pilgrims to Emmaus_. Manly, who reprints the fragments
in _Specimens of the Pre-Shaksperean Drama_, vol. i (1900), pp. xxvi
ff., notes that these plays seem to have been church productions rather
than secular.]

[Foot-note 17: See _The Times Literary Supplement_ of May 26 and June 2,
1921. The fragment comes from Bury St. Edmunds. The dialect is E.
Midland.]

[Foot-note 18: On the production of Miracle plays see L. Toulmin Smith,
Introduction to _York Plays_, Oxford 1885; and A. F. Leach in _An
English Miscellany presented to Dr. Furnivall_, pp. 205 ff.]

For one other kind of writing the fourteenth century is notable--its
longer commentaries on contemporary life and the art of living. In the
twelfth century England had an important group of satirical poets who
wrote in Latin; and in the thirteenth there are many French and a few
English satires. Their usual topic was the corruption of the religious
orders, varied by an occasional attack on some detail of private folly,
such as extravagance in dress or the pride of serving-men. These pieces
are mostly in the early French manner, where so much wit tempers the
indignation that one doubts whether the satirist would be really happy
if he succeeded in destroying the butts of his ridicule.

This is not the spirit of the fourteenth century, when a darker side of
life is turned up and reported by men whose eyes are not quick to catch
brightness. The number of short occasional satires in English increases,
but they are seldom gay. The greater writers--Rolle, Wiclif, Langland,
Gower--were obsessed by the troubles of their time, and are less
satirists than moralists. Certainly the events of the century gave
little cause for optimism. The wane of enthusiasm throughout Europe and
the revival of national jealousies are evident very early in the failure
of all attempts to organize an effective Crusade after 1291, when the
Turks conquered the last Christian outposts in Palestine. There was no
peace, for the harassing wars with Scotland were followed by the long
series of campaigns against France that sapped the strength of both
countries for generations. The social and economic organization was
shaken by the severest famines (1315-21) and the greatest pestilence
(1349) in English history, and both famine and plague came back more
than once before the century was done. The conflict of popes and
anti-popes divided the Western Church, while England faced the domestic
problem of Lollardry. There was civil revolt in 1381; and the century
closed with the deposition of Richard II. A modern historian balances
the account with the growth of parliamentary institutions, the improving
status of the labouring classes, and the progress of trade: but in so
far as these developments were observable at all by contemporary
writers, they were probably interpreted as signs of general decay.

In such an atmosphere the serene temper with which Robert Mannyng
handles the sins and follies of his generation did not last long. Rolle
tried to associate with men in order to improve their way of life: but
his intensely personal attitude towards every problem, and the low value
he set on the quality of reasonableness, made success impossible; and
after a few querulous outbursts against his surroundings, he found his
genius by withdrawing into pure idealism.

Wiclif was the one writer who was also a practical reformer. Having made
up his mind that social evils could be remedied only through the Church,
and that the first step was a thorough reform of the government,
doctrine, and ministers of the Church, he acted with characteristic
logic. The vices and follies of the people he regarded as secondary, and
refused to dissipate his controversial energies upon them. His strength
was reserved for a grim, ordered battle against ecclesiastical abuses;
and while he pulled down, he did not neglect to lay foundations that
outlasted his own defeat.

_Piers Plowman_ gives a full picture of the times and their bewildering
effect on the mind of a sincere and moderate man. Its author belonged to
the loosely organized secular clergy who, by reason of their middle
position, served as a kind of cement in a ramshackle society. He has no
new system and no practical schemes of reform to expound--only
perplexing dreams of a simple Christian who, with Conscience and Reason
as his guides, faces in turn the changing shapes of evil. He attacks
them bravely enough, and still they seem to evade him; because he
shrinks from destroying their roots when he finds them too closely
entwined with things to which his habits or affections cling. In the end
he cannot find a sure temporal foothold: yet he has no vision of a
Utopia to come in which society will be reorganized by men's efforts.
That idea brought no comfort to his generation who, standing on the
threshold of a new order, looked longingly backward.

Passing over Gower, whose direct studies of contemporary conditions were
written in Latin and French, we come round again to Chaucer. He has not
Rolle's idealism, or Wiclif's fighting spirit, or Langland's
earnestness--in fact, he has no great share of moral enthusiasm. A man
of the world with keen eyes and the breadth of outlook and sympathy that
Gower lacked, he is at home in a topsy-turvy medley of things half-dead
with things half-grown, and the thousand disguises of convention and
propriety through which the new life peeped to mock at its puzzled and
despairing repressors were to him a never-ending entertainment. _Ubique
iam abundat turpitudo terrena_, says Rolle in an alliterative flight,
_vilissima voluptas in viris vacillat;... bellant ut bestiae; breviantur
beati; nullus est nimirum qui nemini non nocet_. That was one side, but
it was not the side that interested Chaucer. He had the spirit of the
thirteenth-century poets grown up, with more experience, more
reflection, and a mellower humour, but not less good temper and capacity
for enjoyment. He no longer laughs on the slightest occasion for sheer
joy of living: but he would look elvishly at Richard Rolle--a hermit who
made it a personal grievance that people left him solitary, a fugitive
from his fellows who unconsciously satisfied a very human and pleasing
love for companionship and admiration by becoming the centre of a
coterie of women recluses. A world that afforded such infinite amusement
to a quiet observer was after all not a bad place to live in.


IV

Chaucer, who suffers when read in extracts, is not represented in this
book, although without him fourteenth-century literature is a body
without a head. But in the choice of literary forms and subjects, I have
aimed at illustrating the variety of interest that is to be found in the
writings of lesser men.

It may be asked whether the choice of specimens gives a true idea of the
taste and accomplishment of the age. This issue is raised by Professor
Carleton Brown's Afterword in the second volume of his _Register of
Middle English Religious and Didactic Verse_, a book that will be to
generations of investigators a model of unselfish research. There he
emphasizes the popularity of long poems, and especially of long didactic
poems, as evidenced by the relatively great number of manuscript copies
that survive. _The Prick of Conscience_ leads with ninety-nine
manuscripts, against sixty-nine of _The Canterbury Tales_, and
forty-seven of _Piers Plowman_. What is to be said of a book that,
impoverished by the exclusion of Chaucer, passes by also the most
popular poem of his century?

I would rest an apology on the conditions under which manuscript copies
came into being and survived; and begin with Michael of Northgate as he
brings his _Ayenbyte_ to an end in the October of 1340, before the short
days and the numbing cold should come to make writing a pain. The book
has no elegance that would commend it to special care, for Dan Michael
is a dry practical man, as indifferent to the graces of style as to the
luxury of silky vellum and miniatures stiff with gold and colour. But
from his cell it goes into the library of his monastery--a library well
ordered and well catalogued, and (as if to guarantee security) boasting
the continuous possession of books that Gregory the Great gave to the
first missionaries. We know its place exactly--the fourth shelf of
press XVI. And there it remained safe until the days of intelligent
private collectors, passing finally with the Arundel library to the
British Museum. The course was not often so smooth, for of two dozen
manuscripts left by Michael to St. Augustine's, Dr. James, in the year
1903, could identify only four survivors in as many different libraries.
But the example is enough to illustrate a proposition that will not
easily be refuted:--the chances of an English mediaeval manuscript
surviving greatly depend on its eligibility for a place in the library
of a religious house, since these are the chief sources of the
manuscripts that have come down to us.

The attitude of the Church towards the vernacular literature of the
later Middle Ages did not differ materially from her attitude towards
the classics in earlier times, though the classics had always the
greater dignity. Literary composition as a pure art was not encouraged.
Entertainment for its own sake was discountenanced. The religious houses
were to be centres of piety and learning; and if English were admitted
at all in the strongholds of Latin and French, a work of unadorned
edification like _The Prick of Conscience_ would make very suitable
reading for those who craved relaxation from severer studies. There
were, of course, individuals among the professed religious who indulged
a taste for more worldly literature; but the surviving catalogues of
libraries that were formed under the eye of authority show a marked
discrimination in favour of didactic works.

In England the private libraries of fourteenth-century laymen were
relatively insignificant. But Guy, Earl of Warwick, in 1315 left an
exceptionally rich collection to the Abbey of Bordesley, which failed to
conserve the legacy. The list was first printed in Todd's _Illustrations
of Gower and Chaucer_ (1810),[19] and (among devotional works and lives
of saints that merge into religious romances like _Joseph of Arimathea
and the Graal_, _Titus and Vespasian_, and _Constantine_) it includes
most of the famous names of popular history:--Lancelot, Arthur and
Modred; Charlemagne, Doon of Mayence, Aimery of Narbonne, Girard de
Vienne, William of Orange, Thibaut of Arraby, Doon of Nanteuil, Guy of
Nanteuil, William Longesp'ee, Fierebras; with two Alexander romances, a
_Troy Book_, a _Brut_; the love story of _Amadas e Idoine_; the romance
_de Guy e de la Reygne 'tut enterement'_; a book of physic and surgery;
and a miscellany--_un petit rouge livere en lequel sount contenuz mous
diverses choses_. Yet even a patron so well disposed to secular poems
did little to perpetuate the manuscripts of English verse. His education
enabled him to draw from the fountain head, and most of his books were
French.

[Foot-note 19: p. 161.]

Neither in the libraries of the monasteries, nor in the libraries of the
great nobles, should we expect to find a true mirror of popular taste.
The majority of the people knew no language but English; and the
relative scarcity of books of every kind, which even among the educated
classes made the hearers far outnumber the readers, was at once a cause
and a symptom of illiteracy: the majority of the people could not read.
This leads to a generalization that is cardinal for every branch of
criticism:--up to Chaucer's day, the greater the popularity of an
English poem, the less important becomes the manuscript as a means of
early transmission. The text, which would have been comparatively safe
in the keeping of scribe, book, and reader, passes to the uncertain
guardianship of memorizer, reciter, and listener; so that sometimes it
is wholly lost, and sometimes it suffers as much change in a generation
as would a classical text in a thousand years. Already Robert Mannyng
laments the mutilation of _Sir Tristrem_ by the 'sayers' (who could
hardly be expected to avoid faults of improvisation and omission in the
recitation of so long a poem from memory);[20] and his regret would
have been keener if he could have looked ahead another hundred years to
see how the texts of the verse romances paid the price of popularity by
the loss of crisp phrases and fresh images, and the intrusion of every
mode of triteness.

[Foot-note 20:

      I see in song, in sedgeyng tale
      Of Erceldoun and of Kendale,
      Non [th]am says as [th]ai [th]am wroght,
      And in [th]er sayng it semes noght.
      [Th]at may [th]ou here in _Sir Tristrem_--
      Ouer gestes it has [th]e steem,
      Ouer alle [th]at is or was,
      If men it sayd as made Thomas:
      But I here it no man so say,
      [Th]at of som copple som is away.

      (_Chronicle_, Prologue, ll. 93 ff.)

Robert blames the vanity of the reciters more than their memories, on
the excellence of which Petrarch remarks in his account of the
minstrels: _Sunt homines non magni ingenii, magnae vero memoriae,
magnaeque diligentiae_ (to Boccaccio, _Rerum Senilium_, Bk. v, ep. ii).]

Of course manuscripts of the longer secular poems were made and
used,--mean, stunted copies from which the travelling entertainer could
refresh his memory or add to his stock of tales; fair closet copies that
would enable well-to-do admirers to renew their pleasure when no skilled
minstrel was by; and, occasionally, compact libraries of romance, like
the Auchinleck manuscript, which must have been the treasure of some
great household that enjoyed 'romanz-reding _on [th]e bok_'--the pastime
that encouraged the rise of prose romances in the late Middle Ages. But
as a means of circulation for popular verse, as distinct from learned
verse and from prose, the book was of secondary importance in its own
time, and was always subject to exceptional risks. The fates of three
stories in different kinds, all demonstrably favourites in the
fourteenth century, will be sufficient illustration: of _Floris and
Blauncheflour_, one of the best of the early romances in the courtly
style, several manuscripts survive, but when all are assembled the
beginning of the story is still wanting; of _Havelok_, typical of the
homely style, one imperfect copy and a few charred fragments of another
are extant; of the _Tale of Wade_, that was dear to 'olde wydwes',[21]
and yet considered worthy to entertain the noble Criseyde,[22] no text
has come down. Evidently, to determine the relative popularity of the
longer tales in verse we need not so much a catalogue of extant
manuscripts, as a census, that cannot now be taken, of the repertories
of the entertainers.

[Foot-note 21: Chaucer, _Merchant's Tale_, ll. 211 ff.]

[Foot-note 22: Chaucer, _Troilus and Criseyde_, Bk. iii, l. 614.]

If the manuscript life of the longer secular poems was precarious, the
chances of the short pieces--songs, ballads, jests, comic dialogues,
lampoons--were still worse. Since they were composed for the day
without thought of the future, and were no great charge on the ordinary
memory, the chief motives for writing them down were absent; and no
doubt the professional minstrel found that to secure his proprietary
rights against competitors, he must be chary of giving copies of his
best things. Many would never be put into writing; some were jotted
down on perishable wax; but parchment, always too expensive for
ephemeral verse, was reserved for special occasions. In France, in the
thirteenth century, Henri d'Andeli adds a touch of dignity to his poem
celebrating the memory of a distinguished patron by inscribing it on
parchment instead of the wax tablets he used for lighter verses.[23] In
England in 1305, a West-Country swashbuckler, whom fear of the statute
against _Trailebastouns_ kept in the greenwood, relieves his offended
dignity by composing a poem half apologetic, half minatory, and chooses
as the safest way of publication to write it on parchment and throw it
in the high road:--

      _Cest rym fust fet al bois desouz vn lorer,
      La chaunte merle, russinole, e crye l'esperuer.
      Escrit estoit en parchemyn pur mout remenbrer,
      Et gitt'e en haut chemyn, qe vm le dust trouer.[24]_

These loose sheets or tiny rolls[25] rarely survive, and the
preservation of their contents, as of pieces launched still more
carelessly on the world, depends on the happy chance of inclusion in a
miscellany; quotation in a larger work; or entry on a fly-leaf, margin,
or similar space left blank in a book already written.

[Foot-note 23:

      _Et icil clers qui ce trova ...
      Por ce qu'il est de verit'e,
      Ne l'apele mie flablel,
      Ne l'a pas escrit en tablel,
      Ainz l'a escrit en parchamin:
      Par bois, per plains et par chamins,
      Par bors, par chateals, par citez
      Vorra qu'il soit bien recitez._

      (_OEuvres_, ed. A. H'eron, Paris 1881, p. 40.)]

[Foot-note 24: 'This rime was made in the wood beneath a bay-tree, where
blackbird and nightingale sing and the sparrow-hawk cries. It was
written on parchment for a record, and flung in the high road so that
folk should find it.' _The Political Songs of England_, ed. T. Wright
(London 1839), p. 236.]

[Foot-note 25: A rare example of a roll made small for convenience of
carrying is the British Museum Additional MS. 23986. It is about three
inches wide and, in its imperfect state, twenty-two inches long, so that
when rolled up it is not much bigger than one's finger. On the inside it
contains a thirteenth-century _Song of the Barons_ in French (T. Wright,
_Political Songs_, 1839, pp. 59 ff.); on the outside, two scenes from a
Middle English farce called _Interludium de Clerico et Puella_
(Chambers, _Mediaeval Stage_, vol. ii, pp. 324 ff.) which, like so many
happy experiments of the earlier time, appears to have no successor in
the fourteenth century.]

Most productive, though not very common in the fourteenth century, are
the miscellanies of short pieces--volumes like Earl Guy's 'little red
book containing many divers things'--in which early collectors noted
down the scraps that interested them. A codex of West-Country origin,
MS. Harley 2253 in the British Museum, preserves among French poems such
as the complaint of the _Trailebastoun_, a group of English songs that
includes _Lenten is Come_ and _Alysoun_. Most of its numbers are unique,
and the loss of this one volume would have swept away the best part of
our knowledge of the early Middle English secular lyrics.

Of survival by quotation there is an example in the history of the
Letter of Theodric, which lies behind Mannyng's tale of the Dancers of
Colbek; and the circumstances are worth lingering over both for the
number of by-paths they open to speculation, and for the glimpse they
give of Wilton in a century from which there are few records of the
nunnery outside the grim, tax-gatherer's entries of Domesday.

In the year before the Conquest, Theodric the foreigner, still racked by
the curse that was laid on Bovo's company, made his way from the court
of Edward the Confessor to the shrine of St. Edith. As he walked through
the quiet valley to Wilton in the spring of the year, we may be sure the
thought came to him that here at last was the spot where a man wearied
with wandering from land to land, from shrine to shrine, might hope to
be cured and to set up his rest. From the moment he reaches the abbey it
is impossible not to admire his feeling for dramatic effect. By a
paroxysm of quaking he terrifies the peasants; but to the weeping nuns
he tells his story discreetly; and, lest a doubt should remain, produces
from his scrip a letter in which St. Bruno, the great Pope Leo IX,
vouches for all. It is notable that at this stage the convent appear to
have taken no steps to record a story so marvellous and so well
authenticated; and had Theodric continued his restless wandering we
should know of him as little as is known of three others from the band
of carollers, who had preceded him at Wilton with a similar story. But
when he obtains leave to sleep beside the shrine of St. Edith, and in
the morning of the great feast of Lady Day wakes up healed, exalting the
fame of their patron saint who had lifted the curse where all the saints
of Europe had failed, then, and then only, the convent order that an
official record should be made, and the letter copied: _Hec in presencia
Brichtive ipsius loci abbatisse declarata et patriis litteris[26] sunt
mandata_. Henceforth it exists only as a chapter in the Acts of St.
Edith, and as such it lay before Robert of Brunne. Of the other
communities or private persons visited by Theodric (who, whether saint
or _faitour_, certainly did not produce his letter for the first and
last time at Wilton) none have preserved his memory. It would be hard to
find a better example of the power of the clergy in early times to
control the keys to posterity, or of the practical considerations which,
quite apart from merit or curiosity, governed the preservation of
legends.

[Foot-note 26: _Patriis litteris_ according to Schroeder and Gaston
Paris means 'English language', but if it is not a mere flourish,
it means rather the 'English script' in which the Latin letter was
copied, as distinct from the foreign hand of Theodric's original
letter. What 'English script' meant at Wilton in 1065 is a question
of some delicacy. The spelling _Folcpoldus_ for _Folcwoldus_ in some
later copies of the Wilton text must be due to confusion of _p_ and
Anglo-Saxon [wynn] = _w_. This would be decisive for 'Anglo-Saxon
script' if it occurred anywhere but in a proper name.]

But it is the verses casually jotted down in unrelated books that bring
home most vividly the slenderness of the thread of transmission. A
student has committed _Now Springs the Spray_ to solitary imprisonment
between the joyless leaves of an old law book. The song of the Irish
Dancer and _The Maid of the Moor_ were scribbled, with some others from
a minstrel's stock, on the fly-leaf of a manuscript now in the Bodleian.
On a blank page of another a prudent man (who used vile ink, long since
faded) has written the verses that banish rats, much as a modern
householder might treasure up some annihilating prescription. To these
waifs the chance of survival did not come twice, and to a number
incalculable it never came.

It has been the purpose of this digression to bring the extant
literature into perspective: not to raise useless regrets for what is
lost, since we can learn only from what remains; nor to contest the
value of statistics of surviving copies as a proof of circulation,
provided the works compared are similar in length and kind, and are
represented in enough manuscripts to make figures significant; nor yet
to deny that didactic verse bulks large in the output of the fourteenth
century: it could not be otherwise in an anxious age, when the scarcity
of remains gives everything written in English a place in literary
history, and when for almost everything verse was preferred to prose. It
seemed better to redress the balance of chance by stealing from the end
of the thirteenth century a few fragments that following generations
would not forget, than to lend colour to the suggestion that ninety-nine
of the men of Chaucer's century enjoyed _The Prick of Conscience_ for
every one that caught up the refrain of _Now Springs the Spray_, or
danced through _The Maid of the Moor_, or sang the praises of Alison.


V

However much a maker of excerpts may stretch his commission to give
variety, it is in vain if the reader will not do his part; for it lies
with him to find interest. Really no effective attack can be made on a
crust of such diversified hardness until the reader looks at his text as
a means of winning back something of the life of the past, and feels a
pleasure in the battle against vagueness.

The first step is to find out the verbal meaning. Strange words, that
force themselves on the attention and are easily found in dictionaries
and glossaries, try a careful reader less than groups of common
words--such lines as

      _[Th]e fairest leuedi, for [th]e nones,
      [Th]at mi[gh]t gon on bodi and bones_      II 53-4

which, if literally transposed into modern English, are nonsense. Those
who think it is beneath the dignity of an intelligent reader to weigh
such gossamer should turn to Zupitza's commentary on the Fifteenth
Century Version of _Guy of Warwick_,[27] and see how a master among
editors of Middle English relishes every phrase, missing nothing, and
yet avoiding the opposite fault of pressing anything too hard. For these
tags, more or less emptied of meaning through common use, and ridiculous
by modern standards, have their importance in the economy of spoken
verse, where a good voice carried them off. They helped out the composer
in need of a rime; the reciter on his feet, compelled to improvise; and
the audience who, lacking the reader's privilege to linger over
close-packed lines, welcomed familiar turns that by diluting the sense
made it easier to receive.

[Foot-note 27: Early English Text Society, extra series, 1875-6.]

Repeated reading will bring out clearly the formal elements of
style--the management of rime and alliteration in verse, the grouping
and linking of clauses in prose, the cadences in both verse and prose:
and before the value of a word or phrase can be settled it is often
necessary to inquire how far its use was dictated by technical
conditions, compliance with which is sometimes ingenuous to the point of
crudity. Where a prose writer would be content with _Mathew sayth_, an
alliterative poet elaborates (VIII _a_ 234) into:

      _Mathew with mannes face mouthed [th]ise wordis_

and in such a context _mouthed_ cannot be pressed. The frequent oaths in
the speeches in _Piers Plowman_ are no more than counters in the
alliteration: being meaningless they are selected to prop up the verse,
just as the barrenest phrases in the poem _On the Death of Edward III_
owe their inclusion to the requirements of rime. Again, it will be
easier to acquiesce in a forced sense of _bende_ in

      _On bent much baret bende_        V 47

when it is observed that rime and alliteration so limit the poet's
choice that no apter word could be used. Conversely, in the absence of
disturbing technical conditions, a reader who finds nonsense should
suspect his understanding of the text, or the soundness of the text,
before blaming the author.

When the sense expressed and the methods of expression have been
studied, it remains to examine the implications of the words--an endless
task and perhaps the most entertaining of all. Take as a routine example
the place where the Green Knight, preparing a third time to deliver his
blow, says to Gawayne--

      _Halde [th]e now [th]e hy[gh]e hode [th]at Ar[th]ur [th]e
          ra[gh]t,
      And kepe [th]y kanel at [th]is kest, [gh]if hit keuer
          may_                                                  V 229 f.

A recent translator renders very freely:

                              'but yet thy hood up-pick,
      Haply 'twill cover thy neck when I the buffet strike'--

though the etiquette of decapitation, and the delicacy of the stroke
that the Green Knight has in mind, require just the opposite
interpretation:--Gawayne's hood has become disarranged since he bared
his neck (V 188), and the Green Knight wants a clear view to make sure
of his aim. An observation of Gaston Paris on the Latin story of the
Dancers of Colbek will show how much an alert mind enriches the reading
of a text with precise detail. From the incident of Ave's arm he
concludes that the dancers did not form a closed ring, but a line with
Bovo leading (I 55) and Ave, as the last comer (I 43-54), at its end, so
that she had one arm free which her brother seized in his attempt to
drag her away (I 111 ff.).

Intensive reading should be combined with discursive. Intensive reading
cultivates the habit of noticing detail; and it is a sound rule of
textual criticism to interpret a composition first in the light of the
evidence contained within itself. For instance, the slight flicker in
the verse

      _Sche most wi[th] him no lenger abide_      II 330

should recall as surely as a cross-reference the earlier line

         _No durst wi[th] hir no leng abide_      II 84

and raise the question whether in both places in the original work the
comparative had not the older form _leng_. Discursive reading is a
safeguard against the dangers of a narrow experience, and especially
against the assumption that details of phrase, style, or thought are
peculiar to an author or composition, when in fact they are common to a
period or a kind. A course of both will enable the reader to cope with a
school of critics who rely on superficial resemblances to strip the mask
from anonymous authors and attach their works to some favoured name.
Whether _Sir Gawayne_ and _The Destruction of Troy_ are from the same
hand is still seriously debated. Both are alliterative poems; but it is
impossible to read ten lines from each aloud without realizing the wide
gap that divides their rhythms. The differences of spirit are more
radical still. The facility of the author of _The Destruction_ is
attained at the cost of surrender to the metre. Given pens, ink, vellum,
and a good original, he could go on turning out respectable verses while
human strength endured. And because his meaning is all on the surface,
the work does not improve on better acquaintance. The author of _Sir
Gawayne_ is an artist who never ceases to struggle with a harsh medium.
He has the rare gift of visualizing every scene in his story: image
succeeds image, each so sharply drawn as to suggest that he had his
training in one of the schools of miniature-painting for which early
England was famous. It is this gift of the painter that, more than
likeness of dialect or juxtaposition in the manuscript, links _Sir
Gawayne_ with _The Pearl_.

It cannot be too strongly urged that the purpose of a worker in Middle
English should be nothing less than to read sensitively, with the
fullest possible understanding. Of such a purpose many _curricula_ give
no hint. Nor could it be deduced readily from the latest activities of
research, where the tendency is more and more to leave the main road
(which should be crowded if the study is to thrive) for side-tracks and
by-paths of side-tracks in which the sense of direction and proportion
is easily lost.

That much may be accomplished by specialists following a single line of
approach has been demonstrated by the philologists, who have burrowed
tirelessly to present new materials to a world which seldom rewards
their happiest elucidations with so much as a 'Well said, old mole!' The
student of literature (in the narrower modern sense of the word) brings
a new range of interests. He will be disappointed if he expects to find
a finished art, poised and sustained, in an age singularly afflicted
with growing pains; but there are compensations for any one who is
content to catch glimpses of promise, and--looking back and forward, and
aside to France--to take pleasure in tracing the rise and development of
literary forms and subjects. It is still not enough. The specialist in
language as a science, or in literature as an art, may find the Sixth
Passus of _Piers Plowman_ (VIII _a_) or the Wiclifite sermon (XI _b_) of
secondary interest. Yet both are primary documents, the one for the
history of society, the other for the history of religion.

There is no escape from a counsel of perfection:--whoever enters on a
course of mediaeval studies must reckon as a defect his lack of interest
in any side of the life of the Middle Ages; and must be deaf to those
who, like the fox in Aesop that had lost its tail, proclaim the benefits
of truncation. The range of knowledge and experience was then more than
in later times within the compass of a single mind and life. And so much
that is necessary to a full understanding has been lost that no possible
source of information should be shut out willingly. It is an exercise in
humility to call up in all its details some scene of early English life
(better a domestic scene than one of pageantry) and note how much is
blurred.

Every blur is a challenge. There are few familiar subjects in which a
beginner can sooner reach the limits of recorded knowledge. The great
scholars have found time to chart only a fraction of their discoveries;
and the greatest could not hope or wish for a day when the number of
quests worth the making would be appreciably less.

       *       *       *       *       *

This book had its origin in a very different project. Professor Napier
had asked me to join him in producing for the use of language students a
volume of specimens from the Middle English dialects, with an apparatus
strictly linguistic. The work had not advanced beyond the choice of
texts when his death and my transfer to duties in which learning had no
part brought it to an end. When later the call came for a book that
would introduce newcomers to the fourteenth century, I was able to bring
into the changed plan his favourite passage from _Sir Gawayne_, and to
draw upon the notes of his lectures for its interpretation. It is a
small part of my debt to the generous and modest scholar whose mastery
of exact methods was an inspiration to his pupils.

       *       *       *       *       *

I am obliged to the Early English Text Society and to the Clarendon
Press for permission to use extracts from certain of their publications;
to the librarians who have made their manuscripts available, or have
helped me to obtain facsimiles; to Mr. J. R. R. Tolkien who has
undertaken the preparation of the Glossary, the most exacting part of
the apparatus; and to Mr. Nichol Smith who has watched over the book
from its beginnings.




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 Foot-notes (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. _'e(e)_
or _ie_, OE. _-ig_, is printed _'e_, 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 foot-notes
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]

[Foot-note 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 Soulevement 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'Arch'eologie
  Francaise_), Paris 1916.

  Faral, E. _Les Jongleurs en France au Moyen Age_, Paris 1910.

  Paris, G. _La Litt'erature Francaise au Moyen Age_, 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,
      [Th]e felaushepe of Symprynghame,
      Roberd of Brunne grete[th] [gh]ow
      In al godenesse [th]at may to prow;
      Of Brunne wake yn Kesteuene,
      Syxe myle besyde Sympryngham euene,
      Y dwelled yn [th]e pryorye
      Fyftene [gh]ere 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
      [Th]at me Robert with gude wille neuene!
      In [th]e third Edwardes tyme was I,
      When I wrote alle [th]is story,
      In [th]e hous of Sixille I was a throwe;
      Dan[gh] Robert of Malton, [th]at [gh]e know,
      Did it wryte for felawes sake
      When [th]ai 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 [th]at tyme
      [Th]at y began [th]ys Englyssh ryme;
      [Th]e [gh]eres of grace fyl [th]an to be
      A [th]ousynd and [th]re hundred and [th]re.
      In [th]at tyme turnede y [th]ys
      On Englyssh tunge out of Frankys
      Of a boke as y fonde ynne,
      Men clepyn [th]e 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,
      [Th]at is lightest in mannes mouthe.
      I mad noght for no disours,
      Ne for no seggers, no harpours,
      But for [th]e luf of symple men
      [Th]at strange Inglis can not ken;
      For many it ere [th]at strange Inglis
      In ryme wate neuer what it is,
      And bot [th]ai 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 haunte[th] any swyche shames
      Yn cherche, o[th]er yn cherche[gh]erd,
      Of sacrylage he may be aferd;
      Or entyrludes, or syngynge,                          5
      Or tabure bete, or o[th]er pypynge--
      Alle swyche [th]yng forbodyn es
      Whyle [th]e prest stonde[th] at messe.
      Alle swyche to euery gode preste ys lothe,
      And sunner wyl he make hym wroth                    10
      [Th]an he wyl, [th]at ha[th] no wyt,
      Ne vndyrstonde[th] nat Holy Wryt.
      And specyaly at hygh tymes
      Karolles to synge and rede rymys
      Noght yn none holy stedes,                          15
      [Th]at my[gh]t dysturble [th]e prestes bedes,
      Or [gh]yf he were yn orysun
      Or any ou[th]er deuocyun:
      Sacrylage ys alle hyt tolde,
      [Th]ys and many o[th]er folde.                      20
        But for to leue yn cherche for to daunce,
      Y shal [gh]ow telle a ful grete chaunce,
      And y trow [th]e most [th]at fel
      Ys so[th]e as y [gh]ow telle;
      And fyl [th]ys chaunce yn [th]ys londe,             25
      Yn Ingland, as y vndyrstonde,
      Yn a kynges tyme [th]at hyght Edward
      Fyl [th]ys chau<n>ce [th]at was so hard.
        Hyt was vppon a Crystemesse ny[gh]t
      [Th]at twelue folys a karolle dy[gh]t,              30
      Yn wodehed, as hyt were yn cuntek,
      [Th]ey come to a tounne men calle Colbek.
      [Th]e cherche of [th]e tounne [th]at [th]ey to come
      Ys of Seynt Magne, [th]at suffred martyrdome;
      Of Seynt Bukcestre hyt ys also,                     35
      Seynt Magnes suster, [th]at [th]ey come to.
      Here names of alle [th]us fonde y wryte,
      And as y wote now shul [gh]e wyte:
      Here lodesman, [th]at made hem glew,
      [Th]us ys wryte, he hy[gh]te Gerlew.                40
      Twey maydens were yn here coueyne,
      Mayden Merswynde and Wybessyne.
      Alle [th]ese come [th]edyr for [th]at enchesone
      Of [th]e prestes doghtyr of [th]e tounne.
        [Th]e prest hy[gh]t Robert, as y kan ame;         45
      A[gh]one hyght hys sone by name;
      Hys doghter, [th]at [th]ese men wulde haue,
      [Th]us ys wryte, [th]at she hy[gh]t Aue.
      Echoune consented to o wyl
      Who shuld go Aue oute to tyl,                       50
      [Th]ey graunted echone out to sende
      Bo[th]e Wybessyne and Merswynde.
        [Th]ese wommen [gh]ede and tolled here oute
      Wy[th] hem to karolle [th]e cherche aboute.
      Beu<u>ne ordeyned here karollyng;                   55
      Gerlew endyted what [th]ey shuld syng.
      [Th]ys ys [th]e karolle [th]at [th]ey sunge,
      As telle[th] [th]e Latyn tunge:
        '_Equitabat Beuo per siluam frondosam,
      Ducebat secum Merswyndam formosam.                  60
      Quid stamus? cur non imus?_'
        'By [th]e leued wode rode Beuolyne,
      Wy[th] hym he ledde feyre Merswyne.
      Why stonde we? why go we noght?'
      [Th]ys ys [th]e karolle [th]at Grysly wroght;       65
      [Th]ys songe sunge [th]ey yn [th]e
          cherche[gh]erd--
      Of foly were [th]ey no [th]yng aferd--
      Vnto [th]e matynes were alle done,
      And [th]e messe shuld bygynne sone.
        [Th]e preste hym reuest to begynne messe,         70
      And [th]ey ne left [th]erfore neuer [th]e lesse,
      But daunsed fur[th]e as [th]ey bygan,
      For alle [th]e messe [th]ey ne blan.
        [Th]e preste, [th]at stode at [th]e autere,
      And herd here noyse and here bere,                  75
      Fro [th]e auter down he nam,
      And to [th]e cherche porche he cam,
      And seyd 'On Goddes behalue, y [gh]ow forbede
      [Th]at [gh]e no lenger do swych dede,
      But come[th] yn on feyre manere                     80
      Goddes seruyse for to here,
      And do[th] at Crystyn mennys lawe;
      Karolle[th] no more, for Crystys awe!
      Wurschyppe[th] Hym with alle [gh]oure my[gh]t
      [Th]at of [th]e Vyrgyne was bore [th]ys ny[gh]t.'   85
        For alle hys byddyng lefte [th]ey no[gh]t,
      But daunsed fur[th], as [th]ey [th]o[gh]t.
      [Th]e preste [th]arefor was sore agreued;
      He preyd God [th]at he on beleuyd,
      And for Seynt Magne, [th]at he wulde so
          werche--                                        90
      Yn whos wurschyp sette was [th]e cherche--
      [Th]at swych a veniaunce were on hem sent,
      Are [th]ey oute of [th]at stede were went,
      [Th]at <[th]ey> my[gh]t euer ry[gh]t so wende
      Vnto [th]at tyme tweluemonth ende;                  95
      (Yn [th]e Latyne [th]at y fonde [th]ore
      He sey[th] nat 'tweluemonth' but 'euermore';)
      He cursed hem [th]ere alsaume
      As [th]ey karoled on here gaume.
        As sone as [th]e preste hadde so spoke           100
      Euery hand yn ou[th]th]er so fast was loke
      [Th]at no man my[gh]t with no wundyr
      [Th]at tweluemo<n>[th]e parte hem asundyr.
        [Th]e preste [gh]ede yn, whan [th]ys was done,
      And commaunded hys sone A[gh]one                   105
      [Th]at <he> shulde go swy[th]e aftyr Aue,
      Oute of [th]at karolle algate to haue.
      But al to late [th]at wurde was seyd,
      For on hem alle was [th]e veniaunce leyd.
        A[gh]one wende weyl for to spede;                110
      Vnto [th]e karolle as swy[th]e he [gh]ede,
      Hys systyr by [th]e arme he hente,
      And [th]e arme fro [th]e body wente.
      Men wundred alle [th]at [th]ere wore,
      And merueyle mowe [gh]e here more,                 115
      For, se[th]en he had [th]e arme yn hand,
      [Th]e body [gh]ede fur[th] karoland,
      And no[th]er <[th]e> body ne [th]e arme
      Bledde neuer blode, colde ne warme,
      But was as drye, with al [th]e haunche,            120
      As of a stok were ryue a braunche.
        A[gh]one to hys fadyr went,
      And broght hym a sory present:
      'Loke, fadyr,' he seyd, 'and haue hyt here,
      [Th]e arme of [th]y doghtyr dere,                  125
      [Th]at was myn owne syster Aue,
      [Th]at y wende y my[gh]t a saue.
      [Th]y cursyng now sene hyt ys
      Wyth veniaunce on [th]y owne flessh.
      Fellyche [th]ou cursedest, and ouer sone;          130
      [Th]ou askedest veniaunce,--[th]ou hast [th]y
          bone.'
        [Gh]ow [th]ar nat aske [gh]yf [th]ere was wo
      Wyth [th]e preste, and wyth many mo.
      [Th]e prest, [th]at cursed for [th]at daunce,
      On some of hys fyl harde chaunce.                  135
      He toke hys doghtyr arme forlorn
      And byryed hyt on [th]e morn;
      [Th]e nexte day [th]e arme of Aue
      He fonde hyt lyggyng aboue [th]e graue.
      He byryed <hyt> on anou[th]er day,                 140
      And eft aboue [th]e graue hyt lay.
      [Th]e [th]rydde tyme he byryed hyt,
      And eft was hyt kast oute of [th]e pyt.
      [Th]e prest wulde byrye hyt no more,
      He dredde [th]e veniaunce ferly sore;              145
      Ynto [th]e cherche he bare [th]e arme,
      For drede and doute of more harme,
      He ordeyned hyt for to be
      [Th]at euery man my[gh]t wyth ye hyt se.
        [Th]ese men [th]at [gh]ede so karolland,         150
      Alle [th]at [gh]ere, hand yn hand,
      [Th]ey neuer oute of [th]at stede [gh]ede,
      Ne none my[gh]t hem [th]enne lede.
      [Th]ere [th]e cursyng fyrst bygan,
      Yn [th]at place aboute [th]ey ran,                 155
      [Th]at neuer ne felte [th]ey no werynes
      As many [+]bodyes for goyng dos[+],
      Ne mete ete, ne drank drynke,
      Ne slepte onely alepy wynke.
      Ny[gh]t ne day [th]ey wyst of none,                160
      Whan hyt was come, whan hyt was gone;
      Frost ne snogh, hayle ne reyne,
      Of colde ne hete, felte [th]ey no peyne;
      Heere ne nayles neuer grewe,
      Ne solowed clo[th]es, ne turned hewe;              165
      [Th]undyr ne ly[gh]tnyng dyd hem no dere,
      Goddys mercy ded hyt fro hem were;--
      But sungge [th]at songge [th]at [th]e wo wro[gh]t:
      'Why stonde we? why go we no[gh]t?'
        What man shuld [th]yr be yn [th]ys lyue          170
      [Th]at ne wulde hyt see and [th]edyr dryue?
      [Th]e Emperoure Henry come fro Rome
      For to see [th]ys hard dome.
      Whan he hem say, he wepte sore
      For [th]e myschefe [th]at he sagh [th]ore.         175
      He ded come wry[gh]tes for to make
      Coueryng ouer hem, for tempest sake.
      But [th]at [th]ey wroght hyt was yn veyn,
      For hyt come to no certeyn,
      For [th]at [th]ey sette on oo day                  180
      On [th]e tou[th]er downe hyt lay.
      Ones, twyys, [th]ryys, [th]us [th]ey wro[gh]t,
      And alle here makyng was for no[gh]t.
      Myght no coueryng hyle hem fro colde
      Tyl tyme of mercy [th]at Cryst hyt wolde.          185
        Tyme of grace fyl [th]urgh Hys my[gh]t
      At [th]e tweluemonth ende, on [th]e [gh]ole
          ny[gh]t.
      [Th]e same oure [th]at [th]e prest hem banned,
      [Th]e same oure atwynne [th]ey [+]woned[+];
      [Th]at houre [th]at he cursed hem ynne,            190
      [Th]e same oure [th]ey [gh]ede atwynne,
      And as yn twynkelyng of an ye
      Ynto [th]e cherche gun [th]ey flye,
      And on [th]e pauement [th]ey fyl alle downe
      As [th]ey had be dede, or fal yn a swone.          195
        [Th]re days styl [th]ey lay echone,
      [Th]at none steryd o[th]er flesshe or bone,
      And at [th]e [th]re days ende
      To lyfe God graunted hem to wende.
      [Th]ey sette hem vpp and spak apert                200
      To [th]e parysshe prest, syre Robert:
      '[Th]ou art ensample and enchesun
      Of oure long confusyun;
      [Th]ou maker art of oure trauayle,
      [Th]at ys to many grete meruayle,                  205
      And [th]y traueyle shalt [th]ou sone ende,
      For to [th]y long home sone shalt [th]ou wende.'
        Alle [th]ey ryse [th]at yche tyde
      But Aue,--she lay dede besyde.
      Grete sorowe had here fadyr, here bro[th]er;       210
      Merueyle and drede had alle ou[th]er;
      Y trow no drede of soule dede,
      But with pyne was broght [th]e body dede.
      [Th]e fyrst man was [th]e fadyr, [th]e prest,
      [Th]at deyd aftyr [th]e do[gh]tyr nest.            215
      [Th]ys yche arme [th]at was of Aue,
      [Th]at none my[gh]t leye yn graue,
      [Th]e Emperoure dyd a vessel werche
      To do hyt yn, and hange yn [th]e cherche,
      [Th]at alle men my[gh]t se hyt and knawe,          220
      And [th]enk on [th]e chaunce when men hyt sawe.
        [Th]ese men [th]at hadde go [th]us karolland
      Alle [th]e [gh]ere, fast hand yn hand,
      [Th]ogh [th]at [th]ey were [th]an asunder
      [Gh]yt alle [th]e worlde spake of hem wunder.      225
      [Th]at same hoppyng [th]at [th]ey fyrst [gh]ede,
      [Th]at daunce [gh]ede [th]ey [th]urgh land and lede,
      And, as [th]ey ne my[gh]t fyrst be vnbounde,
      So efte togedyr my[gh]t [th]ey neuer be founde,
      Ne my[gh]t [th]ey neuer come a[gh]eyn              230
      Togedyr to oo stede certeyn.
        Foure [gh]ede to [th]e courte of Rome,
      And euer hoppyng aboute [th]ey nome,
      [+]Wyth sundyr lepys[+] come [th]ey [th]edyr,
      But [th]ey come neuer efte togedyr.                235
      Here clo[th]es ne roted, ne nayles grewe,
      Ne heere ne wax, ne solowed hewe,
      Ne neuer hadde [th]ey amendement,
      [Th]at we herde, at any corseynt,
      But at [th]e vyrgyne Seynt Edyght,                 240
      [Th]ere was he botened, Seynt Teodryght,
      On oure Lady day, yn lenten tyde,
      As he slepte here toumbe besyde.
      [Th]ere he had hys medycyne
      At Seynt Edyght, [th]e holy vyrgyne.               245
        Brunyng [th]e bysshope of seynt Tolous
      Wrote [th]ys tale so merueylous;
      Se[th][th]e was hys name of more renoun,
      Men called hym [th]e pope Leoun.
      [Th]ys at [th]e court of Rome [th]ey wyte,         250
      And yn [th]e kronykeles hyt ys wryte
      Yn many stedys be[gh]ounde [th]e see,
      More [th]an ys yn [th]ys cuntr'e.
      [Th]arfor men seye, an weyl ys trowed,
      '[Th]e nere [th]e cherche, [th]e fyr[th]er
          fro God'.                                      255
        So fare men here by [th]ys tale,
      Some holde hyt but a troteuale,
      Yn o[th]er stedys hyt ys ful dere
      And for grete merueyle [th]ey wyl hyt here.
      A tale hyt ys of feyre shewyng,                    260
      Ensample and drede a[gh]ens cursyng.
      [Th]ys tale y tolde [gh]ow to <make> [gh]ow aferde
      Yn cherche to karolle, or yn cherche[gh]erde,
      Namely a[gh]ens [th]e prestys wylle:
      Leue[th] whan he bydde[th] [gh]ow be stylle.       265

[Foot-note: 21 for (2nd) _om. MS. Bodley 415_.]

[Foot-note: 24 Ys as so[th] as [th]e gospel _MS. Bodley_.]

[Foot-note: 78 behalue] halfe _MS. Bodley_.]

[Foot-note: 94 [th]ey] _so MS. Bodley: om. MS. Harley_.]

[Foot-note: 106 he] _so MS. Bodley_.]

[Foot-note: 118 [th]e] _so MS. Bodley_.]

[Foot-note: 136-7 forlor[=n]... mor[=n] _MS._]

[Foot-note: 140 hyt] _so MS. Bodley_: _om. MS. Harley._]

[Foot-note: 171 [Th]at] [Th]at hyt _MS. Harley_.]

[Foot-note: 221 men] [th]ey _MS. Bodley_.]

[Foot-note: 227 [gh]ede] wente _MS. Bodley._]

[Foot-note: 229 togedyr... neuer] my[gh]t [th]ey neuer togedyr _MS.
Bodley._]

[Foot-note: 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); _Emar'e_; 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 [th]at fallen by whyle;
      Sum of bourdys, and sum of rybaudry,
      And sum [th]er ben of the feyr'e.                   10
      Of alle [th]ing [th]at men may se,
      Moost _o_ lo_u_e forso[th]e [th]ey be.
      In Brytayn [th]is layes arne ywryte,
      Furst yfounde and for[th]e ygete,
      Of aventures [th]at fillen by dayes,                15
      Wherof Brytouns made her layes.
      When [th]ey myght owher heryn
      Of aventures [th]at [th]er weryn,
      [Th]ey toke her harpys wi[th] game,
      Maden layes and [gh]af it name.                     20
        Of aventures [th]at han befalle
      Y can sum telle, but nou[gh]t all.
      Herken, lordyngys [th]at ben trewe,
      And y wol [gh]ou telle of Sir Orphewe.>
        Orfeo was a king,                                 25
      In Inglond an hei[gh]e lording,
      A stalwor[th] man and hardi bo,
      Large and curteys he was also.
      His fader was comen of King Pluto,
      And his moder of King Iuno,                         30
      [Th]at sum time were as godes yhold,
      For auentours [th]at [th]ai dede and told.
        <Orpheo most of ony [th]ing
      Louede [th]e gle of harpyng;
      Syker was euery gode harpoure                       35
      Of hym to haue moche honoure.
      Hymself loued for to harpe,
      And layde [th]eron his wittes scharpe.
      He lernyd so, [th]er no[th]ing was
      A better harper in no plas;                         40
      In [th]e world was neuer man born
      [Th]at euer Orpheo sat byforn,
      And he my[gh]t of his harpyng here,
      He schulde [th]inke [th]at he were
      In one of [th]e ioys of Paradys,                    45
      Suche ioy and melody in his harpyng is.>
        [Th]is king soiournd in Traciens,
      [Th]at was a cit'e of noble defens;
      For Winchester was cleped [th]o
      Traciens wi[th]outen no.                            50
      [Th]e king hadde a quen of priis,
      [Th]at was ycleped Dame Herodis,
      [Th]e fairest leuedi, for [th]e nones,
      [Th]at mi[gh]t gon on bodi and bones,
      Ful of loue and of godenisse;                       55
      Ac no man may telle hir fairnise.
        Bifel so in [th]e comessing of May,
      When miri and hot is [th]e day,
      And oway be[th] winter-schours,
      And eueri feld is ful of flours,                    60
      And blosme breme on eueri bou[gh]
      Oueral wexe[th] miri anou[gh],
      [Th]is ich quen, Dame Heurodis,
      Tok to maidens of priis,
      And went in an vndrentide                           65
      To play bi an orchard side,
      To se [th]e floures sprede and spring,
      And to here [th]e foules sing.
        [Th]ai sett hem doun al [th]re
      Vnder a fair ympe-tre,                              70
      And wel sone [th]is fair quene
      Fel on slepe opon [th]e grene.
      [Th]e maidens durst hir nou[gh]t awake,
      Bot lete hir ligge and rest take.
      So sche slepe til afternone,                        75
      [Th]at vndertide was al ydone.
      Ac as sone as sche gan awake,
      Sche crid and lo[th]li 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.
      [Th]e tvo maidens hir biside
      No durst wi[th] hir no leng abide,
      Bot ourn to [th]e palays ful ri[gh]t,               85
      And told bo[th]e squier and kni[gh]t
      [Th]at her quen awede wold,
      And bad hem go and hir athold.
      Kni[gh]tes vrn, and leuedis also,
      Damisels sexti and mo,                              90
      In [th]e orchard to [th]e quen hye come,
      And her vp in her armes nome,
      And brou[gh]t hir to bed atte last,
      And held hir [th]ere fine fast;
      Ac euer sche held in o cri,                         95
      And wold vp and owy.
        When Orfeo herd [th]at tiding,
      Neuer him nas wers for no [th]ing.
      He come wi[th] kni[gh]tes tene
      To chaumber ri[gh]t bifor [th]e quene,             100
      And biheld, and seyd wi[th] grete pit'e:
      'O lef liif, what is te,
      [Th]at euer [gh]ete hast ben so stille,
      And now gredest wonder schille?
      [Th]i bodi, [th]at was so white ycore,             105
      Wi[th] [th]ine nailes is al totore.
      Allas! [th]i rode, [th]at was so red,
      Is al wan as [th]ou were ded;
      And also [th]ine fingres smale
      Be[th] al blodi and al pale.                       110
      Allas! [th]i louesom ey[gh]en to
      Loke[th] so man do[th] on his fo.
      A! dame, ich biseche merci.
      Lete ben al [th]is reweful cri,
      And tel me what [th]e is, and hou,                 115
      And what [th]ing may [th]e help now.'
        [Th]o lay sche stille atte last,
      And gan to wepe swi[th]e fast,
      And seyd [th]us [th]e king to:
      'Allas! mi lord, Sir Orfeo,                        120
      Se[th][th]en we first togider were,
      Ones wro[th] neuer we nere,
      Bot euer ich haue yloued [th]e
      As mi liif, and so [th]ou me.
      Ac now we mot delen ato;                           125
      Do [th]i best, for y mot go.'
        'Allas!' qua[th] he, 'forlorn icham.
      Whider wiltow go, and to wham?
      Whider [th]ou gost, ichil wi[th] [th]e,
      And whider y go, [th]ou schalt wi[th] me.'         130
      'Nay, nay, sir, [th]at nou[gh]t nis;
      Ichil [th]e telle al hou it is:
      As ich lay [th]is vndertide,
      And slepe vnder our orchard-side,
      [Th]er come to me to fair kni[gh]tes               135
      Wele y-armed al to ri[gh]tes,
      And bad me comen an hei[gh]ing,
      And speke wi[th] her lord [th]e king.
      And ich answerd at wordes bold,
      Y durst nou[gh]t, no y nold.                       140
      [Th]ai priked o[gh]ain as [th]ai mi[gh]t driue;
      [Th]o com her king also bliue,
      Wi[th] an hundred kni[gh]tes and mo,
      And damisels an hundred also,
      Al on snowe-white stedes;                          145
      As white as milke were her wedes:
      Y no sei[gh]e neuer [gh]ete bifore
      So fair creatours ycore.
      [Th]e king hadde a croun on hed,
      It nas of siluer, no of gold red,                  150
      Ac it was of a precious ston,
      As bri[gh]t as [th]e sonne it schon.
      And as son as he to me cam,
      Wold ich, nold ich, he me nam,
      And made me wi[th] him ride                        155
      Opon a palfray, bi his side,
      And brou[gh]t me to his palays,
      Wele atird in ich ways,
      And schewed me castels and tours,
      Riuers, forestes, fri[th] wi[th] flours,           160
      And his riche stedes ichon;
      And se[th][th]en me brou[gh]t o[gh]ain hom
      Into our owhen orchard,
      And said to me [th]us afterward:
      "Loke, dame, to-morwe [th]atow be                  165
      Ri[gh]t here vnder [th]is ympe-tre,
      And [th]an [th]ou schalt wi[th] ous go,
      And liue wi[th] ous euermo;
      And [gh]if [th]ou makest ous ylet,
      Whar [th]ou be, [th]ou worst yfet,                 170
      And totore [th]ine limes al,
      [Th]at no[th]ing help [th]e no schal;
      And [th]ei [th]ou best so totorn,
      [Gh]ete [th]ou worst wi[th] ous yborn."'
        When King Orfeo herd [th]is cas,                 175
      'O we!' qua[th] he, 'allas, allas!
      Leuer me were to lete mi liif,
      [Th]an [th]us to lese [th]e quen mi wiif!'
      He asked conseyl at ich man,
      Ac no man him help no can.                         180
        Amorwe [th]e vndertide is come,
      And Orfeo ha[th] his armes ynome,
      And wele ten hundred kni[gh]tes wi[th] him
      Ich y-armed stout and grim;
      And wi[th] [th]e quen wenten he                    185
      Ri[gh]t vnto [th]at ympe-tre.
      [Th]ai made scheltrom in ich a side,
      And sayd [th]ai wold [th]ere abide,
      And dye [th]er euerichon,
      Er [th]e quen schuld fram hem gon.                 190
      Ac [gh]ete amiddes hem ful ri[gh]t
      [Th]e quen was oway ytui[gh]t,
      Wi[th] fairi for[th] ynome;
      Men wist neuer wher sche was bicome.
        [Th]o was [th]er criing, wepe and wo.            195
      [Th]e king into his chaumber is go,
      And oft swoned opon [th]e ston,
      And made swiche diol and swiche mon
      [Th]at nei[gh]e his liif was yspent:
      [Th]er was non amendement.                         200
        He cleped togider his barouns,
      Erls, lordes of renouns;
      And when [th]ai al ycomen were,
      'Lordinges,' he said, 'bifor [gh]ou here
      Ich ordainy min hei[gh]e 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,
      [Th]e fairest leuedi [th]at euer was bore,         210
      Neuer eft y nil no woman se.
      Into wildernes ichil te,
      And liue [th]er euermore
      Wi[th] wilde bestes in holtes hore.
      And when [gh]e vnderstond [th]at y be spent,       215
      Make [gh]ou [th]an a parlement,
      And chese [gh]ou a newe king.
      Now do[th] [gh]our best wi[th] al mi [th]ing.'
        [Th]o was [th]er wepeing in [th]e halle,
      And grete cri among hem alle;                      220
      Vnne[th]e mi[gh]t old or [gh]ong
      For wepeing speke a word wi[th] tong.
      [Th]ai kneled adoun al yfere,
      And praid him, [gh]if his wille were,
      [Th]at he no schuld nou[gh]t fram hem go.          225
      'Do way!' qua[th] 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 no[th]er gode.                     230
      Bot his harp he tok algate,
      And dede him barfot out atte [gh]ate;
      No man most wi[th] him go.
        O way! what [th]er was wepe and wo,
      When he, [th]at hadde ben king wi[th] croun,       235
      Went so pouerlich out of toun!
      [Th]urch wode and ouer he[th]
      Into [th]e wildernes he ge[th].
      No[th]ing he fint [th]at him is ays,
      Bot euer he liue[th] in gret malais.               240
      He [th]at hadde ywerd [th]e fowe and griis,
      And on bed [th]e purper biis,
      Now on hard he[th]e he li[th],
      Wi[th] leues and gresse he him wri[th].
      He [th]at hadde had castels and tours,             245
      Riuer, forest, fri[th] wi[th] flours,
      Now, [th]ei it comenci to snewe and frese,
      [Th]is king mot make his bed in mese.
      He [th]at had yhad kni[gh]tes of priis
      Bifor him kneland, and leuedis,                    250
      Now se[th] he no[th]ing [th]at him like[th],
      Bot wilde wormes bi him strike[th].
      He [th]at had yhad plent'e
      Of mete and drink, of ich deynt'e,
      Now may he al day digge and wrote                  255
      Er he finde his fille of rote.
      In somer he liue[th] bi wild frut
      And berien bot gode lite;
      In winter may he no[th]ing finde
      Bot rote, grases, and [th]e rinde.                 260
      Al his bodi was oway duine
      For missays, and al tochine.
      Lord! who may telle [th]e sore
      [Th]is king sufferd ten [gh]ere 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 [th]e weder was clere and bri[gh]t,
      He toke his harp to him wel ri[gh]t,               270
      And harped at his owhen wille.
      Into alle [th]e wode [th]e soun gan schille,
      [Th]at alle [th]e wilde bestes [th]at [th]er be[th]
      For ioie abouten him [th]ai te[th];
      And alle [th]e foules [th]at [th]er were           275
      Come and sete on ich a brere,
      To here his harping afine,
      So miche melody was [th]erin;
      And when he his harping lete wold,
      No best bi him abide nold.                         280
        He mi[gh]t se him bisides
      Oft in hot vndertides
      [Th]e king o fairy wi[th] his rout
      Com to hunt him al about,
      Wi[th] dim cri and bloweing;                       285
      And houndes also wi[th] him berking;
      Ac no best [th]ai no nome,
      No neuer he nist whider [th]ai bicome.
      And o[th]er while he mi[gh]t him se
      As a gret ost bi him te                            290
      Wele atourned ten hundred kni[gh]tes,
      Ich y-armed to his ri[gh]tes,
      Of cuntenaunce stout and fers,
      Wi[th] mani desplaid baners,
      And ich his swerd ydrawe hold,                     295
      Ac neuer he nist whider [th]ai wold.
      And o[th]er while he sei[gh]e o[th]er [th]ing:
      Kni[gh]tes and leuedis com daunceing
      In queynt atire, gisely,
      Queynt pas and softly;                             300
      Tabours and trunpes [gh]ede hem bi,
      And al maner menstraci.
        And on a day he sei[gh]e him biside
      Sexti leuedis on hors ride,
      Gentil and iolif as brid on ris,--                 305
      Nou[gh]t o man amonges hem [th]er nis.
      And ich a faucoun on hond bere,
      And riden on haukin bi o riuere.
      Of game [th]ai founde wel gode haunt,
      Maulardes, hayroun, and cormeraunt;                310
      [Th]e foules of [th]e water arise[th],
      [Th]e faucouns hem wele deuise[th];
      Ich faucoun his pray slou[gh].
      [Th]at sei[gh]e Orfeo, and lou[gh]:
      'Parfay!' qua[th] he, '[th]er is fair game,        315
      [Th]ider ichil, bi Godes name!
      Ich was ywon swiche werk to se.'
      He aros, and [th]ider gan te.
      To a leuedi he was ycome,
      Biheld, and ha[th] wele vndernome,                 320
      And se[th] bi al [th]ing [th]at it is
      His owhen quen, Dam Heurodis.
      [Gh]ern he biheld hir, and sche him eke,
      Ac noi[th]er to o[th]er a word no speke.
      For messais [th]at sche on him sei[gh]e,           325
      [Th]at had ben so riche and so hei[gh]e,
      [Th]e teres fel out of her ei[gh]e.
      [Th]e o[th]er leuedis [th]is ysei[gh]e,
      And maked hir oway to ride,
      Sche most wi[th] him no lenger abide.              330
        'Allas!' qua[th] he, 'now me is wo.
      Whi nil de[th] now me slo?
      Allas! wr_e_che, [th]at y no mi[gh]t
      Dye now after [th]is si[gh]t!
      Allas! to long last mi liif,                       335
      When y no dar nou[gh]t wi[th] mi wiif,
      No hye to me, o word speke.
      Allas! whi nil min hert breke?
      Parfay!' qua[th] he, 'tide wat bitide,
      Whider so [th]is leuedis ride,                     340
      [Th]e selue way ichil streche;
      Of liif no de[th] 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 noi[th]er stub no ston.
      In at a roche [th]e leuedis ride[th],
      And he after, and nou[gh]t abide[th].
        When he was in [th]e roche ygo
      Wele [th]re mile o[th]er mo,                       350
      He com into a fair cuntray,
      As bri[gh]t so sonne on somers day,
      Smo[th]e and plain and al grene,
      Hille no dale nas [th]er non ysene.
      Amidde [th]e lond a castel he si[gh]e,             355
      Riche and real, and wonder hei[gh]e.
      Al [th]e vtmast wal
      Was clere and schine as cristal;
      An hundred tours [th]er were about,
      Degiselich, and bataild stout;                     360
      [Th]e butras com out of [th]e diche,
      Of rede gold y-arched riche;
      [Th]e vousour was anow<rn>ed al
      Of ich maner diuers animal.
      Wi[th]in [th]er wer wide wones                     365
      Al of precious stones.
      [Th]e werst piler on to biholde
      Was al of burnist gold.
      Al [th]at lond was euer li[gh]t,
      For when it schuld be [th]erk and ni[gh]t,         370
      [Th]e riche stones li[gh]t gonne,
      As bri[gh]t as do[th] at none [th]e sonne.
      No man may telle, no [th]enche in [th]ou[gh]t,
      [Th]e riche werk [th]at [th]er was wrou[gh]t;
      Bi al [th]ing him [th]ink [th]at it is             375
      [Th]e proude court of Paradis.
        In [th]is castel [th]e leuedis ali[gh]t;
      He wold in after, [gh]if he mi[gh]t.
      Orfeo knokke[th] atte gate,
      [Th]e porter was redi [th]erate,                   380
      And asked what he wold haue ydo.
      'Parfay!' qua[th] he, 'icham a minstrel, lo!
      To solas [th]i lord wi[th] mi gle,
      [Gh]if his swete wille be.'
      [Th]e porter vndede [th]e [gh]ate anon,            385
      And lete him into [th]e castel gon.
        [Th]an he gan bihold about al,
      And sei[gh]e [+]ful[+] liggeand wi[th]in [th]e wal
      Of folk [th]at were [th]ider ybrou[gh]t,
      And [th]ou[gh]t dede, and nare nou[gh]t.           390
      Sum stode wi[th]outen hade,
      And sum non armes nade,
      And sum [th]urch [th]e bodi hadde wounde,
      And sum lay wode, ybounde,
      And sum armed on hors sete,                        395
      And sum astrangled as [th]ai ete,
      And sum were in water adreynt,
      And sum wi[th] fire al forschreynt
      Wiues [th]er lay on childbedde,
      Sum ded, and sum awedde;                           400
      And wonder fele [th]er lay bisides,
      Ri[gh]t as [th]ai slepe her vndertides.
      Eche was [th]us in [th]is warld ynome,
      Wi[th] fairi [th]ider ycome.
      [Th]er he sei[gh]e his owhen wiif,                 405
      Dame Heurodis, his l_e_f liif,
      Slepe vnder an ympe-tre:
      Bi her clo[th]es he knewe [th]at it was he.
        And when he hadde bihold [th]is meruails alle,
      He went into [th]e kinges halle.                   410
      [Th]an sei[gh]e he [th]er a semly si[gh]t,
      A tabernacle blisseful and bri[gh]t,
      [Th]erin her maister king sete,
      And her quen fair and swete.
      Her crounes, her clo[th]es, schine so bri[gh]t,    415
      [Th]at vnne[th]e bihold he hem mi[gh]t.
        When he hadde biholden al [th]at [th]ing,
      He kneled adoun bifor [th]e king.
      'O lord,' he seyd, '[gh]if it [th]i wille were,
      Mi menstraci [th]ou schust yhere.'                 420
      [Th]e king answerd: 'What man artow,
      [Th]at art hider ycomen now?
      Ich, no non [th]at is wi[th] me,
      No sent neuer after [th]e;
      Se[th][th]en [th]at ich here regni gan,            425
      Y no fond neuer so folehardi man
      [Th]at hider to ous durst wende,
      Bot [th]at ichim wald ofsende.'
      'Lord,' qua[th] he, 'trowe ful wel,
      Y nam bot a pouer menstrel;                        430
      And, sir, it is [th]e maner of ous
      To seche mani a lordes hous;
      [Th]ei we nou[gh]t welcom no be,
      [Gh]ete we mot proferi for[th] our gle.'
        Bifor [th]e king he sat adoun,                   435
      And tok his harp so miri of soun,
      And tempre[th] his harp, as he wele can,
      And blisseful notes he [th]er gan,
      [Th]at al [th]at in [th]e palays were
      Com to him for to here,                            440
      And ligge[th] adoun to his fete,
      Hem [th]enke[th] his melody so swete.
      [Th]e king herkne[th] and sitt ful stille,
      To here his gle he ha[th] gode wille;
      Gode bourde he hadde of his gle,                   445
      [Th]e riche quen also hadde he.
        When he hadde stint his harping,
      [Th]an seyd to him [th]e king:
      'Menstrel, me like[th] wele [th]i gle.
      Now aske of me what it be,                         450
      Largelich ichil [th]e pay.
      Now speke, and tow mi[gh]t asay.'
      'Sir,' he seyd, 'ich biseche [th]e
      [Th]atow woldest [gh]iue me
      [Th]at ich leuedi, bri[gh]t on ble,                455
      [Th]at slepe[th] vnder [th]e ympe-tre.'
      'Nay,' qua[th] [th]e king, '[th]at nou[gh]t nere!
      A sori couple of [gh]ou it were,
      For [th]ou art lene, rowe, and blac,
      And sche is louesum, wi[th]outen lac;              460
      A lo[th]lich [th]ing it were for[th]i
      To sen hir in [th]i compayni.'
        'O sir,' he seyd, 'gentil king,
      [Gh]ete were it a wele fouler [th]ing
      To here a lesing of [th]i mou[th]e,                465
      So, sir, as [gh]e seyd nou[th]e,
      What ich wold aski, haue y schold,
      And nedes [th]ou most [th]i word hold.'
      [Th]e king seyd: 'Se[th][th]en it is so,
      Take hir bi [th]e hond, and go;                    470
      Of hir ichil [th]atow be bli[th]e.'
        He kneled adoun, and [th]onked him swi[th]e;
      His wiif he tok bi [th]e hond,
      And dede him swi[th]e out of [th]at lond,
      And went him out of [th]at [th]ede,--              475
      Ri[gh]t as he come [th]e way he [gh]ede.
        So long he ha[th] [th]e way ynome,
      To Winchester he is ycome,
      [Th]at was his owhen cit'e;
      Ac no man knewe [th]at it was he.                  480
      No for[th]er [th]an [th]e tounes ende
      For knoweleche <he> no durst wende,
      Bot wi[th] a begger y<n> bilt ful narwe,
      [Th]er he tok his herbarwe,
      To him and to his owhen wiif,                      485
      As a minstrel of pouer liif,
      And asked tidinges of [th]at lond,
      And who [th]e kingdom held in hond.
      [Th]e pouer begger in his cote
      Told him euerich a grot:                           490
      Hou her quen was stole owy
      Ten [gh]er gon wi[th] fairy;
      And hou her king en exile [gh]ede,
      Bot no man nist in wiche [th]ede;
      And hou [th]e steward [th]e lond gan hold;         495
      And o[th]er mani [th]inges him told.
        Amorwe, o[gh]ain nonetide,
      He maked his wiif [th]er abide;
      [Th]e beggers clo[th]es he borwed anon,
      And heng his harp his rigge opon,                  500
      And went him into [th]at cit'e,
      [Th]at men mi[gh]t him bihold and se.
      Erls and barouns bold,
      Buriays and leuedis him gun bihold.
      'Lo,' [th]ai seyd, 'swiche a man!                  505
      Hou long [th]e here honge[th] him opan!
      Lo, hou his berd honge[th] to his kne!
      He is yclongen also a tre!'
        And as he [gh]ede in [th]e strete,
      Wi[th] his steward he gan mete,                    510
      And loude he sett on him a crie:
      'Sir steward,' he seyd, 'merci!
      Icham an harpour of he[th]enisse;
      Help me now in [th]is destresse!'
      [Th]e steward seyd: 'Com wi[th] me, come;          515
      Of [th]at ichaue [th]ou schalt haue some.
      Euerich gode harpour is welcom me to,
      For mi lordes loue Sir Orfeo.'
        In [th]e castel [th]e steward sat atte mete,
      And mani lording was bi him sete.                  520
      [Th]er were trompour<s> and tabourers,
      Harpours fele, and crouders.
      Miche melody [th]ai maked alle,
      And Orfeo sat stille in [th]e halle,
      And herkne[th]. When [th]ai ben al stille,         525
      He toke his harp and tempred schille,
      [Th]e bli<sse>fulest notes he harped [th]ere
      [Th]at euer ani man yherd wi[th] ere;
      Ich man liked wele his gle.
        [Th]e steward biheld and gan yse,                530
      And knewe [th]e harp als bliue.
      'Menstrel,' he seyd, 'so mot [th]ou [th]riue,
      Where hadestow [th]is harp, and hou?
      Y pray [th]at [th]ou me telle now.'
      'Lord,' qua[th] he, 'in vncou[th]e [th]ede,        535
      [Th]urch a wildernes as y [gh]ede,
      [Th]er y founde in a dale
      Wi[th] lyouns a man totorn smale,
      And wolues him frete wi[th] te[th] so scharp.
      Bi him y fond [th]is ich harp;                     540
      Wele ten [gh]ere it is ygo.'
      'O,' qua[th] [th]e steward, 'now me is wo!
      [Th]at was mi lord Sir Orfeo.
      Allas! wreche, what schal y do,
      [Th]at haue swiche a lord ylore?                   545
      A way! [th]at ich was ybore!
      [Th]at him was so hard grace y[gh]arked,
      And so vile de[th] ymarked!'
      Adoun he fel aswon to grounde.
      His barouns him tok vp in [th]at stounde,          550
      And telle[th] him hou it ge[th]--
      It nis no bot of manes de[th].
        King Orfeo knewe wele bi [th]an
      His steward was a trewe man
      And loued him as he au[gh]t to do,                 555
      And stont vp and seyt [th]us: 'Lo,
      Steward, herkne now [th]is [th]ing:
      [Gh]if ich were Orfeo [th]e king,
      And hadde ysuffred ful [gh]ore
      In wildernisse miche sore,                         560
      And hadde ywon mi quen owy
      Out of [th]e lond of fairy,
      And hadde ybrou[gh]t [th]e leuedi hende
      Ri[gh]t here to [th]e tounes ende,
      And wi[th] a begger her in ynome,                  565
      And were miself hider ycome
      Pouerlich to [th]e, [th]us stille,
      For to asay [th]i gode wille,
      And ich founde [th]e [th]us trewe,
      [Th]ou no schust it neuer rewe:                    570
      Sikerlich, for loue or ay,
      [Th]ou schust be king after mi day.
      And [gh]if [th]ou of mi de[th] hadest ben
          bli[th]e,
      [Th]ou schust haue voided also swi[th]e.'
        [Th]o al [th]o [th]at [th]erin sete              575
      [Th]at it was King Orfeo vnder[gh]ete,
      And [th]e steward him wele knewe;
      Ouer and ouer [th]e bord he [th]rewe,
      And fel adoun to his fet;
      So dede euerich lord [th]at [th]er sete,           580
      And al [th]ai seyd at o criing:
      '[Gh]e be[th] our lord, sir, and our king!'
      Glad [th]ai were of his liue.
      To chaumber [th]ai ladde him als biliue,
      And ba[th]ed him, and schaued his berd,            585
      And tired him as a king apert.
      And se[th][th]en wi[th] gret processioun
      [Th]ai brou[gh]t [th]e quen into [th]e toun,
      Wi[th] al maner menstraci.
      Lord! [th]er was grete melody!                     590
      For ioie [th]ai wepe wi[th] her ei[gh]e
      [Th]at hem so sounde ycomen sei[gh]e.
        Now King Orfeo newe coround is,
      And his quen Dame Heurodis,
      And liued long afterward;                          595
      And se[th][th]en was king [th]e steward.
        Harpours in Bretaine after [th]an
      Herd hou [th]is meruaile bigan,
      And made herof a lay of gode likeing,
      And nempned it after [th]e king;                   600
      [Th]at lay 'Orfeo' is yhote,
      Gode is [th]e lay, swete is [th]e note.
        [Th]us com Sir Orfeo out of his care.
      God graunt ous alle wele to fare.

[Foot-note: ll. 1-24 _from Harl. 3810: om. MS._]

[Foot-note: ll. 7-8 _follow_ ll. 9-10 _in Harl._]

[Foot-note: 12 o loue] to lowe _Harl._]

[Foot-note: 26 In Inglond] And in his tyme _Harl._]

[Foot-note: 33-46 _from Harl. 3810: om. MS._]

[Foot-note: 49-50 _om. Harl., Ashm._]

[Foot-note: 51 [Th]e king] He _Harl._: And _Ashm._]

[Foot-note: 82 reueysed] rauysed _Ashm._: reueyd _MS._: wode out
_Harl._]

[Foot-note: 230 no] ne _Ashm.: om. MS._]

[Foot-note: 333 wreche] wroche _MS._]

[Foot-note: 406 lef] liif _MS._]

[Foot-note: 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: _[Th]is boc
is Dan Michelis of Northgate, ywrite an Englis of his o[gh]ene hand,
[th]et hatte 'Ayenbyte of Inwyt'; and is of the boc-house of Saynt
Austines of Canterberi, mid [th]e 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 [th]et [th]is boc is uolueld ine [th]e eue of [th]e holy
apostles Symon an Iudas_ [i.e. Oct. 27] _of ane bro[th]er 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 [th]et ye ywyte
      Hou hit is ywent
      [Th]et [th]is boc is ywrite
      Mid Engliss of Kent.
      [Th]is boc is ymad uor lewede men,
      Vor uader, and uor moder, and uor o[th]er ken,
      Ham uor to ber[gh]e uram alle manyere zen,
      [Th]et 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 multiplie[th] [th]e timliche guodes, hyerof we habbe[th] uele
uayre uorbisnen, huerof ich wille hier zome telle. Me ret of Saint
Germain of Aucer_r_e [th]et, [th]o he com uram Rome, ate outguoinge
of Melane, he acsede at onen of his diaknen yef he hedde eny zeluer,
and he ansuerede [th]et {5} he ne hedde bote [th]ri pans, uor Say<n>t
Germayn hit hedde al yeue to pouren. [Th]anne he him het [th]et he his
ssolde yeue to [th]e poure, uor God hedde yno[gh] of guode, huerof he
hise uedde uor [th]ane day. [Th]e dyacne mid greate pine and mid greate
grochinge yeaf [th]e tuaye pans, and ofhild [th]ane [th]ridde. [Th]e
{10} sergont of ane riche kni[gh]te him bro[gh]te ane his lhordes haf
tuo hondred pans. [Th]o clepede he his dyacne, and him zede [th]et
he hedde benome [th]e poure ane peny, and yef he hedde yeue [th]ane
[th]ridde peny to [th]e poure, [th]e kni[gh]t him hedde yzent [th]ri
hondred pans. {15}

Efterward me ret ine [th]e lyue of Ion [th]e Amoner, [th]et wes zuo
ycleped uor [th]e greate elmesses [th]et he dede: A riche ientilman wes
yrobbed of [th]ieues, zuo [th]et him na[gh]t ne blefte. He him com to
playni to [th]e uorzede manne, and he him zede his cas. He hedde greate
reu[th]e [th]erof, and het his {20} desspendoure [th]et he him yeaue
uyftene pond of gold. [Th]e spendere, be his couaytise, ne yeaf bote
vyf. An haste a gentil wymman wodewe zente to [th]e uore-yzede Ion uif
hondred pond of gold. [Th]o he clepede his spendere, and him acsede hou
moche he hedde yyeue to [th]e kni[gh]te. He ansuerede {25} 'vyftene
pond.' [Th]e holy man ansuerede [th]et 'nay, he ne hedde bote vyf';
and huanne he hit wiste [th]e ilke zelue [th]et his hedde onderuonge,
zuo zayde to his spendere [th]et yef he hedde yyeue [th]e viftene pond
[th]et he hedde yhote, oure Lhord him hede yzent be [th]e guode wyfman
a [th]ouzond and vyf {30} hondred pond. And huanne he acsede ate guode
wyfman, [th]o he hedde hise ycleped, hou moche hi hedde him ylete, hi
andzuerede [th]et uerst hi hedde ywrite ine hare testament [th]et hi
him let a [th]ousend and vyf hondred pond. Ac hi lokede efterward ine
hare testament, and hi yze[gh] [th]e [th]ousend pond {35} defaced of
hire write, and zuo ylefde [th]e guode wyfman [th]et God wolde [th]et
hi ne zente bote vif hondred.

Efterward Saint Gregori tel[th] [th]et Saint Boniface uram [th]et he
wes child he wes zuo piteuous [th]et he yaf ofte his kertel and his
sserte to [th]e poure uor God, [th]a[gh] his moder him byete {40} ofte
[th]eruore. [Th]anne bevil [th]et [th]et child yze[gh] manie poure
[th]et hedden mezeyse. He aspide [th]et his moder nes na[gh]t [th]er.
An haste he yarn to [th]e gerniere, and al [th]et his moder hedde
ygadered uor to pasi [th]et yer he hit yaf [th]e poure. And [th]o his
moder com, and wyste [th]e ilke dede, hy wes al out of hare {45} wytte.
[Th]et child bed oure Lhorde, and [th]et gernier wes an haste al uol.

Efterward [th]er wes a poure man, ase me zay[th], [th]et hedde ane
cou; and yhyerde zigge of his preste ine his prechinge [th]et God zede
ine his spelle [th]et God wolde yelde an hondreduald {50} al [th]et me
yeaue uor him. [Th]e guode man, mid [th]e rede of his wyue, yeaf his
cou to his preste, [th]et wes riche. [Th]e prest his nom ble[th]eliche,
and hise zente to [th]e o[th]ren [th]et he hedde. [Th]o hit com to
euen, [th]e guode mannes cou com hom to his house ase hi wes ywoned,
and ledde mid hare alle [th]e {55} prestes ken, al to an hondred. [Th]o
[th]e guode man yze[gh] [th]et, he [th]o[gh]te [th]et [th]et wes [th]et
word of [th]e Godspelle [th]et he hedde yyolde; and him hi weren yloked
beuore his bissoppe aye [th]ane prest. [Th]ise uorbisne ssewe[th]
wel [th]et merci is guod chapuare, uor hi de[th] wexe [th]e 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.


A. LOVE IS LIFE.

Cambridge University Library MS. DD. 5. 64, III (about 1400) f. 38 a.

      <L>uf es lyf [th]at lastes ay, [th]ar it in Criste es feste,
      For wele ne wa it chaunge may, als wryten has men wyseste.
      [Th]e nyght it tournes intil [th]e day, [th]i trauel intyll reste;
      If [th]ou wil luf [th]us as I say, [th]ou may be wyth [th]e beste.

      Lufe es thoght wyth grete desyre of a fayre louyng;              5
      Lufe I lyken til a fyre [th]at sloken may na thyng;
      Lufe vs clenses of oure syn; luf vs bote sall bryng;
      Lufe [th]e Keynges hert may wyn; lufe of ioy may syng.

      [Th]e settel of lufe es lyft hee, for intil heuen it ranne;
      Me thynk in erth it es sle, [th]at makes men pale and
          wanne;                                                      10
      [Th]e bede of blysse it gase ful nee, I tel [th]e as I
          kanne:
      [Th]of vs thynk [th]e way be dregh, luf copuls God and manne.

      Lufe es hatter [th]en [th]e cole; lufe may nane beswyke.
      [Th]e flawme of lufe wha myght it thole, if it war ay ilyke?
      Luf vs comfortes, and mase in qwart, and lyftes tyl
          heuenryke;                                                 15
      Luf rauysches Cryste intyl owr hert; I wate na lust it lyke.

      Lere to luf, if [th]ou wyl lyfe when [th]ou sall hethen fare;
      All [th]i thoght til Hym [th]ou gyf [th]at may [th]e kepe
          fra kare:
      Loke [th]i hert fra Hym noght twyn, if [th]ou in wandreth
          ware;
      Sa [th]ou may Hym welde and wyn, and luf Hym euermare.          20

      Iesu, [th]at me lyfe hase lent, intil [Th]i lufe me bryng!
      Take til [Th]e al myne entent, [th]at [Th]ow be my
         [gh]hernyng.
      Wa fra me away war went, and comne war my couaytyng,
      If [th]at my sawle had herd and hent [th]e sang of [Th]i
          louyng.

      [Th]i lufe es ay lastand, fra [th]at we may it fele;            25
      [Th]arein make me byrnand, [th]at na thyng gar it kele.
      My thoght take into [Th]i hand, and stabyl it ylk a dele,
      [Th]at I be noght heldand to luf [th]is worldes wele.

      If I lufe any erthly thyng [th]at payes to my wyll,
      And settes my ioy and my lykyng when it may comm me tyll,       30
      I mai drede of partyng, [th]at wyll be hate and yll:
      For al my welth es bot wepyng when pyne mi saule sal spyll.

      [Th]e ioy [th]at men hase sene es lyckend tyl [th]e haye,
      [Th]at now es fayre and grene, and now wytes awaye.
      Swylk es [th]is worlde, I wene, and bees till Domesdaye,        35
      All in trauel and tene, fle [th]at na man it maye.

      If [th]ou luf in all [th]i thoght, and hate [th]e fylth of syn,
      And gyf Hym [th]i sawle [th]at it boght, [th]at He [th]e dwell
          within,
      Als Crist [th]i sawle hase soght, and [th]erof walde noght
          blyn,
      Sa [th]ou sal to blys be broght, and heuen won within.          40

      [Th]e kynd of luf es [th]is, [th]ar it es trayst and trew,
      To stand styll in stabylnes, and chaunge it for na new.
      [Th]e lyfe [th]at lufe myght fynd, or euer in hert it knew,
      Fra kare it tornes [th]at kyend, and lendes in myrth and glew.

      For now, lufe [th]ow, I rede, Cryste, as I [th]e tell,          45
      And with aungels take [th]i stede: [th]at ioy loke [th]ou
          noght sell!
      In erth [th]ow hate, I rede, all [th]at [th]i lufe may fell,
      For luf es stalworth as [th]e dede, luf es hard as hell.

      Luf es a lyght byrthen; lufe gladdes [gh]ong and alde;
      Lufe es withowten pyne, as lofers hase me talde;                50
      Lufe es a gastly wyne, [th]at makes men bygge and balde;
      Of lufe sal he na thyng tyne [th]at hit in hert will halde.

      Lufe es [th]e swettest thyng [th]at man in erth hase tane;
      Lufe es Goddes derlyng; lufe byndes blode and bane.
      In lufe be owre lykyng, I ne wate na better wane,               55
      For me and my lufyng lufe makes bath be ane.

      Bot fleschly lufe sal fare as dose [th]e flowre in May,
      And lastand be na mare [th]an ane houre of a day,
      And sythen syghe ful sare [th]ar lust, [th]ar pryde, [th]ar
          play,
      When [th]ai er casten in kare til pyne [th]at lastes ay.        60

      When [th]air bodys lyse in syn, [th]air sawls mai qwake and
          drede,
      For vp sal ryse al men, and answer for [th]air dede.
      If [th]ai be fonden in syn, als now [th]air lyfe [th]ai lede,
      [Th]ai sal sytt hel within, and myrknes hafe to mede.

      Riche men [th]air hend sal wryng, and wicked werkes sal by      65
      In flawme of fyre, bath knyght and keyng, with sorow
          schamfully.
      If [th]ou wil lufe, [th]an may [th]ou syng til Cryst in melody;
      [Th]e lufe of Hym ouercoms al thyng, [th]arto [th]ou traiste
          trewly.

      <I> sygh and sob, bath day and nyght, for ane sa fayre of hew!
      [Th]ar es na thyng my hert mai light, bot lufe [th]at es ay
          new.                                                        70
      Wha sa had Hym in his syght, or in his hert Hym knew,
      His mournyng turned til ioy ful bryght, his sang intil glew.

      In myrth he lyfes, nyght and day, [th]at lufes [th]at swete
          chylde;
      It es Iesu, forsoth I say, of al mekest and mylde.
      Wreth fra hym walde al away, [th]of he wer neuer sa wylde,      75
      He [th]at in hert lufed Hym [th]at day, fra euel He wil hym
          schylde.

      Of Iesu mast lyst me speke, [th]at al my bale may bete;
      Me thynk my hert may al tobreke when I thynk on [th]at swete;
      In lufe lacyd He hase my thoght, [th]at I sal neuer forgete.
      Ful dere me thynk He hase me boght with blodi hende and fete.   80

      For luf my hert es bowne to brest, when I [th]at faire behalde;
      Lufe es fair [th]are it es fest, [th]at neuer will be calde;
      Lufe vs reues [th]e nyght-rest, in grace it makes vs balde;
      Of al warkes luf es [th]e best, als haly men me talde.

      Na wonder gyf I syghand be, and sithen in sorow be sette:       85
      Iesu was nayled apon [th]e tre, and al blody forbette.
      To thynk on Hym es grete pyt'e--how tenderly He grette--
      [Th]is hase He sufferde, man, for [th]e, if [th]at [th]ou syn
          wyll lette.

      [Th]are es na tonge in erth may tell of lufe [th]e swetnesse.
      [Th]at stedfastly in lufe kan dwell, his ioy es endlesse.       90
      God schylde [th]at he sulde til hell, [th]at lufes and
          langand es,
      Or euer his enmys sulde hym qwell, or make his luf be lesse.

      Iesu es lufe [th]at lastes ay, til Hym es owre langyng;
      Iesu [th]e nyght turnes to [th]e day, [th]e dawyng intil
          spryng.
      Iesu, thynk on vs now and ay, for [Th]e we halde oure keyng;    95
      Iesu, gyf vs grace, as [Th]ou wel may, to luf [Th]e withowten
          endyng.

[Foot-note: 45 For now] For[th]i _MS. Lambeth 583_.]

[Foot-note: 51 wyne] = wynne _MS._]

[Foot-note: 65 hend] handes _MS., apparently altered from_ hend.]

[Foot-note: 69 I] _so MS. Lambeth 583_.]


B. THE NATURE OF THE BEE.

(The Thornton MS. (before 1450); ed. Horstmann, vol. i, p. 193.)

_Moralia Ricardi Heremite de Natura Apis._

The bee has thre kyndis. Ane es [th]at scho es neuer ydill, and scho es
noghte with thaym [th]at will noghte wyrke, bot castys thaym owte, and
puttes thaym awaye. Anothire es [th]at when scho flyes scho takes erthe
in hyr fette, [th]at scho be noghte lyghtly ouerheghede in the ayere
of wynde. The {5} thyrde es [th]at scho kepes clene and bryghte hire
wynge[gh].

Thus ryghtwyse men [th]at lufes God are neuer in ydyllnes. For owthyre
[th]ay ere in trauayle, prayand, or thynkande, or redande, or othere
gude doande; or withtakand ydill mene, and schewand thaym worthy to be
put fra [th]e ryste of heuene, {10} for [th]ay will noghte trauayle
here.

[Th]ay take erthe, [th]at es, [th]ay halde [th]amselfe vile and
erthely, that thay be noghte blawene with [th]e wynde of vanyt'e and of
pryde. Thay kepe thaire wynges clene, that es, [th]e twa commandementes
of charyt'e [th]ay fulfill in gud concyens, and {15} thay hafe othyre
vertus, vnblendyde with [th]e fylthe of syne and vnclene luste.

Arestotill sais [th]at [th]e bees are feghtande agaynes hym [th]at
will drawe [th]aire hony fra thayme. Swa sulde we do agayne deuells,
[th]at afforces thame to reue fra vs [th]e hony of poure {20} lyfe and
of grace. For many are, [th]at neuer kane halde [th]e ordyre of lufe
yne_n_ce [th]aire frendys, sybbe or fremmede. Bot outhire [th]ay lufe
[th]aym ouer mekill, settand thaire thoghte vnryghtwysely on thaym,
or [th]ay luf thayme ouer lyttill, yf [th]ay doo noghte all as [th]ey
wolde till [th]ame. Swylke kane {25} noghte fyghte for thaire hony,
forthy [th]e deuelle turnes it to wormes, and makes [th]eire saules
oftesythes full bitter in angwys, and tene, and besynes of vayne
thoghtes, and o[th]er wrechidnes. For thay are so heuy in erthely
frenchype [th]at [th]ay may noghte flee intill [th]e lufe of Iesu
Criste, in [th]e wylke {30} [th]ay moghte wele forgaa [th]e lufe of all
creaturs lyfande in erthe.

Wharefore, accordandly, Arystotill sais [th]at some fowheles are of
gude flyghyng, [th]at passes fra a lande to anothire. Some are of ill
flyghynge, for heuynes of body, and for<[th]i> {35} [th]aire neste
es noghte ferre fra [th]e erthe. Thus es it of thayme [th]at turnes
[th]ame to Godes seruys. Some are of gude flyeghynge, for thay flye
fra erthe to heuene, and rystes thayme thare in thoghte, and are fedde
in delite of Goddes lufe, and has thoghte of na lufe of [th]e worlde.
Some are [th]at {40} kan noghte flyghe fra [th]is lande, bot in [th]e
waye late theyre herte ryste, and delyttes [th]aym in sere lufes of
mene and womene, als [th]ay come and gaa, nowe ane and nowe anothire.
And in Iesu Criste [th]ay kan fynde na swettnes; or if [th]ay any tyme
fele oghte, it es swa lyttill and swa schorte, for othire thoghtes {45}
[th]at are in thayme, [th]at it brynges thaym till na stabylnes.

<F>or [th]ay are lyke till a fowle [th]at es callede strucyo or storke,
[th]at has wenges, and it may noghte flye for charge of body. Swa
[th]ay hafe vndirstandynge, and fastes, and wakes, and semes haly to
mens syghte; bot thay may noghte flye to lufe {50} and contemplacyone
of God, [th]ay are so chargede wyth othyre affeccyons and othire
vanyt'es.

[Foot-note: 22 ynence] ynesche _MS._]

[Foot-note: 23 mekill] _MS. follows with_: or thay
lufe [th]ame ouer lyttill, _caught up from below_.]


THE SEVEN GIFTS OF THE HOLY GHOST.

(Chap. xi of _The Form of Perfect Living_; ed. Horstmann, vol. i,
p. 196.)

[Th]e seuene gyftes of [th]e Haly Gaste, [th]at ere gyfene to men
and wymmene [th]at er ordaynede to [th]e ioye of heuene, and ledys
theire lyfe in this worlde reghtwysely. Thire are thay:--Wysdome, {55}
Undyrstandynge, Counsayle, Strenghe, Connynge, Pet'e, the Drede of God.
Begynne we at Consaile, for [th]areof es myster at the begynnynge of
oure werkes, [th]at vs myslyke noghte aftyrwarde. With thire seuene
gyftes [th]e Haly Gaste teches sere mene serely. {60}

Consaile es doynge awaye of worldes reches, and of all delytes of all
thynge[gh] [th]at mane may be tagyld with, in thoghte or dede, and
[th]a_r_with drawynge intill contemplacyone of Gode.

Undyrstandynge es to knawe whate es to doo, and whate {65} es to lefe,
and [th]at that sall be gyffene, to gyffe it to thaym [th]at has nede,
noghte till o[th]er [th]at has na myster.

Wysedome es forgetynge of erthely thynges and thynkynge of heuen,
with discrecyone of all men_s_ dedys. In [th]is gyfte schynes
contemplacyone, [th]at es, Saynt Austyne says, a gastely {70} dede of
fleschely affeccyones, thurghe [th]e ioye of a raysede thoghte.

Strenghe es lastynge to fullfill gude purpose, [th]at it be noghte
lefte, for wele ne for waa.

Pet'e es [th]at a man be mylde, and gaynesay noghte Haly {75} Writte
whene it smyttes his synnys, whethire he vndyrstand it or noghte; bot
in all his myghte purge he [th]e vilt'e of syne in hyme and o[th]er.

Connynge es [th]at makes a man of gude <hope>, noghte ruysand hyme
of his reghtewysnes, bot sorowand of his {80} synnys, and [th]at man
gedyrs erthely gude anely to the honour of God, and prow to o[th]er
mene [th]ane hymselfe.

The Drede of God es [th]at we turne noghte agayne till oure syne
thurghe any ill eggyng. And [th]a_n_ es drede perfite in vs and
gastely, when we drede to wrethe God in [th]e leste syne {85} [th]at we
kane knawe, and flese it als venyme.

[Foot-note: 60 teches] towches _Cambridge MS. DD. 5. 64_.]

[Foot-note: 63 [th]ar] [th]at _MS. Thornton_.]

[Foot-note: 69 mens] _so Cambridge MS. DD. 5. 64_ = mene _MS.
Thornton_.]

[Foot-note: 79 hope] _from Cambridge MS. DD. 5. 64: om. MS. Thornton_.]

[Foot-note: 84 [th]an] _Cambridge MS. DD. 5. 64_: [th]en _MS. Arundel
507_: [th]at _MS. Thornton_.]




V

SIR GAWAYNE AND THE GRENE KNIGHT

ABOUT 1350-75.


_Sir Gawayne_ has been admirably edited by Sir F. Madden for the
Bannatyne Club, 1839, and later by R. Morris for the Early English Text
Society. It is found in British Museum MS. Nero A X, together with three
other alliterative poems, named from their first words _Pearl_,
_Patience_, and _Cleanness_. _Pearl_ supplies the next specimen;
_Patience_ exemplifies the virtue by the trials of Jonah; _Cleanness_
teaches purity of life from Scriptural stories. All these poems are in
the same handwriting; all are in a West-Midland dialect; all appear to
be of the same age; and none is without literary merit. For these
reasons, which are good but not conclusive, they are assumed to be by
the same author. Attempts to identify this author have been
unsuccessful.

The story runs as follows:

King Arthur is making his Christmas feast with his court at Camelot. On
New Year's Day he declares that he will not eat until he has seen or
heard some marvel. The first course of the feast is barely served when a
tall knight, clad all in green, with green hair, and a green horse to
match, rides into the hall. He carries a holly bough and a huge axe, and
tauntingly invites any knight to strike him a blow with the axe, on
condition that he will stand a return blow on the same day a year hence.
Gawayne accepts the challenge and strikes off the Green Knight's head.
The Green Knight gathers up his head, gives Gawayne an appointment for
next New Year's Day at the Green Chapel, and rides off.

The year passes, and Gawayne, despite the fears of the court, sets out
in quest of the Green Chapel. On Christmas Eve he arrives at a splendid
castle, and finding that the Green Chapel is close at hand, accepts an
invitation to stay and rest until New Year's Day. On each of three days
the knight of the castle goes hunting, and persuades Gawayne to rest at
home. They make an agreement that each shall give the other whatever he
gets. The lady of the castle makes love to Gawayne, and kisses him once
on the first day, twice on the second day, thrice on the third day; and
on the third day she gives him her girdle, which he accepts because it
has the magic power of preserving the wearer from wounds. Each evening
he duly gives the kisses to the knight, and receives in return the
spoils of the hunting of deer and boar and fox. But he conceals the
girdle.

The extract begins with Gawayne preparing on New Year's morning to stand
the return blow at the Green Chapel.

The poem ends by the Green Knight revealing that he is himself the lord
of the castle; that he went to Arthur's court at the suggestion of
Morgan la Fay; that he had urged his wife to make love to Gawayne and
try his virtue; and that he would not have harmed him at all, if he had
not committed the slight fault of concealing the girdle. Gawayne returns
to the court, bearing the girdle as a sign of his shame, and tells his
story. The knights of the court agree in future to wear a bright green
belt for Gawayne's sake.

_Sir Gawayne_ is admittedly the best of the alliterative romances. It
must have come down to us practically as it was written by the poet, for
it is free from the flatness and conventional phrasing which is
characteristic of romances that have passed through many popular
recensions. The descriptions of nature, of armour and dresses, the
hunting scenes, and the love making, are all excellently done; and the
poet shows the same richness of imagination and skill in producing
pictorial effects that are so noticeable in _Pearl_. He has too a quiet
humour that recalls Chaucer in some of his moods.


THE TESTING OF SIR GAWAYNE.

British Museum MS. Nero A X (about 1400); ed. R. Morris, ll. 2069 ff.

      The brygge wat[gh] brayde doun, and [th]e brode [gh]ate[gh]
      Vnbarred and born open vpon bo[th]e halue.
      [Th]e burne blessed hym bilyue, and [th]e brede[gh] passed;
      Prayses [th]e porter bifore [th]e prynce kneled,
      Gef hym God and goud day, [th]at Gawayn He saue,                 5
      And went on his way with his wy[gh]e one,
      [Th]at schulde teche hym to tourne to [th]at tene place
      [Th]er [th]e ruful race he schulde resayue.
      [Th]ay bo[gh]en bi bonkke[gh] [th]er bo[gh]e[gh] ar bare;
      [Th]ay clomben bi clyffe[gh] [th]er clenge[gh] [th]e colde.     10
      [Th]e heuen wat[gh] vp halt, bot vgly [th]er vnder,--
      Mist muged on [th]e mor, malt on [th]e mounte[gh],
      Vch hille hade a hatte, a myst-hakel huge.
      Broke[gh] byled and breke bi bonkke[gh] aboute,
      Schyre schaterande on schore[gh], [th]er [th]ay doun
          schowued.                                                   15
      Wela wylle wat[gh] [th]e way [th]er [th]ay bi wod schulden,
      Til hit wat[gh] sone sesoun [th]at [th]e sunne ryses
              [th]at tyde.
          [Th]ay were on a hille ful hy[gh]e,
          [Th]e quyte snaw lay bisyde;                                20
          [Th]e burne [th]at rod hym by
          Bede his mayster abide.
      'For I haf wonnen yow hider, wy[gh]e, at [th]is tyme,
      And now nar [gh]e not fer fro [th]at note place
      [Th]at [gh]e han spied and spuryed so specially after.          25
      Bot I schal say yow for so[th]e, sy[th]en I yow knowe,
      And [gh]e ar a lede vpon lyue [th]at I wel louy,
      Wolde [gh]e worch bi my wytte, [gh]e wor[th]ed [th]e better.
      [Th]e place [th]at [gh]e prece to ful perelous is halden.
      [Th]er wone[gh] a wy[gh]e in [th]at waste, [th]e worst vpon
          er[th]e,                                                    30
      For he is stiffe and sturne, and to strike louies,
      And more he is [th]en any mon vpon myddelerde,
      And his body bigger [th]en [th]e best fowre
      [Th]at ar in Ar[th]ure[gh] hous, He_c_tor, o[th]er o[th]er.
      He cheue[gh] [th]at chaunce at [th]e chapel grene,              35
      [Th]er passes non bi [th]at place so proude in his armes
      [Th]at he ne dyn_g_e[gh] hym to de[th]e with dynt of his honde;
      For he is a mon methles, and mercy non vses,
      For be hit chorle o[th]er chaplayn [th]at bi [th]e chapel
          rydes,
      Monk o[th]er masse-prest, o[th]er any mon elles,                40
      Hym [th]ynk as queme hym to quelle as quyk go hymseluen.
      For[th]y I say [th]e, as so[th]e as [gh]e in sadel sitte,
      Com [gh]e [th]ere, [gh]e be kylled, may [th]e, kny[gh]t, rede--
      Trawe [gh]e me [th]at trwely--[th]a[gh] [gh]e had twenty lyues
              to spende.                                              45
          He hat[gh] wonyd here ful [gh]ore,
          On bent much baret bende,
          A[gh]ayn his dynte[gh] sore
          [Gh]e may not yow defende.
      'For[th]y, goude Sir Gawayn, let [th]e gome one,                50
      And got[gh] away sum o[th]er gate, vpon Godde[gh] halue!
      Cayre[gh] bi sum o[th]er kyth, [th]er Kryst mot yow spede,
      And I schal hy[gh] me hom a[gh]ayn, and hete yow fyrre
      [Th]at I schal swere bi God and alle His gode hal[gh]e[gh],
      As help me God and [th]e halydam, and o[th]e[gh] innoghe,       55
      [Th]at I schal lelly yow layne, and lance neuer tale
      [Th]at euer [gh]e fondet to fle for freke [th]at I wyst.'
      'Grant merci,' quod Gawayn, and gruchyng he sayde:
      'Wel worth [th]e, wy[gh]e, [th]at wolde[gh] my gode,
      And [th]at lelly me layne I leue wel [th]ou wolde[gh].          60
      Bot helde [th]ou hit neuer so holde, and I here passed,
      Founded for ferde for to fle, in fourme [th]at [th]ou telle[gh],
      I were a kny[gh]t kowarde, I my[gh]t _n_ot be excused.
      Bot I wyl to [th]e chapel, for chaunce [th]at may falle,
      And talk wyth [th]at ilk tulk [th]e tale [th]at me lyste,       65
      Wor[th]e hit wele o[th]er wo, as [th]e wyrde lyke[gh]
              hit hafe.
          [Th]a[gh]e he be a sturn knape
          To sti[gh]tel, and stad with staue,
          Ful wel con Dry[gh]tyn schape                               70
          His seruaunte[gh] for to saue.'
      'Mary!' quod [th]at o[th]er mon, 'now [th]ou so much spelle[gh]
      [Th]at [th]ou wylt [th]yn awen nye nyme to [th]yseluen,
      And [th]e lyst lese [th]y lyf, [th]e lette I ne kepe.
      Haf here [th]i helme on [th]y hede, [th]i spere in [th]i
          honde,                                                      75
      And ryde me doun [th]is ilk rake bi [gh]on rokke syde
      Til [th]ou be bro[gh]t to [th]e bo[th]em of [th]e brem valay.
      [Th]enne loke a littel on [th]e launde, on [th]i lyfte honde,
      And [th]ou schal se in [th]at slade [th]e self chapel,
      And [th]e borelych burne on bent [th]at hit kepe[gh].           80
      Now fare[gh] wel, on Gode[gh] half! Gawayn [th]e noble;
      For alle [th]e golde vpon grounde I nolde go wyth [th]e,
      Ne bere [th]e fela[gh]schip [th]ur[gh] [th]is fryth on fote
          fyrre.'
      Bi [th]at [th]e wy[gh]e in [th]e wod wende[gh] his brydel,
      Hit [th]e hors with [th]e hele[gh] as harde as he my[gh]t,      85
      Lepe[gh] hym ouer [th]e launde, and leue[gh] [th]e kny[gh]t
          [th]ere al one.
          'Bi Godde[gh] self!' quod Gawayn,
          'I wyl nau[th]er grete ne grone;
          To Godde[gh] wylle I am ful bayn,                           90
          And to Hym I haf me tone.'
      Thenne gyrde[gh] he to Gryngolet, and gedere[gh] [th]e rake,
      Schowue[gh] in bi a schore at a scha[gh]e syde,
      Ride[gh] [th]ur[gh] [th]e ro[gh]e bonk ry[gh]t to [th]e dale;
      And [th]enne he wayted hym aboute, and wylde hit hym
          [th]o[gh]t,                                                 95
      And se[gh]e no syngne of resette bisyde[gh] nowhere,
      Bot hy[gh]e bonkke[gh] and brent vpon bo[th]e halue,
      And ru[gh]e knokled knarre[gh] with knorned stone[gh];
      [Th]e skwe[gh] of [th]e scowtes skayned hym [th]o[gh]t.
      [Th]enne he houed, and wythhylde his hors at [th]at tyde,      100
      And ofte chaunged his cher [th]e chapel to seche:
      He se[gh] non suche in no syde, and selly hym [th]o[gh]t
      Sone, a lyttel on a launde, a lawe as hit we<re>,
      A bal[gh] ber[gh] bi a bonke, [th]e brymme bysyde,
      Bi a for[gh] of a flode [th]at ferked [th]are;                 105
      [Th]e borne blubred [th]erinne as hit boyled hade.
      [Th]e kny[gh]t kache[gh] his caple, and com to [th]e lawe,
      Li[gh]te[gh] doun luflyly, and at a lynde tache[gh]
      [Th]e rayne and his riche with a ro[gh]e braunche.
      [Th]enne he bo[gh]e[gh] to [th]e ber[gh]e, aboute hit he
          walke[gh],                                                 110
      Debatande with hymself quat hit be my[gh]t.
      Hit hade a hole on [th]e ende and on ay[th]er syde,
      And ouergrowen with gresse in glodes aywhere,
      And al wat[gh] hol[gh] inwith, nobot an olde caue,
      Or a creuisse of an olde cragge, he cou[th]e hit no[gh]t
          deme                                                       115
              with spelle.
          'We! Lorde,' quod [th]e gentyle kny[gh]t,
          'Whe[th]er [th]is be [th]e grene chapelle?
          He<re> my[gh]t aboute mydny[gh]t
          [Th]e dele his matynnes telle!                             120
      'Now iwysse,' quod Wowayn, 'wysty is here;
      [Th]is oritore is vgly, with erbe[gh] ouergrowen;
      Wel biseme[gh] [th]e wy[gh]e wruxled in grene
      Dele here his deuocioun on [th]e deuele[gh] wyse.
      Now I fele hit is [th]e fende, in my fyue wytte[gh],           125
      [Th]at hat[gh] stoken me [th]is steuen to strye me here.
      [Th]is is a chapel of meschaunce, [th]at chekke hit bytyde!
      Hit is [th]e corsedest kyrk [th]at euer I com inne!'
      With he[gh]e helme on his hede, his launce in his honde,
      He rome[gh] vp to [th]e rokke of [th]o ro[gh] wone[gh].        130
      [Th]ene herde he, of [th]at hy[gh]e hil, in a harde roche,
      Bi[gh]onde [th]e broke, in a bonk, a wonder breme noyse.
      Quat! hit clatered in [th]e clyff, as hit cleue schulde,
      As one vpon a gryndelston hade grounden a sy[th]e;
      What! hit wharred and whette, as water at a mulne;             135
      What! hit rusched and ronge, raw[th]e to here.
      [Th]enne 'Bi Godde!' quod Gawayn, '[th]at gere a_s_ I trowe
      Is ryched at [th]e reuerence me, renk, to mete
              bi rote.
          Let God worche, we loo!                                    140
          Hit helppe[gh] me not a mote.
          My lif [th]a[gh] I forgoo,
          Drede dot[gh] me no lote.'
      Thenne [th]e kny[gh]t con calle ful hy[gh]e:
      'Who sti[gh]tle[gh] in [th]is sted, me steuen to holde?        145
      For now is gode Gawayn goande ry[gh]t here.
      If any wy[gh]e o[gh]t wyl, wynne hider fast,
      O[th]er now o[th]er neuer, his nede[gh] to spede.'
      'Abyde,' quod on on [th]e bonke abouen ouer his hede,
      'And [th]ou schal haf al in hast [th]at I [th]e hy[gh]t
          ones.'                                                     150
      [Gh]et he rusched on [th]at rurde rapely a [th]rowe,
      And wyth quettyng awharf, er he wolde ly[gh]t;
      And sy[th]en he keuere[gh] bi a cragge, and come[gh] of a hole,
      Whyrlande out of a wro wyth a felle weppen,
      A Dene[gh] ax nwe dy[gh]t, [th]e dynt with <t>o [gh]elde,      155
      With a borelych bytte bende by [th]e halme,
      Fyled in a fylor, fowre fote large,--
      Hit wat[gh] no lasse bi [th]at lace [th]at lemed ful bry[gh]t,--
      And [th]e gome in [th]e grene gered as fyrst,
      Bo[th]e [th]e lyre and [th]e legge[gh], lokke[gh] and
          berde,                                                     160
      Saue [th]at fayre on his fote he founde[gh] on [th]e er[th]e,
      Sette [th]e stele to [th]e stone, and stalked bysyde.
      Whan he wan to [th]e watter, [th]er he wade nolde,
      He hypped ouer on hys ax, and orpedly stryde[gh],
      Bremly bro[th]e on a bent [th]at brode wat[gh] aboute,         165
              on snawe.
          Sir Gawayn [th]e kny[gh]t con mete,
          He ne lutte hym no [th]yng lowe;
          [Th]at o[th]er sayde 'Now, sir swete,
          Of steuen mon may [th]e trowe.                             170
      'Gawayn,' quod [th]at grene gome, 'God [th]e mot loke!
      Iwysse [th]ou art welco_m_, wy[gh]e, to my place,
      And [th]ou hat[gh] tymed [th]i trauayl as truee mon schulde,
      And [th]ou knowe[gh] [th]e couenaunte[gh] kest vus bytwene:
      At [th]is tyme twelmonyth [th]ou toke [th]at [th]e falled,     175
      And I schulde at [th]is nwe [gh]ere [gh]eply [th]e quyte.
      And we ar in [th]is valay verayly oure one;
      Here ar no renkes vs to rydde, rele as vus like[gh].
      Haf [th]y helme of [th]y hede, and haf here [th]y pay.
      Busk no more debate [th]en I [th]e bede [th]enne               180
      When [th]ou wypped of my hede at a wap one.'
      'Nay, bi God' quod Gawayn, '[th]at me gost lante!
      I schal gruch [th]e no grwe for grem [th]at falle[gh].
      Bot sty[gh]tel [th]e vpon on strok, and I schal stonde stylle
      And warp [th]e no wernyng to worch as [th]e lyke[gh],          185
              nowhare.'
          He lened with [th]e nek, and lutte,
          And schewed [th]at schyre al bare,
          And lette as he no[gh]t dutte;
          For drede he wolde not dare.                               190
      Then [th]e gome in [th]e grene gray[th]ed hym swy[th]e,
      Gedere[gh] vp hys grymme tole Gawayn to smyte;
      With alle [th]e bur in his body he ber hit on lofte,
      Munt as ma[gh]tyly as marre hym he wolde:
      Hade hit dryuen adoun as dre[gh] as he atled,                  195
      [Th]er hade ben ded of his dynt [th]at do[gh]ty wat[gh] euer.
      Bot Gawayn on [th]at giserne glyfte hym bysyde,
      As hit com glydande adoun on glode hym to schende,
      And schranke a lytel with [th]e schulderes for [th]e scharp
          yrne.
      [Th]at o[th]er schalk wyth a schunt [th]e schene
          wythhalde[gh],                                             200
      And [th]enne repreued he [th]e prynce with mony prowde
          worde[gh]:
      '[Th]ou art not Gawayn,' quod [th]e gome, '[th]at is so goud
          halden,
      [Th]at neuer ar[gh]ed for no here, by hylle ne be vale,
      And now [th]ou fles for ferde er [th]ou fele harme[gh]!
      Such cowardise of [th]at kny[gh]t cow[th]e I neuer here.       205
      Naw[th]er fyked I ne fla[gh]e, freke, quen [th]ou myntest,
      Ne kest no kauelacion, in kynge[gh] hous Arthor.
      My hede fla[gh] to my fote, and [gh]et fla[gh] I neuer;
      And [th]ou, er any harme hent, ar[gh]e[gh] in hert;
      Wherfore [th]e better burne me burde be called                 210
              [th]erfore.'
          Quod Gawayn 'I schunt one[gh],
          And so wyl I no more;
          Bot [th]a[gh] my hede falle on [th]e stone[gh],
          I con not hit restore.                                     215
      Bot busk, burne, bi [th]i fayth! and bryng me to [th]e poynt.
      Dele to me my destin'e, and do hit out of honde,
      For I schal stonde [th]e a strok, and start no more
      Til [th]yn ax haue me hitte: haf here my traw[th]e.'
      'Haf at [th]e [th]enne!' quod [th]at o[th]er, and heue[gh]
          hit alofte,                                                220
      And wayte[gh] as wro[th]ely as he wode were.
      He mynte[gh] at hym ma[gh]tyly, bot not [th]e mon ryue[gh],
      Withhelde heterly h<i>s honde, er hit hurt my[gh]t.
      Gawayn gray[th]ely hit byde[gh], and glent with no membre,
      Bot stode stylle as [th]e ston, o[th]er a stubbe au[th]er      225
      [Th]at ra[th]eled is in roch'e grounde with rote[gh]
          a hundreth.
      [Th]en muryly efte con he mele, [th]e mon in [th]e grene:
      'So now [th]ou hat[gh] [th]i hert holle, hitte me bihou<e>s.
      Halde [th]e now [th]e hy[gh]e hode [th]at Ar[th]ur [th]e
          ra[gh]t,
      And kepe [th]y kanel at [th]is kest, [gh]if hit keuer may.'    230
      Gawayn ful gryndelly with greme [th]enne sayde:
      'Wy! [th]resch on, [th]ou [th]ro mon, [th]ou [th]rete[gh]
          to longe.
      I hope [th]at [th]i hert ar[gh]e wyth [th]yn awen seluen.'
      'For so[th]e,' quod [th]at o[th]er freke, 'so felly [th]ou
          speke[gh],
      I wyl no lenger on lyte lette [th]in ernde                     235
              ri[gh]t nowe.'
          [Th]enne tas he hym stry[th]e to stryke,
          And frounses bo[th]e lyppe and browe.
          No meruayle [th]a[gh] hym myslyke
          [Th]at hoped of no rescowe.                                240
      He lyftes ly[gh]tly his lome, and let hit doun fayre,
      With [th]e barbe of [th]e bitte bi [th]e bare nek,
      [Th]a[gh] he homered heterly, hurt hym no more,
      Bot snyrt hym on [th]at on syde, [th]at seuered [th]e hyde;
      [Th]e scharp schrank to [th]e flesche [th]ur[gh] [th]e schyre
          grece                                                      245
      [Th]at [th]e schene blod ouer his schulderes schot to [th]e er
          [th]e;
      And quen [th]e burne se[gh] [th]e blode blenk on [th]e snawe,
      He sprit forth spenne fote more [th]en a spere len[th]e,
      Hent heterly his helme, and on his hed cast,
      Schot with his schuldere[gh], his fayre schelde vnder,         250
      Brayde[gh] out a bry[gh]t sworde, and bremely he speke[gh];--
      Neuer syn [th]at he wat[gh] burne borne of his moder
      Wat[gh] he neuer in [th]is worlde wy[gh]e half so bly[th]e--
      'Blynne, burne, of [th]y bur, bede me no mo!
      I haf a stroke in [th]is stede withoute stryf hent,            255
      And if [th]ow reche[gh] me any mo, I redyly schal quyte,
      And [gh]elde [gh]ederly a[gh]ayn--and [th]er to [gh]e tryst--
              and foo.
          Bot on stroke here me falle[gh]--
          [Th]e couenaunt schop ry[gh]t so                           260
          <Schapen> in Ar[th]ure[gh] halle[gh]--
          And [th]erfore, hende, now hoo!'
      The ha[th]el heldet hym fro, and on his ax rested,
      Sette [th]e schaft vpon schore, and to [th]e scharp lened,
      And loked to [th]e leude [th]at on [th]e launde [gh]ede,       265
      How [th]at do[gh]ty, dredles, deruely [th]er stonde[gh]
      Armed, ful a[gh]le[gh]: in hert hit hym lyke[gh].
      [Th]enn he mele[gh] muryly wyth a much steuen,
      And wyth a ry<n>kande rurde he to [th]e renk sayde:
      'Bolde burne, on [th]is bent be not so gryndel.                270
      No mon here vnmanerly [th]e mysboden habbe<[gh]>
      Ne kyd, bot as couenaunde at kynge[gh] kort schaped.
      I hy[gh]t [th]e a strok and [th]ou hit hat[gh]; halde [th]e
          wel payed.
      I relece [th]e of [th]e remnaunt of ry[gh]tes alle o[th]er.
      Iif I deliuer had bene, a boffet paraunter                     275
      I cou[th]e wro[th]eloker haf waret,--to [th]e haf wro[gh]t
          anger.
      Fyrst I mansed [th]e muryly with a mynt one,
      And roue [th]e wyth no rof sore, with ry[gh]t I [th]e profered
      For [th]e forwarde [th]at we fest in [th]e fyrst ny[gh]t,
      And [th]ou trystyly [th]e traw[th]e and trwly me halde[gh],    280
      Al [th]e gayne [th]ow me gef, as god mon schulde.
      [Th]at o[th]er munt for [th]e morne, mon, I [th]e profered,
      [Th]ou kyssedes my clere wyf, [th]e cosse[gh] me ra[gh]te[gh].
      For bo[th]e two here I [th]e bede bot two bare myntes
              boute sca[th]e.                                        285
          Trwe mon trwe restore,
          [Th]enne [th]ar mon drede no wa[th]e.
          At [th]e [th]rid [th]ou fayled [th]ore,
          And [th]erfor [th]at tappe ta [th]e.
      For hit is my wede [th]at [th]ou were[gh], [th]at ilke wouen
          girdel,                                                    290
      Myn owen wyf hit [th]e weued, I wot wel forso[th]e.
      Now know I wel [th]y cosses, and [th]y costes als,
      And [th]e wowyng of my wyf: I wro[gh]t hit myseluen.
      I sende hir to asay [th]e, and sothly me [th]ynkke[gh]
      On [th]e fautlest freke [th]at euer on fote [gh]ede.           295
      As perle bi [th]e quite pese is of prys more,
      So is Gawayn, in god fayth, bi o[th]er gay kny[gh]te[gh].
      Bot here yow lakked a lyttel, sir, and lewt'e yow wonted;
      Bot [th]at wat[gh] for no wylyde werke, ne wowyng nau[th]er,
      Bot for [gh]e lufed your lyf; [th]e lasse I yow blame.'        300
      [Th]at o[th]er stif mon in study stod a gret whyle,
      So agreued for greme he gryed withinne;
      Alle [th]e blode of his brest blende in his face,
      [Th]at al he schrank for schome [th]at [th]e schalk talked.
      [Th]e forme worde vpon folde [th]at [th]e freke meled:         305
      'Corsed worth cowarddyse and couetyse bo[th]e!
      In yow is vylany and vyse [th]at vertue disstrye[gh].'
      [Th]enne he ka[gh]t to [th]e knot, and [th]e kest lawse[gh],
      Brayde bro[th]ely [th]e belt to [th]e burne seluen:
      'Lo! [th]er [th]e falssyng! foule mot hit falle!               310
      For care of [th]y knokke cowardyse me ta[gh]t
      To acorde me with couetyse, my kynde to forsake,
      [Th]at is larges and lewt'e [th]at longe[gh] to kny[gh]te[gh].
      Now am I fawty and falce, and ferde haf ben euer
      Of trecherye and vntraw[th]e: bo[th]e bityde sor[gh]e          315
              and care!
          I biknowe yow, kny[gh]t, here stylle,
          Al fawty is my fare;
          Lete[gh] me ouertake your wylle
          And efte I schal be ware.'                                 320
      Thenn lo[gh]e [th]at o[th]er leude, and luflyly sayde:
      'I halde hit hardily hole, [th]e harme [th]at I hade.
      [Th]ou art confessed so clene, beknowen of [th]y mysses,
      And hat[gh] [th]e penaunce apert of [th]e poynt of myn egge,
      I halde [th]e polysed of [th]at ply[gh]t, and pured as clene   325
      As [th]ou hade[gh] neuer forfeted sy[th]en [th]ou wat[gh]
          fyrst borne;
      And I gif [th]e, sir, [th]e gurdel [th]at is golde-hemmed,
      For hit is grene as my goune. Sir Gawayne, [gh]e maye
      [Th]enk vpon [th]is ilke [th]repe, [th]er [th]ou forth
          [th]rynge[gh]
      Among prynces of prys; and [th]is a pure token                 330
      Of [th]e chaunce _at_ [th]e grene chapel _of_ cheualrous
          kny[gh]te[gh].
      And [gh]e schal in [th]is nwe [gh]er a[gh]ayn to my wone[gh],
      And we schyn reuel [th]e remnaunt of [th]is ryche fest
              ful bene.'
          [Th]er la[th]ed hym fast [th]e lord,                       335
          And sayde 'With my wyf, I wene,
          We schal yow wel acorde,
          [Th]at wat[gh] your enmy kene.'
      'Nay, for so[th]e,' quod [th]e segge, and sesed hys helme,
      And hat[gh] hit of hendely, and [th]e ha[th]el
          [th]onkke[gh],                                             340
      'I haf soiorned sadly; sele yow bytyde!
      And He [gh]elde hit yow [gh]are [th]at [gh]arkke[gh] al
          menskes!
      And comaunde[gh] me to [th]at cortays, your comlych fere,
      Bo[th]e [th]at on and [th]at o[th]er myn honoured ladye[gh],
      [Th]at [th]us hor kny[gh]t wyth hor kest han koyntly
          bigyled.                                                   345
      Bot hit is no ferly [th]a[gh] a fole madde,
      And [th]ur[gh] wyles of wymmen be wonen to sor[gh]e,
      For so wat[gh] Adam in erde with one bygyled,
      And Salamon with fele sere, and Samson eftsone[gh]
      Dalyda dalt hym hys wyrde, and Dauyth [th]erafter              350
      Wat[gh] blended with Barsabe, [th]at much bale [th]oled.
      Now [th]ese were wrathed wyth her wyles, hit were a wynne huge
      To luf hom wel, and leue hem not, a leude [th]at cou[th]e.
      For [th]es wer forne [th]e freest, [th]at fol[gh]ed alle [th]e
          sele
      Exellently of alle [th]yse o[th]er vnder heuenryche            355
              [th]at mused;
          And alle [th]ay were biwyled
          With wymmen [th]at [th]ay vsed.
          [Th]a[gh] I be now bigyled,
          Me [th]ink me burde be excused.'                           360

[Foot-note: 34 Hector] Hestor _MS._]

[Foot-note: 37 dynge[gh]] dynne[gh] _MS._]

[Foot-note: 63 not] mot _MS._]

[Foot-note: 69 and] & & _MS._]

[Foot-note: 137 as] at _MS._]

[Foot-note: 172 welcom] welcon _MS._]

[Foot-note: 179 [th]y (1st)] [th]y [th]y _MS._]

[Foot-note: 237 he] he he _MS._]

[Foot-note: 322 hardily] hardilyly _MS._]

[Foot-note: 331 _at... of_ (2nd)] _transposed in MS._]

[Foot-note: 358 With] With wyth _MS._]




VI

THE PEARL

ABOUT 1375.


The facts leading to the presumption that _Pearl_ and _Sir Gawayne_ are
by the same author have been mentioned in the prefatory note to _Sir
Gawayne_. But the poems are markedly different in subject and tone.
_Pearl_, like Chaucer's _Death of Blanche the Duchess_, is an elegy cast
in the vision form made popular by the _Roman de la Rose_. The subject
is a little girl, who died before she was two years old, and the
treatment is deeply religious. Her death is symbolized as the loss of a
pearl without spot, that slipped from its owner's hand through the grass
into the earth.

On a festival day in August, the poet, while mourning his loss, falls
asleep on his child's grave. His spirit passes to a land of flowers and
rich fruits, where birds of flaming hues sing incomparably, where the
cliffs are of crystal and beryl, and a river runs in a bed of gleaming
jewels. On the other side of the river, which is lovelier still, sits a
maiden dressed all in white, with coronet and ornaments of pearl. The
poet recognizes his lost child, but cannot call to her for wonder and
dread, until she rises and salutes him. He complains that since her loss
he has been a joyless jeweller. She rebukes him gently; she is not lost,
but made safe and beautiful for ever. Overjoyed, he says he will cross
the river and live with her in this paradise; but she warns him against
such presumption, for since Adam's fall the river may be crossed only by
the way of death. He is in despair to think that now that his Pearl is
found, he must still live joyless, apart from her; but he is bidden to
resign himself to God's will and mercy, because rebellion will avail him
nothing.

At this point begins the argument on salvation by grace or salvation by
works which is here reprinted.

The maiden then continues the discussion, explaining that 'the innocent
are ay safe by right', and that only those who come as little children
can win the bliss sought by the man who sold his all for a matchless
pearl.

Next the poet asks whence her beauty comes, and what her office is. She
replies that she is one of the brides of Christ, whom St. John in the
Apocalypse saw arrayed for the bridal in the New Jerusalem. He asks to
see their mansions, and by special grace is allowed to view the holy
city from without. He sees it as St. John saw it, gleaming with gold,
with its pillars of precious stone, its gates of pearl; its streets
lighted by a divine radiance, so that there is no need of moon or sun.
There is no church or chapel or temple there: God himself is the
minister, and Christ is the sacrifice. Mortal eye could not bear the
splendour, and he stood 'as stylle as dased quayle'. At evening came the
procession of the virgin brides of Christ, each bearing on her breast
the pearl of perfect happiness. The Lamb leads them, in pearl-white
robes, his side bleeding, his face rapt; while elders make obeisance,
and angels sing songs of joy as He nears the throne of God.

Suddenly the poet sees his Pearl among her companions. Overcome with
longing and delight, he tries to cross the river, only to wake in the
garden where he fell asleep. Henceforth he is resigned to the pleasure
of the Prince of Heaven.

The reader will be able to judge the author's poetical gift from the
selection, which has been chosen as one of the less ornate passages.
Even here the form distracts attention from the matter by its
elaborateness. A difficult rime scheme is superimposed on the
alliterative line; stanza is interlinked with stanza; each group of five
stanzas is distinguished by a similar refrain, and bound to the
preceding and following groups by repetition in the first and last
lines. So too the close of the poem echoes the beginning. With such
intricacy of plan, it is not surprising that the rime is sometimes
forced, and the sense strained or obscure. It is rather a matter for
wonder that, in so long a work, the author was able to maintain his
marvellous technique without completely sacrificing poetry to metrical
gymnastics.

The highly wrought, almost overwrought, effect is heightened when the
poem is read as a whole. If _Piers Plowman_ gives a realistic picture of
the drabness of mediaeval life, _Pearl_, more especially in the early
stanzas, shows a richness of imagery and a luxuriance in light and
colour that seem scarcely English. Yet they have their parallels in the
decorative art of the time--the elaborate carving in wood and stone; the
rich colouring of tapestries, of illuminated books and painted glass;
the designs of the jewellers, goldsmiths, and silversmiths, which even
the notaries who made the old inventories cannot pass without a word of
admiration. The _Pearl_ reminds us of the tribute due to the artists and
craftsmen of the fourteenth century.

The edition by C. G. Osgood, Boston 1906, is the handiest.


THE PEARL, ll. 361-612.

(MS. Cotton Nero A X (about 1400).)

      Thenne demed I to [th]at damyselle:
        'Ne wor[th]e no wrath[th]e vnto my Lorde,
      If rapely <I> raue, spornande in spelle;
      My herte wat[gh] al wyth mysse remorde,
      As wallande water got[gh] out of welle.                     5
      I do me ay in Hys myserecorde;
      Rebuke me neuer wyth worde[gh] felle,
      [Th]a[gh] I forloyne, my dere endorde,
      Bot _k_y[th]e[gh] me kyndely your coumforde,
      Pytosly [th]enkande vpon [th]ysse:                         10
      Of care and me [gh]e made acorde,
      [Th]at er wat[gh] grounde of alle my blysse.

        'My blysse, my bale, [gh]e han ben bo[th]e,
      Bot much [th]e bygger [gh]et wat[gh] my mon;
      Fro [th]ou wat[gh] wroken fro vch a wo[th]e,               15
      I wyste neuer quere my perle wat[gh] gon.
      Now I hit se, now le[th]e[gh] my lo[th]e;
      And, quen we departed, we wern at on;
      God forbede we be now wro[th]e,
      We meten so selden by stok o[th]er ston.                   20
      [Th]a[gh] cortaysly [gh]e carp con,
      I am bot mol and ma_n_ere[gh] mysse;
      Bot Crystes mersy, and Mary, and Ion,
      [Th]ise arn [th]e grounde of alle my blysse.

        'In blysse I se [th]e bly[th]ely blent,                  25
      And I a man al mornyf mate;
      [Gh]e take [th]eron ful lyttel tente,
      [Th]a[gh] I hente ofte harme[gh] hate.
      Bot now I am here in your presente,
      I wolde bysech, wythouten debate,                          30
      [Gh]e wolde me say in sobre asente
      What lyf [gh]e lede erly and late.
      For I am ful fayn [th]at your astate
      Is wor[th]en to worschyp and wele, iwysse;
      Of alle my ioy [th]e hy[gh]e gate                          35
      Hit is, _and_ grounde of alle my blysse.'

        'Now blysse, burne, mot [th]e bytyde,'
      [Th]en sayde [th]at lufsoum of lyth and lere,
      'And welcum here to walk and byde,
      For now [th]y speche is to me dere.                        40
      Maysterful mod and hy[gh]e pryde,
      I hete [th]e, arn heterly hated here.
      My Lorde ne loue[gh] not for to chyde,
      For meke arn alle [th]at wone[gh] Hym nere;
      And when in Hys place [th]ou schal apere,                  45
      Be dep deuote in hol mekenesse;
      My Lorde [th]e Lamb loue[gh] ay such chere,
      [Th]at is [th]e grounde of alle my blysse.

        'A blysful lyf [th]ou says I lede;
      [Th]ou wolde[gh] knaw [th]erof [th]e stage.                50
      [Th]ow wost wel when [th]y perle con schede
      I wat[gh] ful [gh]ong and tender of age;
      Bot my Lorde [th]e Lombe, [th]ur[gh] Hys Godhede,
      He toke myself to Hys maryage,
      Corounde me quene in blysse to brede                       55
      In lenghe of daye[gh] [th]at euer schal wage;
      And sesed in alle Hys herytage
      Hys lef is, I am holy Hysse;
      Hys prese, Hys prys, and Hys parage
      Is rote and grounde of alle my blysse.'                    60

        'Blysful,' quod I, 'may [th]ys be trwe?--
      Dysplese[gh] not if I speke errour--
      Art [th]ou [th]e quene of heuene[gh] blwe,
      [Th]at al [th]ys worlde schal do honour?
      We leuen on Marye [th]at grace of grewe,                   65
      [Th]at ber a barne of vyrgynflour;
      [Th]e croune fro hyr quo mo[gh]t remwe
      Bot ho hir passed in sum fauour?
      Now, for synglerty o hyr dousour,
      We calle hyr Fenyx of Arraby,                              70
      [Th]at freles fle[gh]e of hyr fasor,
      Lyk to [th]e quen of cortaysye.'

        'Cortayse Quen,' [th]enne s<a>yde [th]at gaye,
      Knelande to grounde, folde vp hyr face,
      'Makele[gh] Moder and myryest May,                         75
      Blessed Bygynner of vch a grace!'
      [Th]enne ros ho vp and con restay,
      And speke me towarde in [th]at space:
      'Sir, fele here porchase[gh] and fonge[gh] pray,
      Bot supplantore[gh] none wythinne [th]ys place.            80
      [Th]at emperise al heuene[gh] hat[gh],
      And vr[th]e and helle in her bayly;
      Of erytage [gh]et non wyl ho chace,
      For ho is quen of cortaysye.

        'The court of [th]e kyndom of God alyue                  85
      Hat[gh] a property in hytself beyng:
      Alle [th]at may [th]erinne aryue
      Of alle [th]e reme is quen o[th]er kyng,
      And neuer o[th]er [gh]et schal depryue,
      Bot vchon fayn of o[th]ere[gh] hafyng,                     90
      And wolde her coroune[gh] wern wor[th]e [th]o fyue,
      If possyble were her mendyng.
      Bot my Lady, of quom Iesu con spryng,
      Ho halde[gh] [th]e empyre ouer vus ful hy[gh]e;
      And [th]at dysplese[gh] non of oure gyng,                  95
      For ho is quene of cortaysye.

        'Of courtaysye, as sayt[gh] Saynt Poule,
      Al arn we membre[gh] of Iesu Kryst;
      As heued and arme and legg and naule
      Temen to hys body ful trwe and t<r>yste,                  100
      Ry[gh]t so is vch a Krysten sawle
      A longande lym to [th]e Mayster of myste.
      [Th]enne loke what hate o[th]er any gawle
      Is tached o[th]er ty[gh]ed [th]y lymme[gh] bytwyste:
      [Th]y heued hat[gh] nau[th]er greme ne gryste             105
      On arme o[th]er fynger [th]a[gh] [th]ou ber by[gh]e:
      So fare we alle wyth luf and lyste
      To kyng and quene by cortaysye.'

        'Cortays'e,' quod I, 'I leue,
      And charyt'e grete, be yow among,                         110
      Bot my speche [th]at yow ne greue,

             *       *       *       *       *

      [Th]yself in heuen ouer hy[gh] [th]ou heue,
      To make [th]e quen [th]at wat[gh] so [gh]onge.
      What more honour mo[gh]te he acheue                       115
      [Th]at hade endured in worlde stronge,
      And lyued in penaunce hys lyue[gh] longe,
      Wyth bodyly bale hym blysse to byye?
      What more worschyp mo[gh]t h_e_ fonge,
      [Th]en corounde be kyng by cortays'e?                     120

        'That cortays'e is to fre of dede,
      [Gh]yf hyt be soth [th]at [th]ou cone[gh] saye;
      [Th]ou lyfed not two [gh]er in oure [th]ede;
      [Th]ou cow[th]e[gh] neuer God nau[th]er plese ne pray,
      Ne neuer naw[th]er Pater ne Crede;                        125
      And quen mad on [th]e fyrst day!
      I may not traw, so God me spede,
      [Th]at God wolde wry[th]e so wrange away;
      Of countes, damysel, par ma fay!
      Wer fayr in heuen to halde asstate,                       130
      A[th]er elle[gh] a lady of lasse aray;
      Bot a quene!--hit is to dere a date.'

        '[Th]er is no date of Hys godnesse,'
      [Th]en sayde to me [th]at wor[th]y wy[gh]te,
      'For al is traw[th]e [th]at He con dresse,                135
      And He may do no [th]ynk bot ry[gh]t,
      As Mathew mele[gh] in your messe,
      In sothful Gospel of God Almy[gh]t,
      In sample he can ful gray[th]ely gesse,
      And lykne[gh] hit to heuen ly[gh]te:                      140
        "My regne," He sayt[gh], "is lyk on hy[gh]t
      To a lorde [th]at hade a uyne, I wate.
      Of tyme of [gh]ere [th]e terme wat[gh] ty[gh]t,
      To labor vyne wat[gh] dere [th]e date.

        '"[Th]at date of [gh]ere wel knawe [th]ys hyne.         145
      [Th]e lorde ful erly vp he ros,
      To hyre werkmen to hys vyne,
      And fynde[gh] [th]er summe to hys porpos.
      Into acorde [th]ay con declyne
      For a pen'e on a day, and forth [th]ay got[gh],           150
      Wry[th]en and worchen and don gret pyne,
      Keruen and caggen and man hit clos.
      Aboute vnder, [th]e lorde to marked tot[gh],
      And ydel men stande he fynde[gh] [th]erate.
      'Why stande [gh]e ydel?' he sayde to [th]os;              155
      'Ne knawe [gh]e of [th]is day no date?'

        '"'Er date of daye hider arn we wonne;'
      So wat[gh] al samen her answar so[gh]t;
      'We haf standen her syn ros [th]e sunne,
      And no mon bydde[gh] vus do ry[gh]t no[gh]t.'             160
      'Gos into my vyne, dot[gh] [th]at [gh]e conne,'
      So sayde [th]e lorde, and made hit to[gh]t;
      'What resonabele hyre be na[gh]t be runne
      I yow pay in dede and [th]o[gh]te.'
      [Th]ay wente into [th]e vyne and wro[gh]te,               165
      And al day [th]e lorde [th]us [gh]ede his gate,
      And nw men to hys vyne he bro[gh]te,
      Welne[gh] wyl day wat[gh] passed date.

        '"At [th]e date of day of euensonge,
      On oure byfore [th]e sonne go doun,                       170
      He se[gh] [th]er ydel men ful stronge,
      And sa<y>de to he_m_ wyth sobre soun:
      'Wy stonde [gh]e ydel [th]ise daye[gh] longe?'
      [Th]ay sayden her hyre wat[gh] nawhere boun.
      'Got[gh] to my vyne, [gh]emen [gh]onge,                   175
      And wyrke[gh] and dot[gh] [th]at at [gh]e moun.'
      Sone [th]e worlde bycom wel broun,
      [Th]e sunne wat[gh] doun, and hit wex late;
      To take her hyre he mad sumoun;
      [Th]e day wat[gh] al apassed date.                        180

        '"The date of [th]e daye [th]e lorde con knaw,
      Called to [th]e reue: 'Lede, pay [th]e meyny;
      Gyf hem [th]e hyre [th]at I hem owe;
      And fyrre, [th]at non me may repren'e,
      Set hem alle vpon a rawe,                                 185
      And gyf vchon ilyche a peny;
      Bygyn at [th]e laste [th]at stande[gh] lowe,
      Tyl to [th]e fyrste [th]at [th]ou atteny.'
      And [th]enne [th]e fyrst bygonne to pleny,
      And sayden [th]at [th]ay hade trauayled sore:             190
      '[Th]ese bot on oure hem con streny;
      Vus [th]ynk vus o[gh]e to take more.

        '"'More haf we serued, vus [th]ynk so,
      [Th]at suffred han [th]e daye[gh] hete,
      [Th]enn [th]yse [th]at wro[gh]t not houre[gh] two,        195
      And [th]ou dot[gh] hem vus to counterfete.'
      [Th]enne sayde [th]e lorde to on of [th]o:
      'Frende no waning I wyl [th]e [gh]ete;
      Take [th]at is [th]yn owne and go.
      And I hyred [th]e for a peny agrete,                      200
      Quy bygynne[gh] [th]ou now to [th]rete?
      Wat[gh] not a pen'e [th]y couenaunt [th]ore?
      Fyrre [th]en couenaunde is no[gh]t to plete.
      Wy schalte [th]ou [th]enne ask more?

        '"'More we[th]er [+]louyly[+] is me my gyfte            205
      To do wyth myn quat so me lyke[gh]?
      O[th]er elle[gh] [th]yn y[gh]e to ly[th]er is lyfte
      For I am goude and non byswyke[gh]?'
      '[Th]us schal I,' quod Kryste, 'hit skyfte:
      [Th]e laste schal be [th]e fyrst [th]at stryke[gh],       210
      And [th]e fyrst be laste, be he neuer so swyft;
      For mony ben calle<d>, [th]a[gh] fewe be myke[gh].'"
      [Th]us pore men her part ay pyke[gh],
      [Th]a[gh] [th]ay com late and lyttel wore;
      And [th]a[gh] her sweng wyth lyttel atslyke[gh],          215
      [Th]e merci of God is much [th]e more.

        'More haf I of ioye and blysse hereinne,
      Of ladyschyp gret and lyue[gh] blom,
      [Th]en alle [th]e wy[gh]e[gh] in [th]e worlde my[gh]t
          wynne
      By [th]e way of ry[gh]t to aske dome.                     220
      Whe[th]er welnygh now I con bygynne--
      In euentyde into [th]e vyne I come--
      Fyrst of my hyre my Lorde con mynne,
      I wat[gh] payed anon of al and sum.
      [Gh]et o[th]er [th]er werne [th]at toke more tom,         225
      [Th]at swange and swat for long [gh]ore,
      [Th]at [gh]et of hyre no [th]ynk [th]ay nom,
      Paraunter no[gh]t schal to[gh]ere more.'

        Then more I meled and sayde apert:
      'Me [th]ynk [th]y tale vnresounable;                      230
      Godde[gh] ry[gh]t is redy and euermore rert,
      O[th]er Holy Wryt is bot a fable;
      In Sauter is sayd a verce ouerte
      [Th]at speke[gh] a poynt determynable:
      "[Th]ou quyte[gh] vchon as hys desserte,                  235
      [Th]ou hy[gh]e Kyng ay pretermynable."
      Now he [th]at stod [th]e long day stable,
      And [th]ou to payment com hym byfore,
      [Th]enne [th]e lasse in werke to take more able,
      And euer [th]e lenger [th]e lasse [th]e more.'            240

        'Of more and lasse in Gode[gh] ryche,'
      [Th]at gentyl sayde, 'lys no ioparde,
      For [th]er is vch mon payed ilyche,
      Whe[th]er lyttel o[th]er much be hys rewarde,
      For [th]e gentyl Cheuentayn is no chyche;                 245
      Que[th]ersoeuer He dele nesch o[th]er harde,
      He laue[gh] Hys gyfte[gh] as water of dyche,
      O[th]er gote[gh] of golf [th]at neuer charde.
      Hys fraunchyse is large [th]at euer dard
      To Hym [th]at mat[gh] in synne rescoghe;                  250
      No blysse bet[gh] fro hem reparde,
      For [th]e grace of God is gret inoghe.

[Foot-note: 9 ky[th]e[gh]] ly[th]e[gh] _MS._]

[Foot-note: 22 manere[gh]] marere[gh] _MS._]

[Foot-note: 36 and] in _MS._]

[Foot-note: 112 _a line omitted in MS._]

[Foot-note: 119 he] ho _MS._]

[Foot-note: 164 pay] pray _MS._]

[Foot-note: 169 date of day] day of date _MS._]

[Foot-note: 172 hem] hen _MS._]

[Foot-note: 178 and] & & _MS._]

[Foot-note: 186 ilyche] [=i]lyche _MS._]

[Foot-note: 243 ilyche] inlyche _MS._]




VII

THE GEST HYSTORIALE OF THE
DESTRUCTION OF TROY

ABOUT 1375.


The Fall of Troy was one of the most popular subjects of mediaeval
story. Lydgate wrote a _Troy Book_ about 1420; fragments of another are
attributed to 'Barbour', whose identity with the author of _The Bruce_
has been questioned; a third version, anonymous, is known as the _Laud
Troy Book_; and Caxton chose as the first work to be printed in English
the _Recuyell of the Historyes of Troye_ (about 1474). More famous than
any of these full histories are two single stories detached from the
cycle: Jason's Quest of the Golden Fleece, which is admirably told by
Gower in the fifth book of his _Confessio Amantis_; and the Love of
Troilus and Cressida, which gave a theme both to Chaucer and to
Shakespeare.

The _Gest Hystoriale of the Destruction of Troy_, from which our
extracts are taken, is a free rendering of the prose _Historia Troiana_
finished in 1287 by Guido de Columna (most probably the modern Terranova
in Sicily). The translation, which appears to have been made in the
North or North-West Midlands in the second half of the fourteenth
century, is preserved only in an imperfect fifteenth-century MS. at the
Hunterian Museum, Glasgow. In the Early English Text Society's print,
edited by Panton and Donaldson, the text extends to over 14,000 lines.

The table of contents prefixed to the MS. promises '_the nome of the
knight [th]at causet it_ [sc. _the story_] _to be made, and the nome of
hym that translatid it out of Latyn into Englysshe_'; but the extant
MS. does not fulfil the promise. The execution suggests a set task and
a journeyman poet. Phrases are repeated carelessly; there is a great
deal of padding; the versification is monotonous; and the writer is too
often at the mercy of the alliteration to maintain a serious level. Yet
he is not a slavish or a dull translator. The more romantic elements
of the story, such as the matter of the _Odyssey_, had already been
whittled away in his original, and he shows little desire or capacity
to restore them. But he knew as well as the Old English poets the
forcefulness of alliterative verse in scenes of violence, and describes
with unflagging zest and vigour the interminable battles of the siege,
and storms such as that which wrecked the fleet of Ajax.

The Prologue is a curious example of the pseudo-critical attitude of the
Middle Ages. Homer is despised as a teller of impossible tales, and a
partisan of the Greeks,--for Hector is the popular hero of the mediaeval
versions. The narratives of Dares Phrygius and Dictys Cretensis,
products of the taste for fictitious history that spread westward from
Greek-speaking lands in the fourth and following centuries, are accepted
as reliable documents; and Guido de Columna as their authoritative
literary interpreter. No mention is made of Benoit de Sainte-Maure,
whose _Roman de Troie_, written in French about 1184, served as source
to Guido, and, directly or indirectly, as inspiration to the whole body
of Western writers who dealt with the 'Matter of Troy'. For these lapses
the English translator need not be held responsible. On the merits of
Homer, Dares, Dictys, and Guido de Columna, he probably accepted without
question the word of his master Guido.


PROLOGUE.

      Maistur in magest'e, Maker of alle,
      Endles and on, euer to last!
      Now, God, of [th]i grace, graunt me [th]i helpe,
      And wysshe me with wyt [th]is werke for to ende
      Off aunters ben olde of aunsetris nobill,                        5
      And slydyn vppon shlepe by slomeryng of age;
      Of stithe men in stoure, strongest in armes,
      And wisest in wer, to wale in hor tyme,
      [Th]at ben drepit with deth, and [th]ere day paste,
      And most out of mynd for [th]ere mecull age.                    10
      Sothe stories ben stoken vp, and straught out of mynde,
      And swolowet into swym by swiftenes of yeres,
      For new [th]at ben now next at our hond,
      Breuyt into bokes for boldyng of hertes,
      On lusti to loke with lightnes of wille,                        15
      Cheuyt throughe chaunce and chaungyng of peopull;
      Sum tru for to traist, triet in [th]e ende,
      Sum feynit o fere and ay false vnder.
        Yche wegh as he will warys his tyme,
      And has lykyng to lerne [th]at hym list after.                  20
      But olde stories of stithe [th]at astate helde
      May be solas to sum [th]at it segh neuer,
      Be writyng of wees [th]at wist it in dede,
      With sight for to serche of hom [th]at suet after,
      To ken all the crafte how [th]e case felle                      25
      By lokyng of letturs [th]at lefte were of olde.

        Now of Troy for to telle is myn entent euyn,
      Of the stoure and [th]e stryffe when it distroyet was.
      [Th]of fele yeres ben faren syn [th]e fight endid,
      And it meuyt out of mynd, myn hit I thinke,                     30
      Alss wise men haue writen the wordes before,
      Left it in Latyn for lernyng of us.
        But sum poyetis full prist [th]at put hom [th]erto
      With fablis and falshed fayned [th]ere speche,
      And made more of [th]at mater [th]an hom maister were.          35
      Sum lokyt ouer litle, and lympit of the sothe.
      Amonges [th]at menye, to myn hym be nome,
      Homer was holden haithill of dedis
      Qwiles his dayes enduret, derrist of other,
      [Th]at with the Grekys was gret, and of Grice comyn.            40
      He feynet myche fals was neuer before wroght,
      And turnet [th]e truth, trust ye non other.
      Of his trifuls to telle I haue no tome nowe,
      Ne of his feynit fare [th]at he fore with:
      How goddes foght in the filde, folke as [th]ai were!            45
      And other errours vnable, [th]at after were knowen,
      That poyetis of prise have preuyt vntrew:
      Ouyde and othir [th]at onest were ay,
      Virgille [th]e virtuus, verrit for nobill,
      Thes dampnet his dedys, and for dull holdyn.                    50
        But [th]e truth for to telle, and [th]e text euyn,
      Of [th]at fight, how it felle in a few yeres,
      [Th]at was clanly compilet with a clerk wise,
      On Gydo, a gome [th]at graidly hade soght,
      And wist all [th]e werks by weghes he hade,                     55
      That bothe were in batell while the batell last,
      And eu[th]er sawte and assembly see with [th]ere een.
      Thai wrote all [th]e werkes wroght at [th]at tyme
      In letturs of [th]ere langage, as [th]ai lernede hade:
      Dares and Dytes were duly [th]ere namys.                        60
      Dites full dere was dew to the Grekys,
      A lede of [th]at lond, and logede hom with.
      The tother was a tulke out of Troy selfe,
      Dares, [th]at duly the dedys behelde.
      Aither breuyt in a boke on [th]ere best wise,                   65
      That sithen at a sit'e somyn were founden,
      After, at Atthenes, as aunter befell.
      The whiche bokes barely, bothe as [th]ai were,
      A Romayn ouerraght, and right hom hymseluyn,
      That Cornelius was cald to his kynde name.                      70
      He translated it into Latyn for likyng to here,
      But he shope it so short [th]at no shalke might
      Haue knowlage by course how [th]e case felle;
      For he brought it so breff, and so bare leuyt,
      [Th]at no lede might have likyng to loke [th]erappon;           75
      Till [th]is Gydo it gate, as hym grace felle,
      And declaret it more clere, and on clene wise.
        In this shall faithfully be founden, to the fer ende,
      All [th]e dedis bydene as [th]ai done were:
      How [th]e groundes first grew, and [th]e grete hate,            80
      Bothe of torfer and tene [th]at hom tide aftur.
      And here fynde shall ye faire of [th]e felle peopull:
      What kynges [th]ere come of costes aboute;
      Of dukes full doughty, and of derffe erles,
      That assemblid to [th]e citie [th]at sawte to defend;           85
      Of [th]e Grekys [th]at were gedret how gret was [th]e
          nowmber,
      How mony knightes [th]ere come, and kynges enarmede,
      And what dukes thedur droghe for dedis of were;
      What shippes [th]ere were shene, and shalkes within,
      Bothe of barges and buernes [th]at broght were fro Grese;       90
      And all the batels on bent [th]e buernes betwene;
      What duke [th]at was dede throughe dyntes of hond,
      Who fallen was in fylde, and how it fore after.
      Bothe of truse and trayne [th]e truthe shalt [th]u here,
      And all the ferlies [th]at fell, vnto the ferre ende.           95
        Fro this prologe I passe, and part me [th]erwith.
      Frayne will I fer, and fraist of [th]ere werkes,
      Meue to my mater, and make here an ende.

EXPLICIT PROLOGUE.


THE XXXI BOKE: OF THE PASSAGE OF THE
GREKYS FRO TROY (ll. 12463-12547).

        Hyt fell thus, by fortune, [th]e fairest of [th]e yere
      Was past to the point of the pale wintur.                    100
      Heruest, with the heite and the high sun,
      Was comyn into colde, with a course low.
      Trees, thurgh tempestes, tynde hade [th]ere leues,
      And briddes abatid of hor brem songe;
      The wynde of the west wackenet aboue,                        105
      Blowyng full bremly o the brode ythes;
      The clere aire ouercast with cloudys full thicke,
      With mystes full merke mynget with showres.
      Flodes were felle thurgh fallyng of rayne,
      And wintur vp wacknet with his wete aire.                    110
        The gret nauy of the Grekes and the gay kynges
      Were put in a purpos to pas fro the toune.
      Sore longit [th]o lordis hor londys to se,
      And dissiret full depely, doutyng no wedur.
      [Th]ai counted no course of the cold stormys,                115
      Ne the perellis to passe of the pale windes.
      Hit happit hom full hard in a hondqwile,
      And mony of [th]o mighty to misse of hor purpos.
        Thus tho lordes in hor longyng laghton [th]e watur,
      Shotton into ship mong shene knightes,                       120
      With the tresowre of [th]e toune [th]ai token before,
      Relikes full rife, and miche ranke godes.
      Clere was the course of the cold flodis,
      And the firmament faire, as fell for the wintur.
      Thai past on the pale se, puld vp hor sailes,                125
      Hadyn bir at [th]ere backe, and the bonke leuyt.
      Foure dayes bydene, and hor du nyghtis,
      Ful soundly [th]ai sailed with seasonable windes.
        The fyft day fuersly fell at the none,
      Sodonly the softe winde vnsoberly blew;                      130
      A myste and a merkenes myngit togedur;
      A thoner and a thicke rayne [th]rublet in the skewes,
      With an ugsom noise, noy for to here;
      All flasshet in a fire the firmament ouer;
      Was no light but a laite [th]at launchit aboue:              135
      Hit skirmyt in the skewes with a skyre low,
      Thurgh the claterand clowdes clos to the heuyn,
      As the welkyn shuld walt for wodenes of hete;
      With blastes full bigge of the breme wyndes,
      Walt vp the waghes vpon wan hilles.                          140
      Stith was the storme, stird all the shippes,
      Hoppit on hegh with heste of the flodes.
      The sea was unsober, sondrit the nauy,
      Walt ouer waghes, and no way held,
      Depertid the pepull, pyne to behold,                         145
      In costes vnkowthe; cut down [th]ere sailes,
      Ropis al torochit, rent vp the hacches,
      Topcastell ouerturnyt, takelles were lost.
      The night come onone, noye was the more!
        All the company cleane of the kyng Telamon,                150
      With [th]ere shippes full shene, and [th]e shire godis,
      Were brent in the bre with the breme lowe
      Of the leymonde laite [th]at launchit fro heuyn,
      And euyn drownet in the depe, dukes and other!
        Oelius Aiax, as aunter befelle,                            155
      Was stad in the storme with the stith windes,
      With his shippes full shene and the shire godes.
      Thrifty and [th]riuaund, thretty and two
      There were brent on the buerne with the breme low,
      And all the freikes in the flode floterand aboue.            160
        Hymseluyn in the sea sonkyn belyue,
      Swalprit and swam with swyngyng of armys.
      [Gh]et he launchet to londe, and his lyf hade,
      Bare of his body, bretfull of water,
      In the slober and the sluche slongyn to londe;               165
      There he lay, if hym list, the long night ouer,
      Till the derke was done, and the day sprang;
      [Th]are sum of his sort, [th]at soght were to lond
      And than wonen of waghes, with wo as [th]ai might,
      Laited [th]ere lord on the laund-syde,                       170
      If hit fell h_y_m by fortune the flodes to passe.
        [Th]an found [th]ai the freike in the fome lye,
      And comford hym kyndly, as [th]ere kyd lord;
      With worchip and wordes wan hym to fote.
      Bothe failet hym the fode and the fyne clothes.              175
        Thus [th]ere goddes with gremy with [th]e Grekes fore,
      Mighty Myner<u>a, of malis full grete,
      For Telamon, in tene, tid for to pull
      Cassandra the clene out of hir cloise temple.
      Thus hit fell hom by fortune of a foule ende,                180
      For greuyng [th]ere goddes in hor gret yre.
      Oftsythes men sayn, and sene is of olde,
      [Th]at all a company is cumbrit for a cursed shrewe.

[Foot-note: 168-9 _transposed in MS._]

[Foot-note: 171 hym] hom _MS._]




VIII

PIERS PLOWMAN

(1362-1400)

BY WILLIAM LANGLAND


Recent criticism of _Piers Plowman_ has done more to weaken the hold of
opinions once generally accepted than to replace them by others better
founded. It is still most probable that 'Long Will', who is more than
once mentioned in the text as the poet, was William Langland. The
earliest external evidence of his home and parentage is given in a
fifteenth-century note in MS. Dublin D 4. 1, of which both the matter
and the vile Latinity bear the stamp of genuineness: 'Memorandum quod
Stacy de Rokayle, pater Willielmi de Langlond, qui Stacius fuit
generosus, et morabatur in Schiptone under Whicwode, tenens domini le
Spenser in comitatu Oxon., qui praedictus Willielmus fecit librum qui
vocatur Perys Ploughman.' Shipton-under-Wychwood is near Burford in
Oxfordshire. The poem shows familiarity with the Malvern Hills and the
streets of London; but it is hard to say how much is fact and how much
is fiction in the references to Long Will in the text itself, more
especially the description of his London life added as the Sixth Passus
in Version C, and reproduced here as the second extract.

Since Skeat's edition for the Early English Text Society, the many
manuscripts have been grouped into three main types. The shortest, or
A-text, appears from internal evidence to have been written about 1362.
The B-text (about 1377) has the most compact manuscript tradition. It is
distinguished by considerable additions throughout, and by the
reconstruction and expansion of the visions of Dowel, Dobet, Dobest,
which make up the second half of the poem. The C-text, the latest and
fullest form, appears to have been completed in the last decade of the
fourteenth century.

Until recently it has been assumed that these three versions represent
progressive revisions by the author. But Professor Manly has found
considerable support for his view that more than one writer--perhaps as
many as five--had a share in the work. For the present, judgement on
this question, and on the intricate problem of the relations of the
different versions, is suspended until the results of a complete
re-examination of all the MSS. are available. It would not be surprising
to find that even when this necessary work is done differences of
opinion on the larger questions remain as acute as ever.

It is impossible in short space to give an outline of the whole work,
which describes no less than eleven visions. The structure is loose, and
allegory is developed or dropped with disconcerting abruptness, for the
writer does not curb his vigorous imagination in the interests of formal
correctness.

The first part is the best known. On a May morning the poet falls asleep
on the Malvern Hills and sees a 'Field full of Folk', where all classes
of men are busy about their occupations, more particularly the nefarious
occupations that engage the attention of the moralist. Holy Church
explains that a high tower in the Field is the home of Truth; and that a
'deep dale' is the Castle of Care, where Wrong dwells with the wicked.
She points out Falseness, who is about to marry Lady Meed (i.e. Reward,
whether deserved reward or bribe). Lady Meed and her company are haled
before the King, who, with Reason and Conscience as his guides, decides
her case, and upholds the plea of Peace against Wrong.

The second vision is prefaced (in the C-text only) by the passage
printed as the second selection. The poet falls asleep again, and sees
Conscience preaching to the people in the Field. Representatives of the
Seven Deadly Sins are vividly described. They are brought to penitence,
and all set out in search of Truth. But no one knows the way. A palmer
who wears the trophies of many pilgrimages to distant saints is puzzled
by their inquiries, for he has never heard of pilgrims seeking Truth.
Then Peter the Plowman comes forward and explains the way in
allegorical terms. Here the first extract begins. The second vision
closes with a general pardon given by Truth to Piers Plowman in this
simple form:

      Do wel, and haue wel, and God shal haue [th]i sowle;
      And do yuel, and haue yuel, hope [th]ow non other
      But after [th]i ded-day [th]e Deuel shal haue [th]i sowle.

The several visions of the second part make up the lives of
Dowel, Dobet, and Dobest. Piers Plowman is there identified
with Christ, and the poem ends with Conscience, almost overcome
by sin, setting out resolutely in search of Piers.

First impressions of mediaeval life are usually coloured by the
courtly romances of Malory and his later refiners. Chaucer
brings us down to reality, but his people belong to a prosperous
middle-class world, on holiday and in holiday mood. _Piers Plowman_
stands alone as a revelation of the ignorance and misery of
the lower classes, whose multiplied grievances came to a head in
the Peasants' Revolt of 1381. It must not be supposed that
Langland idealized the labourers. Their indolence and improvidence
are exposed as unsparingly as the vices of the rich; and
Piers himself is not so much a representative of the English workman
in the fourteenth century as a character drawn straight
from the Gospels. Still, such an eager plea for humbleness, simplicity,
and honest labour, could not fail to encourage the political
hopes of the poor, and we see in John Ball's letter (p. 160) that
'Piers Plowman' had become a catchword among them. The
poet himself rather deprecates political action. His satire is
directed against the general slackening of the bonds of duty that
marked the last years of an outworn system of society. For the
remedy of abuses he appeals not to one class but to all: king,
nobles, clergy, and workers must model their lives on the pattern
of the Gospels.


A. FROM THE B-TEXT, PASSUS VI.

Bodleian MS. Laud 581 (about 1400).

      'This were a wikked way, but whoso hadde a gyde
      That wolde folwen vs eche a fote:' [th]us [th]is folke hem mened.
        Quat[gh] Perkyn [th]e plouman: 'Bi Seynt Peter of Rome!
      I haue an half-acre to erye bi [th]e heigh way.
      Hadde I eried [th]is half-acre, and sowen it after,              5
      I w_o_l_de_ wende with [gh]ow, and [th]e way teche.'
        '[Th]is were a longe lettynge,' quod a lady in a sklayre;
      'What sholde we wommen worche [th]erewhiles?'
        'Somme shal sowe <[th]e> sakke,' quod Piers, 'for shedyng
            of [th]e whete;
      And [gh]e, louely ladyes, with [gh]oure longe fyngres,          10
      [Th]at [gh]e han silke and sendal to sowe, whan tyme is,
      Chesibles for chapelleynes, cherches to honoure;
      Wyues and wydwes wolle and flex spynneth,
      Maketh cloth, I conseille [gh]ow, and kenneth so
          [gh]owre dou[gh]tres;
      [Th]e nedy and [th]e naked, nymmeth hede how hii liggeth,       15
      And casteth hem clothes, for so comaundeth Treuthe.
      For I shal lene hem lyflode, but [gh]if [th]e londe faille,
      Flesshe and bred, bothe to riche and to pore,
      As longe as I lyue, for [th]e Lordes loue of heuene.
      And alle manere of men [th]at [th]orw mete and drynke
          lybbeth,                                                    20
      Helpith hym to worche wi[gh]tliche [th]at wynneth [gh]owre
          fode.'
        'Bi Crist!' quod a kny[gh]te [th]o, 'he kenneth vs [th]e
          best;
      Ac on [th]e teme trewly tau[gh]te was I neuere.
      Ac kenne me,' quod [th]e kny[gh]te, 'and, bi Cryst! I wil
         assaye.'
        'Bi seynt Poule!' quod Perkyn, '[gh]e profre [gh]ow so
            faire,                                                    25
      [Th]at I shal swynke, and swete, and sowe for vs bothe,
      And o[th]er laboures do for [th]i loue al my lyf tyme,
      In couenaunt [th]at [th]ow kepe Holi Kirke and myselue
      Fro wastoures and fro wykked men [th]at [th]is worlde
          struyeth;
      And go hunte hardiliche to hares and to foxes,                  30
      To bores and to brockes [th]at breketh adown myne hegges,
      And go affaite [th]e faucones wilde foules to kille,
      For suche cometh to my croft, and croppeth my whete.'
        Curteislich [th]e kny[gh]te [th]anne comsed [th]ise wordes:
      'By my power, Pieres,' quod he, 'I pli[gh]te [th]e my
          treuthe                                                     35
      To fulfille [th]is forward, [th]ow[gh] I fi[gh]te sholde;
      Als longe as I lyue, I shal [th]e mayntene.'
        '[Gh]e, and [gh]it a poynt,' quod Pieres, 'I preye [gh]ow
            of more;
      Loke [gh]e tene no tenaunt, but Treuthe wil assent.
      And [th]owgh [gh]e mowe amercy hem, late Mercy be taxoure,      40
      And Mekenesse [th]i mayster, maugr'e Medes chekes;
      And [th]owgh pore men profre [gh]ow presentis and [gh]iftis,
      Nym it nau[gh]te, an auenture [gh]e mowe it nau[gh]te deserue;
      For [th]ow shalt [gh]elde it a[gh]ein at one [gh]eres ende
      In a ful perillous place, Purgatorie it hatte.                  45
      And mysbede nou[gh]te [th]i bondemen, [th]e better may [th]ow
          spede;
      [Th]owgh he be [th]yn vnderlynge here, wel may happe in heuene
      [Th]at he worth worthier sette and with more blisse:
          _Amice, ascende superius_.
      For in charnel atte chirche cherles ben yuel to knowe,          50
      Or a kni[gh]te fram a knaue [th]ere,--knowe [th]is in [th]in
          herte.
      And [th]at [th]ow be trewe of [th]i tonge, and tales [th]at
          [th]ow hatie,
      But if [th]ei ben of wisdome or of witte, [th]i werkmen to
          chaste.
      Holde with none harlotes, ne here nou[gh]te her tales,
      And nameliche atte mete suche men eschue,                       55
      For it ben [th]e deueles disoures, I do [th]e to vnderstande.'
        'I assente, bi Seynt Iame!' seyde [th]e kni[gh]te [th]anne,
      'Forto worche bi [th]i wordes [th]e while my lyf dureth.'
        'And I shal apparaille me,' quod Perkyn, 'in pilgrimes wise,
      And wende with [gh]ow I wil til we fynde Treuthe,               60
      And cast on me my clothes, yclouted and hole,
      My cokeres and my coffes, for colde of my nailles,
      And hange myn hoper at myn hals, in stede of a scrippe,
      A busshel of bredcorne brynge me [th]erinne,
      For I wil sowe it myself; and sitthenes wil I wende             65
      To pylgrymage, as palmers don, pardoun forto haue.
      Ac whoso helpeth me to erie or sowen here, ar I wende,
      Shal haue leue, bi owre Lorde, to lese here in heruest,
      And make hem mery [th]eremydde, maugr'e whoso bigruccheth it.
      And alkyn crafty men, [th]at konne lyuen in treuthe,            70
      I shal fynden hem fode, [th]at feithfulliche libbeth.'...
        (Dame 'Worche-whan-tyme-is' Pieres wyf hi[gh]te;
      His dou[gh]ter hi[gh]te 'Do-ri[gh]te-so-
          or-[th]i-dame-shal-[th]e-bete';
      His sone hi[gh]te 'Suffre-[th]i-souereynes-
          to-hauen-her-wille-,
      Deme-hem-nou[gh]te-, for-, if-[th]ow-doste-,
          [th]ow-shalt-it-dere-abugge.')                              75
        'Late God yworth with al, for so His worde techeth;
      For now I am olde and hore, and haue of myn owen,
      To penaunce and to pilgrimage I wil passe with [th]ise other.
      For[th]i I wil, or I wende, do wryte my biqueste.
        _In Dei nomine, amen_, I make it myseluen.                    80
      He shal haue my soule [th]at best hath yserued it,
      And fro [th]e fende it defende, for so I bileue,
      Til I come to His acountes, as my _Credo_ me telleth,
      To haue a relees and a remissioun on [th]at rental I leue.
      [Th]e kirke shal haue my caroigne and kepe my bones,            85
      For of my corne and catel he craued [th]e tythe;
      I payed it hym prestly, for peril of my soule,
      Forthy is he holden, I hope, to haue me in his masse,
      And mengen in his memorye amonge alle Crystene.
        My wyf shal haue of [th]at I wan with treuthe, and nomore,    90
      And dele amonge my dou[gh]tres and my dere children;
      For [th]owgh I deye todaye, my dettes ar quitte;
      I bare home [th]at I borwed, ar I to bedde [gh]ede.
      And with [th]e residue and [th]e remenaunte, bi [th]e rode of
          Lukes!
      I wil worschip [th]erwith Treuthe bi my lyue,                   95
      And ben his pilgryme atte plow, for pore mennes sake.
      My plow-fote shal be my pyk-staf, and picche atwo [th]e rotes,
      And helpe my culter to kerue, and clense [th]e forwes.'
        Now is Perkyn and his pilgrymes to [th]e plowe faren;
      To erie [th]is halue-acre holpyn hym manye.                    100
      Dikeres and delueres digged vp [th]e balkes;
      [Th]erewith was Perkyn apayed, and preysed hem faste.
      Other werkemen [th]ere were [th]at wrou[gh]ten ful [gh]erne;
      Eche man in his manere made hymself to done,
      And some, to plese Perkyn, piked vp [th]e wedes.               105
        At heighe pryme Peres lete [th]e plowe stonde,
      To ouersen hem hymself, and whoso best wrou[gh]te
      He shulde be huyred [th]erafter whan heruest-tyme come.
        And [th]anne seten somme and songen atte nale,
      And hulpen erie his half-acre with 'how! trollilolli!'         110
        'Now, bi [th]e peril of my soule!' quod Pieres, al in pure
         tene,
      'But [gh]e arise [th]e rather, and rape [gh]ow to worche,
      Shal no greyne [th]at groweth glade [gh]ow at nede;
      And [th]ough [gh]e deye for dole, [th]e deuel haue [th]at
          reccheth!'
        Tho were faitoures aferde, and feyned hem blynde;            115
      Somme leyde here legges aliri, as suche loseles conneth,
      And made her mone to Pieres, and preyde hym of grace:
      'For we haue no lymes to laboure with, lorde, ygraced be
          [gh]e!
      Ac we preye for [gh]ow, Pieres, and for [gh]owre plow bothe,
      [Th]at God of His grace [gh]owre grayne multiplye,             120
      And [gh]elde [gh]ow of [gh]owre almesse [th]at [gh]e [gh]iue
          vs here;
      For we may nou[gh]te swynke ne swete, suche sikenesse vs
          eyleth.'
        'If it be soth,' quod Pieres, '[th]at [gh]e seyne, I shal
          it sone asspye.
      [Gh]e ben wastoures, I wote wel, and Treuthe wote [th]e sothe,
      And I am his olde hyne, and hi[gh]te hym to warne              125
      Which [th]ei were in [th]is worlde his werkemen appeyred.
      [Gh]e wasten [th]at men wynnen with trauaille and with tene,
      Ac Treuthe shal teche [gh]ow his teme to dryue,
      Or [gh]e shal ete barly bred and of [th]e broke drynke.
      But if he be blynde, _or_ broke-legged, or bolted with
          yrnes,                                                     130
      He shal ete whete bred and drynke with myselue,
      Tyl God of his goodnesse amendement hym sende.
      Ac [gh]e my[gh]te trauaille as Treuthe wolde, and take mete
          and huyre
      To kepe kyne in [th]e felde, [th]e corne fro [th]e bestes,
      Diken, or deluen, or dyngen vppon sheues,                      135
      Or helpe make morter, or bere mukke afelde.
      In lecherye an in losengerye [gh]e lyuen, and in sleuthe,
      And al is [th]orw suffrance [th]at veniaunce [gh]ow ne taketh.
        Ac ancres and heremytes, [th]at eten but at nones,
      And namore er morwe, myne almesse shul [th]ei haue,            140
      And of my catel to cope hem with [th]at han cloistres and
          cherches.
      Ac Robert Renne-aboute shal nou[gh]e haue of myne,
      Ne posteles, but [th]ey preche conne, and haue powere of [th]e
          bisschop;
      They shal haue payne and potage, and make hemself at ese,
      For it is an vnresonable religioun [th]at hath ri[gh]te
          nou[gh]te of certeyne.'                                    145
      And [th]anne gan a Wastoure to wrath hym, and wolde haue
          yfou[gh]te,
      And to Pieres [th]e plowman he profered his gloue;
      A Brytonere, a braggere, abosted Pieres als:--
      'Wiltow or neltow, we wil haue owre wille
      Of [th]i flowre and of [th]i flessche, fecche whan vs
          liketh,                                                    150
      And make vs myrie [th]ermyde, maugr'e [th]i chekes!'
        Thanne Pieres [th]e plowman pleyned hym to [th]e kny[gh]te,
      To kepe hym, as couenaunte was, fram cursed shrewes,
      And fro [th]is wastoures wolues-kynnes, [th]at maketh [th]e
          worlde dere:
      'For [th]o waste, and wynnen nou[gh]te, and [th]at ilke
          while                                                      155
      Worth neuere plent'e amonge [th]e poeple [th]erwhile my plow
          liggeth.'
        Curteisly [th]e kny[gh]te [th]anne, as his kynde wolde,
      Warned Wastoure, and wissed hym bettere,
      'Or [th]ow shalt abugge by [th]e lawe, by [th]e ordre [th]at
          I bere!'
        'I was nou[gh]t wont to worche,' quod Wastour, 'and now
            wil I nou[gh]t bigynne',                                 160
      And lete li[gh]te of [th]e lawe, and lasse of [th]e kny[gh]te,
      And sette Pieres at a pees, and his plow bothe,
      And manaced Pieres and his men [gh]if [th]ei mette eftsone.
        'Now, by [th]e peril of my soule!' quod Pieres, 'I shal
         apeyre [gh]ow alle!'
      And houped after Hunger, [th]at herd hym atte firste:          165
      'Awreke me of [th]ise wastoures,' quod he '[th]at [th]is
          worlde schendeth!'
        Hunger in haste [th]o hent Wastour bi [th]e mawe,
      And wronge hym so bi [th]e wombe [th]at bothe his eyen wattered.
      He buffeted [th]e Britoner aboute [th]e chekes,
      [Th]at he loked like a lanterne al his lyf after.              170
      He bette hem so bothe, he barste nere here guttes;
      Ne hadde Pieres with a pese-lof preyed Hunger to cesse,
      They hadde ben doluen bothe, ne deme [th]ow non other.
      'Suffre hem lyue,' he seyde 'and lete hem ete with hogges,
      Or elles benes and bren ybaken togideres,                      175
      Or elles melke and mene ale;' [th]us preyed Pieres for hem.
        Faitoures for fere herof flowen into bernes,
      And flapten on with flayles fram morwe til euen,
      That Hunger was nou[gh]t so hardy on hem for to loke,
      For a potful of peses [th]at Peres hadde ymaked.               180
      An heep of heremites henten hem spades,
      And ketten here copes, and courtpies hem made,
      And wenten as werkemen with spades and with schoueles,
      And doluen and dykeden to dryue aweye Hunger.
        Blynde and bedreden were botened a [th]ousande,              185
      [Th]at seten to begge syluer; sone were [th]ei heled.
      For [th]at was bake for Bayarde was bote for many hungry,
      And many a beggere for benes buxome was to swynke,
      And eche a pore man wel apayed to haue pesen for his huyre,
      And what Pieres preyed hem to do as prest as a sperhauke.      190
      And [th]ereof was Peres proude, and put hem to werke,
      And [gh]af hem mete as he my[gh]te aforth, and mesurable
          huyre.
        [Th]anne hadde Peres pit'e, and preyed Hunger to wende
      Home into his owne erde, and holden hym [th]ere:
      'For I am wel awroke now of wastoures, [th]orw [th]i
          my[gh]te.                                                  195
      Ac I preye [th]e, ar [th]ow passe,' quod Pieres to Hunger,
      'Of beggeres and of bidderes what best be <to> done?
      For I wote wel, be [th]ow went, [th]ei wil worche ful ille;
      For myschief it maketh [th]ei beth so meke nouthe,
      And for defaute of her fode [th]is folke is at my wille.       200
      [Th]ey are my blody bretheren,' quod Pieres, 'for God
          bou[gh]te vs alle;
      Treuthe tau[gh]te me ones to louye hem vchone,
      And to helpen hem of alle [th]inge ay as hem nedeth.
      And now wolde I witen of [th]e what were [th]e best,
      An how I my[gh]te amaistrien hem, and make hem to worche.'     205
        'Here now,' quod Hunger 'and holde it for a wisdome:
      Bolde beggeres and bigge, [th]at mowe her bred biswynke,
      With houndes bred and hors bred holde vp her hertis,
      Abate hem with benes for bollyng of her wombe;
      And [gh]if [th]e gomes grucche, bidde hem go swynke,           210
      And he shal soupe swettere whan he it hath deseruid.
        And if [th]ow fynde any freke, [th]at fortune hath appeyred
      Or any maner fals men, fonde [th]ow suche to cnowe;
      Conforte hym with [th]i catel, for Crystes loue of heuene;
      Loue hem and lene hem, so lawe of God techeth:--               215
          _Alter alterius onera portate_.
      And alle maner of men [th]at [th]ow my[gh]te asspye
      That nedy ben and nau[gh]ty, helpe hem with [th]i godis;
      Loue hem, and lakke hem nou[gh]te; late God take [th]e
          veniaunce;
      Theigh [th]ei done yuel, late [th]ow God aworthe:--            220
          _Michi vindictam, et ego retribuam_.
      And if [th]ow wil be graciouse to God, do as [th]e Gospel
          techeth,
      And bilow [th]e amonges low men; so shaltow lacche grace:--
          _Facite vobis amicos de mamona iniquitatis_.'
        'I wolde nou[gh]t greue God,' quod Piers, 'for al [th]e
          good on grounde;                                           225
      Mi[gh]te I synnelees do as [th]ow seist?' seyde Pieres
          [th]anne.
        '[Gh]e, I bihote [th]e,' quod Hunger, 'or ellis [th]e Bible
          lieth;
      Go to Genesis [th]e gyaunt, [th]e engendroure of vs alle:--
      "_In sudore_ and swynke [th]ow shalt [th]i mete tilye,
      And laboure for [th]i lyflode," and so owre Lorde hy[gh]te.    230
      And Sapience seyth [th]e same, I seigh it in [th]e Bible:--
      "_Piger pro frigore_ no felde nolde tilye,
      And [th]erfore he shal begge and bidde, and no man bete his
          hunger."
        Mathew with mannes face mouthed [th]ise wordis:--
      [Th]at _seruus nequam_ had a nam, and for he wolde nou[gh]te
          chaffare,                                                  235
      He had maugr'e of his maistre for euermore after,
      And binam <hym> his mnam, for he ne wolde worche,
      And [gh]af [th]at mnam to hym [th]at ten mnames hadde;
      And with [th]at he seyde, [th]at Holi Cherche it herde,
      "He [th]at hath shal haue, and helpe [th]ere it nedeth,        240
      And he [th]at nou[gh]t hath shal nou[gh]t haue, and no man
          hym helpe;
      And [th]at he weneth wel to haue, I wil it hym bireue."
        Kynde Witt wolde [th]at eche a wyght wrou[gh]te,
      Or in dykynge, or in deluynge, or trauaillynge in preyeres,
      Contemplatyf lyf or actyf lyf, Cryst wolde men wrou[gh]te.     245
      [Th]e Sauter seyth in [th]e psalme of _Beati omnes_,
      [Th]e freke [th]at fedeth hymself with his feythful laboure,
      He is blessed by [th]e boke, in body and in soule:--
          _Labores manuum tuarum, etc._'
        '[Gh]et I prey [gh]ow,' quod Pieres, '_par charit'e!_ and
            [gh]e kunne                                              250
      Eny leef of lechecraft, lere it me, my dere.
      For somme of my seruaunt[gh], and myself bothe,
      Of al a wyke worche nou[gh]t, so owre wombe aketh.'
        'I wote wel,' quod Hunger, 'what sykenesse [gh]ow eyleth;
      [Gh]e han maunged ouermoche, and [th]at maketh [gh]ow
          grone.                                                     255
      Ac I hote [th]e,' quod Hunger, 'as [th]ow [th]yne hele
          wilnest,
      That [th]ow drynke no day ar [th]ow dyne somwhat.
      Ete nou[gh]te, I hote [th]e, ar hunger [th]e take,
      And sende [th]e of his sauce to sauoure with [th]i lippes;
      And kepe some tyl sopertyme, and sitte nou[gh]t to longe;      260
      Arise vp ar appetit haue eten his fulle.
      Lat nou[gh]t Sire Surfait sitten at [th]i borde....
      And [gh]if [th]ow diete [th]e [th]us, I dar legge myne eres
      [Th]at Phisik shal his furred hodes for his fode selle,
      And his cloke of Calabre, with alle [th]e knappes of golde,    265
      And be fayne, bi my feith, his phisik to lete,
      And lerne to laboure with londe, for lyflode is swete;
      For morthereres aren mony leches, Lorde hem amende!
      [Th]ei do men deye [th]orw here drynkes, ar Destin'e it wolde.'
        'By Seynt Poule!' quod Pieres, '[th]ise aren profitable
            wordis.                                                  270
      Wende now, Hunger, whan [th]ow wolt, [th]at wel be [th]ow
          euere,
      For this is a louely lessoun; Lorde it [th]e for[gh]elde!'
        'Byhote God,' quod Hunger, 'hennes ne wil I wende,
      Til I haue dyned bi [th]is day, and ydronke bothe.'
        'I haue no peny,' quod Peres 'poletes forto bigge,           275
      Ne neyther gees ne grys, but two grene cheses,
      A fewe cruddes and creem, and an hauer-cake,
      And two loues of benes and bran ybake for my fauntis;
      And [gh]et I sey, by my soule, I haue no salt bacoun
      Ne no kokeney, bi Cryst, coloppes forto maken.                 280
      Ac I haue percil, and porettes, and many koleplantes,
      And eke a cow and a kalf, and a cart-mare
      To drawe afelde my donge [th]e while [th]e drought lasteth.
      And bi [th]is lyflode we mot lyue til Lammasse tyme;
      And bi [th]at I hope to haue heruest in my croft,              285
      And [th]anne may I di[gh]te [th]i dyner as me dere liketh.'
        Alle [th]e pore peple [th]o pesecoddes fetten,
      Benes and baken apples [th]ei brou[gh]te in her lappes,
      Chibolles and cheruelles and ripe chiries manye,
      And profred Peres [th]is present to plese with Hunger.         290
      Al Hunger eet in hast, and axed after more.
      [Th]anne pore folke for fere fedde Hunger [gh]erne
      With grene poret and pesen--to poysoun Hunger [th]ei
          [th]ou[gh]te.
      By [th]at it neighed nere heruest, newe corne cam to
          chepynge;
      [Th]anne was folke fayne, and fedde Hunger with [th]e best,    295
      With good ale, as Glotoun tau[gh]te, and gerte Hunger go
          slepe.
        And [th]o wolde Wastour nou[gh]t werche, but wandren
          aboute,
      Ne no begger ete bred that benes inne were,
      But of coket, or clerematyn, or elles of clene whete,
      Ne none halpeny ale in none wise drynke,                       300
      But of [th]e best and of [th]e brounest [th]at in borgh is
          to selle.
        Laboreres [th]at haue no lande to lyue on but her handes,
      Deyned nou[gh]t to dyne aday ny[gh]t-olde wortes;
      May no peny-ale hem paye, ne no pece of bakoun,
      But if it be fresch flesch, other fische, fryed other bake,    305
      And that _chaude_ or _plus chaud_, for chillyng of here
          mawe.
      And but if he be heighlich huyred, ellis wil he chyde,
      And [th]at he was werkman wrou[gh]t waille [th]e tyme;
      A[gh]eines Catones conseille comseth he to iangle:--
          _Paupertatis onus pacienter ferre memento_.                310
      He greueth hym a[gh]eines God, and gruccheth a[gh]eines
          resoun,
      And [th]anne curseth he [th]e kynge, and al his conseille
          after,
      Suche lawes to loke, laboreres to greue.
      Ac whiles Hunger was her maister, [th]ere wolde none of hem
          chyde,
      Ne stryue a[gh]eines his statut, so sterneliche he loked.      315
        Ac I warne [gh]ow, werkemen, wynneth while [gh]e mowe,
      For Hunger hide<r>ward hasteth hym faste,
      He shal awake with water wastoures to chaste.
      Ar fyue <[gh]ere> be fulfilled suche famyn shal aryse,
      Thorwgh flodes and [th]ourgh foule wederes frutes shul
          faille;                                                    320
      And so sayde Saturne, and sent [gh]ow to warne:
      Whan [gh]e se [th]e sonne amys, and two monkes hedes,
      And a mayde haue [th]e maistrie, and multiplied bi eight,
      [Th]anne shal Deth withdrawe, and Derthe be Iustice,
      And Dawe [th]e Dyker deye for hunger,                          325
      But if God of his goodnesse graunt vs a trewe.

[Foot-note: 6 wolde] wil _MS._]

[Foot-note: 130 or] and _MS._]


B. FROM THE C-TEXT, PASSUS VI, ll. 1-104.

MS. Phillips 8231 (about 1400).

      Thus ich awaked, wot God, wanne ich wonede on Cornehulle,
      Kytte and ich in a cote, clo[th]ed as a lollere,
      And lytel _ylete_ by, leyue me for so[th]e,
      Among lollares of London and lewede heremytes;
      For ich made of [th]o men as Reson me tauhte.                    5
      For as ich cam by Conscience, wit Reson ich mette,
      In an hote heruest, wenne ich hadde myn hele,
      And lymes to labore with, and louede wel fare,
      And no dede to do bote drynke and to slepe:
      In hele and in vnit'e on me aposede,                            10
      Romynge in remembraunce, thus Reson me aratede:--
      'Canstow seruen,' he seide, 'o[th]er syngen in a churche,
      O[th]er coke for my cokers, o[th]er to [th]e cart picche,
      Mowe, o[th]er mowen, o[th]er make bond to sheues,
      Repe, o[th]er be a repereyue, and aryse erliche,                15
      O[th]er haue an horne and be haywarde, and liggen oute
          a nyghtes,
      And kepe my corn in my croft fro pykers and [th]eeues?
      O[th]er shappe shon o[th]er clo[th]es, o[th]er shep o[th]er
          kyn kepe,
      <H>eggen o[th]er harwen, o[th]er swyn o[th]er gees dryue,
      O[th]er eny kyns craft [th]at to [th]e comune nude[th],         20
      Hem [th]at bedreden be bylyue to fynde?'
      'Certes,' ich seyde, 'and so me God helpe,
      Ich am to waik to worche with sykel o[th]er with sythe,
      And to long, leyf me, lowe for to stoupe,
      To worchen as a workeman eny wyle to dure.'                     25
      'Thenne hauest [th]ow londes to lyue by,' quath Reson,
          'o[th]er
          lynage riche
      That fynden [th]e [th]y fode? For an hydel man [th]ow semest,
      A spendour [th]at spende mot, o[th]er a spille-tyme,
      O[th]er beggest [th]y bylyue aboute ate menne hacches,
      O[th]er faitest vpon Frydays o[th]er feste-dayes in churches,   30
      The wiche is lollarene lyf, [th]at lytel ys preysed
      [Th]er Ryghtfulnesse rewarde[th] ryght as men deserue[th]:--
          _Reddit unicuique iuxta opera sua_.
      O[th]er [th]ow ert broke, so may be, in body o[th]er in membre,
      O[th]er ymaymed [th]orw som myshap werby [th]ow my[gh]t
          be excused?'                                                35
      'Wanne ich [gh]ong was,' quath ich, 'meny [gh]er hennes,
      My fader and my frendes founden me to scole,
      Tyl ich wiste wyterliche wat Holy Wryt menede,
      And wat is best for [th]e body, as [th]e Bok telle[th],
      And sykerest for [th]e soule, by so ich wolle continue.         40
      And [gh]ut fond ich neuere, in faith, sytthen my frendes
          deyden,
      Lyf [th]at me lyked, bote in [th]es longe clothes.
      Hyf ich by laboure sholde lyue and lyflode deseruen,
      That labour [th]at ich lerned best [th]er_with_ lyue ich
          sholde:--
          _In eadem uocatione qua uocati estis_.                      45
      And ich lyue in Londene and on Londen bothe;
      The lomes [th]at ich laboure with and lyflode deserue
      Ys _Paternoster_, and my Prymer, _Placebo_ and _Dirige_,
      And my Sauter som tyme, and my Seuene Psalmes.
      Thus ich synge for hure soules of suche as me helpen,           50
      And [th]o [th]at fynden me my fode vochen saf, ich trowe,
      To be wolcome wanne ich come o[th]erwyle in a monthe,
      Now with hym and now with hure; and [th]usgate ich begge
      Withoute bagge o[th]er botel bote my wombe one.
      And also, moreouer, me [th]ynke[th], syre Reson,                55
      Men sholde constreyne no clerke to knauene werkes;
      For by lawe of _Leuitici_, [th]at oure Lord ordeynede,
      Clerkes [th]at aren crouned, of kynde vnderstondyng,
      Sholde no[th]er swynke, ne swete, ne swere at enquestes,
      Ne fyghte in no vauntwarde, ne hus fo greue:--                  60
          _Non reddas malum pro malo_.
      For it ben aires of heuene alle [th]at ben crounede,
      And in queer in churches Cristes owene mynestres:--
          _Dominus pars hereditatis mee_; & alibi: _Clementia non
              constringit_.
      Hit bycome[th] for clerkus Crist for to seruen,                 65
      And knaues vncrouned to cart and to worche.
      For shold no clerk be crouned bote yf he ycome were
      Of franklens and free men, and of folke yweddede.
      Bondmen and bastardes and beggers children,
      Thuse bylonge[th] to labour, and lordes children sholde
          seruen,                                                     70
      Bothe God and good men, as here degree aske[th];
      Some to synge masses, o[th]er sitten and wryte,
      Rede and receyue [th]at Reson ouhte spende;
      And sith bondemenne barnes han be mad bisshopes,
      And barnes bastardes han ben archidekenes,                      75
      And sopers and here sones for seluer han be knyghtes,
      And lordene sones here laborers, and leid here rentes to wedde,
      For [th]e ryght of [th]es reame ryden a[gh]ens oure enemys,
      In confort of [th]e comune and [th]e kynges worshep,
      And monkes and moniales, [th]at mendinauns sholden fynde,       80
      Han mad here kyn knyghtes, and knyghtfees purchase<d>,
      Popes and patrones poure gentil blod refuse[th],
      And taken Symondes sone seyntewarie to kepe.
      Lyf-holynesse and loue han ben longe hennes,
      And wole, til hit be wered out, or o[th]erwise ychaunged.       85
        For[th]y rebuke me ryght nouht, Reson, ich [gh]ow praye;
      For in my conscience ich knowe what Crist wolde [th]at ich
          wrouhte.
      Preyers of <a> parfyt man and penaunce discret
      Ys [th]e leueste labour [th]at oure Lord plese[th].
      _Non de solo_,' ich seide, 'for so[th]e _uiuit homo,            90
      Nec in pane et pabulo_, [th]e _Paternoster_ witnesse[th]:
      _Fiat uoluntas tua_ fynt ous alle [th]ynges.'
      Quath Conscience, 'By Crist! ich can nat see this lye[th];
      Ac it semeth nouht parfytnesse in cytees for to begge,
      Bote he be obediencer to pryour o[th]er to mynstre.'            95
      'That ys soth,' ich seide 'and so ich byknowe
      That ich haue tynt tyme, and tyme mysspended;
      And [gh]ut, ich hope, as he [th]at ofte haue[th] chaffared,
      [Th]at ay hath lost and lost, and at [th]e laste hym happed
      He bouhte suche a bargayn he was [th]e bet euere,              100
      And sette hus lost at a lef at [th]e laste ende,
      Suche a wynnynge hym warth [th]orw wyrdes of hus grace:--
          _Simile est regnum celorum thesauro abscondito in agro, et
              cetera_;
          _Mulier que inuenit dragmam, et cetera_;
      So hope ich to haue of Hym [th]at his almyghty                 105
      A gobet of Hus grace, and bygynne a tyme
      [Th]at alle tymes of my tyme to profit shal turne.'
        'Ich rede [th]e,' quath Reson [th]o 'rape [th]e to bygynne
      [Th]e lyf [th]at ys lowable and leel to [th]e soule'--
      '[Gh]e, and continue,' quath Conscience; and to [th]e churche
          ich wente.                                                 110

[Foot-note: 3 And a lytel ich let by _MS._]

[Foot-note: 19 Heggen] Eggen _MS._]

[Foot-note: 44 [th]erwith] [th]erhwit _MS._]

[Foot-note: 62 alle] and alle _MS._]

[Foot-note: 63 in churches] and in kirkes _Ilchester MS._]

[Foot-note: 92 tua] tuas _MS._]

[Foot-note: 99 laste] latiste _MS._]




IX

MANDEVILLE'S TRAVELS


_Mandeville's Travels_ were originally written in French, perhaps in
1356 or 1357. Their popularity was immediate, and Latin and English
translations soon appeared. The English texts published show three
forms. The first, imperfect, is the text of the early prints. The
second, from Cotton MS. Titus C xvi (about 1400-25), was first printed
in 1725, and is followed in the editions by Halliwell, 1839 and 1866,
and by Hamelius, 1919. The third, from Egerton MS. 1982 (about 1400-25),
has been edited for the Roxburghe Club by G. F. Warner, with the French
text, and an excellent apparatus. Our selections follow the Cotton MS.

The _Travels_ fall into two parts: (i) a description of the routes to
the Holy Land, and an account of the Holy Places; (ii) a narrative of
travel in the more distant parts of Asia. Throughout the author poses as
an eyewitness. But in fact the book is a compilation, made without much
regard to time or place. For the first part William de Boldensele, who
wrote in 1336 an account of a visit to the Holy Land, is the main
source. The second part follows the description of an Eastern voyage
written by Friar Odoric of Pordenone in 1330. Other materials from the
mediaeval encyclopaedists are woven in, and there is so little trace of
original observation that it is doubtful whether the author travelled
far beyond his library.

In the preface he claims to be Sir John Mandeville, an Englishman born
at St. Albans. The people of St. Albans were driven to desperate shifts
to explain the absence of his tomb from their abbey; but until 1798 it
was actually to be seen at the church of the Guillemins, Liege, with
this inscription:

'Hic iacet vir nobilis Dom Ioannes de Mandeville, alias dictus ad
Barbam, Miles, Dominus de Campdi, natus de Anglia, medicinae professor,
devotissimus orator, et bonorum suorum largissimus pauperibus erogator,
qui, toto quasi orbe lustrato, Leodii diem vitae suae clausit extremum
A.D. MCCCLXXII, mensis Nov. die xvii.'

A Liege chronicler, Jean d'Outremeuse (d. 1399), who claims the
invidious position of his confidant and literary executor, gives further
details: Mandeville was 'chevalier de Montfort en Angleterre'; he was
obliged to leave England because he had slain a nobleman; he came to
Liege in 1343; and was content to be known as 'Jean de Bourgogne dit a
la Barbe'.

Now Jean de Bourgogne, with whom Sir John Mandeville is identified by
d'Outremeuse, is known as the writer of a tract on the Plague, written
at Liege in 1365. Further, the Latin text of the _Travels_ mentions that
the author met at Liege a certain 'Johannes ad Barbam', recognized him
as a former physician at the court of the Sultan of Egypt, and took his
advice and help in the writing of the _Travels_.

Again, in 1322, the year in which Sir John Mandeville claims to have
left England, a Johan de Burgoyne was given good reason to flee the
country, because a pardon, granted to him the previous year for his
actions against the Despensers, was then withdrawn. Curiously enough, a
John Mandeville was also of the party opposed to the Despensers.

Nothing has come of the attempts to attach the clues--St. Albans,
Montfort, Campdi, the arms on the tomb at Liege--to the English family
of Mandeville. It seems likely that 'Sir John Mandeville' was an alias
adopted by Jean de Bourgogne, unless both names cover Jean d'Outremeuse.
The Epilogue to the Cotton version shows how early the plausible
fictions of the text had infected the history of its composition.

It is clear that the English versions do not come from the hand of
the writer of the _Travels_, who could not have been guilty of such
absurdities as the translation of _montaignes_ by '[th]e hille of
Aygnes' in the Cotton MS. But whoever the author was, he shows a
courtesy and modesty worthy of a knight, begging those with more recent
experience to correct the lapses of his memory, and remembering always
the interests of later travellers, who might wish to glean some marvels
still untold. He might well have pleaded in the fourteenth century that
the time had not come when prose fiction could afford to throw off the
disguise of truth.


[THE VOIAGE AND TRAVAILE OF SIR
IOHN MAUNDEVILE, KT.]

British Museum MS. Cotton Titus C xvi (about 1400-25).

From chap. xiv (xviii), f. 65 b.

Ethiope is departed in two princypall parties; and [th]at is in the Est
partie, and in the Meridionall partie, the whiche partie meridionall
is clept Moretane. And the folk of [th]at contree ben blake ynow, and
more blake [th]an in the to[th]er partie; and [th]ei ben clept Mowres.
In [th]at partie is a well, {5} [th]at in the day it is so cold [th]at
no man may drynke [th]ereoffe; and in the nyght it is so hoot [th]at
no man may suffre hys hond [th]erein. And be[gh]onde [th]at partie,
toward the South, to passe by the See Occean, is a gret lond and a gret
contrey. But men may not duell [th]ere, for the feruent brennynge of
the {10} sonne, so is it passynge hoot in [th]at contrey.

In Ethiope all the ryueres and all the watres ben trouble, and [th]ei
ben somdell salte, for the gret hete [th]at is [th]ere. And the folk
of [th]at contree ben lyghtly dronken, and han but litill appetyt to
mete.... {15}

In Ethiope ben many dyuerse folk, and Ethiope is clept 'Cusis.' In
[th]at contree ben folk [th]at han but o foot; and [th]ei gon so blyue
[th]at it is meruaylle; and the foot is so large [th]at it schadeweth
all the body a[gh]en the sonne, whanne [th]ei wole lye and reste hem.
{20}

In Ethiope, whan the children ben [gh]onge and lytill, [th]ei ben all
[gh]alowe; and whan [th]at [th]ei wexen of age, [th]at [gh]alownesse
turneth to ben all blak. In Ethiope is the cytee of Saba, and the lond
of the whiche on of the [th]re Kynges, [th]at presented oure Lord in
Bethleem, was kyng offe. {25}

Fro Ethiope men gon into Ynde be manye dyuerse contreyes. And men
clepen the high Ynde 'Emlak'. And Ynde is devyded in [th]re princypall
parties; [th]at is: the more, [th]at is a full hoot contree; and Ynde
the lesse, [th]at is a full atempree contrey, [th]at streccheth to the
lond of Med'e; and the [th]ridde {30} part, toward the Septentrion,
is full cold, so [th]at for pure cold and contynuell frost the water
becometh cristall.

And vpon tho roches of cristall growen the gode dyamandes, [th]at ben
of trouble colour. [Gh]alow cristall draweth <to> colour lyke oylle.
And [th]ei ben so harde [th]at no man may pollysch {35} hem; and men
clepen hem 'dyamandes' in [th]at contree, and 'hamese' in ano[th]er
contree. Othere dyamandes men fynden in Arabye, [th]at ben not so gode;
and [th]ei ben more broun and more tendre. And o[th]er dyamandes also
men fynden in the Ile of Cipre, [th]at ben [gh]it more tendre; and hem
men may wel {40} pollische. And in the lond of Macedoyne men fynden
dyamaundes also. But the beste and the moste precyiouse ben in Ynde.

And men fynden many tyme harde dyamandes in a masse, [th]at cometh out
of gold, whan men puren it and fynen it out {45} of the myne, whan men
breken [th]at masse in smale peces. And sum tyme it happeneth [th]at
men fynden summe as grete as a pese, and summe lasse; and [th]ei ben
als harde as [th]o of Ynde.

And all be it [th]at men fynden gode dyamandes in Ynde, {50} [gh]it
natheles men fynden hem more comounly vpon the roches in the see, and
vpon hilles where the myne of gold is. And [th]ei growen many togedre,
on lytill, another gret. And [th]er ben summe of the gretnesse of a
bene, and summe als grete as an hasell-note. And [th]ei ben square and
poynted of here owne {55} kynde, bo[th]e abouen and benethen, withouten
worchinge of mannes hond.

And [th]ei growen togedre, male and femele. And [th]ei ben norysscht
with the dew of heuene. And [th]ei engendren comounly, and bryngen
forth smale children, [th]at multiplyen {60} and growen all the
[gh]eer. I haue often tymes assayed [th]at [gh]if a man kepe hem with
a lityll of the roche, and wete hem with May dew oftesithes, [th]ei
schull growe eueryche [gh]eer; and the smale wole wexen grete. For
right as the fyn perl congeleth and wexeth gret of the dew of heuene,
right so doth the verray {65} dyamand; and right as the perl, of his
owne kynde, taketh roundnesse, right so the dyamand, be vertu of God,
taketh squarenesse.

And men schall bere the dyamaund on his left syde; for it is of
grettere vertue [th]anne, [th]an on the right syde. For the {70}
strengthe of here growynge is toward the North, [th]at is the left syde
of the world, and the left partie of man is, whan he turneth his face
toward the Est.

And [gh]if [gh]ou lyke to knowe the vertues of [th]e dyamand, as men
may fynden in [th]e Lapidarye, [th]at many men knowen {75} noght, I
schall telle [gh]ou, as [th]ei be[gh]onde the see seyn and affermen, of
whom all science and all philosophie cometh from.

He [th]at bereth the dyamand vpon him, it [gh]eueth him hardynesse and
manhode, and it kepeth the lemes of his body hole. {80} It [gh]eueth
him victorye of his enemyes, in plee and in werre, [gh]if his cause
be rightfull; and it kepeth him [th]at bereth it in gode wytt; and
it kepeth him fro strif and ryot, fro euyll sweuenes, from sorwes,
and from enchauntementes, and from fantasyes and illusiouns of wykked
spirites. And [gh]if ony cursed wycche {85} or enchauntour wolde
bewycche him [th]at bereth the dyamand, all [th]at sorwe and myschance
schall turne to himself, [th]orgh vertue of [th]at ston. And also no
wylde best dar assaylle the man [th]at bereth it on him. Also the
dyamand scholde ben [gh]ouen frely, withouten coueytynge, and withouten
byggynge; {90} and [th]an it is of grettere vertue. And it maketh a
man more strong and more sad a[gh]enst his enemyes. And it heleth him
[th]at is lunatyk, and hem [th]at the fend pursueth or trauayleth. And
[gh]if venym or poysoun be brought in presence of the dyamand, anon it
begynneth to wexe moyst, and for to {95} swete.

[Th]ere ben also dyamandes in Ynde [th]at ben clept 'violastres',--for
here colour is liche vyolet, or more browne [th]an the
violettes,--[th]at ben full harde and full precyous. But [gh]it sum men
loue not hem so wel as the o[th]ere. But in soth to {100} me, I wolde
louen hem als moche as [th]e o[th]ere; for I haue seen hem assayed.
Also [th]ere is ano[th]er maner of dyamandes [th]at ben als white as
cristall, but [th]ei ben a lityll more trouble; and [th]ei ben gode
and of gret vertue, and all [th]ei ben square and poynted of here owne
kynde. And summe {105} ben six squared, summe four squared, and summe
[th]re, as nature schapeth hem.

And [th]erfore whan grete lordes and knyghtes gon to seche worschipe
in armes, [th]ei beren gladly the dyamaund vpon hem. I schal speke
a litill more of the dyamandes, all[th]ough {110} I tarye my matere
for a tyme, to [th]at ende [th]at [th]ei [th]at knowen hem not be not
disceyued be gabberes [th]at gon be the contree, [th]at sellen hem.
For whoso wil bye the dyamand, it is nedefull to him [th]at he knowe
hem, because [th]at men counterfeten hem often of cristall [th]at is
[gh]alow; and of saphires of cytryne {115} colour, [th]at is [gh]alow
also; and of the saphire loupe; and of many o[th]er stones. But, I tell
[gh]ou, theise contrefetes ben not so harde; and also the poyntes wil
breken lightly; and men may esily pollissche hem. But summe werkmen,
for malice, wil not pollische hem, to [th]at entent to maken men beleue
[th]at [th]ei may {120} not ben pollisscht. But men may assaye hem in
this manere: First schere with hem, or write with hem, in saphires,
in cristall, or in o[th]er precious stones. After [th]at men taken
the ademand, [th]at is the schipmannes ston, [th]at draweth the nedle
to him, and men leyn the dyamand vpon the ademand, and leyn the nedle
{125} before the ademand; and [gh]if the dyamand be gode and vertuous,
the ademand draweth not the nedle to him, whils the dyamand is [th]ere
present. And this is the preef [th]at [th]ei be[gh]onde the see maken.
Natheles it befalleth often tyme [th]at the gode dyamand leseth his
vertue, be synne and for incontynence of him [th]at {130} bereth it.
And [th]anne is it nedfull to make it to recoueren his vertue a[gh]en,
or ell it is of litill value.

Chap. xxvi (xxx), f. 112 a.

Now schall I seye [gh]ou sewyngly of contrees and yles [th]at ben
be[gh]onde the contrees [th]at I haue spoken of. Wherfore {135} I seye
[gh]ou, in passynge be the lond of Cathaye toward the high Ynde, and
toward Bacharye, men passen be a kyngdom [th]at men clepen 'Caldilhe',
[th]at is a full fair contr'e. And [th]ere groweth a maner of fruyt,
as [th]ough it weren gowrdes; and whan [th]ei ben rype, men kutten hem
ato, and men fynden {140} withinne a lytyll best, in flesch, in bon,
and blode as [th]ough it were a lytill lomb, withouten wolle. And men
eten bothe the frut and the best: and [th]at is a gret merueylle. Of
[th]at frute I haue eten, all[th]ough it were wondirfull: but [th]at
I knowe wel, [th]at God is merueyllous in his werkes. And natheles I
tolde {145} hem of als gret a merueyle to hem, [th]at is amonges vs:
and [th]at was of the Bernakes. For I tolde hem [th]at in oure contree
weren trees [th]at baren a fruyt [th]at becomen briddes fleeynge; and
[th]o [th]at fellen in the water lyuen; and [th]ei [th]at fallen on the
erthe dyen anon; and [th]ei ben right gode to mannes mete. And hereof
{150} had [th]ei als gret meruaylle [th]at summe of hem trowed it were
an inpossible thing to be. In [th]at contr'e ben longe apples of gode
sauour, whereof ben mo [th]an an hundred in a clustre, and als manye in
another: and [th]ei han grete longe leves and large, of two fote long
or more. And in [th]at contree, and in {155} o[th]er contrees [th]ere
abouten, growen many trees, [th]at beren clowe gylofres, and notemuges,
and grete notes of Ynde, and of canell, and of many o[th]er spices.
And [th]ere ben vynes [th]at beren so grete grapes [th]at a strong man
scholde haue ynow to done for to bere o clustre with all the grapes.
In {160} [th]at same regioun ben the mountaynes of Caspye [th]at men
clepen 'Vber' in the contree. Betwene [th]o mountaynes the Iewes of ten
lynages ben enclosed, [th]at men clepen Goth and Magoth; and [th]ei
mowe not gon out on no syde. [Th]ere weren enclosed twenty two kynges
with hire peple, [th]at dwelleden {165} betwene the mountaynes of
Sy_t_hye. [Th]ere Kyng Alisandre chacede hem betwene [th]o mountaynes;
and [th]ere he thoughte for to enclose hem [th]orgh werk of his men.
But whan he saugh [th]at he myghte not don it, ne bryng it to an ende,
he preyed to God of Nature [th]at He wolde parforme [th]at [th]at he
{170} had begonne. And all were it so [th]at he was a payneme, and
not worthi to ben herd, [gh]it God of His grace closed the mountaynes
togydre; so [th]at [th]ei dwellen [th]ere, all faste ylokked and
enclosed with high mountaynes alle aboute, saf only on o syde; and on
[th]at syde is the See of Caspye. Now {175} may sum men asken: sith
[th]at the see is on [th]at o syde, wherfore go [th]ei not out on the
see syde, for to go where [th]at hem lyketh? But to this questioun
I schal answere: [th]at See of Caspye goth out be londe, vnder the
mountaynes, and renneth be the desert at o syde of the contree; and
after it streccheth vnto the endes {180} of Persie. And all[th]ough it
be clept a see, it is no see, ne it toucheth to non o[th]er see; but it
is a lake, the grettest of the world. And [th]ough [th]ei wolden putten
hem into [th]at see, [th]ei ne wysten neuer where [th]at [th]ei scholde
arryuen. And also [th]ei conen no langage but only hire owne, [th]at no
man {185} knoweth but [th]ei: and [th]erfore mowe [th]ei not gon out.
And also [gh]ee schull vnderstonde [th]at the Iewes han no propre lond
of hire owne, for to dwellen inne, in all the world, but only [th]at
lond betwene the mountaynes. And [gh]it [th]ei [gh]elden tribute for
[th]at lond to the queen of Amazoine, the whiche [th]at {190} maketh
hem to ben kept in cloos full diligently, [th]at [th]ei schull not gon
out on no syde, but be the cost of hire lond. For hire lond marcheth
to [th]o mountaynes. And often it hath befallen [th]at summe of [th]e
Iewes han gon vp the mountaynes, and avaled down to the valeyes: but
gret nombre of folk ne {195} may not do so. For the mountaynes ben so
hye, and so streght vp, [th]at [th]ei moste abyde [th]ere, maugree hire
myght. For [th]ei mowe not gon out, but be a litill issue [th]at was
made be strengthe of men; and it lasteth wel a four grete myle. And
after is [th]ere [gh]it a lond all desert, where men {200} may fynde
no water, ne for dyggynge, ne for non other [th]ing: wherfore men may
not dwellen in [th]at place. So is it full of dragounes, of serpentes,
and of o[th]er venymous bestes, [th]at no man dar not passe, but [gh]if
it be be strong wynter. And [th]at streyt passage men clepen in [th]at
contree 'Clyron'. And [th]at {205} is the passage [th]at the Queen of
Amazoine maketh to ben kept. And [th]ogh it happene sum of hem, be
fortune, to gon out, [th]ei conen no maner of langage but Ebrew, so
[th]at [th]ei can not speke to the peple. And [gh]it natheles, men
seyn [th]ei schull gon out in the tyme of Antecrist, and [th]at [th]ei
schull maken {210} gret slaughter of Cristene men. And [th]erfore
all the Iewes [th]at dwellen in all londes lernen allweys to speken
Ebrew, in hope [th]at whan the o[th]er Iewes schull gon out, [th]at
[th]ei may vnderstonden hire speche, and to leden hem into Cristendom,
for to destroye the Cristene peple. For the Iewes seyn [th]at {215}
[th]ei knowen wel be hire prophecyes [th]at [th]ei of Caspye schull
gon out and spreden [th]orghout all the world; and [th]at the Cristene
men schull ben vnder hire subieccioun als longe as [th]ei han ben in
subieccioun of hem. And [gh]if [th]at [gh]ee wil wyte how [th]at [th]ei
schull fynden hire weye, after [th]at I haue herd {220} seye, I schall
tell [gh]ou. In the tyme of Antecrist, a fox schall make [th]ere his
[+]trayne[+], and mynen an hole, where Kyng Alisandre leet make the
[gh]ates: and so longe he schall mynen and percen the erthe, til [th]at
he schall passe [th]orgh towardes [th]at folk. And whan [th]ei seen
the fox, they schull {225} haue gret merueylle of him, because [th]at
[th]ei saugh neuer such a best. For of all o[th]ere bestes [th]ei han
enclosed amonges hem, saf only the fox. And [th]anne [th]ei schulle
chacen him and pursuen him so streyte, till [th]at he come to the same
place [th]at he cam fro. And [th]anne [th]ei schulle {230} dyggen and
mynen so strongly, till [th]at [th]ei fynden the [gh]ates [th]at King
Alisandre leet make of grete stones and passynge huge, wel symented and
made stronge for the maystrie. And [th]o [gh]ates [th]ei schull breken,
and so gon out, be fyndynge of [th]at issue. {235}

Fro [th]at lond gon men toward the lond of Bacharie, where ben full
yuele folk and full cruell. In [th]at lond ben trees [th]at beren
wolle, as [th]ogh it were of scheep; whereof men maken clothes, and
all [th]ing [th]at may ben made of wolle. In [th]at contree ben many
ipotaynes, [th]at dwellen som tyme in the {240} water, and somtyme on
the lond: and [th]ei ben half man and half hors, as I haue seyd before;
and [th]ei eten men, whan [th]ei may take hem. And [th]ere ben ryueres
and watres [th]at ben fulle byttere, [th]ree sithes more [th]an is the
water of the see. In [th]at contr'e ben many griffounes, more plentee
[th]an in ony {245} other contree. Sum men seyn [th]at [th]ei han the
body vpward as an egle, and benethe as a lyoun: and treuly [th]ei seyn
soth [th]at [th]ei ben of [th]at schapp. But o griffoun hath the body
more gret, and is more strong, [th]anne eight lyouns, of suche lyouns
as ben o this half; and more gret and strongere [th]an an {250} hundred
egles, suche as we han amonges vs. For o griffoun [th]ere wil bere
fleynge to his nest a gret hors, [gh]if he may fynde him at the poynt,
or two oxen [gh]oked togidere, as [th]ei gon at the plowgh. For he hath
his talouns so longe and so large and grete vpon his feet, as [th]ough
[th]ei weren hornes of grete oxen, or of {255} bugles, or of ky[gh]n;
so [th]at men maken cuppes of hem, to drynken of. And of hire ribbes,
and of the pennes of hire wenges, men maken bowes full stronge, to
schote with arwes and quarell.

From [th]ens gon men be many iourneyes [th]orgh the lond of Prestre
Iohn, the grete emperour of Ynde. And men clepen {260} his roialme the
Yle of Pentexoire.

EPILOGUE.

[Th]ere ben manye o[th]er dyuerse contrees and many o[th]er merueyles
be[gh]onde, [th]at I haue not seen: wherfore of hem I can not speke
propurly, to tell [gh]ou the manere of hem. And also in the contrees
where I haue ben, ben manye {265} mo dyuersitees of many wondirfull
thinges [th]anne I make mencioun of, for it were to longe thing to
deuyse [gh]ou the manere. And [th]erfore [th]at [th]at I haue deuysed
[gh]ou of certeyn contrees, [th]at I haue spoken of before, I beseche
[gh]oure worthi and excellent noblesse [th]at i_t_ suffise to [gh]ou
at this tyme. For {270} [gh]if [th]at I deuysed [gh]ou all [th]at is
be[gh]onde the see, another man peraunter, [th]at wolde peynen him
and trauaylle his body for to go into [th]o marches for to encerche
[th]o contrees, myghte ben blamed be my wordes, in rehercynge manye
straunge thinges; for he myghte not seye no thing of newe, in the {275}
whiche the hereres myghten hauen ou[th]er solace or desport or lust or
lykyng in the herynge. For men seyn allweys [th]at newe thinges and
newe tydynges ben plesant to here. Wherfore I wole holde me stille,
withouten ony more rehercyng of dyuersitee[gh] or of meruaylles [th]at
ben be[gh]onde, to [th]at entent {280} and ende [th]at whoso wil gon
into [th]o contrees, he schall fynde ynowe to speke of, [th]at I haue
not touched of in no wyse.

And [gh]ee schull vndirstonde, [gh]if it lyke [gh]ou, [th]at at myn
hom comynge I cam to Rome, and schewed my lif to oure {285} holy fadir
the Pope, and was assoylled of all [th]at lay in my conscience, of
many a dyuerse gr_e_uous poynt, as men mosten nedes [th]at ben in
company, dwellyng amonges so many a dyuerse folk of dyuerse secte
and of beleeve, as I haue ben. And amonges all, I schewed hym this
tretys, [th]at I had made {290} after informacioun of men [th]at
knewen of thinges [th]at I had not seen myself; and also of merueyles
and customes [th]at I hadde seen myself, as fer as God wolde [gh]eue
me grace: and besoughte his holy fadirhode [th]at my boke myghte ben
examyned and corrected be avys of his wyse and discreet {295} conseill.
And oure holy fader, of his special grace, remytted my boke to ben
examyned and preued be the avys of his seyd conseill. Be the whiche
my boke was preeued for trewe; in so moche [th]at [th]ei schewed me a
boke, [th]at my boke was examynde by, [th]at comprehended full moche
more be an {300} hundred part; be the whiche the _Mappa Mundi_ was made
after. And so my boke (all be it [th]at many men ne list not to [gh]eue
credence to no [th]ing, but to [th]at [th]at [th]ei seen with hire eye,
ne be the auctour ne the persone neuer so trewe) is affermed and preued
be oure holy fader, in maner and forme {305} as I haue seyd.

And I Iohn Maundevyll knyght aboueseyd, (all[th]ough I be vnworthi)
[th]at departed from oure contrees and passed the see the [gh]eer of
grace 1322, [th]at haue passed many londes and manye yles and contrees,
and cerched manye full {310} strange places, and haue ben in many a
full gode honourable companye, and at many a faire dede of armes, all
be it [th]at I dide none myself, for myn vnable insuffisance; and
now I am comen hom, mawgree myself, to reste, for gowtes artetykes
[th]at me distreynen, [th]at diffynen the ende of my labour, a[gh]enst
{315} my will, God knoweth. And [th]us takynge solace in my wrechched
reste, recordynge the tyme passed, I haue fulfilled [th]eise thinges
and putte hem wryten in this boke, as it wolde come into my mynde,
the [gh]eer of grace 1356 in the 34th [gh]eer [th]at I departede from
oure contrees. Wherfore I preye to all {320} the rederes and hereres
of this boke, [gh]if it plese hem, [th]at [th]ei wolde preyen to God
for me, and I schall preye for hem. And alle [th]o [th]at seyn for
me a _Paternoster_, with an _Aue Maria_, [th]at God for[gh]eue me my
synnes, I make hem parteneres and graunte hem part of all the gode
pilgrymages, {325} and of all the gode dedes [th]at I haue don, [gh]if
ony ben to his plesance; and noght only of [th]o, but of all [th]at
euere I schall do vnto my lyfes ende. And I beseche Almyghty God, fro
whom all godenesse and grace cometh fro, [th]at He vouchesaf of His
excellent mercy and habundant grace to {330} fullfylle hire soules with
inspiracioun of the Holy Gost, in makynge defence of all hire gostly
enemyes here in erthe, to hire saluacioun, bothe of body and soule;
to worschipe and thankynge of Him [th]at is [th]ree and on, withouten
begynnynge and withouten endyng; [th]at is withouten qualitee good,
{335} withouten quantytee gret; [th]at in alle places is present, and
all thinges conteynynge; the whiche [th]at no goodnesse may amende, ne
non euell empeyre; [th]at in perfyte Trynytee lyueth and regneth God,
be alle worldes and be all tymes. Amen, Amen, Amen. {340}




X

THE BRUCE

WRITTEN IN 1375 BY JOHN BARBOUR.


John Barbour was archdeacon of Aberdeen, an auditor of the Scottish
exchequer, and a royal pensioner. Consequently a number of isolated
records of his activities have been preserved. In 1364 he was granted a
safe-conduct to travel with four students to Oxford. In 1365 and 1368 he
had permission to travel through England so that he might study in
France. The notices of his journeys, his offices, and his rewards point
to a busy and successful life. He died in 1395.

According to Wyntoun, Barbour's works were (1) _The Bruce_; (2) _The
Stewartis Oryginalle_ (or _Pedigree of the Stewarts_), now lost; (3) a
_Brut_, which some have identified with extant fragments of a Troy Book
(see the prefatory note to No. VII), and others with (2) _The Stewartis
Oryginalle_.

_The Bruce_ is found in two late MSS., both copied by John Ramsay; the
first, St. John's College, Cambridge, MS. G 23, in the year 1487; the
second, now at the Advocates' Library, Edinburgh, in 1489. It has been
edited by Skeat for the Early English Text Society, and for the Scottish
Text Society. The poem is valuable for the history, more especially the
traditional history, of the period 1304-33. Barbour speaks of it as a
romance, and the freedom and vividness of the narrative, with its
hero-worship of Robert Bruce and Douglas, place it well above the
ordinary chronicle. But far from disclaiming historical accuracy,
Barbour prides himself that truth well told should have a double claim
to popularity:

      Storys to rede ar delitabill
      Suppos that thai be nocht bot fabill:
      Than suld storys that suthfast wer,
      And thai war said on gud maner,
      Hawe doubill plesance in heryng:
      The fyrst plesance is the carpyng,
      And the tothir the suthfastnes,
      That schawys the thing rycht as it wes.

He did not misjudge the taste of his country, and _The Bruce_,
with which the Scottish contribution to English literature begins,
long held its place as the national epic of Scotland.

The specimen describes an incident in the unsuccessful siege
of Berwick, 1319.


THE BRUCE, Bk. xvii, ll. 593 ff.

St. John's College (Cambridge) MS. G 23 (A.D. 1487).

        Thai <that> at the sege lay,
      Or it wes passit the fift day,
      Had maid thame syndry apparale
      To gang eftsonis till assale.
      Of gret gestis ane sow thai maid                     5
      That stalward heling owth it had,
      With armyt men enew tharin,
      And instrumentis als for to myne.
      Syndry scaffatis thai maid vithall
      That war weill hyar than the wall,                  10
      And ordanit als that by the se
      The toune suld weill assal[gh]eit be.
        And thai vithin that saw thame swa
      So gret apparale schap till ma,
      Throu Cra_bb_is consale, that ves sle,              15
      Ane cren thai haf gert dres vp hye,
      Rynand on quhelis, that thai mycht bring
      It quhar neid war of mast helping.
      And pik and ter als haf thai tane,
      And lynt <and> hardis, with brynstane,              20
      And dry treis that weill wald byrne,
      And mellit syne athir othir in;
      And gret flaggatis tharof thai maid,
      Gyrdit with irnebandis braid;
      Of thai flaggatis mycht mesurit be                  25
      Till a gret twnnys quantit'e.
      Thai flaggatis, byrnand in a baill,
      With thair cren thoucht thai till availl,
      And, gif the sow come to the wall,
      Till lat thame byrnand on hir fall,                 30
      And with ane stark cheyne hald thame thar
      Quhill all war brint <vp> that ves thar.
        Engynys alsua for till cast
      Thai ordanit and maid redy fast,
      And set ilk man syne till his ward;                 35
      And Schir Valter, the gude Steward,
      With armyt men suld ryde about,
      And se quhar at thar var mast dout,
      And succur thar with his men[gh]he.
        And quhen thai into sic degr'e                    40
      Had maid thame for thair assaling,
      On the Rude-evyn in the dawing,
      The Inglis host blew till assale.
      Than mycht men with ser apparale
      Se that gret host cum sturdely.                     45
      The toune enveremyt thai in hy,
      And assalit with sa gud will,--
      For all thair mycht thai set thartill,--
      That thai thame pressit fast of the toune.
      Bot thai that can thame abandoune                   50
      Till ded, or than till woundis sare,
      So weill has thame defendit thare
      That ledderis to the ground thai slang,
      And vith stanys so fast thai dang
      Thair fais, that feill thai left lyand,             55
      Sum ded, sum hurt, and sum swavnand.
      Bot thai that held on fut in hy
      Drew thame avay deliuerly,
      And skunnyrrit tharfor na kyn thing,
      Bot went stoutly till assalyng;                     60
      And thai abovin defendit ay,
      And set thame till so harde assay,
      _Quhill_ that feill of thame voundit war,
      _And_ thai so gret defens maid thar,
      That thai styntit thair fais mycht.                 65
      Apon sic maner can thai ficht
      Quhill it wes neir noyne of the day.
        Than thai without, in gret aray,
      Pressit thair sow toward the wall;
      And thai within weill soyne gert call               70
      The engynour that takyne was,
      And gret manans till him mais,
      And swoir that he suld de, bot he
      Provit on the sow sic sutelt'e
      That he t_o_frusch_yt_ hir ilke deill.              75
      And he, that has persauit weill
      That the dede wes neir hym till,
      Bot gif he mycht fulfill thar will,
      Thoucht that he all his mycht vald do:
      Bendit in gret hy than wes scho,                    80
      And till the sow wes soyn evin set.
      In hye he gert draw the cleket,
      And smertly swappit out the stane,
      That evyn out our the sow is gane,
      And behynd hir a litill we                          85
      It fell, and than thai cryit hye
      That war in hir: 'Furth to the wall,
      For dreid<les> it is ouris all.'
        The engynour than deliuerly
      Gert bend the gyne in full gret hy,                 90
      And the stane smertly swappit out.
      It flaw <out> quhedirand with a rout,
      And fell richt evin befor the sow.
      Thair hertis than begouth till grow,
      Bot [gh]eit than with thair mychtis all             95
      Thai pressit the sow toward the wall,
      And has hir set thar_to_ iuntly.
        The gynour than gert bend in hy
      The gyne, and swappit out the stane,
      That evin toward the lift is gane,                 100
      And with gret wecht syne duschit doune
      Richt by the wall, in a randoune,
      That hyt the sow in sic maner
      That it that wes the mast summer,
      And starkast for till stynt a strak,               105
      In swndir with that dusche he brak.
      The men ran out in full gret hy,
      And on the wallis thai can cry
      That 'thair sow ferryit wes thair!'
        Iohne Crab, that had his geir all [gh]ar,        110
      In his faggatis has set the fyre,
      And our the wall syne can thame wyre,
      And brynt the sow till brandis bair.
        With all this fast assal[gh]eand war
      The folk without, with felloune ficht;             115
      And thai within with mekill mycht
      Defendit manfully thar stede
      Intill gret auentur of dede.
      The schipmen with gret apparale
      Com with thair schippes till assale,               120
      With top-castellis warnist weill,
      And wicht men armyt intill steill;
      Thair batis vp apon thair mastis
      Drawyn weill hye and festnyt fast is,
      And pressit with that gret atour                   125
      Toward the wall. Bot the gynour
      Hit in ane hespyne with a stane,
      And the men that war tharin gane
      Sum dede, _sum_ dosnyt, <come doun> vyndland.
      Fra thine furth durst nane tak vpon hand           130
      With schippes pres thame to the vall.
        But the laiff war assal[gh]eand all
      On ilk a syde sa egyrly,
      That certis it wes gret ferly
      That thai folk sic defens has maid,                135
      For the gret myscheif that thai had:
      For thair wallis so law than weir
      That a man richt weill with a sper
      Micht strik ane othir vp in the face,
      As eir befor tald till [gh]ow was;                 140
      And feill of thame war woundit sare,
      And the layf so fast travaland war
      That nane had tume rest for till ta,
      Thair aduersouris assail[gh]eit swa.
      Thai war within sa stratly stad                    145
      That thar wardane with _him_ had
      Ane hundreth men in cumpany
      Armyt, that wicht war and hardy,
      And raid about for till se quhar
      That his folk hardest pressit war,                 150
      Till releif thame that had mister,
      Com syndry tymes in placis ser
      Quhar sum of the defensouris war
      All dede, and othir woundit sare,
      Swa that he of his cumpany                         155
      Behufit to leiff thair party;
      Swa that, be he ane cours had maid
      About, _of_ all _the_ men he had
      Thair wes levit with him bot ane,
      That he ne had thame left ilkane                   160
      To releve quhar he saw mister.
        And the folk that assal[gh]eand wer
      At Mary-[gh]et behevin had
      The barras, and a fyre had maid
      At the drawbrig, and brynt it doune,               165
      And war thringand in gret foysoune
      Richt in the [gh]et, ane fire till ma.
      And thai within gert smertly ga
      Ane to the wardane, for till say
      How thai war set in hard assay.                    170
      And quhen Schir Valter Steward herd
      How men sa stratly with thame ferd,
      He gert cum of the castell then
      All that war thar of armyt men,--
      For thar that day assal[gh]eit nane,--             175
      And with that rout in hy is gane
      Till Mary-[gh]et, and till the wall
      Is went, and saw the myscheif all,
      And vmbethoucht hym suddandly,
      Bot gif gret help war set in hy                    180
      Tharto, thai suld burne vp the [gh]et
      _With_ the fire _he_ fand tharat.
        Tharfor apon gret hardyment
      He suddanly set his entent,
      And gert all wyde set vp the [gh]et,               185
      And the fyre that he fand tharat
      With strinth of men he put avay.
      He set hym in full hard assay,
      For thai that war assal[gh]eand thar
      Pressit on hym with vapnys bair,                   190
      And he defendit with all his mycht.
        Thar mycht men se a felloune sicht:
      With staffing, stoking, and striking
      Thar maid thai sturdy defending,
      For with gret strynth of men the [gh]et            195
      Thai defendit, and stude tharat,
      Magr'e thair fais, quhill the nycht
      Gert thame on bath halfis leif the ficht.

[Foot-note: 15 Crabbis] Craggis _MS._: Crabys _MS. Edinburgh_.]

[Foot-note: 63 Quhill] How _MS._]

[Foot-note: 64 And] [th]at _MS._]

[Foot-note: 75 tofruschyt] till frusche _MS._]

[Foot-note: 97 tharto] [th]ar in _MS._]

[Foot-note: 129 Sum dede dosnyt sum dede vyndland _MS._]

[Foot-note: 146 him] [th]ame _MS._]

[Foot-note: 158 of] to _MS._ the] to _MS._]

[Foot-note: 182 With] And _MS._ he fand] haffand _MS._]




XI

JOHN WICLIF

D. 1384.


Like Richard Rolle, Wiclif was a Yorkshireman by birth. Of his career at
Oxford little is known until 1360, when he is described as 'master of
Balliol'. From Balliol he was presented to the living of Fillingham,
and, after a series of preferments, he accepted in 1374 the rectory of
Lutterworth, which he held till his death in 1384.

Wiclif's life was stormy. His acknowledged pre-eminence as a theologian
and doctor in the University did not satisfy his active and combative
mind. 'False peace', he said, 'is grounded in rest with our enemies,
when we assent to them without withstanding; and sword against such
peace came Christ to send.' He lacked neither enemies nor the moral
courage to withstand them.

At first, under the powerful patronage of John of Gaunt, he entered into
controversies primarily political, opposing the right of the Pope to
make levies on England, which was already overburdened with
war-taxation, and to appoint foreigners to English benefices. On these
questions popular opinion was on his side.

He proceeded to attack the whole system of Church government, urging
disendowment; rejecting the papal authority, which had been weakened in
1378 by the fierce rivalry of Urban VI and Clement VII; attacking
episcopal privileges, the established religious orders, and the abuse of
indulgences, pardons, and sanctuary. Still his opinions found a good
deal of popular and political support.

Then in 1380 he publicly announced his rejection of the doctrine of
transubstantiation. From the results of such a heresy his friends could
no longer protect him. Moderate opinion became alarmed and conservative
after the Peasants' Revolt of 1381. Richard II was no friend of
heretics. John of Gaunt, himself unpopular by this time, commanded
silence. And in 1382 the secular party in Oxford were compelled, after
a struggle, to condemn and expel their favourite preacher and his
followers. Wiclif retired to Lutterworth, and continued, until struck
down by paralysis in the last days of 1384, to inspire his 'poor
preachers'--the founders of the Lollard sect which lived on to join
forces with Lutheranism in the sixteenth century--and to develop in a
series of Latin and English works the doctrines that later came to be
associated with Puritanism.

His authorship is often doubtful. In the interests of orthodoxy the
early MSS. of his writings were ruthlessly destroyed, as in the famous
bonfire of his works at Carfax, Oxford, in 1411. And his followers
included not only the simple folk from whom later the 'poor priests'
were recruited, but able University men, trained in his new doctrines,
bred in the same traditions, and eager to emulate their master in
controversy. So his share in the famous Wiclif Bible (ed. Forshall and
Madden, Oxford 1850) is still uncertain. Part of the translation seems
to have been made by Nicholas of Hereford, and a later recension is
claimed for another Oxford disciple, John Purvey. But Wiclif probably
inspired the undertaking, for to him, as to the later Puritans, the word
of the Bible was the test by which all matters of belief, ritual, and
Church government must be tried; and he was particularly anxious, in
opposition to the established clergy and the friars, that laymen should
read it in their own language. Contemporaries, friend and foe, ascribe
the actual translation to him. John Huss, the Bohemian reformer, who was
martyred in 1416 for teaching Wiclif's doctrines, states that Wiclif
'translated all the Bible into English'. Arundel, Archbishop of
Canterbury, is equally positive when he writes to the Pope in 1412 that
'the son of the Old Serpent filled up the cup of his malice against Holy
Church by the device of a new translation of the Scriptures into his
native tongue'.

The first selection, chapter xv of the _De Officio Pastorali_ (ed.
Matthew, pp. 429 f.), states the case for translation. In the second
(ed. Matthew, pp. 188 ff.) some essential points of Wiclif's teaching
are explained.

In abuse of his opponents he maintains the sturdy tradition of
controversy that still survives in Milton's prose. The style is rugged
and vigorous; the thought logical and packed close. And it is easy to
see the source of his strength. In an age whose evils were patent to
all, many reproved this or that particular abuse, but the system as a
whole passed unchallenged. Wiclif, almost alone in his generation, had
the reasoning power to go to the root of the matter, and the moral
courage not only to state fearlessly what, rightly or wrongly, he found
to be the source of evil, but to insist on basic reform. It is difficult
nowadays, when modern curiosity has made familiar the practice of mining
among the foundations of beliefs, society, and government, to realize
the force of authority that was ranged against unorthodox reformers in
the fourteenth century. If the popular support he received indicates
that this force was already weakening, Wiclif must still be reckoned
among the greatest of those who broke the way for the modern world.


A. THE TRANSLATION OF THE BIBLE.

_De Officio Pastorali, chap. xv._

MS. Ashburnham XXVII (15th century).

Ant heere [th]e freris wi[th] [th]er fautours seyn [th]at it is
heresye to write [th]us Goddis lawe in English, and make it knowun to
lewid men. And fourty signes [th]at [th]ey bringen for to shewe an
heretik ben not wor[th]y to reherse, for nou[gh]t groundi[th] hem but
nygromansye. {5}

It semy[th] first [th]at [th]e wit of Goddis lawe shulde be tau[gh]t
in [th]at tunge [th]at is more knowun, for [th]is wit is Goddis word.
Whanne Crist sei[th] in [th]e Gospel [th]at bo[th]e heuene and er[th]e
shulen passe, but His wordis shulen not passe, He vndirstondith bi His
woordis His wit. And [th]us Goddis wit is Hooly Writ, {10} [th]at may
on no maner be fals. Also [th]e Hooly Gost [gh]af to apostlis wit at
Wit Sunday for to knowe al maner langagis, to teche [th]e puple Goddis
lawe [th]erby; and so God wolde [th]at [th]e puple were tau[gh]t Goddis
lawe in dyuerse tungis. But what man, on Goddis half, shulde reuerse
Goddis ordenaunse and {15} His wille?

And for [th]is cause Seynt Ierom trauelide and translatide [th]e Bible
fro dyuerse tungis into Lateyn, [th]at it my[gh]te be aftir translatid
to o[th]ere tungis. And [th]us Crist and His apostlis tau[gh]ten [th]e
puple in [th]at tunge [th]at was moost knowun to [th]e {20} puple. Why
shulden not men do nou so?

And herfore autours of [th]e newe law, [th]at weren apostlis of Iesu
Crist, writen [th]er Gospels in dyuerse tungis [th]at weren more knowun
to [th]e puple.

Also [th]e wor[th]y reume of Fraunse, notwi[th]stondinge alle {25}
lettingis, ha[th] translatid [th]e Bible and [th]e Gospels, wi[th]
o[th]ere trewe sentensis of doctours, out of Lateyn into Freynsch. Why
shulden not Engli[gh]schemen do so? As lordis of Englond han [th]e
Bible in Freynsch, so it were not a[gh]enus resoun [th]at [th]ey hadden
[th]e same sentense in Engli[gh]sch; for {30} [th]us Goddis lawe wolde
be betere knowun, and more trowid, for onehed of wit, and more acord be
bitwixe reumes.

And herfore freris han tau[gh]t in Englond [th]e Paternoster in
Engli[gh]sch tunge, as men seyen in [th]e pley of [Gh]ork, and in many
o[th]ere cuntreys. Si[th]en [th]e Paternoster is part of Matheus {35}
Gospel, as clerkis knowen, why may not al be turnyd to Engli[gh]sch
trewely, as is [th]is part? Specialy si[th]en alle Cristen men, lerid
and lewid, [th]at shulen be sauyd, moten algatis sue Crist, and knowe
His lore and His lif. But [th]e comyns of Engli[gh]schmen knowen it
best in [th]er modir tunge; and [th]us it {40} were al oon to lette
siche knowing of [th]e Gospel and to lette Engli[gh]sch men to sue
Crist and come to heuene.

Wel y woot defaute may be in vntrewe translating, as my[gh]ten haue
be many defautis in turnyng fro Ebreu into Greu, and fro Greu into
Lateyn, and from o langage into {45} ano[th]er. But lyue men good lif,
and studie many persones Goddis lawe, and whanne chaungyng of wit is
foundun, amende [th]ey it as resoun wole.

Sum men seyn [th]at freris trauelen, and [th]er fautours, in [th]is
cause for [th]re chesouns, [th]at y wole not aferme, but God woot
{50} wher [th]ey ben so[th]e. First [th]ey wolden be seun so nedeful
to [th]e Engli[gh]schmen of oure reume [th]at singulerly in her wit
lay[gh] [th]e wit of Goddis lawe, to telle [th]e puple Goddis lawe on
what maner euere [th]ey wolden. And [th]e secound cause herof is seyd
to stonde in [th]is sentense: freris wolden lede [th]e puple in {55}
techinge hem Goddis lawe, and [th]us [th]ei wolden teche sum, and sum
hide, and docke sum. For [th]anne defautis in [th]er lif shulden be
lesse knowun to [th]e puple, and Goddis lawe shulde be vntreweliere
knowun bo[th]e bi clerkis and bi comyns. [Th]e [th]ridde cause [th]at
men aspien stondi[th] in [th]is, as [th]ey seyn: alle {60} [th]es newe
ordris dreden hem [th]at [th]er synne shulde be knowun, and hou [th]ei
ben not groundid in God to come into [th]e chirche; and [th]us [th]ey
wolden not for drede [th]at Goddis lawe were knowun in Engli[gh]sch;
but [th]ey my[gh]ten putte heresye on men [gh]if Engli[gh]sch toolde
not what [th]ey seyden. {65}

God moue lordis and bischops to stonde for knowing of His lawe!


B. OF FEIGNED CONTEMPLATIVE LIFE.

Corpus Christi College (Cambridge) MS. 296 (1375-1400), p. 165.

Of feyned contemplatif lif, of song, of [th]e Ordynal of Salisbury, and
of bodely almes and worldly bysynesse of prestis; hou bi [th]es foure
[th]e fend letti[th] hem fro prechynge of [th]e Gospel.--

First, whanne trewe men techen bi Goddis lawe wit and {5} reson, [th]at
eche prest owi[th] to do his my[gh]t, his wit, and his wille to preche
Cristis Gospel, [th]e fend blyndi[th] ypocritis to excuse hem by
feyned contemplatif lif, and to seie [th]at, si[th] it is [th]e beste,
and [th]ei may not do bo[th]e togidre, [th]ei ben nedid for charit'e
of God to leue [th]e prechynge of [th]e Gospel, and {10} lyuen in
contemplacion.

See nowe [th]e ypocrisie of [th]is false seiynge. Crist tau[gh]t and
dide [th]e beste lif for prestis, as oure fei[th] techi[th], si[th]
He was God and my[gh]te not erre. But Crist preched [th]e Gospel, and
charged alle His apostlis and disciplis to goo and preche [th]e {15}
Gospel to alle men. [Th]an it is [th]e beste lif for prestis in [th]is
world to preche [th]e Gospel.

Also God in [th]e olde lawe techi[th] [th]at [th]e office of a prophete
is to schewe to [th]e peple here foule synnys. But eche prest is a
prophete bi his ordre, as Gregory sey[th] vpon [th]e Gospellis. {20}
[Th]anne it is [th]e office of eche prest to preche and telle [th]e
synnys of [th]e peple; and in [th]is manere schal eche prest be an
aungel of God, as Holy Writt sei[th].

Also Crist and Ion Baptist leften desert and precheden [th]e Gospel to
here de[th] [th]erfore; and [th]is was most charit'e; for ellis {25}
[th]ei weren out of charit'e, or peierid in charit'e, [th]at my[gh]te
not be in hem bo[th]e, si[th] [th]e ton was God, and no man after Crist
was holyere [th]an Baptist, and he synned not for [th]is prechynge.

Also [th]e holy prophete Ieromye, halwid in his moder wombe, my[gh]tte
not be excused fro prechynge bi his contemplacion, {30} but chargid of
God to preche [th]e synnes of [th]e peple, and suffre peyne [th]erfore,
and so weren alle [th]e prophetis of God.

A Lord! si[th] Crist and Ion Baptist and alle [th]e prophetis of God
weren nedid bi charit'e to come out of desert to preche {35} to [th]e
peple, and leue here sol<it>arie preiere, hou dore we fonnyd heretikys
seie [th]at it is betre to be stille, and preie oure owen fonnyd
ordynaunce, [th]an to preche Cristis Gospel?

Lord! what cursed spirit of lesyngis stiri[th] prestis to close hem in
stonys or wallis for al here lif, si[th] Crist comaundi[th] to {40}
alle His apostlis and prestis to goo into alle [th]e world and preche
[th]e Gospel. Certis [th]ei ben opyn foolis, and don pleynly a[gh]enst
Cristis Gospel; and, [gh]if [th]ei meyntenen [th]is errour, [th]ei ben
cursed of <God>, and ben perilous ypocritis and heretikis also. And
si[th] men ben holden heretikis [th]at done {45} a[gh]enst [th]e popis
lawe, <and [th]e beste part of [th]e popis lawe> sei[th] pleynly [th]at
eche [th]at come[th] to presthod taki[th] [th]e office of a bedele,
or criere, to goo bifore Domesday to crie to [th]e peple here synnes
and vengaunce of God, whi ben not [th]o prestis heretikis [th]at leuen
to preche Cristis Gospel, and {50} compelle o[th]ere treue men to
leue prechynge of [th]e Gospel? Si[th] [th]is lawe is Seynt Gregoryes
lawe, groundid opynly in Goddis lawe and reson and charit'e; and
o[th]ere lawes of [th]e peple ben contrarie to Holy Writt and reson and
charit'e, for to meyntene pride and coueitise of Anticristis worldly
clerkis. {55}

But ypocritis allegen [th]e Gospel,--[th]at Magdaleyne chees to
hereself [th]e beste part whanne she saat bisiden Cristis feet and
herde His word. So[th] it is [th]at [th]is meke sittynge and deuout
herynge of Cristis wordis was best to Magdeleyne, for sche hadde not
office of prechynge as prestis han, si[th] sche was {60} a womman,
[th]at hadde not auctorit'e of Goddis lawe to teche and preche
opynly. But what is [th]is dede to prestis, [th]at han expresse [th]e
comaundement of God and men to preche [th]e Gospel? Where [th]ei
wolen alle be wommen in ydelnesse, and suen not Iesu Crist in lif and
prechynge [th]e Gospel, [th]at {65} He comandi[th] Hymself bo[th]e in
[th]_e_ olde lawe and newe?

Also [th]is p_e_sible herynge of Cristis word and brennynge loue
[th]at Magdeleyne hadde was [th]e beste part, for it schal be ende in
heuene of good lif in [th]is world. But in [th]is _world_ [th]e beste
lif for prestis is holy lif in kepynge Goddis hestis, and {70} trewe
prechynge of [th]e Gospel, as Crist dide, and chargid alle His prestis
to do <[th]e same>. And [th]es ypocritis wenen [th]at here dremys and
fantasies of hemself ben contemplacion, and [th]at prechynge of [th]e
Gospel be actif lif; and so [th]ei menen [th]at Crist tok [th]e worse
lif for [th]is world, and nedid alle His prestis {75} to leue [th]e
betre and take [th]e worse lif; and [th]us [th]es fonnyd ypocritis
putten errour in Iesu Crist. But who ben more heretikis?

Also [th]es blynde ypocritis alleggen [th]at Crist biddi[th] vs preie
euermore, and Poul biddi[th] [th]at we preie wi[th]oute lettynge,
and {80} [th]an we prestis may not preche, as [th]ei feynen falsly.
But here [th]es ypocritis schullen wite [th]at Crist and Poul
vnderstonden of preiere of holy lif, [th]at eche man do[th] as longe
as he dwelli[th] in charit'e; and not of babelynge of lippis, [th]at
no man may euere do wi[th]outen cessynge; for ellis no man in [th]is
{85} world my[gh]te fulfille [th]e comaundement of Crist; and [th]is
techi[th] Austyn and o[th]ere seyntis.

And si[th] men [th]at fulfillen not Goddis lawe, and ben out of
charit'e, ben not acceptid in here preiynge of lippis,--for here
preiere in lippis is abhomynable, as Holy Writt sei[th] bi {90}
Salomon,--[th]es prestis [th]at prechen not [th]e Gospel, as Crist
biddi[th], ben not able to preie <God> for mercy, but disceyuen hemself
and [th]e peple, and dispisen God, and stiren Hym to wra[th][th]e and
vengaunce, as Austyn and Gregory and o[th]ere seyntis techen. {95}

And principaly [th]es ypocritis [th]at han rentes, and worldly
lordischipes, and parische chirchis approprid to hem, a[gh]enst Holy
Writt bo[th]e old and newe, by symonye and lesyngis _on_ Crist and His
apostelis, for stynkynge gronyngys and abite of holynesse, and f_or_
distroiynge of Goddis ordynaunce, and for {100} singuler profession
maade to foolis and, in cas, to fendis of helle,--[th]es foolis
schullen lerne what is actif lif and contemplatif bi Goddis lawe, and
[th]anne [th]ei my[gh]tten wite [th]at [th]ei han nei[th]er [th]e ton
ne [th]e toi[th]er, si[th] [th]ei chargen more veyn statutis _of_
synful men, and, in cas, <of> deuelys, [th]an [th]ei {105} chargen
[th]e heste of God, and werkis of mercy, and poyntis of charit'e. And
[th]e fende blyndi[th] hem so moche, [th]at [th]ei seyn indede [th]at
[th]ei moten neuere preie to p_le_synge of God, si[th] [th]ei vnablen
hemself to do [th]e office of prestis bi Goddis lawe, and purposen to
ende in here feyned deuocion, [th]at is blasphemye {110} to God.

Also bi song [th]e fend letti[th] men to studie and preche [th]e
Gospel; for si[th] mannys wittis ben of certeyn mesure and my[gh]t,
[th]e more [th]at [th]ei ben occupied aboute siche mannus song, [th]e
lesse moten [th]ei be sette aboute Goddis lawe. For {115} [th]is
stiri[th] men to pride, and iolit'e, and o[th]ere synnys, and so
vnable[th] hem many gatis to vnderstonde and kepe Holy Writt, [th]at
teche[th] mekenesse, mornynge for oure synnys and o[th]ere mennus, and
stable lif, and charit'e. And [gh]it God in all [th]e lawe of grace
chargi[th] not siche song, but deuocion in {120} herte, trewe techynge,
and holy spekynge in tonge, and goode werkis, and holy lastynge in
charit'e and mekenesse. But mannus foly and pride stie[th] vp euere
more and more in [th]is veyn nouelrie.

First men ordeyned songe of mornynge whanne [th]ei weren {125} in
prison, for techynge of [th]e Gospel, as Ambrose, _as_ men seyn, to
putte awey ydelnesse, and to be not vnoccupied in goode manere for
[th]e tyme. And [th]at songe and o_u_r<e> acordi[th] not, for oure
stiri[th] to iolit'e and pride, and here stiri[th] to mornynge, and
to dwelle lenger in wordis of Goddis lawe. {130} [Th]an were matynys,
and masse, and euensong, _placebo_ and _dirige_, and comendacion,
and matynes of Oure Lady, ordeyned of synful men to be songen wi[th]
hei[gh]e criynge, to lette men fro [th]e sentence and vnderstondynge of
[th]at [th]at was [th]us songen, and to maken men wery, and vndisposid
to studie {135} Goddis lawe for akyng of hedis. And of schort tyme
[th]anne <weren> more veyn iapis founden: deschaunt, countre note, and
orgon, and smale brekynge, [th]at stiri[th] veyn men to daunsynge more
[th]an <to> mornynge; and herefore ben many proude lorelis founden and
dowid wi[th] temperal and worldly {140} lordischipis and gret cost. But
[th]es foolis schulden drede [th]e scharpe wordis of Austyn, [th]at
sei[th]: 'As oft as [th]e song liki[th] me more [th]an do[th] [th]e
sentence [th]at is songen, so oft I confesse [th]at I synne greuously.'

And [gh]if [th]es knackeris excusen hem bi song in [th]e olde lawe,
{145} seie [th]at Crist, [th]at best kepte [th]e olde lawe as it
schulde be aftirward, tau[gh]t not ne chargid vs wi[th] sich bodely
song, ne ony of His apostlis, but wi[th] deuocion in herte, and holy
lif, and trewe prechynge, and [th]at is ynow[th][gh] and [th]e beste.
But who schulde [th]anne charge vs wi[th] more, oure [th]e fredom and
{150} li[gh]tnesse of Cristis lawe?

And [gh]if [th]ei seyn [th]at angelis heryen God bi song in heuene,
seie [th]at we kunnen not [th]at song; but [th]ei ben in ful victorie
of here enemys, and we ben in perilous b_atai_le, and in [th]e valeye
of wepynge and mornynge; and oure song letti[th] vs {155} fro betre
occupacion, and stiri[th] vs to many grete synnes, and to for[gh]ete vs
self.

But oure flecshly peple ha[th] more lykynge in here bodely eris in
sich knackynge and taterynge, [th]an in herynge of Goddis lawe, and
spekynge of [th]e blisse of heuene; for [th]ei {160} wolen hire proude
prestis and o[th]ere lorelis [th]us to knacke notis for many markis
and poundis. But [th]ei wolen not [gh]eue here almes to prestis and
children to lerne and teche Goddis lawe. And [th]us, bi [th]is nouelrie
of song, is Goddis lawe vnstudied and not kepte, and pride and o[th]ere
grete {165} synnys meyntenyd.

And [th]es fonnyd lordis and peple gessen to haue more [th]ank of God,
and <to> worschipe Hym more, in haldynge vp of here owen nouelries
wi[th] grete cost, [th]an in lernynge, and techynge, and meyntenynge
of his lawe, and his seruauntis, {170} and his ordynaunce. But where
is more disceit in fei[th], hope and charit'e? For whanne [th]er ben
fourty or fyfty in a queer, [th]re or foure proude lorellis schullen
knacke [th]e most deuout seruyce [th]at no man schal here [th]e
sentence, and alle o[th]ere schullen be doumbe, and loken on hem as
foolis. And [th]anne {175} strumpatis and [th]euys preisen Sire Iacke,
or Hobbe, and Williem [th]e proude clerk, hou smale [th]ei knacken here
notis; and seyn [th]at [th]ei seruen wel God and Holy Chirche, whanne
[th]ei dispisen God in his face, and letten o[th]ere Cristene men of
here deuocion and compunccion, and stiren hem to worldly {180} vanyt'e.
And [th]us trewe seruyce of God is lettid, and [th]is veyn knackynge
for oure iolit'e and pride is preised abouen [th]e mone.

Also [th]e Ordynalle of Salisbury letti[th] moche prechynge of [th]e
Gospel; for folis chargen [th]at more [th]an [th]e maundementis of God,
and to studie and teche Cristis Gospel. For [gh]if {185} a man faile in
his Ordynale, men holden [th]at grete synne, and reprouen hym [th]erof
faste; but [gh]if a preste breke [th]e hestis of God, men chargen
[th]at litel or nou[gh]t. And so [gh]if prestis seyn here matynes,
masse, and euensong aftir Salisbury vsse, [th]ei hemself and o[th]ere
men demen it is ynow[gh], [th]ou[th] [th]ei nei[th]er {190} preche ne
teche [th]e hestis of God and [th]e Gospel. And [th]us [th]ei wenen
[th]at it is ynow[gh] to fulfille synful mennus ordynaunce, and to leue
[th]e ri[gh]tfulleste ordynaunce of God, [th]at He chargid prestis to
performe.

But, Lord! what was prestis office ordeyned bi God bifore {195} [th]at
Salisbury vss was maad of proude prestis, coueitous and dronkelewe?
Where God, [th]at dampne[th] alle ydelnesse, charg_id_ hem not at [th]e
ful wi[th] [th]e beste occupacion for hemself and o[th]ere men? Hou
doren synful folis chargen Cristis prestis wi[th] so moche nouelrie,
and euermore cloute more to, {200} [th]at [th]ei may not frely do
Goddis ordynaunce? For [th]e Iewis in [th]e olde lawe haden not so
manye serymonyes of sacrifices ordeyned bi God as prestis han now
ri[gh]ttis and reulis maade of synful men. And [gh]it [th]e olde lawe
in [th]es charious customes mosten nedes cesse for fredom of Cristis
Gospel. But [th]is {205} fredom is more don awei bi [th]is nouelrie
[th]an bi customes of [th]e olde lawe. And [th]us many grete axen
where a prest may, wi[th]outen dedly synne, seie his masse wi[th]outen
matynys; and [th]ei demen it dedly synne a prest to fulfille [th]e
ordynaunce of God in his fredom, wi[th]oute nouelrie of synful men,
[th]at letti[th] {210} prestis fro [th]e betre occupacion; as [gh]if
[th]ei demen it dedly synne to leue [th]e worse [th]ing, and take [th]e
betre, whanne [th]ei may not do bo[th]e togidre.

And [th]us, Lord! [Th]in owen ordynaunce [th]at [Th]ou madist for [Th]i
prestis is holden errour, and distroied for [th]e fonnyd nouelrie {215}
of synful foolis, and, in cas, of fendis in helle.

But here men moste be war [th]at vnder colour of [th]is fredom [th]ei
ben betre occupied in [th]e lawe of God to studie it and teche it,
and not slou[gh] ne ydel in ouermoche sleep, and vanyt'e, and o[th]er
synnes, for [th]at is [th]e fendis panter. {220}

See now [th]e blyndnesse of [th]es foolis. [Th]ei seyn [th]at a prest
may be excused fro seiynge of masse, [th]at God comaundid Himself to
[th]e substance [th]erof, so [th]at he here on. But he schal not be
excused but [gh]if he seie matynes and euensong himself, [th]at synful
men han ordeyned; and [th]us [th]ei chargen {225} more here owene
fyndynge [th]an Cristis comaundement.

A Lord! [gh]if alle [th]e studie and traueile [th]at men han now abowte
Salisbury vss, wi[th] multitude _of_ newe costy portos, antifeners,
graielis, and alle o[th]ere bokis, weren turned into makynge of biblis,
and in studiynge and techynge [th]erof, hou {230} moche schulde Goddis
lawe be for[th]ered, and knowen, and kept, and now in so moche it
is hyndrid, vnstudied, and vnkept. Lord! hou schulden riche men ben
excused [th]at costen so moche in grete schapellis, and costy bokis of
mannus ordynaunce, for fame and nobleie of [th]e world, and wolen not
{235} spende so moche aboute bokis of Goddis lawe, and for to studie
hem and teche hem: si[th] [th]is were wi[th]oute comparison betre on
alle siddis, and ly[gh]ttere, and sykerere?

But [gh]it men [th]at knowen [th]e fredom of Goddis ordynaunce for
prestis to be [th]e beste, wi[th] grete sorow of herte seyn here
{240} matynes, masse, and euensong, whanne [th]ei schulden ellis be
betre occupied, last [th]ei sclaundren [th]e sike conscience of here
bre[th]eren, [th]at [gh]it knowen not Goddis lawe. God brynge [th]es
prestis to [th]e fredom to studie Holy Writt, and lyue [th]erafter, and
teche it o[th]er men frely, and to preie as long and as {245} moche as
God meue[th] hem [th]erto, and ellis turne to o[th]ere medeful werkis,
as Crist and His apostlis diden; and [th]at [th]ei ben not constreyned
to blabre alle day wi[th] tonge and grete criynge, as pies and iaies,
[th]ing [th]at [th]ei knowen not, and to peiere here owen soule for
defaute of wis deuocion and charit'e! {250}

Also bysynesse of worldly occupacion of prestis letti[th] prechynge
of [th]e Gospel, for [th]ei ben so besy <[th]er>aboute, and namely in
herte, [th]at [th]ei [th]enken litel on Goddis lawe, and han no sauour
[th]erto. And seyn [th]at [th]ei don [th]us for hospitalit'e, and to
releue pore men wi[th] dedis of charit'e. But, hou euere {255} men
speken, it his for here owen couetise, and lustful lif in mete and
drynk and precious clo[th]is, and for name of [th]e world in fedynge of
riche men; and litel or nou[gh]t come[th] frely to pore men [th]at han
most nede.

But [th]es prestis schulden sue Crist in manere of lif and {260} trewe
techynge. But Crist lefte sich occupacion, and His apostlis also,
and weren betre occupied in holy preiere and trewe techynge of [th]e
Gospel. And [th]is determinacion and ful sentence was [gh]ouen of alle
[th]e apostlis togidre, whanne [th]ei hadden resceyued [th]e plenteuous
[gh]iftis of [th]e Holy Gost. Lord! {265} where [th]es worldly prestis
<ben> wisere [th]an ben alle [th]e apostlis of Crist? It semeth [th]at
[th]ei ben, or ellis <[th]ei ben> fooles.

Also Crist wolde not take [th]e kyngdom whan [th]e puple wolde haue
maad Him kyng, as Iones Gospel telle[th]. But if it haade be a prestis
office to dele aboute [th]us bodi<ly> almes, {270} Crist, [th]at coude
best haue do [th]is office, wolde haue take [th]es temperal goodis to
dele hem among poeuere men. But He wolde not do [th]us, but fley, and
took no man of [th]e aposteles wi[th] him, so faste He hiede. Lord!
where worldly prestis kunnen bettere don [th]is partinge of worldly
goodis _[th]an_ Iesu {275} Crist?

And [gh]if [th]ei seyn [th]at Crist fedde [th]e puple in desert with
bodily almes, manye [th]ousand, as [th]e Gospel sai[th]: [th]at dide
Crist by miracle, to shewe His godhede, and to teche prestes {280}
hou[gh] [th]ei schulden fede gostly Cristene men by Goddis word. For
so dide Cristis aposteles, and hadde not whereof to do bodily almes,
whan [th]ei mi[gh]ten haue had tresour and iuelis ynowe of kynggis and
lordis.

Also Peter sai[th] in Dedis of Apostlis to a pore man [th]at to {285}
him nei[th]er was gold ne siluer; and [gh]it he performede wel [th]e
office of a trewe prest. But oure prestis ben so bysye aboute worldly
occupacioun [th]at [th]ei semen bettere bailyues or reues [th]an gostly
prestis of Iesu Crist. For what man is so bysy aboute marchaundise, and
o[th]ere worldly doyngis, as ben {290} preostes, [th]at shulden ben
ly[gh]t of heuenly lif to alle men abouten hem?

But certes [th]ei shulde be as bysy aboute studyinge of Goddys lawe,
and holy preyer, not of _Famulorum_, but of holy desires, and clene
meditacioun of God, and trewe techinge of {295} [th]e Gospel, as ben
laboreris aboute worldly labour for here sustenaunce. And muche more
bysie, [gh]if [th]ei mi[gh]ten, for [th]ey ben more holden for to lyue
wel, and <[gh]eue> ensaumple of holi lif to [th]e puple, and trewe
techinge of Holy Writ, [th]anne [th]e people is holden to [gh]yue hem
dymes or offringis or ony {300} bodily almes. And [th]erfore prestis
shulde not leue ensaumple of good lif, and studyinge of Holi Writ, and
trewe techinge [th]erof, ne <for> bodily almes, ne for worldly goodis,
ne for sauynge of here bodily lif.

And as Crist sauede [th]e world by writynge and techinge of {305}
foure Euaungelistis, so [th]e fend caste[th] to dampne [th]e world and
prestis for lettynge to preche [th]e Gospel by [th]es foure: by feyned
contemplacioun, by song, by Salisbury vse, and by worldly bysynes of
prestis.

God for His mercy styre [th]es prestis to preche [th]e Gospel in {310}
word, in lif; and be war of Sathanas disceitis. Amen.

[Foot-note: 7 fend] fendis _MS._]

[Foot-note: 66 [th]e] [th]o _MS._]

[Foot-note: 67 pesible] posible _MS._]

[Foot-note: 69 world] lif _MS._]

[Foot-note: 98 on] & _MS._]

[Foot-note: 100 for (1st)] fro _MS._]

[Foot-note: 105 of (1st)] & _MS._]

[Foot-note: 108 plesynge] preisynge _MS. altered later_.]

[Foot-note: 126 as (2nd)] and _MS._]

[Foot-note: 128 oure] o[th]er _MS._]

[Foot-note: 154 bataile] baitale _MS._]

[Foot-note: 198 chargid] chargen _MS._]

[Foot-note: 202 not so] _repeated MS._]

[Foot-note: 228 of] & _MS._]

[Foot-note: 275 [th]an] of _MS._]




XII

JOHN GOWER

D. 1408.


John Gower, a Londoner himself, came of a good Kentish family. Chaucer
must have known him well, for he chose him as his attorney when leaving
for the Continent in 1378, and, with the dedication of _Troilus and
Criseyde_, labelled him for ever as 'moral Gower'. Gower's marriage with
Agnes Groundolf, probably a second marriage, is recorded in 1398.
Blindness came on him a few years later. His will, dated August 15,
1408, was proved on October 24, 1408, so that his death must fall
between those two points. By his own wish he was buried in St.
Saviour's, Southwark, the church of the canons of St. Mary Overy, to
whom he was a liberal benefactor.

On his tomb in St. Saviour's Church, Gower is shown with his head
resting on three great volumes, representing his principal works--the
_Speculum Meditantis_, the _Vox Clamantis_, and the _Confessio Amantis_.

The _Speculum Meditantis_, or _Mirour de l'Omme_, is a handbook of sins
and sinners, written in French.

The _Vox Clamantis_, written in Latin, covers similar ground. Opening
with a vision of the Peasants' Revolt of 1381, the poet passes in review
the faults of the different grades of society--clergy, nobles,
labourers, traders, lawyers--and ends with an admonition to the young
King Richard II.

In his English work, the _Confessio Amantis_, he expressly abandons the
task of setting the world to rights, and promises to change his style
henceforth. Now he will sing of Love. The machinery of the poem is
suggested by the great source of mediaeval conventions, the _Roman de la
Rose_. On a May morning the poet, a victim of love, wanders afield and
meets the Queen of Love (cp. the beginning of Chaucer's _Legend of Good
Women_). She bids him confess to her priest Genius. Genius hears the
confession, sustaining with some incongruity the triple role of high
priest of Love, Christian moralist, and entertainer--for it is he who
tells the stories which, woven about the frame work of the Seven Deadly
Sins, make the real matter of the poem.

The first form of the _Confessio_ was completed in 1390. It contains a
Prologue in which the suggestion for the poem is ascribed to Richard II,
and an Epilogue in his praise. In this version the Queen of Love at
parting gives Gower a message for Chaucer:

        And gret wel Chaucer whan ye mete,
      As mi disciple and mi poete:
      For in the floures of his youthe
      In sondri wise, as he wel couthe,
      Of ditees and of songes glade,
      The whiche he for mi sake made,
      The lond fulfild is overal.
      Wherof to him in special
      Above alle othre I am most holde.
      Forthi now, in hise daies olde,
      Thow schalt him telle this message,
      That he upon his latere age,
      To sette an ende of alle his werk,
      As he which is myn owne clerk,
      Do make his testament of love,
      As thou hast do thi schrifte above,
      So that mi Court it mai recorde.

In the final form, completed in 1392-3, Richard's name disappears from
the Prologue; the dedication to his popular rival, Henry of Lancaster,
is made prominent; the eulogy in the Epilogue is dropped; and with it
the compliment to Chaucer. Whether this last omission is due to chance,
or to some change in the relations between the two poets, is not clear.

In his own day Gower was ranked with Chaucer. His reputation was still
high among the Elizabethans; and he has the distinction of appearing as
Chorus in a Shakespearian play--_Pericles_--of which his story of
_Apollonius of Tyre_, in Bk. viii of the _Confessio_, was the immediate
source.

A selection gives a very favourable impression of his work. He has a
perfect command of the octosyllabic couplet; an easy style, well suited
to narrative; and a classic simplicity of expression for which the work
of his predecessors in Middle English leaves us unprepared. Throughout
the whole of the _Confessio Amantis_, more than 30,000 lines, the level
of workmanship is remarkable, and almost every page shows some graceful
and poetical verses.

Yet the poem as a whole suffers from the fault that Gower tried to
avoid:

      It dulleth ofte a mannes wit
      To him that schal it aldai rede.

One defect, obvious to a modern reader, would hardly be noticed by his
contemporaries: he often incorporates in his poetry matter proper only
to an encyclopaedia, such as the discourse on the religions of the world
in Bk. v, or that on Philosophy in Bk. vii. Another is more radical: for
all his wide reading, his leading ideas lack originality. It is hardly a
travesty to say that the teaching of his works amounts to this: 'In the
moral world, avoid the Seven Deadly Sins in the five sub-classifications
of each; in the political world keep your degree without presuming'.
Such a negative and conventional message cannot sustain the fabric of
three long poems. Their polished and facile moralizing becomes almost
exasperating if it be remembered that the poet wrote when a whole system
of society was falling, and falling noisily, about him. Modern taste
rejects Gower the moralist and political writer, and his claim to
present as apart from historical value rests on the delightful single
stories which served as embroidery to his serious themes.

The extracts are taken from the admirable edition by G. C. Macaulay:
'The Works of John Gower', 4 vols., Oxford 1899-1902.


A. CEIX AND ALCEONE.

From Bk. iv, ll. 2927 ff.

        This finde I write in Poesie:
      Ceix the king of Trocinie
      Hadde Alceone to his wif,
      Which as hire oghne hertes lif
      Him loveth; and he hadde also                  5
      A brother, which was cleped tho
      Dedalion, and he per cas
      Fro kinde of man forschape was
      Into a goshauk of liknesse;
      Wherof the king gret hevynesse                10
      Hath take, and thoghte in his corage
      To gon upon a pelrinage
      Into a strange regioun,
      Wher he hath his devocioun
      To don his sacrifice and preie,               15
      If that he mihte in eny weie
      Toward the goddes finde grace
      His brother hele to pourchace,
      So that he mihte be reformed
      Of that he hadde be transformed.              20
        To this pourpos and to this ende
      This king is redy for to wende,
      As he which wolde go be schipe;
      And for to don him felaschipe
      His wif unto the see him broghte,             25
      With al hire herte and him besoghte
      That he the time hire wolde sein
      Whan that he thoghte come a[gh]ein:
      'Withinne,' he seith, 'tuo monthe day.'
      And thus in al the haste he may               30
      He tok his leve, and forth he seileth,
      Wepende and sche hirself beweileth,
      And torneth hom, ther sche cam fro.
        Bot whan the monthes were ago,
      The whiche he sette of his comynge,           35
      And that sche herde no tydinge,
      Ther was no care for to seche:
      Wherof the goddes to beseche
      Tho sche began in many wise,
      And to Iuno hire sacrifise                    40
      Above alle othre most sche dede,
      And for hir lord sche hath so bede
      To wite and knowe hou that he ferde,
      That Iuno the goddesse hire herde,
      Anon and upon this matiere                    45
      Sche bad Yris hir messagere
      To Slepes hous that <sc>he schal wende,
      And bidde him that he make an ende,
      Be swevene and schewen al the cas
      Unto this ladi, hou it was.                   50
        This Yris, fro the hihe stage
      Which undertake hath the message,
      Hire reyny cope dede upon,
      The which was wonderli begon
      With colours of diverse hewe,                 55
      An hundred mo than men it knewe;
      The hevene lich unto a bowe
      Sche bende, and so she cam doun lowe,
      The god of Slep wher that sche fond;
      And that was in a strange lond,               60
      Which marcheth upon Chymerie:
      For ther, as seith the Poesie,
      The God of Slep hath mad his hous,
      Which of entaille is merveilous.
        Under an hell ther is a cave,               65
      Which of the sonne mai noght have,
      So that noman mai knowe ariht
      The point betwen the dai and nyht:
      Ther is no fyr, ther is no sparke,
      Ther is no dore, which mai charke,            70
      Wherof an yhe scholde unschette,
      So that inward ther is no lette.
      And for to speke of that withoute,
      Ther stant no gret tree nyh aboute
      Wher on ther myhte crowe or pie               75
      Alihte, for to clepe or crie;
      Ther is no cok to crowe day,
      Ne beste non which noise may;
      The hell bot al aboute round
      Ther is growende upon the ground              80
      Popi, which berth the sed of slep,
      With othre herbes suche an hep.
      A stille water for the nones
      Rennende upon the smale stones,
      Which hihte of Lethes the rivere,             85
      Under that hell in such manere
      Ther is, which [gh]ifth gret appetit
      To slepe. And thus full of delit
      Slep hath his hous; and of his couche
      Withinne his chambre if I schal touche,       90
      Of hebenus that slepi tree
      The bordes al aboute be,
      And for he scholde slepe softe,
      Upon a fethrebed alofte
      He lith with many a pilwe of doun.            95
      The chambre is strowed up and doun
      With swevenes many thousendfold.
        Thus cam Yris into this hold,
      And to the bedd, which is al blak,
      Sche goth, and ther with Slep sche spak,     100
      And in the wise as sche was bede
      The message of Iuno sche dede.
      Ful ofte hir wordes sche reherceth,
      Er sche his slepi eres perceth;
      With mochel wo bot ate laste                 105
      His slombrende yhen he upcaste
      And seide hir that it schal be do.
        Wherof among a thousend tho
      Withinne his hous that slepi were,
      In special he ches out there                 110
      Thre, whiche scholden do this dede:
      The ferste of hem, so as I rede,
      Was Morpheus, the whos nature
      Is for to take the figure
      Of what persone that him liketh,             115
      Wherof that he ful ofte entriketh
      The lif which slepe schal be nyhte;
      And Ithecus that other hihte,
      Which hath the vois of every soun,
      The chiere and the condicioun                120
      Of every lif, what so it is:
      The thridde suiende after this
      Is Panthasas, which may transforme
      Of every thing the rihte forme,
      And change it in an other kinde.             125
      Upon hem thre, so as I finde,
      Of swevenes stant al thapparence,
      Which other while is evidence,
      And other while bot a iape.
        Bot natheles it is so schape,              130
      That Morpheus be nyht al one
      Appiereth until Alceone
      In liknesse of hir housebonde
      Al naked ded upon the stronde,
      And hou he dreynte in special                135
      These othre tuo it schewen al:
      The tempeste of the blake cloude,
      The wode see, the wyndes loude,
      Al this sche mette, and sih him dyen;
      Wherof that sche began to crien,             140
      Slepende abedde ther sche lay,
      And with that noise of hire affray
      Hir wommen sterten up aboute,
      Whiche of here ladi were in doute,
      And axen hire hou that sche ferde;           145
      And sche, riht as sche syh and herde,
      Hir swevene hath told hem everydel:
      And thei it halsen alle wel
      And sein it is a tokne of goode.
        Bot til sche wiste hou that it stode,      150
      Sche hath no confort in hire herte,
      Upon the morwe and up sche sterte,
      And to the see, wher that sche mette
      The bodi lay, withoute lette
      Sche drowh, and whan that sche cam nyh,      155
      Stark ded, hise armes sprad, sche syh
      Hire lord flietende upon the wawe.
      Wherof hire wittes ben withdrawe,
      And sche, which tok of deth no kepe,
      Anon forth lepte into the depe               160
      And wolde have cawht him in hire arm.
        This infortune of double harm
      The goddes fro the hevene above
      Behielde, and for the trowthe of love,
      Which in this worthi ladi stod,              165
      Thei have upon the salte flod
      Hire dreinte lord and hire also
      Fro deth to lyve torned so
      That thei ben schapen into briddes
      Swimmende upon the wawe amiddes.             170
      And whan sche sih hire lord livende
      In liknesse of a bridd swimmende,
      And sche was of the same sort,
      So as sche mihte do desport,
      Upon the ioie which sche hadde               175
      Hire wynges bothe abrod sche spradde,
      And him, so as sche mai suffise,
      Beclipte and keste in such a wise,
      As sche was whilom wont to do:
      Hire wynges for hire armes tuo               180
      Sche tok, and for hire lippes softe
      Hire harde bile, and so ful ofte
      Sche fondeth in hire briddes forme,
      If that sche mihte hirself conforme
      To do the plesance of a wif,                 185
      As sche dede in that other lif:
      For thogh sche hadde hir pouer lore,
      Hir will stod as it was tofore,
      And serveth him so as sche mai.
        Wherof into this ilke day                  190
      Togedre upon the see thei wone,
      Wher many a dowhter and a sone
      Thei bringen forth of briddes kinde;
      And for men scholden take in mynde
      This Alceoun the trewe queene,               195
      Hire briddes [gh]it, as it is seene,
      Of Alceoun the name bere.


B. ADRIAN AND BARDUS.

From Bk. v, ll. 4937 ff.

        To speke of an unkinde man,
      I finde hou whilom Adrian,
      Of Rome which a gret lord was,
      Upon a day as he per cas
      To wode in his huntinge wente,                 5
      It hapneth at a soudein wente,
      After his chace as he poursuieth,
      Thurgh happ, the which noman eschuieth,
      He fell unwar into a pet,
      Wher that it mihte noght be let.              10
      The pet was dep and he fell lowe,
      That of his men non myhte knowe
      Wher he becam, for non was nyh
      Which of his fall the meschief syh.
        And thus al one ther he lay                 15
      Clepende and criende al the day
      For socour and deliverance,
      Til a[gh]ein eve it fell per chance,
      A while er it began to nyhte,
      A povere man, which Bardus hihte,             20
      Cam forth walkende with his asse,
      And hadde gadred him a tasse
      Of grene stickes and of dreie
      To selle, who that wolde hem beie,
      As he which hadde no liflode,                 25
      Bot whanne he myhte such a lode
      To toune with his asse carie.
      And as it fell him for to tarie
      That ilke time nyh the pet,
      And hath the trusse faste knet,               30
      He herde a vois, which cride dimme,
      And he his ere to the brimme
      Hath leid, and herde it was a man,
      Which seide, 'Ha, help hier Adrian,
      And I wol [gh]iven half mi good.'             35
        The povere man this understod,
      As he that wolde gladly winne,
      And to this lord which was withinne
      He spak and seide, 'If I thee save,
      What sikernesse schal I have                  40
      Of covenant, that afterward
      Thou wolt me [gh]ive such reward
      As thou behihtest nou tofore?'
        That other hath his othes swore
      Be hevene and be the goddes alle,             45
      If that it myhte so befalle
      That he out of the pet him broghte,
      Of all the goodes whiche he oghte
      He schal have evene halvendel.
        This Bardus seide he wolde wel;             50
      And with this word his asse anon
      He let untrusse, and therupon
      Doun goth the corde into the pet,
      To which he hath at [th]e ende knet
      A staf, wherby, he seide, he wolde            55
      That Adrian him scholde holde.
      Bot it was tho per chance falle,
      Into that pet was also falle
      An ape, which at thilke throwe,
      Whan that the corde cam doun lowe,            60
      Al sodeinli therto he skipte
      And it in bothe hise armes clipte.
      And Bardus with his asse anon
      Him hath updrawe, and he is gon.
      But whan he sih it was an ape,                65
      He wende al hadde ben a iape
      Of faierie, and sore him dradde:
      And Adrian eftsone gradde
      For help, and cride and preide faste,
      And he eftsone his corde caste;               70
      Bot whan it cam unto the grounde,
      A gret serpent it hath bewounde,
      The which Bardus anon up drouh.
      And thanne him thoghte wel ynouh
      It was fantosme, bot yit he herde             75
      The vois, and he therto ansuerde,
      'What wiht art thou in Goddes name?'
        'I am,' quod Adrian, 'the same,
      Whos good thou schalt have evene half.'
      Quod Bardus, 'Thanne a Goddes half            80
      The thridde time assaie I schal':
      And caste his corde forth withal
      Into the pet, and whan it cam
      To him, this lord of Rome it nam,
      And therupon him hath adresced,               85
      And with his hand ful ofte blessed,
      And thanne he bad to Bardus hale.
      And he, which understod his tale,
      Betwen him and his asse, al softe,
      Hath drawe and set him up alofte              90
      Withouten harm, al esely.
        He seith noght ones 'grant merci,'
      Bot strauhte him forth to the cit'e,
      And let this povere Bardus be.
      And natheles this simple man                  95
      His covenant, so as he can,
      Hath axed; and that other seide,
      If so be that he him umbreide
      Of oght that hath be speke or do,
      It schal ben venged on him so,               100
      That him were betre to be ded.
        And he can tho non other red,
      But on his asse a[gh]ein he caste
      His trusse, and hieth homward faste:
      And whan that he cam hom to bedde,           105
      He tolde his wif hou that he spedde.
      Bot finaly to speke oght more
      Unto this lord he dradde him sore.
      So that a word ne dorste he sein.
        And thus upon the morwe a[gh]ein,          110
      In the manere as I recorde,
      Forth with his asse and with his corde
      To gadre wode, as he dede er,
      He goth; and whan that he cam ner
      Unto the place where he wolde,               115
      He hath his ape anon beholde,
      Which hadde gadred al aboute
      Of stickes hiere and there a route,
      And leide hem redy to his hond,
      Wherof he made his trosse and bond.          120
      Fro dai to dai and in this wise
      This ape profreth his servise,
      So that he hadde of wode ynouh.
        Upon a time and as he drouh
      Toward the wode, he sih besyde               125
      The grete gastli serpent glyde,
      Til that sche cam in his presence,
      And in hir kinde a reverence
      Sche hath him do, and forth withal
      A ston mor briht than a cristall             130
      Out of hir mouth tofore his weie
      Sche let doun falle, and wente aweie
      For that he schal noght ben adrad.
      Tho was this povere Bardus glad,
      Thonkende God and to the ston                135
      He goth and takth it up anon,
      And hath gret wonder in his wit
      Hou that the beste him hath aquit,
      Wher that the mannes sone hath failed,
      For whom he hadde most travailed.            140
        Bot al he putte in Goddes hond,
      And torneth hom, and what he fond
      Unto his wif he hath it schewed;
      And thei, that weren bothe lewed,
      Acorden that he scholde it selle.            145
      And he no lengere wolde duelle,
      Bot forth anon upon the tale
      The ston he profreth to the sale;
      And riht as he himself it sette,
      The iueler anon forth fette                  150
      The gold and made his paiement;
      Therof was no delaiement.
        Thus whan this ston was boght and sold,
      Homward with ioie manyfold
      This Bardus goth; and whan he cam            155
      Hom to his hous and that he nam
      His gold out of his purs, withinne
      He fond his ston also therinne,
      Wherof for ioie his herte pleide,
      Unto his wif and thus he seide,              160
      'Lo, hier my gold, lo, hier mi ston!'
      His wif hath wonder therupon,
      And axeth him hou that mai be.
      'Nou, be mi trouthe! I not,' quod he,
      'Bot I dar swere upon a bok                  165
      That to my marchant I it tok,
      And he it hadde whan I wente:
      So knowe I noght to what entente
      It is nou hier, bot it be grace.
      Forthi tomorwe in other place                170
      I wole it fonde for to selle,
      And if it wol noght with him duelle,
      Bot crepe into mi purs a[gh]ein,
      Than dar I saufly swere and sein
      It is the vertu of the ston.'                175
        The morwe cam, and he is gon
      To seche aboute in other stede
      His ston to selle, and he so dede,
      And lefte it with his chapman there.
      Bot whan that he cam elleswhere              180
      In presence of his wif at hom,
      Out of his purs and that he nom
      His gold, he fond his ston withal.
      And thus it fell him overal,
      Where he it solde in sondri place,           185
      Such was the fortune and the grace.
        Bot so wel may nothing ben hidd,
      That it nys ate laste kidd:
      This fame goth aboute Rome
      So ferforth that the wordes come             190
      To themperour Iustinian;
      And he let sende for the man,
      And axede him hou that it was.
      And Bardus tolde him al the cas,
      Hou that the worm and ek the beste,          195
      Althogh thei maden no beheste,
      His travail hadden wel aquit;
      Bot he which hadde a mannes wit,
      And made his covenant be mouthe,
      And swor therto al that he couthe,           200
      To parte and [gh]iven half his good,
      Hath nou for[gh]ete hou that it stod,
      As he which wol no trouthe holde.
        This Emperour al that he tolde
      Hath herd, and thilke unkindenesse           205
      He seide he wolde himself redresse.
      And thus in court of iuggement
      This Adrian was thanne assent,
      And the querele in audience
      Declared was in the presence                 210
      Of themperour and many mo;
      Wherof was mochel speche tho
      And gret wondringe among the press.
        Bot ate laste natheles
      For the partie which hath pleigned           215
      The lawe hath diemed and ordeigned
      Be hem that were avised wel,
      That he schal have the halvendel
      Thurghout of Adrianes good.
        And thus of thilke unkinde blod            220
      Stant the memoire into this day,
      Wherof that every wys man may
      Ensamplen him, and take in mynde
      What schame it is to ben unkinde;
      A[gh]ein the which reson debateth,           225
      And every creature it hateth.




XIII

JOHN OF TREVISA'S TRANSLATION OF
HIGDEN'S POLYCHRONICON

1387.


Ranulph Higden (d. 1364) was a monk of St. Werburgh's at Chester, and
has been doubtfully identified with the 'Randal Higden' who is said to
have travelled to Rome to get the Pope's consent to the acting of the
Chester miracle plays in English.

His _Polychronicon_, so called because it is the chronicle of many ages,
is a compilation covering the period from the Creation to 1352. In the
fourteenth and fifteenth centuries it was the favourite universal
history; and the First Book, which deals with general geography, has
still a special interest for the light it throws on the state of
knowledge in Chaucer's day.

Two English prose translations are known: Trevisa's, completed in 1387,
and modernized and printed by Caxton in 1482; and an anonymous rendering
made in the second quarter of the fifteenth century. Both are printed,
with Higden's Latin, in the edition by Babington and Lumby, Rolls
Series, 9 vols., 1865-86.

John of Trevisa was a Cornishman. He was a fellow of Exeter College,
Oxford, from 1362 to 1365; and was one of those expelled from Queen's
College for 'unworthiness' in 1379. He became vicar of Berkeley, and at
the request of Sir Thomas Berkeley undertook the translation of the
_Polychronicon_. In 1398 he brought to an end another long work, the
translation of _Bartholomaeus de Proprietatibus Rerum_, the great
encyclopaedia of natural science at this time. He died at Berkeley in
1402.

Trevisa was a diligent but not an accurate or graceful translator. He
rarely adds anything from his own knowledge, though we have an example
in the account of the reform of teaching at Oxford while he was there.
The interest of his work depends chiefly on the curiosity of some
passages in his originals.


A. THE MARVELS OF BRITAIN.

CHAP. xlii.

MS. Tiberius D. vii (about 1400), f. 39 a.

In Brytayn bu[th] hoot welles wel arayed and yhy[gh]t to [th]e vse of
mankunde. Mayster of [th]ulke welles ys [th]e gret spyryt of Minerua.
Yn hys hous fuyr duyre[th] alwey, [th]at neuer chaunge[th] into askes,
bote [th]ar [th]e fuyr slake[th], hyt change[th] ynto stony clottes. {5}

Yn Brytayn bu[th] meny wondres. No[th]eles foure bu[th] most wonderfol.
[Th]e furste ys at Pectoun. [Th]ar blowe[th] so strong a wynd out
of [th]e chenes of [th]e eor[th]e [th]at hyt caste[th] vp a[gh]e
clo[th]es [th]at me caste[th] yn. [Th]e secunde ys at Stonhenge bysydes
Salesbury. [Th]ar gret stones and wondur huge bu[th] {10} arered an
hy[gh], as hyt were [gh]ates, so [th]at [th]ar seme[th] [gh]ates yset
apon o[th]er [gh]ates. No[th]eles hyt ys no[gh]t clerlych yknowe
no[th]er parceyuet hou[gh] and wharfore a bu[th] so arered and so
wonderlych yhonged. [Th]e [th]ridde ys at Cherdhol. [Th]er ys gret
holwenes vndur eor[th]e. Ofte meny men habbe[th] {15} ybe [th]erynne,
and ywalked aboute wi[th]ynne, and yseye ryuers and streemes, bote
nowhar conne[th] hy fynde non ende. [Th]e feur[th]e ys [th]at reyn
ys yseye arered vp of [th]e hulles, and anon yspronge aboute yn
[th]e feeldes. Also [th]er ys a gret pond [th]at conteyne[th] [th]re
score ylondes couenable for men to dwelle {20} ynne. [Th]at pound ys
byclypped aboute wi[th] six score rooches. Apon euerych rooch ys an
egle hys nest; and [th]re score ryuers eorne[th] into [th]at pound,
and non of ham alle eorne[th] into [th]e se, bot on. [Th]ar ys a pound
yclosed aboute wi[th] a wal of tyyl and of ston. Yn [th]at pound men
wasche[th] and ba[th]e[th] {25} wel ofte, and euerych man feele[th]
[th]e water hoot o[th]er cold ry[gh]t as a wol hymsylf. [Th]ar bu[th]
also salt welles fer fram [th]e se, and bu[th] salt al [th]e woke long
forto Saturday noon, and fersch fram Saturday noon forto Moneday. [Th]e
water of [th]is welles, whanne hyt ys ysode, turne[th] into smal salt,
fayr and {30} whyyt. Also [th]ar ys a pond [th]e water [th]erof ha[th]
wondur worchyng, for [th]ey al an ost stood by [th]e pond, and turnede
[th]e face [th]yderward, [th]e water wolde drawe <hem> vyolentlych
toward [th]e pond, and weete al here clo[th]es. So scholde hors be
drawe yn [th]e same wyse. Bote [gh]ef [th]e face ys aweyward {35} fram
[th]e water, [th]e water noye[th] no[gh]t. [Th]er ys a welle <[th]at>
non streem eorne[th] [th]arfram no[th]er [th]erto, and [gh]et four
maner fysch bu[th] ytake [th]arynne. [Th]at welle ys bote twenty foot
long, and twenty foot brood, and no[gh]t deop bote to [th]e kneo, and
ys yclosed wi[th] hy[gh] bankkes in euerych syde. {40}

Yn [th]e contray aboute Wynchestre ys a den. Out of [th]at den alwey
blowe[th] a strong wynd, so [th]at no man may endure for to stonde
tofor [th]at den. [Th]ar ys also a pond [th]at turne[th] tre into yre
and hyt be [th]erynne al a [gh]er, and so tren bu[th] yschape into
whestones. Also [th]er ys yn [th]e cop of an hul {45} a buryel. Euerych
man [th]at come[th] and mete[th] [th]at buriel a schal fynde hyt euene
ry[gh]t of hys oune meete; and [gh]ef a pylgrym o[th]er eny wery man
kneole[th] [th]erto, anon a schal be al fersch, and of werynes schal he
feele non nuy.

Fast by pe Ministre of Wynburney, [th]at ys no[gh]t fer fram {50}
Bathe, ys a wode [th]at bere[th] moche fruyt. [Gh]ef pe tren of [th]at
wode falle into a water o[th]er grounde <[th]at> [th]ar ys ny[gh], and
lygge [th]ar al a [gh]er, [th]e tren teorne[th] ynto stoones.

Vndur [th]e cit'e of Chestre eorne[th] [th]e ryuer Dee, [th]at now
todele[th] Engelond and Wales. [Th]at ryuer euerych monthe {55}
chaunge[th] hys fordes, as men of [th]e contray telle[th], and leue[th]
ofte [th]e chanel. Bote whe[th]er [th]e water drawe more toward
Engelond o[th]er toward Wales, to what syde [th]at hyt be, [th]at
[gh]er men of [th]at syde schal habbe [th]e wors ende and be ouerset,
and [th]e men of [th]e o[th]er syde schal habbe [th]e betre ende and be
{60} at here aboue. Whanne [th]e water chaunge[th] so hys cours, hyt
bode[th] such happes. [Th]is ryuer Dee eorne[th] and come[th] out of a
lake [th]at hatte Pimbilmere. Yn [th]e ryuer ys gret plent'e of samon.
No[th]eles in [th]e lake ys neuer samon yfounde.


B. THE LANGUAGES OF BRITAIN.

CHAP. lix.

As hyt ys yknowe hou[gh] meny maner people bu[th] in [th]is ylond,
[th]er bu[th] also of so meny people longages and tonges. No[th]eles
Walschmen and Scottes, [th]at bu[th] no[gh]t ymelled wi[th] o[th]er
nacions, holde[th] wel ny[gh] here furste longage and speche, bote
[gh]ef Scottes, [th]at were som tyme confederat and wonede {5}
wi[th] [th]e Pictes, drawe somwhat after here speche. Bote [th]e
Flemmynges [th]at wone[th] in [th]e west syde of Wales habbe[th] yleft
here strange speche, and speke[th] Saxonlych ynow. Also Englysch
men, [th]ey[gh] hy hadde fram [th]e bygynnyng [th]re maner speche,
Sou[th]eron, Nor[th]eron, and Myddel speche in [th]e {10} myddel of
[th]e lond, as hy come of [th]re maner people of Germania, no[th]eles
by commyxstion and mellyng, furst wi[th] Danes and afterward wi[th]
Normans, in menye [th]e contray longage ys apeyred, and som vse[th]
strange wlaffyng, chyteryng, harryng, and garryng grisbittyng. [Th]is
apeyryng of [th]e {15} bur[th]tonge ys bycause of twey [th]inges. On ys
for chyldern in scole, a[gh]enes [th]e vsage and manere of al o[th]er
nacions, bu[th] compelled for to leue here oune longage, and for to
construe here lessons and here [th]inges a Freynsch, and habbe[th]
su[th]the [th]e Normans come furst into Engelond. Also gentil men {20}
children bu[th] ytau[gh]t for to speke Freynsch fram tyme [th]at a
bu[th] yrokked in here cradel, and conne[th] speke and playe wi[th] a
child hys brouch; and oplondysch men wol lykne hamsylf to gentil men,
and fonde[th] wi[th] gret bysynes for to speke Freynsch, for to be more
ytold of. {25}

[[Th]ys manere was moche y-vsed tofore [th]e furste moreyn, and ys
se[th]the somdel ychaunged. For Iohan Cornwal, a mayster of gramere,
chayngede [th]e lore in gramerscole and construccion of Freynsch into
Englysch; and Richard Pencrych lurnede [th]at manere techyng of hym,
and o[th]er men of Pencrych, so [th]at {30} now, [th]e [gh]er of oure
Lord a [th]ousond [th]re hondred foure score and fyue, of [th]e secunde
kyng Richard after [th]e Conquest nyne, in al [th]e gramerscoles of
Engelond childern leue[th] Frensch, and construe[th] and lurne[th] an
Englysch, and habbe[th] [th]erby avauntage in on syde, and desavauntage
yn ano[th]er. {35} Here avauntage ys [th]at a lurne[th] here gramer yn
lasse tyme [th]an childern wer ywoned to do. Disavauntage ys [th]at
now childern of gramerscole conne[th] no more Frensch [th]an can here
lift heele, and [th]at ys harm for ham and a scholle passe [th]e se and
trauayle in strange londes, and in meny caas also. {40} Also gentil
men habbe[th] now moche yleft for to teche here childern Frensch.] Hyt
seme[th] a gret wondur hou[gh] Englysch, [th]at ys [th]e bur[th] tonge
of Englysch men, and here oune longage and tonge, ys so dyuers of soon
in [th]is ylond; and [th]e longage of Normandy ys comlyng of ano[th]er
lond, and ha[th] on maner {45} soon among al men [th]at speke[th]
hyt ary[gh]t in Engelond. [No[th]eles [th]er ys as meny dyuers maner
Frensch yn [th]e rem of Fraunce as ys dyuers manere Englysch in [th]e
rem of Engelond.]

Also of [th]e forseyde Saxon tonge, [th]at ys deled a [th]re, and ys
abyde scarslych wi[th] feaw vplondysch men, and ys gret {50} wondur,
for men of [th]e est wi[th] men of [th]e west, as hyt were vnder [th]e
same party of heuene, acorde[th] more in sounyng of speche [th]an men
of [th]e nor[th] wi[th] men of [th]e sou[th]. [Th]erfore hyt ys [th]at
Mercii, [th]at bu[th] men of myddel Engelond, as hyt were parteners
of [th]e endes, vndurstonde[th] betre [th]e syde {55} longages,
Nor[th]eron and Sou[th]eron, [th]an Nor[th]eron and Sou[th]eron
vndurstonde[th] ey[th]er o[th]er.

Al [th]e longage of [th]e Nor[th]humbres, and specialych at [Gh]ork, ys
so scharp, slyttyng, and frotyng, and vnschape, [th]at we Sou[th]eron
men may [th]at longage vnne[th]e vndurstonde. Y trowe {60} [th]at
[th]at ys bycause [th]at a bu[th] ny[gh] to strange men and aliens,
[th]at speke[th] strangelych, and also bycause [th]at [th]e kynges of
Engelond wone[th] alwey fer fram [th]at contray; for a bu[th] more
yturnd to [th]e sou[th] contray, and [gh]ef a go[th] to [th]e nor[th]
contray, a go[th] wi[th] gret help and strengthe. {65}

[Th]e cause why a bu[th] more in [th]e sou[th] contray [th]an in [th]e
nor[th] may be betre cornlond, more people, more noble cyt'es, and more
profytable hauenes.




XIV

POLITICAL PIECES


In the thirteenth century political poems were written chiefly in Latin
or French. In the fourteenth century a steadily growing tendency to use
English witnesses the increased interest of the people in politics and
social questions. The fullest collections are those edited by T. Wright,
_Political Songs of England_ (John to Edward II), Camden Society, 1839;
and _Political Poems and Songs_ (Edward III to Richard III), Rolls
Series, 2 vols., 1859-61.

The selections A and B are from the poems of Laurence Minot, of which
the best edition is the third by J. Hall, Oxford 1914. Minot was a
better patriot than a poet, and his boisterous contempt for the Scots
and French reflects the spirit of England in the early days of Edward
III's greatness.

The empty phrases in which the anonymous piece C abounds do not disguise
a note of despair. The long war with France was becoming more and more
hopeless. The plague that added to its miseries had carried off Henry,
first Duke of Lancaster, in 1361. The Black Prince, to whom the nation
looked for guidance, had died in 1376. The inglorious old age of Edward
III ended in the following year. But there remained the hope, soon to be
falsified, that the boy king Richard II would steer the ship of state to
safety.

D is the earliest text of the letter which John Ball addressed to the
Essex members of the Great Society of Peasants on the eve of the revolt
of 1381. It shows how deep an impression the characters and allegorical
form of _Piers Plowman_ had made on the oppressed serfs and labourers,
and it gives some idea of the vague and incoherent thinking that brought
ruin on their enterprise. Ball, who had defied established authority all
his life, was freed from prison by the rebels, became a ringleader, and
preached to their assembly on Blackheath a famous sermon with the text:

      When Adam dalf, and Eve span,
      Who was then the gentleman?

A few weeks later he was executed by sentence of Lord Chief Justice
Tressilian, who had been charged by the King to take vengeance on the
rebels.

The distich E sums up briefly the history of a year which turned
moderate men against Richard II. A fuller contemporary picture of the
events that led to his deposition is found in the alliterative poem
_Richard the Redeles_, attributed by Skeat to the author of _Piers
Plowman_.


A. ON THE SCOTS (ABOUT 1333).

BY LAURENCE MINOT.

MS. Cotton Galba E. ix (about 1425), f. 52 a.

      _Now for to tell [gh]ou will I turn
      Of batayl of Banocburn_

      Skottes out of Berwik and of Abirdene
      At [th]e Bannokburn war [gh]e to kene;
      [Th]are slogh [gh]e many sakles, als it was sene,
      And now has King Edward wroken it, I wene.
        It es wrokin, I wene, wele wurth [th]e while!                  5
        War [gh]it with [th]e Skottes for [th]ai er ful of gile!

      Whare er [gh]e Skottes of Saint Iohnes toune?
      [Th]e boste of [gh]owre baner es betin all doune.
      When [gh]e bosting will bede, Sir Edward es boune
      For to kindel [gh]ow care, and crak [gh]owre crowne.            10
        He has crakked [gh]owre croune, wele worth [th]e while
        Schame bityde [th]e Skottes, for [th]ai er full of gile!

      Skottes of Striflin war steren and stout,
      Of God ne of gude men had [th]ai no dout.
      Now haue [th]ai, [th]e pelers, priked obout,                    15
      Bot at [th]e last Sir Edward rifild [th]aire rout.
        He has rifild [th]aire rout, wele wurth [th]e while!
        Bot euer er [th]ai vnder bot gaudes and gile.

      Rughfute riueling, now kindels [th]i care;
      Berebag with [th]i boste, [th]i biging es bare;                 20
      Fals wretche and forsworn, whider wiltou fare?
      Busk [th]e vnto Brig, and abide [th]are.
        [Th]are, wretche, saltou won, and wery [th]e while;
        [Th]i dwelling in Dond'e es done for [th]i gile.

      [Th]e Skottes gase in Burghes and betes [th]e stretes;          25
      Al [th]ise Inglis men harmes he hetes;
      Fast makes he his mone to men [th]at he metes,
      Bot fone frendes he findes [th]at his bale betes.
        Fune betes his bale, wele wurth [th]e while!
        He vses al threting with gaudes and gile.                     30

      Bot many man thretes and spekes ful ill
      [Th]at sum tyme war better to be stane--still.
      [Th]e Skot in his wordes has wind for to spill,
      For at [th]e last Edward sall haue al his will.
        He had his will at Berwik, wele wurth [th]e while!            35
        Skottes broght him [th]e kayes,--bot get for [th]aire gile.


B. THE TAKING OF CALAIS (1347).

BY LAURENCE MINOT.

MS. Cotton Galba E. ix (about 1425), f. 55 b.

      _How Edward als [th]e romance sais
      Held his sege bifor Calais._

      Calays men, now mai [gh]e care,
      And murni<n>g mun [gh]e haue to mede;
      Mirth on mold get [gh]e no mare,
      Sir Edward sall ken [gh]ow [gh]owre crede.
      Whilum war [gh]e wight in wede                               5
      To robbing rathly for to ren;
      Mend [gh]ow sone of [gh]owre misdede:
      [Gh]owre care es cumen, will [gh]e it ken.

      Kend it es how [gh]e war kene
      Al Inglis men with dole to dere.                            10
      [Th]aire gudes toke [gh]e al bidene,
      No man born wald [gh]e forbere.
      [Gh]e spared noght with swerd ne spere
      To stik [th]am, and [th]aire gudes to stele.
      With wapin and with ded of were                             15
      [Th]us haue [gh]e wonnen werldes wele.

      Weleful men war [gh]e iwis,
      Bot fer on fold sall [gh]e noght fare:
      A bare sal now abate [gh]owre blis
      And wirk [gh]ow bale on bankes bare.                        20
      He sall [gh]ow hunt, als hund dose hare,
      [Th]at in no hole sall [gh]e [gh]ow hide;
      For all [gh]owre speche will he noght spare,
      Bot bigges him right by [gh]owre side.

      Biside [gh]ow here [th]e bare bigins                        25
      To big his boure in winter tyde,
      And all bityme takes he his ines
      With semly se<r>gantes him biside.
      [Th]e word of him walkes ful wide--
      Iesu saue him fro mischance!                                30
      In bataill dar he wele habide
      Sir Philip and Sir Iohn of France.

      [Th]e Franche men er fers and fell,
      And mase grete dray when [th]ai er dight;
      Of [th]am men herd slike tales tell,                        35
      With Edward think [th]ai for to fight,
      Him for to hald out of his right,
      And do him treson with [th]aire tales:
      [Th]at was [th]aire purpos, day and night,
      Bi counsail of [th]e Cardinales.                            40

      Cardinales with hattes rede
      War fro Calays wele thre myle;
      [Th]ai toke [th]aire counsail in [th]at stede
      How [th]ai might Sir Edward bigile.
      [Th]ai lended [th]are bot litill while                      45
      Till Franche men to grante [th]aire grace:
      Sir Philip was funden a file,
      He fled and faght noght in [th]at place.

      In [th]at place [th]e bare was blith,
      For all was funden [th]at he had soght.                     50
      Philip [th]e Valas fled ful swith
      With [th]e batail [th]at he had broght.
      For to haue Calays had he thoght
      All at his ledeing, loud or still;
      Bot all [th]aire wiles war for noght:                       55
      Edward wan it at his will.

      Lystens now, and [gh]e may lere,
      Als men [th]e suth may vnderstand,
      [Th]e knightes [th]at in Calais were
      Come to Sir Edward sare wepeand.                            60
      In kirtell one, and swerd in hand,
      And cried, 'Sir Edward, [th]ine <we> are.
      Do now, lord, bi law of land
      [Th]i will with vs for euermare'.

      [Th]e nobill burgase and [th]e best                         65
      Come vnto him to haue [th]aire hire.
      [Th]e comun puple war ful prest
      Rapes to bring obout [th]aire swire.
      [Th]ai said all: 'Sir Philip, oure syre,
      And his sun, Sir Iohn of France,                            70
      Has left vs ligand in [th]e mire,
      And broght vs till [th]is doleful dance.

      Our horses [th]at war faire and fat
      Er etin vp ilkone bidene;
      Haue we now[th]er conig ne cat                              75
      [Th]at [th]ai ne er etin, and hundes kene
      Al er etin vp ful clene--
      Es nowther leuid biche ne whelp--
      [Th]at es wele on oure sembland sene,
      And [th]ai er fled [th]at suld vs help.'                    80

      A knight [th]at was of grete renowne--
      Sir Iohn de Viene was his name--
      He was wardaine of [th]e toune
      And had done Ingland mekill schame.
      For all [th]aire boste [th]ai er to blame,                  85
      Ful stalworthly [th]are haue [th]ai streuyn.
      A bare es cumen to mak [th]am tame,
      Kayes of [th]e toun to him er gifen.

      [Th]e kaies er [gh]olden him of [th]e [gh]ate,--
      Lat him now kepe [th]am if he kun.                          90
      To Calais cum [th]ai all to late,
      Sir Philip, and Sir Iohn his sun.
      Al war ful ferd [th]at [th]are ware fun,
      [Th]aire leders may [th]ai barely ban.
      All on [th]is wise was Calais won:                          95
      God saue [th]am [th]at it sogat wan!


C. ON THE DEATH OF EDWARD III, A.D. 1377.

Bodleian MS. Vernon (about 1400), f. 4106.

      A! dere God, what mai [th]is be,
      [Th]at alle [th]ing weres and waste[th] awai?
      Frendschip is but a vanyt'e,
      Vnne[th]e hit dures al a day.
      [Th]ei beo so sliper at assai,                               5
      So leof to han, and lo[th] to lete,
      And so fikel in heore fai,
      [Th]at selden isei[gh]e is sone for[gh]ete.

      I sei hit not wi[th]outen a cause,
      And [th]erfore takes riht good hede,                        10
      For [gh]if [gh]e construwe wel [th]is clause,
      I puit [gh]ou holly out of drede
      [Th]at for puire schame [gh]or hertes wol blede
      And [gh]e [th]is matere wysli trete:
      He [th]at was vr moste spede                                15
      Is selden iseye and sone for[gh]ete.

      Sum tyme an Englisch schip we had,
      Nobel hit was and heih of tour,
      [Th]orw al Cristendam hit was drad,
      And stif wolde stande in vch a stour,                       20
      And best dorst byde a scharp schour,
      And o[th]er stormes, smale and grete.
      Now is [th]at schip, [th]at bar [th]e flour,
      Selden se[gh]e and sone for[gh]ete.

      Into [th]at schip [th]er longed a roo[th]ur                 25
      [Th]at steered [th]e schip and gouerned hit;
      In al [th]is world nis such ano[th]ur,
      As me [th]inke[th] in my wit.
      Whyl schip and ro[th]ur togeder was knit,
      [Th]ei dredde nou[th]er tempest, druy[gh]e nor wete;        30
      Nou be [th]ei bo[th]e in synder flit,
      [Th]at selden sey[gh]e is sone for[gh]ete.

      Scharpe wawes [th]at schip has sayled,
      And sayed alle sees at auentur.
      For wynt ne wederes neuer hit fayled                        35
      Whil [th]e ro[th]ur mihte enduir.
      [Th]ou[gh] [th]e see were rouh or elles dimuir,
      Gode hauenes [th]at schip wolde gete.
      Nou is [th]at schip, I am wel suir,
      Selde iseye and sone for[gh]ete.                            40

      [Th]is goode schip I may remene
      To [th]e chiualrye of [th]is londe;
      Sum tyme [th]ei counted nou[gh]t a bene
      Beo al Fraunce, ich vnderstonde.
      [Th]ei tok and slou[gh] hem with heore honde,               45
      [Th]e power of Fraunce, bo[th] smal and grete,
      And brou[gh]t [th]e king hider to byde her bonde:
      And nou riht sone hit is for[gh]ete.

      [Th]at schip hadde a ful siker mast,
      And a sayl strong and large,                                50
      [Th]at made [th]e gode schip neuer agast
      To vndertake a [th]ing of charge;
      And to [th]at schip [th]er longed a barge
      Of al Fraunce [gh]af nou[gh]t a clete;
      To vs hit was a siker targe,                                55
      And now riht clene hit is for[gh]ete.

      [Th]e ro[th]ur was nou[th]er ok ne elm,--
      Hit was Edward [th]e [Th]ridde, [th]e noble kniht.
      [Th]e Prince his sone bar vp his helm,
      [Th]at neuer scoumfited was in fiht.                        60
      The Kyng him rod and rouwed ariht;
      [Th]e Prince dredde nou[th]ur stok nor strete.
      Nou of hem we lete ful liht:
      [Th]at selde is se[gh]e is sone for[gh]ete.

      [Th]e swifte barge was Duk Henri,                           65
      [Th]at noble kniht and wel assayed,
      And in his leggaunce wor[th]ili
      He abod mony a bitter brayd.
      [Gh]if [th]at his enemys ou[gh]t outrayed,
      To chastis hem wolde he not lete.                           70
      Nou is [th]at lord ful lowe ileyd:
      [Th]at selde is se[gh]e is sone for[gh]ete.

      [Th]is gode Comunes, bi [th]e rode!
      I likne hem to the schipes mast,
      [Th]at with heore catel and heore goode                     75
      Mayntened [th]e werre bo[th] furst and last,
      [Th]e wynd [th]at bleu[gh] [th]e schip wi[th] blast
      Hit was gode pre[gh]ers, I sei hit atrete.
      Nou is deuoutnes out icast,
      And mony gode dedes ben clen for[gh]ete.                    80

      [Th]us ben [th]is lordes ileid ful lowe:
      [Th]e stok is of [th]e same rote;
      An ympe biginnes for to growe
      And [gh]it I hope schal ben vr bote,
      To holde his fomen vnder fote,                              85
      And as a lord be set in sete.
      Crist leue [th]at he so mote,
      [Th]at selden ise[gh]e be not for[gh]ete!

      Weor [th]at impe fully growe,
      [Th]at he had sarri sap and pi[th],                         90
      I hope he schulde be kud and knowe
      For conquerour of moni a ki[th].
      He is ful lyflich in lyme and li[th]
      In armes to trauayle and to swete.
      Crist leeue we so fare him wi[th]                           95
      [Th]at selden se[gh]e be neuer for[gh]ete!

      And [th]erfore holliche I ou rede,
      Til [th]at [th]is ympe beo fully growe,
      [Th]at vch a mon vp wi[th] [th]e hede
      And mayntene him, bo[th]e hei[gh]e and lowe.               100
      [Th]e Frensche men cunne bo[th]e boste and blowe,
      And wi[th] heore scornes vs to[th]rete,
      And we beo[th] bo[th]e vnkuynde and slowe,
      [Th]at selden se[gh]e is sone for[gh]ete.

      And [th]erfore, gode sires, take[th] reward                105
      Of [gh]or douhti kyng [th]at dy[gh]ede in age,
      And to his sone, Prince Edward,
      [Th]at welle was of alle corage.
      Suche two lordes of hei[gh] parage
      I not in eor[th]e whon we schal gete;                      110
      And nou heore los biginne[th] to swage,
      [Th]at selde ise[gh]e is sone for[gh]ete.

[Foot-note: 42 chilualrye _MS._]

[Foot-note: 110 I] In _MS._]


D. JOHN BALL'S LETTER TO THE PEASANTS
OF ESSEX, 1381.

St. Albans MS. British Museum Royal 13. E. ix (about 1400), f. 287 a.

Iohon Schep, som tyme Seynte Marie prest of [Gh]ork, and now of
Colchestre, greteth wel Iohan Nameles, and Iohan [th]e Mullere,
and Iohon Cartere, and bidde[th] hem [th]at [th]ei bee war of gyle
in borugh, and stondeth togidre in Godes name, and bidde[th] Peres
Plou[gh]man go to his werk, and chastise {5} wel Hobbe [th]e Robbere,
and take[th] wi[th] [gh]ow Iohan Trewman, and alle hiis felawes, and no
mo, and loke schappe [gh]ou to on heued, and no mo.

          Iohan [th]e Mullere ha[th] ygrounde smal, smal, smal;
        [Th]e Kynges sone of heuene schal paye for al.                10
        Be war or _y_e be wo;
        Knowe[th] [gh]our freend fro [gh]our foo;
        Haueth ynow, and seith 'Hoo';
        And do wel and bettre, and fleth synne,
        And seke[th] pees, and hold [gh]ou [th]erinne;                15

and so bidde[th] Iohan Trewman and alle his felawes.

[Foot-note: 4 togidre] togidedre _MS._]

[Foot-note: 11 ye] [th]e _MS._]


E. ON THE YEAR 1390-1.

St. John's College (Oxford) MS. 209, f. 57 a.

      The ax was sharpe, the stokke was harde,
      In the xiiii yere of Kyng Richarde.




XV

MISCELLANEOUS PIECES IN VERSE


Under this head are grouped a number of short poems, representing forms
of composition that survive only by fortunate chance.

A is a curious little song, which has been printed from Hale MS. 135 by
G. E. Woodbine in _Modern Language Review_, vol. iv, p. 236, and
reconstructed by Skeat at vol. v, p. 105, of the same periodical.

B and C are the best-known lyrics of the important collection edited by
Boeddeker, _Altenglische Dichtungen des MS. Harley 2253_, Berlin 1878.
They are literary and rather artificial in form.

D and E are minstrels' songs found, among other popular snatches, on a
fly-leaf of Bodleian MS. Rawlinson D. 913, and edited by Heuser in
_Anglia_, vol. xxx, p. 173. In E lines 14-16 and ll. 17-19 are to be
expanded on the model of ll. 7-13.

All these songs are early, and have a lightness and gaiety that become
rare as the fourteenth century advances.

F is one of several English scraps (ed. Furnivall in _Political,
Religious, and Love Poems_, E.E.T.S., pp. 249 ff.) that are found
scattered through the Latin text of MS. Harley 7322. Most of the English
pieces are without poetical merit, but in this one poem the writer has
attained a perfect simplicity.

G, printed in Wright and Halliwell's _Reliquiae Antiquae_, 1845, vol. i,
p. 144, has been recognized as the first of the English ballads. It is
the only example before 1400 of the swift and dramatic movement, the
sudden transitions, and the restrained expression, characteristic of the
ballad style.

H, first printed in _Reliquiae Antiquae_, vol. i, p. 240, is the latest
of the short pieces. With onomatopoeic effects it gives a vivid if
unfriendly picture of a blacksmith's forge on a busy night.

I is a charm edited by Furnivall at p. 43 of the E.E.T.S. volume in
which F appears.


A. NOW SPRINGS THE SPRAY.

Lincoln's Inn MS. Hale 135 (about 1300).

      _Nou sprinkes [th]e sprai,
      Al for loue icche am so seek
      [Th]at slepen I ne mai._

        Als I me rode [th]is endre dai
      O mi playinge,                       5
      Seih I hwar a litel mai
      Bigan to singge:
      '[Th]e clot him clingge!
      Wai es him i louue-longinge
      Sal libben ai!'                     10
        _Nou sprinkes, &c._

      Son icche herde [th]at mirie note,
      _[Th]_ider I drogh;
      I fonde hire in an herber swot
      Vnder a bogh,
      With ioie inogh.                    15
      Son I asked: '[Th]ou mirie mai,
      Hwi sinkestou ai?'
        _Nou sprinkes, &c._

      [Th]an answerde [th]at maiden swote
      Midde wordes fewe:
      'Mi lemman me haues bihot           20
      Of louue trewe:
      He chaunges anewe.
      _Y_iif I mai, it shal him rewe
      Bi [th]is dai.'
        _Nou sprinkes, &c._

[Foot-note: 4 [Th]is endre dai als I me rode _MS.; corr. Skeat_.]

[Foot-note: 5 playinge] _indistinct_.]

[Foot-note: 8 clingge] clingges _MS._]


B. SPRING.

MS. Harley 2253 (about 1325), f. 71 b.

      Lenten ys come wi[th] loue to toune,
      Wi[th] blosmen and wi[th] briddes roune,
        [Th]at al [th]is blisse brynge[th].
      Dayese[gh]es in [th]is dales,
      Notes suete of nyhtegales,                          5
        Vch foul song singe[th].
      [Th]e [th]restelcoc him [th]rete[th] oo,
      Away is huere wynter wo,
        When woderoue springe[th].
      [Th]is foules singe[th] ferly fele,                10
      Ant wlyte[th] on huere [+]wynter[+] wele,
        [Th]at al [th]e wode rynge[th].

      [Th]e rose rayle[th] hire rode,
      [Th]e leues on [th]e lyhte wode
        Waxen al wi[th] wille.                           15
      [Th]e mone mande[th] hire bleo,
      [Th]e lilie is lossom to seo,
        [Th]e fenyl and [th]e fille.
      Wowes [th]is wilde drakes;
      [+]Miles[+] murge[th] huere makes,                 20
        Ase strem [th]at strike[th] stille.
      Mody mene[th], so do_[th]_ mo--
      Ichot ycham on of [th]o,
        For loue [th]at likes ille.

      [Th]e mone mande[th] hire lyht;                    25
      So do[th] [th]e semly sonne bryht,
        When briddes singe[th] breme.
      Deawes donke[th] [th]e dounes;
      Deores wi[th] huere derne rounes,
        Domes for te deme;                               30
      Wormes wowe[th] vnder cloude;
      Wymmen waxe[th] wounder proude,
        So wel hit wol hem seme.
      [Gh]ef me shal wonte wille of on,
      [Th]is wunne weole y wole forgon,                  35
        Ant wyht in wode be fleme.

[Foot-note: 22 do[th]] doh _MS._]


C. ALYSOUN.

MS. Harley 2253, f. 63 b.

      Bytuene Mersh and Aueril,
        When spray biginne[th] to springe,
      [Th]e lutel foul ha[th] hire wyl
        On hyre lud to synge.
        Ich libbe in loue-longinge                     5
        For semlokest of alle [th]ynge;
        He may me blisse bringe--
          Icham in hire baundoun.
            _An hendy hap ichabbe yhent;
            Ichot from heuene it is me sent;          10
            From alle wymmen mi loue is lent,
                And lyht on Alysoun._

      On heu hire her is fayr ynoh,
        Hire browe broune, hire e[gh]e blake;
      Wi[th] lossum chere he on me loh,               15
        Wi[th] middel smal and wel ymake.
        Bote he me wolle to hire take,
        For te buen hire owen make,
        Longe to lyuen ichulle forsake,
          And feye fallen adoun.                      20
            _An hendy hap, &c._

      Nihtes when y wende and wake,
        For[th]i myn wonges waxe[th] won,
      Leuedi, al for [th]ine sake
        Longinge is ylent me on.
        In world nis non so wyter mon                 25
        [Th]at al hire bount'e telle con;
        Hire swyre is whittore [th]en [th]e swon,
          And feyrest may in toune.
            _An hend<y hap>, &c._

      Icham for wowyng al forwake,
        Wery so water in wore,                        30
      Lest eny reue me my make,
        Ychabbe y[gh]yrned [gh]ore.
        Betere is [th]olien whyle sore
        [Th]en mournen euermore.
        Geynest vnder gore,                           35
          Herkne to my roun.
            _An hendi <hap ichabbe yhent;
            Ichot from heuene it is me sent;
            From alle wymmen mi loue is lent,
                And lyht on Alysoun>._                40


D. THE IRISH DANCER.

Bodleian MS. Rawlinson D. 913.

      Icham of Irlaunde,
      Ant of the holy londe
          Of Irlande.
      Gode sire, pray ich _[th]_e,
      For of saynte charit'e,                          5
      Come ant daunce wyt me
          In Irlaunde.

[Foot-note: 4 [th]e] [gh]e _MS._]


E. THE MAID OF THE MOOR.

Bodleian MS. Rawlinson D. 913.

      Maiden in the mor lay,
          In the mor lay,
      Seuenyst fulle, seuenist fulle,
      Maiden in the mor lay,
          In the mor lay,                              5
      Seuenistes fulle ant a day.

      Welle wa_s_ hire mete;
          Wat was hire mete?
          [Th]e primerole ant the,--
          [Th]e primerole ant the,--                  10
      Welle was hire mete;
      Wat was hire mete?--
          The primerole ant the violet.

      Welle <was hire dryng>;
          Wat was hire dryng?                         15
      [Th]e chelde water of <[th]e> welle-spring.

      Welle was hire bour;
          Wat was hire bour?
      [Th]e rede rose an te lilie flour.

[Foot-note: 7 was] wat _MS._]


F. THE VIRGIN'S SONG.

British Museum MS. Harley 7322 (about 1375), f. 135 b.

      Iesu, swete sone dere!
        On porful bed list [th]ou here,
      And [th]at me greue[th] sore;
      For [th]i cradel is ase a bere,
      Oxe and asse be[th] [th]i fere:
        Weepe ich mai [th]arfore.
      Iesu, swete, beo noth wro[th],
      [Th]ou ich nabbe clout ne clo[th]
        [Th]e on for to folde,
        [Th]e on to folde ne to wrappe,                  10
      For ich nabbe clout ne lappe;
      Bote ley [th]ou [th]i fet to my pappe,
        And wite [th]e from [th]e colde.


G. JUDAS.

Trinity College (Cambridge) MS. B. 14. 39 (about 1300), f. 34 a.

      Hit wes upon a Scere [Th]orsday [th]at vre Louerd aros;
      Ful milde were [th]e wordes He spec to Iudas:

      Iudas, [th]ou most to Iurselem, oure mete for to bugge;
      [Th]ritti platen of seluer [th]ou bere upo [th]i rugge.

      [Th]ou comest fer i [th]e brode stret, fer i [th]e brode
          strete;                                                      5
      Summe of [th]ine cunesmen [th]er [th]ou meist imete.

      Imette wid is soster, [th]e swikele wimon:
      'Iudas, [th]ou were wr[th]e me stende [th]e wid ston, (_bis_)
      For [th]e false prophete [th]at tou bileuest upon.'

      'Be stille, leue soster, [th]in herte [th]e tobreke!            10
      Wiste min Louerd Crist, ful wel He wolde be wreke.'

      'Iudas, go [th]ou on [th]e roc, heie upon [th]e ston,
      Lei [th]in heued i my barm, slep [th]ou [th]e anon.'

      Sone so Iudas of slepe was awake,
      [Th]ritti platen of seluer from hym weren itake.                15

      He drou hymselve bi [th]e top, [th]at al it lauede a blode;
      [Th]e Iewes out of Iurselem awenden he were wode.

      Foret hym com [th]e riche Ieu [th]at heiste Pilatus:
      'Wolte sulle [th]i Louerd, [th]at hette Iesus?'

      'I nul sulle my Louerd for nones cunnes eiste,                  20
      Bote hit be for [th]e [th]ritti platen [th]at He me bitaiste.'

      'Wolte sulle [th]i Lord Crist for enes cunnes golde?'
      'Nay, bote hit be for [th]e platen [th]at He habben wolde.'

      In him com ur Lord gon, as is postles seten at mete:
      'Wou sitte ye, postles, ant wi nule ye ete? (_bis_)             25
      Ic am iboust ant isold today for oure mete.'

      Up stod him Iudas: 'Lord, am I [th]at?
      I nas neuer o [th]e stude [th]er me [Th]e euel spec.'

      Up him stod Peter, ant spec wid al is miste:
      '[Th]au Pilatus him come wid ten hundred cnistes, (_bis_)       30
      Yet ic wolde, Louerd, for [Th]i loue fiste.'

      'Stille [th]ou be, Peter! Wel I [th]e icnowe;
      [Th]ou wolt fursake me [th]rien ar [th]e coc him crowe.'


H. THE BLACKSMITHS.

British Museum MS. Arundel 292 (about 1425-50), f. 71 b.

      Swarte smekyd sme[th]es smateryd wyth smoke
      Dryue me to deth wyth den of here dyntes.
      Swech noys on nyghtes ne herd men neuer:
      What knauene cry and clateryng of knockes!
      [Th]e cammede kongons cryen after 'col, col!'                    5
      And blowen here bellewys, [th]at al here brayn brestes:
      'Huf, puf!' seith [th]at on; 'haf, paf!' [th]at o[th]er.
      [Th]ei spyttyn and spraulyn and spellyn many spelles;
      [Th]ei gnauen and gnacchen, [th]ei gronys togydere,
      And holdyn hem hote wyth here hard hamers.                      10
      Of a bole-hyde ben here barm-fellys;
      Here schankes ben schakeled for the fere flunderys;
      Heuy hamerys [th]ei han, [th]at hard ben handled,
      Stark strokes [th]ei stryken on a stelyd stokke:
      Lus, bus! las, das! rowtyn be rowe.                             15
      Swech dolful a dreme [th]e deuyl it todryue!
      [Th]e mayster longith a lityl, and lascheth a lesse,
      Twyneth hem tweyn, and towchith a treble:
      Tik, tak! hic, hac! tiket, taket! tyk, tak!
      Lus, bus! lus, das! swych lyf thei ledyn                        20
      Alle clo[th]emerys: Cryst hem gyue sorwe!
      May no man for brenwaterys on nyght han hys rest!


I. RATS AWAY.

Bodleian MS. Rawlinson C. 288, f. 113 (15th-century writing, blurred).

      I comawnde alle [th]e ratones [th]at are here abowte,
      [Th]at non dwelle in [th]is place, withinne ne withowte,
      Thorgh [th]e vertu of Iesu Crist, [th]at Mary bare abowte,
      [Th]at alle creatures owyn for to lowte,
      And thorgh [th]e vertu of Mark, Mathew, Luke, an Ion,--          5
      Alle foure Awangelys corden into on,--
      Thorgh [th]e vertu of Sent Geretrude, [th]at mayde clene,
          God graunte [th]at grace
          [Th]at <non> raton dwelle in [th]e place
      [Th]at here namis were nemeled in;                              10
      And thorgh [th]e vertu of Sent Kasi,
      [Th]at holy man, [th]at prayed to God Almyty
          For skathes [th]at [th]ei deden
          Hys medyn
      Be dayes and be ny[gh]t,                                        15
      God bad hem flen and gon out of euery manesse sy[gh]t.
      _Dominus Deus Sabaot!_ Emanuel, [th]e gret Godes name!
      I betweche [th]es place from ratones and from alle o[th]er
          schame.
      God saue [th]is place fro alle o[th]er wykked wytes,
      Bo[th]e be dayes and be nytes! _et in nomine Patris et
          Filii_,                                                     20
      &c.

[Foot-note: 13 skathes] t _altered from_ f (?) _MS._]




XVI

THE YORK PLAY 'HARROWING OF HELL'

British Museum MS. Addit. 35290 (about 1430-40), f. 193 b.


The miracle play _Harrowing of Hell_ is assigned to the craft of
Saddlers in the York cycle, edited by Miss L. Toulmin-Smith, Oxford
1885, pp. 372 ff. This is the text reproduced below. It is also found,
though in a less perfect form, among the _Towneley Plays_, ed. England
and Pollard, E.E.T.S., 1897, pp. 293 ff.

All the mediaeval stories of Christ's Descent into Hell are based on the
gospel of Nicodemus, which seems to date from the fourth century, though
the legend is referred to nearly two centuries earlier. This apocryphal
narrative was popular throughout the Middle Ages. There is a prose
translation in late Anglo-Saxon, and a Middle English verse rendering
supplies some of the phrases in the play.

Two points deserve notice for their bearing on the development of
miracles. A trace of their origin in the services of the Church is seen
in the use made of the Scriptural passage 'Attollite portas, principes,
vestras, et elevamini portae aeternales, et introibit rex gloriae', the
dramatic possibilities of which were recognized in ritual from an early
date. And the growing taste for comic scenes is met, without prejudice
to the serious characters, by the rudimentary buffoonery of the Devil
and his companions.


DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

      ADAME
      EUA
      ISAIAH
      SYMEON
      IESUS
      IOHANNES BAPTISTA
      MOYSES
      BELSABUB
      SATTAN
      DAUID
      BELLIALL
      MICHILL (Archangel)
      PRIMUS DIABOLUS
      SECUNDUS DIABOLUS


[SCENE I, _outside the gates of Hell_.]

      1. <_Iesus._ M>anne on molde, be meke to me,
      And haue thy Maker in [th]i mynde,
      And thynke howe I haue tholid for [th]e
      With pereles paynes for to be pyned.
      The forward of my Fadir free                          5
      Haue I fulfillid, as folke may fynde,
      [Th]erfore aboute nowe woll I bee
      [Th]at I haue bought for to vnbynde.
      [Th]e feende [th]ame wanne with trayne,
      Thurgh frewte of erthely foode;                      10
      I haue [th]ame getyn agayne
      Thurgh bying with my bloode.

      2. And so I schall [th]at steede restore
      F_ro_ whilke [th]e feende fell for synne;
      [Th]are schalle mankynde wonne euermore              15
      In blisse [th]at schall neuere blynne.
      All [th]at in werke my werkemen were,
      Owte of thare woo I wol [th]ame wynne,
      And some signe schall I sende before
      Of grace, to garre [th]er gamys begynne.             20
      A light I woll [th]ei haue
      To schewe [th]ame I schall come sone;
      My bodie bidis in graue
      Tille alle thes dedis be done.

      3. My Fadir ordand on [th]is wise                    25
      Aftir His will [th]at I schulde wende,
      For to fulfille [th]e prophicye<s>,
      And als I spake my solace to spende.
      My frendis, [th]at in me faith affies,
      Nowe fro ther fois I schall [th]ame fende,           30
      And on the thirde day ryght vprise,
      And so tille heuen I schall assende.
      Sithen schall I come agayne
      To deme bothe goode and ill
      Tille endles ioie or peyne;                          35
      [Th]us is my Fadris will.

[SCENE II, _Hell; at one side Limbo, enclosing the
patriarchs and prophets; a light shines across_.]

      4. _Adame._ Mi bretheren, harkens to me here,
      Swilke hope of heele neuere are we hadde.
      Foure thowsande and sex hundereth [gh]ere
      Haue we bene heere in [+][th]is stedde[+].           40
      Nowe see I signe of solace seere,
      A glorious gleme to make vs gladde,
      Wherfore I hope oure helpe is nere,
      And sone schall sesse oure sorowes sadde.
      _Eua._ Adame, my husband hende,                      45
      [Th]is menys solas certayne;
      Such light gune on vs lende
      In Paradise full playne.

      5. _Isaiah._ Adame, we schall wele vndirstande;
      I, Ysaias, as God me kende,                          50
      I prechid in Neptalym [th]at lande,
      And [Gh]abulon, even vntill ende.
      I spake of folke in mirke walkand,
      And saide a light schulde on [th]ame lende;
      This lered I whils I was leuand,                     55
      Nowe se I God [th]is same hath sende.
      [Th]is light comes all of Criste,
      [Th]at seede, to saue vs nowe,
      [Th]us is my poynte puplisshid.
      But Symeon, what sais [th]ou?                        60

      6. _Symeon._ [Th]his, my tale of farleis feele,
      For in [th]is temple His frendis me fande;
      I hadde delite with Hym to dele,
      And halsed homely with my hande.
      I saide, 'Lorde, late thy seruaunt lele              65
      Passe nowe in pesse to liffe lastand,
      For nowe myselfe has sene Thy hele,
      Me liste no lengar to liffe in lande.'
      [Th]is light [Th]ou hast purueyed
      To folkes [th]at liffis in leede,                    70
      [Th]e same [th]at I [th]ame saide,
      I see fulfillid in dede.

      7. _Iohan. Baptista._ Als voyce criand to folke
          I kende
      [Th]e weyes of Criste, als I wele kanne;
      I baptiste Hym with bothe my hande                   75
      Euen in [th]e floode of flume Iordanne.
      [Th]e Holy Goste fro heuene discende
      Als a white dowue doune on Hym [th]anne;
      The Fadir voice, my mirthe to mende,
      Was made to me euen als manne,                       80
      'This is my Sone,' he saide,
      'In whome me paies full wele.'
      His light is on vs laide,
      He comes oure cares to kele.

      8. _Moyses._ Of [th]at same light lernyng haue I,    85
      To me Moyses He mustered his myght,
      And also vnto anodir, Hely,
      Wher we were on an hille on hight.
      Whyte as snowe was His body,
      And His face like to [th]e sonne to sight:           90
      No man on molde was so myghty
      Grathely to loke agaynste [th]at light;
      [Th]at same light se I nowe
      Shynyng on vs sarteyne,
      Wherfore trewly I trowe                              95
      We schalle sone passe fro payne.

      9. _i Diabolus._ Helpe! Belsabub! to bynde [th]er
          boyes,
      Such harrowe was neuer are herde in helle.
      _ii Diab._ Why rooris [th]ou soo, Rebalde? [th]ou
          royis;
      What is betidde, canne [th]ou ought telle?          100
      _i Diab._ What! heris [th]ou no[gh]t [th]is vggely
          noyse?
      [Th]es lurdans [th]at in Lymbo dwelle,
      [Th]ei make menyng of many ioies,
      And musteres grete mirthe [th]ame emell.
      _ii Diab._ Mirthe? nay, nay, [th]at poynte is
          paste,                                          105
      More hele schall [th]ei neuer haue.
      _i Diab._ [Th]ei crie on Criste full faste,
      And sais he schal [th]ame saue.

      10. _Belsabub._ [Gh]a, if he saue [th]ame noght, we
          schall,
      For they are sperde in speciall space;              110
      Whils I am prince and principall
      Schall [th]ei neuer passe oute of [th]is place.
      Calle vppe Astrotte and Anaball
      To giffe [th]er counsaille in [th]is case,
      Bele-Berit and Belial,                              115
      To marre [th]ame [th]at swilke maistries mase.
      Say to Satan oure sire,
      And bidde [th]ame bringe also
      Lucifer louely of lyre.
      _i Diab._ Al redy, lorde, I goo.                    120

      11. _Iesus [Without]._ _Attollite portas,
          principes_,
      Oppen vppe, [gh]e princes of paynes sere,
      _Et eleuamini eternales_,
      Youre yendles [gh]atis [th]at [gh]e haue here.
      _Sattan._ What page is [th]ere [th]at makes
          prees,                                          125
      And callis hym kyng of vs in fere?
      _Dauid [in Limbo]._ I lered leuand, withouten
          lees,
      He is a kyng of vertues clere.
      A! Lorde, mekill of myght,
      And stronge in ilke a stoure,                       130
      In batailes ferse to fight,
      And worthy to wynne honnoure.

      12. _Sattan._ Honnoure! in [th]e deuel way, for
          what dede?
      All erthely men to me are thrall;
      [Th]e lady [th]at calles hym lorde in leede         135
      Hadde neuer [gh]itt herberowe, house, ne halle.
      _i Diab._ Harke, Belsabub! I haue grete drede,
      For hydously I herde hym calle.
      _Belliall._ We! spere oure [gh]ates, all ill mot
          [th]ou spede!
      And sette furthe watches on [th]e wall.             140
      And if he calle or crie
      To make vs more debate,
      Lay on hym [th]an hardely,
      And garre hym gang his gate.

      13. _Sattan._ Telle me what boyes dare be so
          bolde                                           145
      For drede to make so mekill draye.
      _i Diab._ Itt is [th]e Iewe [th]at Iudas solde
      For to be dede, [th]is othir daye.
      _Sattan._ O we! [th]is tale in tyme is tolde,
      [Th]is traytoure traues<es> vs alway;               150
      He schall be here full harde in holde,
      Loke [th]at he passe noght, I [th]e praye.
      _ii Diab._ Nay, nay, he will no[gh]t wende
      Away or I be ware,
      He shappis hym for to schende                       155
      Alle helle, or he go ferre.

      14. _Sattan._ Nay, faitour, [th]erof schall he
          faile,
      For alle his fare I hym deffie;
      I knowe his trantis fro toppe to taile,
      He leuys with gaudis and with gilery.               160
      [Th]erby he brought oute of oure bale,
      Nowe late, La[gh]ar of Betannye,
      [Th]erfore I gaffe to [th]e Iewes counsaille
      [Th]at [th]ei schulde alway garre hym dye.
      I entered in Iudas                                  165
      [Th]at forwarde to fulfille,
      [Th]erfore his hire he has,
      Allway to wonne here stille.

      15. _Belsabub._ Sir Sattanne, sen we here [th]e
          saie
      [Th]at [th]ou and _[th]_e Iewes wer same
          assente,                                        170
      And wotte he wanne La[gh]ar awaye,
      [Th]at tille vs was tane for to tente,
      Trowe [th]ou [th]at [th]ou marre hym maye
      To mustir myghtis, what he has mente?
      If he nowe depriue vs of oure praye,                175
      We will [gh]e witte whanne [th]ei are wente.
      _Sattan._ I bidde [gh]ou be no[gh]t abasshed,
      But boldely make youe boune
      With toles [th]at [gh]e on traste,
      And dynge [th]at dastard doune.                     180

      16. _Iesus [Without]._ _Principes, portas tollite_,
      Vndo youre [gh]atis, [gh]e princis of pryde,
      _Et introibit rex glorie_,
      [Th]e kyng of blisse comes in [th]is tyde.
                         [_Enters the gates of Hell._
      _Sattan._ Owte! harrowe <what harlot> is hee        185
      [Th]at sais his kyngdome schall be cryed?
      _Dauid [in Limbo]._ [Th]at may [th]ou in my Sawter
          see
      For [th]at poynte _I_ prophicie<d>.
      I saide [th]at he schuld breke
      Youre barres and bandis by name,                    190
      And on youre werkis take wreke;
      Nowe schalle [gh]e see [th]e same.

      17. _Iesus._ [Th]is steede schall stonde no lenger
          stoken;
      Opynne vppe, and latte my pepul passe!
      _Diabolus._ Owte! beholdes, oure baill is
          brokynne,                                       195
      And brosten are alle oure bandis of bras.
      Telle Lucifer alle is vnlokynne.
      _Belsabub._ What [th]anne, is Lymbus lorne? allas!
      Garre Satan helpe [th]at we wer wroken;
      [Th]is werke is werse [th]anne euere it was.        200
      _Sattan._ I badde [gh]e schulde be boune
      If he made maistries more;
      Do dynge [th]at dastard doune,
      And sette hym sadde and sore.

      18. _Belsabub._ [Gh]a, sette hym sore, [th]at is
          sone saide,                                     205
      But come [th]iselffe and serue hym soo;
      We may not bide his bittir braide,
      He wille vs marre and we wer moo.
      _Sattan._ What! faitours, wherfore are [gh]e
          ferde?
      Haue [gh]e no force to flitte hym froo?             210
      Belyue loke [th]at my gere be grathed,
      Miselffe schall to [th]at gedlyng goo.
      [_To Iesus._] Howe! belamy, abide,
      With al thy booste and bere,
      And telle to me [th]is tyde,                        215
      What maistries makes [th]ou here?

      19. _Iesus._ I make no maistries but for myne,
      [Th]ame wolle I saue, I telle [th]e nowe;
      [Th]ou hadde no poure [th]ame to pyne,
      But as my prisoune for [th]er prowe                 220
      Here haue [th]ei soiorned, noght as thyne,
      But in thy warde, [th]ou wote wele howe.
      _Sattan._ And what deuel haste [th]ou done ay syne,
      [Th]at neuer wolde negh [th]ame nere, or nowe?
      _Iesus._ Nowe is [th]e tyme certayne                225
      Mi Fadir ordand before
      [Th]at they schulde passe fro payne,
      And wonne in mirthe euer more.

      20. _Sattan._ Thy fadir knewe I wele be sight,
      He was a write his mette to wynne,                  230
      And Marie me menys [th]i modir hight,
      [Th]e vttiremeste ende of all [th]i kynne.
      Who made [th]e be so mekill of myght?
      _Iesus._ [Th]ou wikid feende, latte be thy dynne!
      Mi Fadir wonnys in heuen on hight,                  235
      With blisse [th]at schall neuere blynne.
      I am His awne sone,
      His forward to fulfille;
      And same ay schall we wonne,
      And sundir whan we wolle.                           240

      21. _Sattan._ God<ys> sonne! [th]anne schulde [th]ou
          be ful gladde,
      Aftir no catel neyd thowe craue!
      But [th]ou has leued ay like a ladde,
      And in sorowe, as a symple knaue.
      _Iesus._ [Th]at was for hartely loue I hadde        245
      Vnto mannis soule, it for to saue;
      And for to make [th]e mased and madde,
      And by [th]at resoune [th]us dewly to haue
      Mi godhede here, I hidde
      In Marie modir myne,                                250
      For it schulde no[gh]t be kidde
      To [th]e, nor to none of thyne.

      22. _Sattan._ A! [th]is wolde I were tolde in ilke
          a toune.
      So, sen [th]ou sais God is thy sire,
      I schall [th]e proue, be right resoune,             255
      [Th]ou motes His men into [th]e myre.
      To breke His bidding were [th]ei boune,
      And, for they did at my desire,
      Fro Paradise He putte [th]ame doune
      In helle here to haue [th]er hyre.                  260
      And thyselfe, day and nyght,
      Has taught al men emang
      To do resoune and right,
      And here werkis [th]ou all wrang.

      23. _Iesus._ I wirke noght wrang, [th]at schal
          [th]ow witte,                                   265
      If I my men fro woo will wynne;
      Mi prophetis playnly prechid it,
      All [th]is note [th]at nowe begynne.
      [Th]ai saide [th]at I schulde be obitte,
      To hell [th]at I schulde entre in,                  270
      And saue my seruauntis fro [th]at pitte,
      Wher dampned saulis schall sitte for synne.
      And ilke trewe prophettis tale
      Muste be fulfillid in mee;
      I haue [th]ame boughte with bale,                   275
      And in blisse schal [th]ei be.

      24. _Sattan._ Nowe sen [th]e liste allegge [th]e
          lawes,
      [Th]ou schalte be atteynted, or we twynne,
      For [th]o [th]at [th]ou to wittenesse drawes
      Full even agaynste [th]e will begynne.              280
      Salamon saide in his sawes
      [Th]at whoso enteres helle withynne
      Shall neuer come oute, [th]us clerkis knawes,
      And [th]erfore, felowe, leue [th]i dynne.
      Iob, [th]i seruaunte, also                          285
      [Th]us in his tyme gune telle,
      [Th]at nowthir frende nor foo
      Shulde fynde reles in helle.

      25. _Iesus._ He saide full soth, [th]at schall
          [th]ou see,
      [Th]at in helle may be no reles,                    290
      But of [th]at place [th]an preched he
      Where synffull care schall euere encrees.
      And in [th]at bale ay schall [th]ou be,
      Whare sorowes sere schall neuer sesse,
      And for my folke [th]erfro wer free,                295
      Nowe schall [th]ei passe to [th]e place of pees.
      [Th]ai were here with my wille,
      And so schall [th]ei fourthe wende,
      And [th]iselue schall fulfille
      [Th]er wooe withouten ende.                         300

      26. _Sattan._ O we! [th]anne se I howe [th]ou menys
          emang
      Some mesure with malice to melle,
      Sen [th]ou sais all schall no[gh]t gang,
      But some schalle alway with vs dwelle.
      _Iesus._ [Gh]aa, witte [th]ou wele, ellis were it
          wrang,                                          305
      Als cursed Cayme [th]at slewe Abell,
      And all [th]at hastis hemselue to hange,
      Als Iudas and Archedefell,
      Datan and Abiron,
      And alle of [th]are assente;                        310
      Als tyrantis euerilkone
      [Th]at me and myne turmente.

      27. And all [th]at liste noght to lere my lawe,
      [Th]at I haue lefte in lande nowe newe,
      [Th]at is my comyng for to knawe,                   315
      And to my sacramente pursewe,
      Mi dede, my rysing, rede be rawe,
      Who will noght trowe, [th]ei are noght trewe,
      Vnto my dome I schall [th]ame drawe,
      And iuge [th]ame worse [th]anne any Iewe.           320
      And all [th]at likis to leere
      My lawe, and leue [th]erbye,
      Shall neuere haue harmes heere,
      But welthe, as is worthy.

      28. _Sattan._ Nowe here my hande, I halde me
          paied;                                          325
      [Th]is poynte is playnly for oure prowe;
      If [th]is be soth [th]at [th]ou hast saide,
      We schall haue moo [th]anne we haue nowe.
      [Th]is lawe [th]at [th]ou nowe late has laide
      I schall lere men no[gh]t to allowe.                330
      Iff [th]ei it take, [th]ei be betraied,
      For I schall turne [th]ame tyte, I trowe.
      I schall walke este and weste,
      And garre [th]ame werke wele werre.
      _Iesus._ Naye, feende, [th]ou schall be feste,      335
      [Th]at [th]ou schalte flitte not ferre.

      29. _Sattan._ Feste! [th]at were a foule reasoune,
      Nay, bellamy, [th]ou bus be smytte.
      _Iesus._ Mighill! myne aungell, make [th]e boune,
      And feste yone fende, [th]at he noght flitte.       340
      And Deuyll, I comaunde [th]e go doune
      Into thy selle where [th]ou schalte sitte.
                                      [_Satan sinks._
      _Sattan._ Owt, ay! herrowe! helpe Mahounde!
      Nowe wex I woode oute of my witte.
      _Belsabub._ Sattan, [th]is saide we are,            345
      Nowe schall [th]ou fele [th]i fitte.
      _Sattan._ Allas! for dole and care,
      I synke into helle pitte.
                               [_Falls into the pit._

      30. _Adame._ A! Iesu Lorde, mekill is [Th]i myght,
      That mekis [Th]iselffe in [th]is manere,            350
      Vs for to helpe, as [Th]ou has hight,
      Whanne both forfette, I and my feere.
      Here haue we leuyd withouten light
      Foure thousand and six hundred [gh]ere;
      Now se I be [th]is solempne sight                   355
      Howe Thy mercy hath made vs cle_r_e.
      _Eue._ A! Lorde, we were worthy
      Mo turmentis for to taste,
      But mende vs with mercye,
      Als [Th]ou of myght is moste.                       360

      31. _Baptista._ A! Lorde, I loue [Th]e inwardly,
      That me wolde make [Th]i messengere
      Thy comyng in erth for to crye,
      And teche [Th]i faith to folke in feere;
      And sithen before [Th]e for to dye,                 365
      And bringe boodworde to [th]ame here,
      How [th]ai schulde haue Thyne helpe in hye:
      Nowe se I all [Th]i poyntis appere.
      Als Dauid prophete trewe
      Ofte tymes tolde vntill vs,                         370
      Of [th]is comyng he knewe,
      And saide it schulde be [th]us.

      32. _Dauid._ Als I haue saide, [gh]itt saie
          I soo,
      _Ne derelinquas, Domine,
      Animam meam <in> inferno_,                          375
      Leffe noght my saule, Lorde, aftir [Th]e,
      In depe helle where dampned schall goo,
      Ne suffre neuere [+]saules fro [Th]e be[+]
      The sorowe of [th]ame [th]at wonnes in woo
      Ay full of filthe, [+][th]at may repleye[+].        380
      _Adame._ We thanke His grete goodnesse
      He fette vs fro [th]is place,
      Makes ioie nowe more and lesse;
      _Omnis._ We laude God of His grace.

      33. _Iesus._ Adame and my frendis in feere,         385
      Fro all youre fooes come fourth with me,
      [Gh]e schalle be sette in solas seere,
      Wher [gh]e schall neuere of sorowes see.
      And Mighill, myn aungell clere,
      Ressayue [th]es saules all vnto [th]e,              390
      And lede [th]ame als I schall [th]e lere
      To Paradise with playe and plent'e.
                           [_They come out of Limbo._
      Mi graue I woll go till,
      Redy to rise vpperight,
      And so I schall fulfille                            395
      That I before haue highte.

      34. _Michill._ Lorde, wende we schall aftir
          [Th]i sawe,
      To solace sere [th]ai schall be sende,
      But [th]at [th]er deuelis no draught vs drawe,
      Lorde, blisse vs with [Th]i holy hende.             400
      _Iesus._ Mi blissing haue [gh]e all on rawe,
      I schall be with youe, wher [gh]e wende,
      And all [th]at lelly luffes my lawe,
      [Th]ai schall be blissid withowten ende.
      _Adame._ To [Th]e, Lorde, be louyng,                405
      [Th]at vs has wonne fro waa,
      For solas will we syng,
      _Laus Tibi cum gloria_.
                                           [_Exeunt._

[Foot-note: 14 Fro] For _MS._]

[Foot-note: 40 in [th]is stedde] in darknes stad _Towneley_.]

[Foot-note: 49 Isaiah] Isaac _MS._]

[Foot-note: 170 [th]e] [gh]e _MS._]

[Foot-note: 185 what harlot] _from Towneley MS.: om. MS._]

[Foot-note: 188 I] of _MS._]

[Foot-note: 242 neyd thowe craue] [th]us [th]e I telle _first hand_.]

[Foot-note: 244 as] _added later MS._]

[Foot-note: 244 knaue] braide _first hand_.]

[Foot-note: 347 dole] dolee _MS._]

[Foot-note: 356 clere] clene _MS._]




XVII

THE TOWNELEY PLAY OF NOAH

Towneley MS. (about 1475), ff. 76 ff.


The Towneley Miracles, so called because the manuscript belonged in
recent times to the library of Towneley Hall in Lancashire, are edited
by England and Pollard, E.E.T.S., 1897. The cycle is a composite
one--for instance it includes a later form of the York play _Harrowing
of Hell_ (No. XVI, above)--but it is distinguished by a group of plays
and interpolated scenes which seem to have been specially composed for
representation at Wakefield. Formally this group is marked by the use of
a peculiar nine-lined stanza, riming a a a a b c c c b, with central
rimes in the first four lines. The rough vigour of the comic scenes is
still more distinctive, and there can be little doubt that all are the
work of one man. The specimen of his style most often reprinted is _The
Second Shepherd's Play_, which has an original and purely secular comic
plot. The _Play of Noah_ is more typical of the English Miracle in its
later development. This subject was always popular with early
playwrights, for the Ark made a spectacle, and the traditional quarrels
of Noah and his wife gave scope for contests in fisticuffs and rough
raillery--the stuff of primitive comedy.


DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

      NOE
      DEUS
      VXOR NOE

      PRIMUS FILIUS
      SECUNDUS FILIUS
      TERCIUS FILIUS

      PRIMA MULIER
      SECUNDA MULIER
      TERCIA MULIER


       1.   _Noe._ Myghtfull God veray, Maker of all that is,
          Thre persons withoutten nay, oone God in endles blis,
          Thou maide both nyght and day, beest, fowle, and fysh,
          All creatures that lif may wroght Thou at Thi wish,
              As Thou wel myght;                                       5
          The son, the moyne, verament,
          Thou maide, the firmament,
          The sternes also full feruent
              To shyne Thou maide ful bright.

       2. Angels Thou maide ful euen, all orders that is,             10
          To haue the blis in heuen; this did Thou, more and les,
          Full mervelus to neuen; yit was ther vnkyndnes
          More bi foldis seuen then I can well expres;
              For whi?
          Of all angels in brightnes                                  15
          God gaf Lucifer most lightnes,
          Yit prowdly he flyt his des,
              And set hym euen Hym by.

       3. He thoght hymself as worthi as Hym that hym made,
          In brightnes, in bewty, therfor He hym degrade,             20
          Put hym in a low degr'e soyn after, in a brade,
          Hym and all his menye, wher he may be vnglad
              For euer.
          Shall thay neuer wyn away
          Hence vnto Domysday,                                        25
          Bot burne in bayle for ay;
              Shall thay neuer dysseuer.

       4. Soyne after, that gracyous Lord to his liknes maide man,
          That place to be restord euen as He began,
          Of the Trinit'e bi accord, Adam and Eue that woman,         30
          To multiplie without discord, in Paradise put He thaym,
              And sithen to both
          Gaf in commaundement
          On the Tre of Life to lay no hend.
          Bot yit the fals feynd                                      35
              Made Hym with man wroth,

       5. Entysyd man to glotony, styrd him to syn in pride;
          Bot in Paradise, securly, myght no syn abide,
          And therfor man full hastely was put out in that tyde,
          In wo and wandreth for to be, in paynes full vnrid          40
              To knowe,
          Fyrst in erth, _and_ sythen in hell
          With feyndis for to dwell,
          Bot He his mercy mell
              To those that will Hym trawe.                           45

       6. Oyle of mercy He hus hight, as I haue hard red,
          To euery lifyng wight that wold luf Hym and dred;
          Bot now before His sight euery liffyng leyde,
          Most party day and nyght, syn in word and dede
              Full bold;                                              50
          Som in pride, ire, and enuy,
          Som in couet_ei_s and glotyny,
          Som in sloth and lechery,
              And other wise many fold.

       7. Therfor I drede lest God on vs will take veniance,          55
          For syn is now alod, without any repentance.
          Sex hundreth yeris and od haue I, without distance,
          In erth, as any sod, liffyd with grete grevance
              Allway;
          And now I wax old,                                          60
          Seke, sory, and cold,
          As muk apon mold
              I widder away.

       8. Bot yit will I cry for mercy and call:
          Noe, Thi seruant, am I, Lord ouer all!                      65
          Therfor me, and my fry shal with me fall,
          Saue from velany, and bryng to Thi hall
              In heuen;
          And kepe me from syn
          This warld within;                                          70
          Comly Kyng of mankyn,
              I pray The, here my stevyn!

      [_God appears above._]

       9.   _Deus._ Syn I haue maide all thyng that is liffand,
          Duke, emperour, and kyng, with Myne awne hand,
          For to haue thare likyng, bi see and bi sand,               75
          Euery man to My bydyng shuld be bowand
              Full feruent,
          That maide man sich a creatoure,
          Farest of favoure;
          Man must luf Me paramoure                                   80
              By reson, and repent.

      10. Me thoght I shewed man luf when I made hym to be
          All angels abuf, like to the Trynyt'e;
          And now in grete reprufe full low ligis he,
          In erth hymself to stuf with syn that displeas_es_ Me       85
              Most of all.
          Veniance will I take
          In erth for syn sake;
          My grame thus will I wake
              Both of grete and small.                                90

      11. I repente full sore that euer maide I man;
          Bi me he settis no store, and I am his soferan;
          I will distroy therfor both beest, man and woman,
          All shall perish, les and more; that bargan may thay ban
              That ill has done.                                      95
          In erth I se right noght
          Bot syn that is vnsoght;
          Of those that well has wroght
              Fynd I bot a fone.

      12. Therfor shall I fordo all this medill-erd                  100
          With floodis that shall flo and ryn with hidous rerd;
          I haue good cause therto; for Me no man is ferd.
          As I say shal I do--of veniance draw My swerd,
              And make end
          Of all that beris life,                                    105
          Sayf Noe and his wife,
          For thay wold neuer stryfe
              With Me, then Me offend.

      13. Hym to mekill wyn, hastly will I go
          To Noe my seruand, or I blyn, to warn hym of his wo.       110
          In erth I se bot syn reynand to and fro,
          Emang both more and myn, ichon other fo
              With all thare entent.
          All shall I fordo
          With floodis that shall floo;                              115
          Wirk shall I thaym wo
              That will not repent.

      [_God descends and addresses Noah._]

      14. Noe, My freend, I thee commaund, from cares the to keyle,
          A ship that thou ordand of nayle and bord ful wele.
          Thou was alway well-wirkand, to Me trew as stele,          120
          To My bydyng obediand: frendship shal thou fele
              To mede.
          Of lennthe thi ship be
          Thre hundreth cubettis, warn I the,
          Of heght euen thirt'e,                                     125
              Of fyfty als in brede.

      15. Anoynt thi ship with pik and tar, without and als within,
          The water out to spar--this is a noble gyn;
          Look no man the mar, thre che_s_e chambres begyn;
          Thou must spend many a spar this wark or thou wyn          130
              To end fully.
          Make in thi ship also
          Parloures oone or two,
          And houses of offyce mo
              For beestis that ther must be.                         135

      16. Oone cubite on hight a wyndo shal thou make;
          On the syde a doore, with slyght, beneyth shal thou take;
          With the shal no man fyght, nor do the no kyn wrake.
          When all is doyne thus right, thi wife, that is thi make,
              Take in to the;                                        140
          Thi sonnes of good fame,
          Sem, Iaphet, and Came,
          Take in also <t>hame,
              Thare wifis also thre.

      17. For all shal be fordone that lif in land, bot ye,          145
          With floodis that from abone shal fall, and that plent'e;
          It shall begyn full sone to rayn vncessantl'e,
          After dayes seuen be done, and induyr dayes fourty,
              Withoutten fayll.
          Take to thi ship also                                      150
          Of ich kynd beestis two,
          Mayll and femayll, bot no mo,
              Or thou pull vp thi sayll,

      18. For thay may the avayll when al this thyng is wroght.
          Stuf thi ship with vitayll, for hungre that ye perish
              noght.
          Of beestis, foull, and catayll, for thaym haue thou in     155
              thoght,
          For thaym is My counsayll that som socour be soght
              In hast.
          Thay must haue corn and hay,
          And oder mete alway.                                       160
          Do now as I the say,
              In the name of the Holy Gast.

      19.   _Noe._ A! _benedicite!_ what art thou that thus
          Tellys afore that shall be? Thou art full mervelus!
          Tell me, for charit'e, thi name so gracius.                165
            _Deus._ My name is of dignyt'e, and also full glorius
              To knowe.
          I am God most myghty,
          Oone God in Trynyty,
          Made the and ich man to be;                                170
              To luf Me well thou awe.

      20.   _Noe._ I thank The, Lord so dere, that wold vowchsayf
          Thus low to appere to a symple knafe.
          Blis vs, Lord, here, for charit'e I hit crafe,
          The better may we stere the ship that we shall hafe,       175
              Certayn.
            _Deus._ Noe, to the and to thi fry
          My blyssyng graunt I;
          Ye shall wax and multiply
              And fill the erth agane,                               180

      21. When all thise floodis ar past, and fully gone away.
            _Noe._ Lord, homward will I hast as fast as that I may;
          My <wife> will I frast what she will say,
                                                     [_Exit_ Deus.]
          And I am agast that we get som fray
              Betwixt vs both;                                       185
          For she is full tethee,
          For litill oft angr'e;
          If any thyng wrang be,
              Soyne is she wroth.

      _Tunc perget ad vxorem._

      22. God spede, dere wife, how fayre ye?                        190
            _Vxor._ Now, as euer myght I thryfe, the wars I thee
                see.
          Do tell me belife where has thou thus long be?
          To dede may we dryfe, or lif, for the,
              For want.
          When we swete or swynk,                                    195
          Thou dos what thou thynk,
          Yit of mete and of drynk
              Haue we veray skant.

      23.   _Noe._  Wife, we ar hard sted with tythyngis new.
            _Vxor._  Bot thou were worthi be cled in Stafford
                blew;                                                200
          For thou art alway adred, be it fals or trew,
          Bot God knowes I am led, and that may I rew,
              Full ill;
          For I dar be thi borow,
          From euen vnto morow                                       205
          Thou spekis euer of sorow;
              God send the onys thi fill!

      24. We women may wary all ill husbandis;
          I haue oone, bi Mary that lowsyd me of my bandis!
          If he teyn, I must tary, how so euer it standis,           210
          With seymland full sory, wryngand both my handis
              For drede.
          Bot yit other while,
          What with gam and with gyle,
          I shall smyte and smyle,                                   215
              And qwite hym his mede.

      25.   _Noe._  We! hold thi tong, ram-skyt, or I shall the
                still.
            _Vxor._  By my thryft, if thou smyte, I shal turne the
                vntill.
            _Noe._  We shall assay as tyte. Haue at the, Gill!
          Apon the bone shal it byte.
            _Vxor._           A, so, Mary! thou smytis ill!          220
              Bot I suppose
          I shal not in thi det
          Flyt of this flett!
          Take the ther a langett
              To tye vp thi hose!                                    225

      26.   _Noe._  A! wilt thou so? Mary! that is myne.
            _Vxor._  Thou shal thre for two, I swere bi Godis pyne!
            _Noe._  And I shall qwyte the tho, in fayth, or syne.
            _Vxor._  Out apon the, ho!
            _Noe._            Thou can both byte and whyne
              With a rerd;                                           230
          For all if she stryke,
          Yit fast will she skryke;
          In fayth, I hold none slyke
              In all medill-erd.

      27. Bot I will kepe charyt'e, for I haue at do.                235
            _Vxor._ Here shal no man tary the, I pray the go to!
          Full well may we mys the, as euer haue I ro;
          To spyn will I dres me.
            _Noe._            We! fare well, lo;
              Bot wife,
          Pray for me besel'e                                        240
          To eft I com vnto the.
            _Vxor._  Euen as thou prays for me,
              As euer myght I thrife.
                                                     [_Exit_ Vxor.]

      28.   _Noe._ I tary full lang fro my warke, I traw;
          Now my gere will I fang, and thederward draw;              245
          I may full ill gang, the soth for to knaw,
          Bot if God help amang, I may sit downe daw
              To ken;
          Now assay will I
          How I can of wrightry,                                     250
          _In nomine patris, et filii,
              Et spiritus sancti. Amen._

      29. To begyn of this tree my bonys will I bend,
          I traw from the Trynyt'e socoure will be send;
          It fayres full fayre, thynk me, this wark to my hend;      255
          Now blissid be He that this can amend.
              Lo, here the lenght,
          Thre hundreth cubettis euenly;
          Of breed, lo, is it fyfty;
          The heght is euen thyrty                                   260
              Cubettis full strenght.

      30. Now my gowne will I cast and wyrk in my cote,
          Make will I the mast or I flyt oone foote;
          A! my bak, I traw, will brast! This is a sory note!
          Hit is wonder that I last, sich an old dote,               265
              All dold,
          To begyn sich a wark!
          My bonys ar so stark,
          No wonder if thay wark,
              For I am full old.                                     270

      31. The top and the sayll both will I make,
          The helme and the castell also will I take,
          To drife ich a nayll will I not forsake,
          This gere may neuer fayll, that dar I vndertake
              Onone.                                                 275
          This is a nobull gyn,
          Thise nayles so thay ryn
          Thoro more and myn
              Thise bordis ichon.

      32. Wyndow and doore, euen as He saide,                        280
          Thre ches chambre, thay ar well maide,
          Pyk and tar full sure therapon laide;
          This will euer endure, therof am I paide;
              For why?
          It is better wroght                                        285
          Then I coude haif thoght.
          Hym that maide all of noght
              I thank oonly.

      33. Now will I hy me, and no thyng be leder,
          My wife and my meneye to bryng euen heder.                 290
          Tent hedir tydely, wife, and consider,
          Hens must vs fle, all sam togeder,
              In hast.
            _Vxor._  Whi, syr, what alis you?
          Who is that asalis you?                                    295
          To fle it avalis you
              And ye be agast.

      34.   _Noe._  Ther is garn on the reyll other, my dame.
            _Vxor._  Tell me that ich a deyll, els get ye blame.
            _Noe._  He that cares may keill--blissid be His
              name!--                                                300
          He has <het> for oure seyll to sheld vs fro shame,
              And sayd
          All this warld aboute
          With floodis so stoute,
          That shall ryn on a route,                                 305
              Shall be ouerlaide.

      35. He saide all shall be slayn, bot oonely we,
          Oure barnes that ar bayn, and thare wifis thre.
          A ship He bad me ordayn, to safe vs and oure fee;
          Therfor with all oure mayn thank we that fre,              310
              Beytter of bayll.
          Hy vs fast, go we thedir.
            _Vxor._ I wote neuer whedir,
          I dase and I dedir
              For ferd of that tayll.                                315

      36.   _Noe._  Be not aferd, haue done, trus sam oure gere,
          That we be ther or none, without more dere.
            _Primus filius._  It shall be done full sone. Brether,
                help to bere.
            _Secundus filius._  Full long shall I not hoyne to do
                my devere,
              Brether sam.                                           320
            _Tercius filius._  Without any yelp,
          At my myght shall I help.
            _Vxor._  Yit, for drede of a skelp,
              Help well thi dam.

      37.   _Noe._  Now ar we there as we shuld be;                  325
          Do get in oure gere, oure catall and fe,
          Into this vessell here, my chylder fre.
            _Vxor._  I was neuer bard ere, as euer myght I the,
              In sich an oostr'e as this.
          In fath, I can not fynd                                    330
          Which is before, which is behynd.
          Bot shall we here be pynd,
              Noe, as haue thou blis?

      38.   _Noe._  Dame, as it is skill, here must vs abide
              grace;
          Therfor, wife, with good will, com into this place.        335
            _Vxor._  Sir, for Iak nor for Gill will I turne my
              face,
          Till I haue on this hill spon a space
              On my rok.
          Well were he myght get me!
          Now will I downe set me;                                   340
          Yit reede I no man let me,
              For drede of a knok.

      39.   _Noe._  Behold to the heuen the cateractes all,
          That are open full euen, grete and small,
          And the planettis seuen left has thare stall.              345
          Thise thoners and levyn downe gar fall
              Full stout
          Both halles and bowers,
          Castels and towres.
          Full sharp ar thise showers                                350
              That renys aboute.

      40. Therfor, wife, haue done, com into ship fast.
            _Vxor._  Yei, Noe, go cloute thi shone, the better will
                 thai last.
            _Prima mulier._  Good moder, com in sone, for all is
                 ouercast
          Both the son and the mone.
            _Secunda mulier._          And many wynd blast           355
              Full sharp.
          Thise floodis so thay ryn,
          Therfor, moder, come in.
            _Vxor._  In fayth, yit will I spyn;
              All in vayn ye carp.                                   360

      41.   _Tercia mulier._  If ye like ye may spyn, moder, in the
                ship.
            _Noe._  Now is this twyys com in, dame, on my frenship.
            _Vxor._  Wheder I lose or I wyn, in fayth, thi felowship
          Set I not at a pyn. This spyndill will I slip
              Apon this hill,                                        365
          Or I styr oone fote.
            _Noe._  Peter! I traw we dote.
          Without any more note
              Come in if ye will.

      42.   _Vxor._  Yei, water nyghys so nere that I sit not dry,   370
          Into ship with a byr therfor will I hy
          For drede that I drone here.
            _Noe._              Dame, securly,
          It bees boght full dere ye abode so long by
              Out of ship.
            _Vxor._  I will not, for thi bydyng,                     375
          Go from doore to mydyng.
            _Noe._  In fayth, and for youre long taryyng
              Ye shal lik on the whyp.

      43.   _Vxor._  Spare me not, I pray the, bot euen as thou
              thynk,
          Thise grete wordis shall not flay me.
            _Noe._                    Abide, dame, and drynk,        380
          For betyn shall thou be with this staf to thou stynk;
          Ar strokis good? say me.
            _Vxor._             What say ye, Wat Wynk?
                _Noe._  Speke!
          Cry me mercy, I say!
            _Vxor._  Therto say I nay.                               385
            _Noe._  Bot thou do, bi this day!
              Thi hede shall I breke.

      44.   _Vxor._  Lord, I were at ese, and hertely full hoylle,
          Might I onys haue a measse of wedows coyll;
          For thi saull, without lese, shuld I dele penny doyll,     390
          So wold mo, no frese, that I se on this sole
              Of wifis that ar here,
          For the life that thay leyd,
          Wold thare husbandis were dede,
          For, as euer ete I brede,                                  395
              So wold I oure syre were.

      45.   _Noe._  Yee men that has wifis, whyls they ar yong,
          If ye luf youre lifis, chastice thare tong:
          Me thynk my hert ryfis, both levyr and long,
          To se sich stryfis wedmen emong.                           400
              Bot I,
          As haue I blys,
          Shall chastyse this.
            _Vxor._    Yit may ye mys,
              Nicholl Nedy!                                          405

      46.   _Noe._ I shall make [th]e still as stone, begynnar of
                blunder!
          I shall bete the bak and bone, and breke all in sonder.
                                                    [_They fight._]
            _Vxor._  Out, alas, I am gone! Oute apon the, mans
                 wonder!
            _Noe._  Se how she can grone, and I lig vnder;
              Bot, wife,                                             410
          In this hast let vs ho,
          For my bak is nere in two.
            _Vxor._  And I am bet so blo
              That I may not thryfe.

      [_They enter the Ark._]

      47.   _Primus filius._  A! whi fare ye thus, fader and moder
                both?                                                415
            _Secundus filius._  Ye shuld not be so spitus, standyng
                in sich a woth.
            _Tercius filius._  Thise <floodis> ar so hidus, with
                many a cold coth.
            _Noe._  We will do as ye bid vs, we will no more be
                wroth,
              Dere barnes!
          Now to the helme will I hent,                              420
          And to my ship tent.
            _Vxor._  I se on the firmament,
              Me thynk, the seven starnes.

      48.   _Noe._  This is a grete flood, wife, take hede.
            _Vxor._  So me thoght, as I stode; we ar in grete
                 drede;                                              425
          Thise wawghes ar so wode.
            _Noe._                  Help, God, in this nede!
          As Thou art stereman good, and best, as I rede,
              Of all;
          Thou rewle vs in this rase,
          As Thou me behete hase.                                    430
            _Vxor._  This is a perlous case.
              Help, God, when we call!

      49.   _Noe._  Wife, tent the stere-tre, and I shall asay
          The depnes of the see that we bere, if I may.
            _Vxor._  That shall I do ful wysely. Now go thi way,     435
          For apon this flood haue we flett many day
              With pyne.
            _Noe._  Now the water will I sownd:
          A! it is far to the grownd;
          This trauell I expownd                                     440
              Had I to tyne.

      50. Aboue all hillys bedeyn the water is rysen late
          Cubettis fyfteyn, bot in a higher state
          It may not be, I weyn, for this well I wate:
          This forty dayes has rayn beyn; it will therfor abate      445
              Full lele.
          This water in hast
          Eft will I tast.
          Now am I agast,
              It is wanyd a grete dele.                              450

      51. Now are the weders cest, and cateractes knyt,
          Both the most and the leest.
            _Vxor._                  Me thynk, bi my wit,
          The son shynes in the eest. Lo, is not yond it?
          We shuld haue a good feest, were thise floodis flyt
              So spytus.                                             455
            _Noe._  We haue been here, all we,
          Thre hundreth dayes and fyfty.
            _Vxor._  Yei, now wanys the see;
              Lord, well is vs!

      52.   _Noe._  The thryd tyme will I prufe what depnes we
                bere.                                                460
            _Vxor._  _H_ow long shall thou hufe? Lay in thy lyne
                there.
            _Noe._  I may towch with my lufe the grownd evyn here.
            _Vxor._ Then begynnys to grufe to vs mery chere;
              Bot, husband,
          What grownd may this be?                                   465
            _Noe._ The hyllys of Armonye.
            _Vxor._ Now blissid be He
              That thus for vs can ordand!

      53.   _Noe._ I see toppys of hyllys he, many at a syght,
          No thyng to let me, the wedir is so bright.                470
            _Vxor._ Thise ar of mercy tokyns full right.
            _Noe._ Dame, th_ou_ counsell me, what fowll best myght,
              And cowth,
          With flight of wyng
          Bryng, without taryying,                                   475
          Of mercy som tokynyng,
              Ayther bi north or southe?

      54. For this is the fyrst day of the tent moyne.
            _Vxor._ The ravyn, durst I lay, will com agane sone;
          As fast as thou may, cast hym furth, haue done;            480
          He may happyn today com agane or none
              With grath.
            _Noe._ I will cast out also
          Dowfys oone or two.
          Go youre way, go,                                          485
              God send you som wathe!

      55. Now ar thise fowles flone into seyr countr'e;
          Pray we fast ichon, kneland on our kne,
          To Hym that is alone worthiest of degr'e,
          That He wold send anone oure fowles som fee                490
              To glad vs.
            _Vxor._ Thai may not fayll of land,
          The water is so wanand.
            _Noe._ Thank we God Allweldand,
              That Lord that made vs!                                495

      56. It is a wonder thyng, me thynk, sothl'e,
          Thai ar so long taryyng, the fowles that we
          Cast out in the mornyng.
            _Vxor._                  Syr, it may be
          Thai tary to thay bryng.
            _Noe._                   The ravyn is a-hungrye
              All way;                                               500
          He is without any reson;
          And he fynd any caryon,
          As peraventure may be fon,
              He will not away.

      57. The dowfe is more gentill, her trust I vntew,              505
          Like vnto the turtill, for she is ay trew.
            _Vxor._ Hence bot a litill she commys, lew, lew!
          She bryngys in her bill som novels new;
              Behald!
          It is of an olif tre                                       510
          A branch, thynkys me.
            _Noe._ It is soth, perd'e,
              Right so is it cald.

      58. Doufe, byrd full blist, fayre myght the befall!
          Thou art trew for to trist, as ston in the wall;           515
          Full well I it wist thou wold com to thi hall.
            _Vxor._ A trew tokyn ist we shall be sauyd all:
              For whi?
          The water, syn she com,
          Of depnes plom                                             520
          Is fallen a fathom
              And more, hardely.

      59.   _Primus filius._ Thise floodis ar gone, fader, behold.
            _Secundus filius._ Ther is left right none, and that be
                ye bold.
            _Tercius filius._ As still as a stone oure ship is
                stold.                                               525
            _Noe._ Apon land here anone that we were, fayn I wold,
              My childer dere,
          Sem, Iaphet and Cam,
          With gle and with gam,
          Com go we all sam,                                         530
              We will no longer abide here.

      60.   _Vxor._ Here haue we beyn, Noy, long enogh
          With tray and with teyn, and dreed mekill wogh.
            _Noe._ Behald on this greyn nowder cart ne plogh
          Is left, as I weyn, nowder tre then bogh,                  535
              Ne other thyng;
          Bot all is away;
          Many castels, I say,
          Grete townes of aray,
              Flitt has this flowyng.                                540

      61.   _Vxor._ Thise floodis not afright all this warld so wide
          Has mevid with myght on se and bi side.
            _Noe._ To dede ar thai dyght, prowdist of pryde,
          Euerich a wyght that euer was spyde
              With syn,                                              545
          All ar thai slayn,
          And put vnto payn.
            _Vxor._ From thens agayn
              May thai neuer wyn?

      62.   _Noe._ Wyn? No, iwis, bot He that myght hase             550
          Wold myn of thare mys, and admytte thaym to grace;
          As He in bayll is blis, I pray Hym in this space,
          In heven hye with His to purvaye vs a place,
              That we,
          With His santis in sight,                                  555
          And His angels bright,
          May com to His light:
              Amen, for charit'e.

      _Explicit processus Noe._

[Foot-note: 129 chese] chefe _MS._]




NOTES


I

#Dialect#: North-East Midland of Lincolnshire.

#Inflexions#:--

      VERB: pres. ind. 2 sg. _hast_ 131.
                       3 sg. _stonde[th]_ 8.
                       3 pl. _calle_ 32, _seye_ 254; beside _dos_ 157
                           (see note).
            imper. pl. _come[th]_ 80, _do[th]_ 82.
            pres. p. _karoland_ (in rime) 117, 150, 222.
            strong pp. _wryte_ 37, _fal_ 195, _gone_ 161.
      PRONOUN 3 PERS.: fem. nom. _she_ 48; pl. nom. _[th]ey_ 32; poss.
          _here_ 37; obj. _hem_ 39.

The inflexions are very much simplified as compared with those of the
Kentish _Ayenbyte_ (III), but the verse shows that final unaccented _-e_
was better preserved in the original than in our late MS., e.g.

      _And specyaly at hygh<[.e]> tym[.e]s_            13.
      _For to see [th]ys hard<[.e]> dome_                173.
      _And at [th]e [th]re<[.e]> day<[.e]>s end[.e]_        198.
      _[Th]at non[.e] my[gh]t<[.e]> leye yn grau[.e]_    217.

#Sounds#: _[=o,]_ is regular for OE. _[=a]_: _lothe_ 9, _wroth_ 10, &c.;
but the only decisive rime is _also_ (OE. _alsw[=a]_): _to_ (OE.
_t[=o]_) 35-6, where _[=o,]_ after _(s)w_ has become close _[=o.]_; see
Appendix [P] 8. ii, note.

#Syntax#: the loose constructions, e.g. ll. 15 ff. (note), 134-5, 138-9,
216-19, are characteristic of the period.

       *       *       *       *       *

The history of this legend is traced by E. Schroeder, _Zeitschrift fuer
Kirchengeschichte_, vol. xvii, 1896, pp. 94 ff., and, more summarily, by
Gaston Paris, _Les Danseurs maudits_, Paris 1900. The circumstances from
which it sprang appear to belong to the year 1021. Koelbigk, in Anhalt,
Saxony, was the scene of the dance. In 1074 it is referred to as
'famous' by a German chronicler, who records the healing of one of the
dancers in 1038 through the miraculous powers of St. Wigbert.

Mendicants who suffered from or could simulate nervous diseases like St.
Vitus's dance, were quick to realize their opportunity, and two letters
telling the story were circulated as credentials by pretended survivors
of the band. Both are influenced in form by a sermon of St. Augustine of
Hippo which embodies a similar story (Migne, _Patrologia_, vol. xxxviii,
col. 1443). The first (Letter of Otbert), which claims to be issued by
Peregrinus bishop of Cologne, spread rapidly through Western Europe.
This was the version that Mannyng found in William of Wadington. The
second (Letter of Theodric) makes Bruno bishop of Toul, afterwards Pope
Leo IX, vouch for the facts. It was incorporated in the account of the
miraculous cure of Theodric at the shrine of St. Edith of Wilton, and is
known only from English sources. This was the text that Mannyng used. A
later English version, without merit, is found in the dreary
fifteenth-century _Life of St. Editha_ (ed. Horstmann, ll. 4063 ff.).

       *       *       *       *       *

1 ff. _games_: Dances and shows in the churchyard were constantly
condemned by the Church in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. In
1287 a synod at Exeter rules _ne quisquam luctas, choreas, vel alios
ludos inhonestos in coemeteriis exercere praesumat, praecipue in
vigiliis et festis sanctorum_. See Chambers, _The Mediaeval Stage_, vol.
i, pp. 90 ff.

6. _or tabure bete_: Note the use of _bete_ infin. as a verbal noun =
_betyng_; cp. XI _b_ 184-5.

10-12. 'And he (_sc._ a good priest) will become angered sooner than one
who has no learning, and who does not understand Holy Writ.'

15 ff. _noght... none_: An accumulation of negatives in ME. makes the
negation more emphatic. Here the writer wavers between two forms of
expression: (1) 'do not sing carols in holy places', and (2) 'to sing
carols in holy places is sacrilege'.

25-8. _yn [th]ys londe_, &c. The cure of Theodric, not the dance, took
place in England. Brightgiva is said to have been abbess of Wilton at
the time (1065), and 'King Edward' is Edward the Confessor (1042-66).

34-5. The church of Koelbigk is dedicated to St. Magnus, of whom nothing
certain is known. The memory of St. Bukcestre, if ever there was such a
saint, appears to be preserved only in this story.

36. _[th]at [th]ey come to_: Construe with _hyt_ in l. 35.

37 ff. _Here names of alle_: The twelve followers of Gerlew are named in
the Latin text, but Mannyng gives only the principal actors. The
inconsistency is still more marked in the Bodleian MS., which after l.
40 adds:--

      _[Th]e ou[th]er twelue here names alle
      [Th]us were [th]ey wrete, as y can kalle._

Otherwise the Bodleian MS. is very closely related to the Harleian,
sharing most of its errors and peculiarities.

44. _[th]e prestes doghtyr of [th]e tounne_, 'the priest of the
town's daughter'. In early ME. the genitive inflexion is not, as in
Modern English, added to the last of a group of words: cp. XIV _d_ 10
_[Th]e Kynges sone of heuene_ 'the King of Heaven's son'. The same
construction occurs in VIII _a_ 19 _for [th]e Lordes loue of heuene_ =
'for the love of the Lord of Heaven', and in VIII _a_ 214; but in these
passages the genitive is objective, and Modern English does not use the
inflexion at all (note to I 83). The ME. and modern expressions have
their point of agreement in the position of the genitive inflexion,
which always precedes immediately the noun on which the genitive
depends. Cp. notes to II 518, VI 23, and XIV _d_ 1.

46. _A[gh]one_: _[gh]_ = _z_ here. The name is _Azo_ in the Latin.

55. _Beu<u>ne_: (derived from the accusative _Beuonem_) = _Beuo_ of
l. 59 and _Beuolyne_ of l. 62. The form is properly _Bovo_ not _Bevo_.
Considerable liberties were taken with proper names to adapt them to
metre or rime: e.g. l. 52 _Merswynde_; l. 63 _Merswyne_; cp. note to l.
246. This habit, and frequent miscopying, make it difficult to rely on
names in mediaeval stories.

65. _Grysly_: An error for _Gerlew_, Latin _Gerleuus_, from Low German
_G[=e]rl[=e]f_ = OE. _G[=a]rl[=a]f_.

83. _for Crystys awe_: In Modern English a phrase like _Christ's awe_
could mean only 'the awe felt by Christ'. But in OE. _Cristes ege_,
or _ege Cristes_, meant also 'the awe of Christ (which men feel)',
the genitive being objective. In ME. the word order _eie Cristes_ is
dropped, but _Cristes eie_ (or _awe_, the Norse form) is still regular
for '(men's) fear of Christ'. Hence formal ambiguities like _[th]e
Lordes loue of heuene_ VIII _a_ 19, which actually means '(men's) love
of the Lord of Heaven', but grammatically might mean 'the Lord of
Heaven's love (for men)'--see note to l. 44 above.

96-7. The Latin Letter of Theodric in fact has _ab isto officio ex Dei
nutu amodo non cessetis_, but probably _amodo_ is miswritten for _anno_.

127. _a saue_: lit. 'have safe', i.e. 'rescue'. _Saue_ is here adj.

128-9. _ys_: _flessh_: The rime requires the alternative forms _es_ (as
in l. 7) and _fles(s)_. Cp. note to VII 4.

132. _[Gh]ow [th]ar nat aske_: 'There is no need for you to ask';
_[gh]ow_ is dative after the impersonal _[th]ar_.

156-7. _werynes_: _dos_. The rime is false. Perhaps Mannyng wrote: _As
many body for goyng es_ [sc. _wery_], and a copyist misplaced _es_,
writing: _As many body es for goyng_. If _body es_ were read as
_bodyes_, a new verb would then be added.

169. Note the irony of the refrain. The Letter of Otbert adds the
picturesque detail that they gradually sank up to their waists in the
ground through dancing on the same spot.

172. _[Th]e Emperoure Henry_: Probably Henry II of Germany, Emperor from
1014 to 1024. A certain vagueness in points of time and place would save
the bearers of the letter from awkward questions.

188-9. _banned_: _woned_. The rime (OE. _bannan_ and _wunian_) is false,
and the use of _woned_ 'remained' is suspicious. Mannyng perhaps wrote
_bende_ 'put in bonds': _wende_ (= _[gh]ede_ l. 191) 'went'; or (if the
form _band_ for _banned(e)_ could be evidenced so early) _band_
'cursed': _wand_, pret. of _winden_, 'went'.

195. _fal yn a swone_: So MS., showing that by the second half of the
fourteenth century the pp. adj. _aswon_ had been wrongly analysed into
the indef. article _a_ and a noun _swon_. Mannyng may have written
_fallen aswone_. See Glossary, _s.v._ _aswone_.

234. _Wyth sundyr lepys_: 'with separate leaps'; but _Wyth_ was probably
added by a scribe who found in his original _sundyrlepys_, adv., meaning
'separately',--

      _Kar suvent par les mains
      Des malvais escrivains
      Sunt livre corrumput._

240. _Seynt Edyght._ St. Edith (d. 984) was daughter of King Edgar, and
abbess of Wilton. The rime is properly _Edit_: _Teodric_, for _t_ and
_k_ are sufficiently like in sound to rime together in the best ME.
verse; cp. note to XV _g_ 27.

246. _Brunyng... seynt Tolous_: Latin _Bruno Tullanus_. Robert probably
did not hesitate to provide a rime by turning Toul into Toulouse. Bruno
afterwards became Pope Leo IX (1049-54).

254-5. _trowed_: _God_. Read _tr[)o]d_, a shortened form, revealed by
rimes in North Midland texts. The identical rime occurs three times in
Mannyng's _Chronicle_ (ed. Hearne, p. 339; ed. Furnivall, ll. 7357-8,
8111-12); and, again with substitution of _troud_ for _trod_, in
_Havelok_, ll. 2338-9. Cp. note to XVII 56.


II

#Dialect#: South-Western, with some admixture of Northern forms due to a
copyist.

#Inflexions#:--

      VERB: pres. ind. 1 sg. _ichaue_, &c. (see note to l. 129).
                       2 sg. _makest_ 169, _worst_ 170.
                       3 sg. _ge[th]_ (in rime) 238;
                             contracted _fint_ 239, _last_ 335,
                             _sitt_ 443, _stont_ 556.
                       2 pl. _[gh]e be[th]_ 582.
                       3 pl. _strike[th]_ 252 (proved by rime with 3 sg.
                           _like[th]_).
            imper. pl. _make_ 216, _chese_ 217; beside _do[th]_ 218.
            pres. p. _berking_ 286 (in rime with verbal sb.);
                _daunceing_ (in rime) 298. The forms _kneland_ 250,
                _liggeand_ 388, are due to a Northern copyist.
            strong pp. (various forms): _go_ (: _wo_) 196, _ygo_
                (: _mo_) 349, _ydone_ (: _-none_) 76, _comen_ 29, _come_
                181, _ycomen_ 203, _yborn_ 174, _bore_ 210.
            infin. Note _aski_ (OE. _acsian_) 467 (App. [P] 13 vii).
      PRONOUN 3 PERS.: fem. nom. _he_ 408, 446, _hye_ 337, beside _sche_
                75, 77, &c.
            pl. nom. _he_ (in rime) 185, _hye_ 91,
                     beside _[th]ai_ 32, 69, &c.;
            poss. _her_ 'their' 87, 413, 415; obj. _hem_ 69, &c.
      NOUN: Note the plurals _honden_ 79, _berien_ 258.

The original text preserved final _-e_ better than the extant MSS., e.g.

      _And seyd<[.e]> [th]us [th]e king<[.e]> to_       119.
      _[Th]at no[th]ing help<[.e]> [th]e no schal_         172.
      _Al [th]e vt<[.e]>mast<[.e]> wal_              357.
      _So, sir, as [gh]e seyd<[.e]> nou[th][.e]_     466.

#Sounds#: _[=o,]_ for OE. _[=a]_ is proved in rime: _biholde_ (OE.
_beh'aldan_): _gold_ (OE. _g'old_) 367-8 (cp. 467-8); and _yhote_ (OE.
_geh[=a]ten_): _note_ (OFr. _note_) 601-2.

The rime _frut_: _lite_ 257-8 points to original _frut_: _lut_ (OE.
_l[=y]t_), with Western _[=ue]_, from OE. _[=y]_, riming with OFr.
_[=ue]_.

       *       *       *       *       *

1-22. These lines, found also in _Lai le Freine_, would serve as preface
to any of the Breton lays, with the couplet ll. 23-4 as the special
connecting link. In the Auchinleck MS., _Orfeo_ begins on a fresh leaf
at l. 25, without heading or capitals to indicate that it is a new poem.
The leaf preceding has been lost. There is good reason to suppose that
it contained the lines supplied in the text from the Harleian MS.

4. _frely_, 'goodly': _Lai le Freine_ has _ferly_ 'wondrous'.

12. MS. _moost to lowe_: means 'most (worthy) to be praised', and there
are two or three recorded examples of _to lowe_ = _to alowe_ in this
sense. But MS. Ashmole and the corresponding lines in _Lai le Freine_
point to _most o loue_ 'mostly of love' as the common reading. The
typical 'lay' is a poem of moderate length, telling a story of love,
usually with some supernatural element, in a refined and courtly style.

13. _Brytayn_, 'Brittany': so _Brytouns_ 16 = 'Bretons'. Cp. Chaucer,
_Franklin's Tale, Prologue_, beginning

      _Thise olde gentil Britons in hir dayes
      Of diverse aventures maden layes
      Rymeyed in hir firste Briton tonge,
      Whiche layes with hir instrumentz they songe_, &c.

20. The curious use of _it_ after the plural _layes_ is perhaps not
original. _Lai le Freine_ has: _And maked a lay and yaf it name_.

26. _In Inglond_: an alteration of the original text to give local
colour. Cp. ll. 49-50 and l. 478.

29-30. _Pluto_: the King of Hades came to be regarded as the King of
Fairyland; cp. Chaucer, _Merchant's Tale_, l. 983 _Pluto that is the
kyng of fairye_. The blunder by which Juno is made a king is apparently
peculiar to the Auchinleck copy.

33-46. These lines are not in the Auchinleck MS., but are probably
authentic. Otherwise little prominence would be given to Orfeo's skill
as a harper.

41 ff. A confused construction: _In [th]e world was neuer man born_
should be followed by _<[th]at> he <ne> schulde [th]inke_; but the
writer goes on as if he had begun with 'every man in the world'. _And_
= 'if'.

46. _ioy and_ overload the verse, and are probably an unskilful addition
to the text.

49-50. These lines are peculiar to the Auchinleck MS., and are clearly
interpolated; cp. l. 26 and l. 478. Winchester was the old capital of
England, and therefore the conventional seat of an English king.

57. _comessing_: The metre points to a disyllabic form _comsing_ here,
and to _comsi_ in l. 247.

80. _it bled wete_: In early English the clause which is logically
subordinate is sometimes made formally co-ordinate. More normal would
be _[th]at (it) bled wete_ 'until (_or_ so that) it bled wet'; i.e.
until it was wet with blood.

82. _reuey<se>d_ or some such form of _ravished_ is probably right.
_reneyd_ 'apostate' is a possible reading of the MS., but does not fit
the sense. _N. E. D._ suggests _remeued_.

102. _what is te?_: 'What ails you?; cp. l. 115. _Te_ for _[th]e_ after
_s_ of _is_. Such modifications are due either to dissimilation of like
sounds, as _[th]_: _s_ which are difficult in juxtaposition; or to
assimilation of unlike sounds, as _[th]atow_ 165, for _[th]at [th]ow_.

115. 'What ails you, and how it came about?'; cp. l. 102.

129. _ichil_ = _ich wille_; and so _ichaue_ 209, _icham_ 382, _ichot_ XV
_b_ 23. These forms, reduced to _chill_, _cham_, &c., were still
characteristic of the Southern dialect in Shakespeare's time: cp. _King
Lear_, IV. vi. 239 _Chill not let go, Zir_.

131. _[th]at nou[gh]t nis_: 'That cannot be'; cp. l. 457 _[th]at
nou[gh]t nere_.

157-8. _palays_: _ways_. The original rime was perhaps _palys_: _wys_
'wise'.

170. 'Wherever you may be, you shall be fetched.'

201-2. _barouns_: _renouns_. Forms like _renouns_ in rime are usually
taken over from a French original.

215. The overloaded metre points to a shorter word like _wite_ for
_vnderstond_.

216. _Make [gh]ou [th]an a parlement_: _[gh]ou_ is not nom., but dat.
'for yourselves'. Observe that Orfeo acts like a constitutional English
king.

241. _[th]e fowe and griis_: A half translation of OFr. _vair et gris_.
_Vair_ (Lat. _varius_) was fur made of alternate pieces of the grey back
and white belly of the squirrel. Hence it is rendered by _fowe_, OE.
_f[=a]g_ 'varicolor'. _Griis_ is the grey back alone, and the French
word is retained for the rime with _biis_, which was probably in the
OFr. original.

258. _berien_: The MS. may be read _berren_, but as this form is
incorrect it is better to assume that the _i_ has been carelessly shaped
by the scribe.

289. _him se_, 'see (for himself), and similarly _slep [th]ou [th]e_
XV _g_ 13. This reflexive use of the dative pronoun, which cannot be
reproduced in a modern rendering, is common in OE. and ME., especially
with verbs of motion; cp. note to XV _g_ 24. But distinguish _went him_
475, 501, where _him_ is accusative, not dative (OE. _wente hine_),
because the original sense of _went_ is 'turned', which naturally takes
a reflexive object.

342. _me no reche_ = _I me no reche_. The alternative would be the
impersonal _me no reche[th]_.

343. _also spac_ = _also bliue_ 142 = _also swi[th]e_ 574:
'straightway', &c.

363. MS. _auowed_ (or _anowed_) is meaningless here. _Anow<rn>ed_, or
the doubtful by-form _anow<r>ed_ 'adorned', is probably the true
reading.

382. The line is too long--a fault not uncommon where direct speech is
introduced, e.g. l. 419 and I 78. Usually a correct line can be obtained
by dropping words like _quath he_, which are not as necessary in spoken
verse as they are where writing alone conveys the sense. But sometimes
the flaw may lie in the forms of address: l. 382 would be normal without
_Parfay_; l. 419 may once have been:

      _And seyd 'Lord, [gh]if [th]i wille were'._

There is no task more slippery than the metrical reconstruction of ME.
poems, particularly those of which the extant text derives from the
original not simply through a line of copyists, but through a line of
minstrels who passed on the verses from memory and by word of mouth.

388. The line seems to be corrupt, and, as usual, the Harleian and
Ashmole MSS. give little help. _Ful_ can hardly be a sb. meaning
'multitude' from the adj. _full_. Some form of _fele_ (OE. _fela_) 'a
great number' would give possible grammar and sense (cp. l. 401), but
bad metre. Perhaps _ful_ should be deleted as a scribe's anticipation
of _folk_ in the next line; for the construction _sei[gh]e... of folk_
cp. XVI 388; and _Hous of Fame_, Bk. iii, ll. 147 ff.

433. _[Th]ei we nou[gh]t welcom no be_: Almost contemporary with _Sir
Orfeo_ is the complaint of an English writer that the halls of the
nobles stood open to a lawyer, but not to a poet:

      _Exclusus ad ianuam poteris sedere
      Ipse licet venias, Musis comitatus, Homere!_

'Though thou came thyself, Homer, with all the Muses, thou mightst sit
at the door, shut out!', T. Wright, _Political Songs_ (1839), p. 209.

446. _hadde he_, 'had she'. For _he_ (OE. _h[=e]o_) = 'she' cp. l. 408.

450. 'Now ask of me whatsoever it may be'. The plots of mediaeval
romances often depend on the unlimited promises of an unwary king, whose
honour compels him to keep his word. So in the story of Tristram, an
Irish noble disguised as a minstrel wins Ysolde from King Mark by this
same device, but is himself cheated of his prize by Tristram's skill in
music.

458. 'An ill-matched pair you two would be!'

479. The halting verse may be completed by adding _sum tyme_ before
_his_, with the Harley and Ashmole MSS.

483. _ybilt_ of the MS. and editors cannot well be a pp. meaning
'housed'. I prefer to take _bilt_ as sb. = _bild_, _build_ 'a building';
and to suppose that _y_ has been miswritten for _[=y]_, the contraction
for _yn_.

495. _gan hold_, 'held'; a good example of the ME. use of _gan_ +
infinitive with the sense of the simple preterite.

515. An unhappy suggestion _home_ for the second _come_ has sometimes
been accepted. But a careful Southern poet could not rime _home_ (OE.
_h[=a]m_) and _some_ (OE. _s[)u]m_). See note to VI 224.

518. _For mi lordes loue Sir Orfeo_, 'for my lord Sir Orfeo's love'.
Logically the genitive inflexion should be added to both of two
substantives in apposition, as in OE. _on Herodes dagum cyninges_ 'in
the days of King Herod'. But in ME. the first substantive usually has
the inflexion, and the second is uninflected; cp. V 207 _kynge[gh] hous
Arthor_ 'the house of King Arthur'; and notes to I 44, VI 23.

544. _Allas! wreche_: _wreche_ refers to the speaker, as in l. 333.

551. _hou it ge[th]--_: The sense is hard to convey without some
cumbrous paraphrase like 'the inexorable law of this world--'.

552. _It nis no bot of manes de[th]_: 'There is no remedy for man's
death', i.e. violent grief will do no good. Note _it nis_ 'there is
(not)'. In ME. the anticipated subject is commonly _it_ where we use
_there_.

565. _in ynome_: '<had> taken up my abode'; _in_ 'dwelling' = NE. 'inn'.

599. _herof_ overloads the line and is omitted in the Ashmole MS.


III

#Dialect#: Pure Kentish of Canterbury.

#Inflexions# are well preserved, and are similar to those found in
contemporary South-Western texts.

      VERB: pres. ind. 3 sg. _multiplie[th]_ 1; contracted _ret_ 3, 16.
                       1 pl. _habbe[th]_ 2.
            strong pp. _yyeue_ 25, _yhote_ 29.
      PRONOUN 3 PERS.: the new forms _she_, _they_, _their_, _them_ are
                not used.
            3 sg. fem. nom. _hi_ 32, _hy_ 45;
            poss. _hare_ 33, beside _hire_ 36;
            pl. nom. _hi_ 58.
            Note the objective form _his(e)_ = 'her' 32, 53 (twice);
                and = 'them' 7, 8, 28.
      NOUN: plurals in _-en_ occur: _uorbisnen_ 2, _ken_ 56. In
                _diaknen_ 5, _-en_ represents the dat. pl. inflexion.
      ADJECTIVE: _onen_ dat. sg. 4,  _o[th]ren_ dat. pl. 53,
                _[th]ane_ acc. sg. masc. 59, _[th]et (word)_
                nom. sg. neut. 57, show survivals rare even in
                the South at this date.

#Sounds#: Characteristic of the South-East is _[)=e]_ for OE.
(West-Saxon) _[)=y]_: _kertel_ (OE. _cyrtel_) 39, _ken_ (OE. _c[=y]_)
56.

Old diphthongs are preserved in _greate_ (OE. _gr[=e]at_) 9, _yeaf_
22. In _hyerof_ 1, _yhyerde_ 49, _hier_ 2, _[th]ieues_ 18, _ye_, _ie_
represent diphthongs developed in Kentish rather than simple close
_[=e]_.

Initial _z_ = _s_ in _zome_ 'some' 2, _zede_ 'said' 12, _zuo_ 'so' 17;
and initial _u_ = _f_ in _uele_ 2, _uayre_ 2, _uram_ 4, _bevil_ 41,
evidence dialectical changes which occurred also in the South-West.

#Syntax#: The constructions are distorted by slavish following of the
French original; see note to ll. 48-60.

       *       *       *       *       *

3. Saint Germain of Auxerre (MS. _Aucerne_) is famous for his missions
to Britain in the first half of the fifth century. This particular story
is found in the _Acta Sanctorum_ for July 31, p. 229.

16. St. John the Almoner (d. 616) was bishop of Alexandria. For the
story see _Acta Sanctorum_ for January 23, p. 115.

27-8. _and huanne he hit wiste [th]e ilke zelue [th]et his hedde
onderuonge_: an obscure sentence. Perhaps: 'and when he, the same
who had received them (i.e. John, who had received the five hundred
pounds), knew it' (sc. the truth).

38. This tale of Boniface, bishop of Ferentia in Etruria, is told in the
_Dialogues_ of Gregory the Great, Bk. i, chap. 9. Its first appearance
in English is in the translation of the _Dialogues_ made by Bishop
Waerferth for King Alfred (ed. Hans Hecht, Leipzig 1900, pp. 67 ff.).

48-60. The French original of the passage, taken from an elegant
fourteenth-century MS., Cotton Cleopatra A.V., fol. 144 a, will show how
slavishly Dan Michael followed his source:--

_Apres il fu un poure home, sicom on dit, qui auoit une vache; e oi dire
a son prestre en sarmon que Dieu disoit en leuangile que Dieu rendoit a
cent doubles quanque on donast por lui. Le prodomme du conseil sa femme
dona sa uache a son prestre, qui estoit riches. Le prestre la prist
uolentiers, e lenuoia pestre auoec les autres quil auoit. Kant uint au
soir, la uache au poure home sen uint a son hostel chies le poure homme,
com ele auoit acoustume, e amena auoeques soi toutes les uaches au
prestre, iukes a cent. Quant le bon home uit ce, si pensa que ce estoit
le mot de leuangile que li auoit rendu; e li furent aiugiees deuant son
euesque contre le prestre. Cest ensample moustre bien que misericorde
est bone marchande, car ele multiplie les biens temporels._

58-9. 'And they were adjudged to him before his bishop against the
priest', i.e. the bishop ruled that the poor man should have all the
cows.

The French _fabliau_ '_Brunain_' takes up the comic rather than the
moral aspect of the story. A peasant, hearing the priest say that gifts
to God are doubly repaid, thought it was a favourable opportunity to
give his cow Bl'erain--a poor milker--to the priest. The priest ties her
with his own cow Brunain. To the peasant's great joy, the unprofitable
Bl'erain returns home, leading with her the priest's good cow.


IV

#Dialect#: Northern of Yorkshire.

#Inflexions#: are reduced almost as in Modern English.

      VERB: pres. ind. 1 sg. _settes_ _a_ 30; beside uninflected _sygh_
                           _a_ 69, _sob_ _a_ 69.
                       3 sg. _lastes_ _a_ 1.
                       1 pl. _flese_ _b_ 86: beside _we drede_ _b_ 85.
                       3 pl. _lyse_ _a_ 61, _lufes_ _b_ 7, &c.; beside
                           _[th]ay take_, _[th]ay halde_ _b_ 12, &c.,
                           which agree with the Midland forms.
            pres. p. _lastand_ _a_ 25, _byrnand_ _a_ 26, riming with
                _hand_.
            strong pp. _wryten_ _a_ 2.
            Note the Northern and North Midland short forms _mase_
                'makes' _a_ 15, _tane_ 'taken' _a_ 53 (in rime).
      PRONOUN 3 pers.: sg. fem. _scho_ _b_ 1;
            pl. nom. _[th]ai_ _a_ 60;
            poss. _[th]ar_ _a_ 59 or _[th]air_ _a_ 65;
            obj. _thaym_ _b_ 2.
            The demonstrative _thire_ 'these' at _b_ 55, _b_ 59 is
                specifically Northern.

#Sounds#: OE. _[=a]_ is regularly represented by _[=a]_, not by _[=o,]_
of the South and most of the Midlands: _wa_ _a_ 2, _euermare_ _a_ 20,
_balde_ 'bold' _a_ 51; _bane_ (in rime) _a_ 54.

_[=o.]_ becomes _[=u]_ (_[=ue]_?) in _gud(e)_ _b_ 9, _b_ 15; and its
length is sometimes indicated by adding _y_, as in _ruysand_ 'vaunting'
_b_ 80.

       *       *       *       *       *

_a._ 'This poem is largely a translation of sentences excerpted from
Rolle's _Incendium Amoris_, cc. xl-xli (Miss Allen in _Mod. Lang.
Review_ for 1919, p. 320). Useful commentaries are his prose _Form of
Perfect Living_ (ed. Horstmann, vol. i, pp. 3 ff.), and _Commandment of
Love to God_ (ibid. pp. 61 ff.), which supply many parallels in thought
and phrasing; see, for example, the note to l. 48 below.

       *       *       *       *       *

_a_ 1. _feste._ Not the adj. 'fast', but pp. 'fastened', and so in l.
82.

_a_ 5. _louyng_, 'beloved one', here and in l. 56. This exceptional use
of the verbal noun occurs again in _my [gh]hernyng_ 'what I yearn for',
_a_ 22; _my couaytyng_ 'what I covet', _a_ 23.

_a_ 9-12. The meaning seems to be: 'The throne of love is raised high,
for it (i.e. love) ascended into heaven. It seems to me that on earth
love is hidden, which makes men pale and wan. It goes very near to the
bed of bliss (i.e. the bridal bed of Christ and the soul) I assure you.
Though the way may seem long to us, yet love unites God and man.'

_a_ 24. _louyng_, 'praise' here and in XVI 405, from OE. _lof_ 'praise';
quite distinct from _louyng_, _lufyng_, in ll. 5 and 56.

_a_ 36. _fle [th]at na man it maye_, 'which no man can escape'. See
Appendix [P] 12, Relative.

_a_ 42. _styll_, 'always' rather than 'motionless'.

_a_ 43-4. Apparently 'the nature of love (_[th]at kyend_) turns from
care the man (_[th]e lyfe_) who succeeds in finding love, or who ever
knew it in his heart; and brings him to joy and delight.'

_a_ 48. Cp. _Form of Perfect Living_, ed. Horstmann, vol. i, pp. 39-40:
_For luf es stalworth als [th]e dede, [th]at slaes al lyuand thyng
in erth; and hard als hell, [th]at spares noght till [th]am [th]at
er dede._ In _The Commandment of Love_ Rolle explains: _For als dede
slas al lyuand thyng in [th]is worlde, sa perfite lufe slas in a mans
sawle all fleschly desyres and erthly couaytise. And als hell spares
noght til dede men, bot tormentes al [th]at commes bartill, alswa a man
[th]at es in [th]is_ [sc. the third, called 'Singular'] _degr'e of lufe
noght anly he forsakes [th]e wretched solace of [th]is lyf, bot alswa
he couaytes to sofer pynes for Goddes lufe._ (Ibid. p. 63.)

_b_ 4. _scho takes erthe_: From the _Historia Animalium_ attributed to
Aristotle, Bk. ix, c. 21. This is the authority referred to at l. 18,
and at l. 33 (Bk. ix, c. 9); but the citations seem to be second hand,
as they do not agree closely with the text of the _Historia Animalium_.

_b_ 21-2. 'For there are many who never can keep the rule of love
towards their friends, whether kinsmen or not.' MS. _ynesche_ has been
variously interpreted; but it must be corrected to _ynence_.

_b_ 47. _strucyo or storke_: the ostrich, not the stork, is meant. Latin
_struthio_ has both meanings. On the whole, fourteenth-century
translators show a fair knowledge of Latin, but the average of
scholarship, even among the clergy, was never high in the Middle Ages.
In the magnificent Eadwine Psalter, written at Canterbury Cathedral in
the twelfth century, Ps. ci. 7 _similis factus sum pellicano_ is
rendered by 'I am become like to the skin of a dog' (= _pelli canis_),
though an ecclesiastic would recite this psalm in Latin at least once
every week. The records of some thirteenth-century examinations of
English clergy may be found in G. G. Coulton, _A Medieval Garner_
(London 1910), pp. 270 ff. They include the classic answer of Simon, the
curate of Sonning, who, being examined on the Canon of the Mass, and
pressed to say what governed _Te_ in _Te igitur, clementissime Pater,...
supplices rogamus_, replied '_Pater_, for He governeth all things'. As
for French, Michael of Northgate, a shaky translator, is fortunate in
escaping gross blunders in the specimen chosen (III); but the English
rendering of Mandeville's _Travels_ is full of errors; see the notes to
IX.

_b_ 60. _teches_: better _toches_, according to the foot-note.


V

#Alliterative Verse.# The long lines in _Gawayne_, with _The Destruction
of Troy_, _Piers Plowman_, and _The Blacksmiths_ (XV _h_), are specimens
of alliterative verse unmixed with rime, a form strictly comparable with
Old English verse, from which it must derive through an unbroken oral
tradition. While the detailed analysis of the Middle English
alliterative line is complex and controversial, its general framework is
describable in simple terms. It will be convenient to take examples from
_Gawayne_, which shows most of the developments characteristic of Middle
English.

1. The long line is divided by a caesura into two half lines, of which
the second is the more strictly built so that the rhythm may be well
marked. Each half line normally contains two principal stresses, e.g.

      _And w'ent on his w'ay || with his w'y[gh]e 'one_               6.
      _[Th]at schulde t'eche hym to t'ourne || to [th]at t'ene
          pl'ace_                                                     7.

But three stresses are not uncommonly found in the first half line:

      _Br'oke[gh] b'yled and br'eke || bi b'onkke[gh] ab'oute_       14;

and, even for the simpler forms in Old and Middle English, the
two-stress analysis has its opponents.

2. The two half lines are bound together by alliteration. In
alliteration _ch_, _st_, _s(c)h_, _sk_, and usually _sp_, are treated as
single consonants (see lines 64, 31, 15, 99, 25); any vowel may
alliterate with any other vowel, e.g.

      _[Th]is ~'o~ritore is ~['v]~gly || with ~'e~rbe[gh]
          ouergr'owen_                                              122;

and, contrary to the practice of correct OE. verse, _h_ may alliterate
with vowels in _Gawayne_:

      _~H~a'lde [th]e now [th]e ~h~y'[gh]e ~h~'ode || [th]at
          ~A'~r[th]ur [th]e ra'[gh]t_                               229.
      _The ~h~a'[th]el ~h~e'ldet hym fr'o || and on his ~a'~x
          re'sted_                                                  263.

3. In correct OE. verse the alliteration falls on one or both of the two
principal stresses of the first half line, and invariably on the first
stress only of the second half line. This is the ordinary ME. type:

      _[Th]at schulde ~t~'eche hym to ~t~'ourne || to [th]at ~t~'ene
          pl'ace_                                                     7;

though verses with only one alliterating syllable in the first half
line, e.g.

      _Bot I wyl to [th]e ~ch~'apel || for ~ch~'aunce [th]at may
          f'alle_                                                    64,

are less common in ME. than in OE. But in ME. the fourth stress
sometimes takes the alliteration also:

      _[Th]ay ~cl~'omben bi ~cl~'yffe[gh] || [th]er ~cl~'enge[gh] [th]e
          ~c~'olde_                                                  10.

And when there is a third stress in the first half line, five syllables
may alliterate:

      _~M~'ist ~m~'uged on [th]e ~m~'or || ~m~'alt on [th]e
          ~m~'ounte[gh]_                                            12.

In sum, Middle English verse is richer than Old English in alliteration.

4. In all these verses the alliteration of the first stress in the
second half line, which is essential in Old English, is maintained; but
it is sometimes neglected, especially when the alliteration is otherwise
well marked:

      _With ~h~'e[gh]e ~h~'elme on his ~h~'ede || his l'aunce in his
          ~h~'onde_                                       (129; cp. 75),

where the natural stress cannot fall on _his_.

5. So far attention has been confined to the stressed syllables, around
which the unstressed syllables are grouped. Clearly the richer the
alliteration, the more freedom will be possible in the treatment of the
unstressed syllables without undue weakening of the verse form. In the
first two lines of _Beowulf_--

      _Hwaet we G'ard'ena || in g'eard'agum
      [Th]'eodc'yninga || [th]r'ym gefr'unon--_

three of the half lines have the minimum number of syllables--four--and
the other has only five. In Middle English, with more elaborate
alliteration, the number of unstressed syllables is increased, so that
the minimum half line of four syllables is rare, and often contains some
word which may have had an additional flexional syllable in the poet's
own manuscript, e.g.

      || _[th]e s'elf<e> ch'apel_                                    79.
      || _'ar[gh]e[gh] in h'ert<e>_                                 209.

The less regular first half line is found with as many as eleven
syllables; e.g.

      _And sy[th]en he k'euere[gh] bi a cr'agge_ ||                 153.

6. The grouping of stressed and unstressed syllables determines the
rhythm. In Old English the falling rhythm predominates, as in ||
_G'awayn [th]e n'oble_ 81; and historically it is no doubt correct to
trace the development of the ME. line from a predominantly falling
rhythm. But in fact, owing to the frequent use of unstressed syllables
before the first stress (even in the second half line where they are
avoided in the OE. falling rhythm) the commonest type is:

      || _and [th]e br'ode [gh]'ate[gh]_    1,
          (x   x   ['-] x  ['-] x)

which from a strictly Middle English standpoint may be analysed as a
falling rhythm with introductory syllables (x x | ['-] x ['-] x), or as
a rising rhythm with a weak ending (x x ['-] x ['-] | x). A careful
reader, accustomed to the usage of English verse, will have no
difficulty in following the movement, without entering into nice
technicalities of historical analysis.

7. _The Destruction of Troy_ is more regular than _Gawayne_ in its
versification, and better preserves the Old English tradition. _Piers
Plowman_ is looser and nearer to prose, so that the alliteration
sometimes fails altogether, e.g. Extract _a_ 95, 138. Such differences
in technique may depend on date, on locality, or on the taste, training,
or skill of the author.

       *       *       *       *       *

#Dialect#: West Midland of Lancashire or Cheshire. (There is evidence of
local knowledge in the account of Gawayne's ride in search of the Green
Chapel, ll. 691 ff. of the complete text.)

#Vocabulary.# _Sir Gawayne_ shows the characteristic vocabulary of
alliterative verse.

It is rich in number and variety of words--Norse, French, and native.
Besides common words like _race_ 8, _wylle_ 16, _kyrk_ 128, _a[gh]-_ 267
(which displace native English forms _r[=e]s_, _wylde_, _chyrche_,
_eie_), Norse gives _mug(g)ed_ 12, _cayre[gh]_ 52, _scowtes_ 99,
_skayned_ 99, _wro_ 154, _bro[th]e_ 165, _fyked_ 206, _snyrt_ 244, &c.
French are _baret_ 47, _oritore_ 122, _fylor_ 157, _giserne_ 197,
_kauelacion_ 207, _frounses_ 238, &c. _Myst-hakel_ 13, _orpedly_ 164 are
native words; while the rare _stry[th]e_ 237 and _ra[th]eled_ 226 are of
doubtful origin.

Unless the alliteration is to be monotonous, there must be many
synonyms for common words like _man_, _kni[gh]t_: e.g. _burne_ 3,
_wy[gh]e_ 6, _lede_ 27, _gome_ 50, _freke_ 57, _tulk_ 65, _knape_ 68,
_renk_ 138, most of which survive only by reason of their usefulness in
alliterative formulae. Similarly, a number of verbs are used to express
the common idea 'to move (rapidly)': _bo[gh]en_ 9, _schowued_ 15,
_wonnen_ 23, _ferked_ 105, _rome[gh]_ 130, _keuere[gh]_ 153, _whyrlande_
154, &c. Here the group of synonyms arises from weakening of the
ordinary prose meanings; and this tendency to use words in colourless or
forced senses is a general defect of alliterative verse. For instance,
it is hard to attach a precise meaning to _note_ 24, _gedere[gh]_ 92,
_glodes_ 113, _wruxled_ 123, _kest_ 308.

The _Gawayne_ poet is usually artist enough to avoid the worst fault of
alliterative verse--the use of words for mere sound without regard to
sense, but there are signs of the danger in the empty, clattering line:

      _Bremly bro[th]e on a bent [th]at brode wat[gh] aboute_       165.

#Inflexions#: The rime _wa[th]e_: _ta [th]e_ 287-9 shows that organic
final _-e_ was sometimes pronounced in the poet's dialect.

      VERB: pres. ind. 1 sg. _haf_ 23; _leue_ 60.
                       2 sg. _spelle[gh]_ 72.
                       3 sg. _prayses_ 4; _tas_ 237.
                       2 pl. _[gh]e han_ 25.
                       3 pl. _han_ 345.
            imper. pl. _got[gh]_ (= _g[=o,]s_) 51, _cayre[gh]_ 52.
            pres. p. normally _-ande_, e.g. _schaterande_ 15; but very
                rarely _-yng_: _gruchyng_ 58.
            strong pp. _born_ 2, _wonnen_ 23; _tone_ (= _taken_) 91.
            The weak pa. t. and pp. show occasional _-(e)t_ for _-(e)d_:
                _halt_ 11, _fondet_ 57, &c.
            Note that present forms in _-ie(n)_ are preserved, and the
                _i_ extended to the past tense: _louy_ (OE. _lufian_)
                27, _louies_ 31; _spuryed_ 25.
      PRONOUN 3 PERS.: pl. nom. _[th]ay_ 9; poss. _hor_ 345, beside
                _her_ 352; obj. _hom_, beside _hem_ 353.

#Sounds#: _[=o,]_ for older _[=a]_ is common, and is proved for the
original by rimes like _more_: _restore_ (OFr. _restorer_) 213-15,
_[th]ore_: _restore_ 286-8. But _a_ is often written in the MS.: _snaw_
20, 166 (note rimes), _halden_ 29, &c.

_u_ for OE. _y_, characteristic of Western dialects, is found especially
in the neighbourhood of labial consonants: _spuryed_ (OE. _spyrian_) 25;
_muryly_ 268, 277; _munt_ vb. 194 and sb. 282; beside _myntes_ 284,
_lyfte_ 78, _hille_ 13.

_u_ for OE. _eo_ (normal ME. _e_) is another Western feature: _burne_ 3,
21, &c., _rurde_ 151.

_aw_ for OE. _[=e]ow_ (normal ME. _ew_, _ow_) as in _trawe_ 44,
_traw[th]e_ 219, _raw[th]e_ 136, is still found in some Northern
dialects.

#Spelling#: _[gh]_ (= _z_) is commonly written for final _s_:
_brede[gh]_ 3, &c.; even when the final _s_ is certainly voiceless as
in _for[gh]_, 'force', 'torrent' 105, _(a[gh]-)le[gh]_ 'fear-less' 267.
_t[gh]_ is written for _s_ in monosyllabic verbal forms, where it
indicates the maintenance of voiceless final _s_ under the stress (see
rimes to _hat[gh]_ 'has', VI 81): _wat[gh]_ 'was' 1, _got[gh]_ 'goes'
51, &c. In early Norman French _z_ had the sound _ts_, and so could be
written _tz_, as in _Fitz-Gerald_ 'son (Mod. Fr. _fils_) of Gerald'. But
later, French _(t)z_ fell together with _s_ in pronunciation, so that
the spelling _tz_ was transferred to original _s_, both in
fourteenth-century Anglo-French and in English.

_qu-_ occurs for strongly aspirated _hw-_ in _quyte_ 'white' 20, _quat_
'what' 111; but the alliteration is with _w_, not with _k(w)_, e.g.

      _And wyth ~qu~ettyng a~wh~arf, er he ~w~olde ly[gh]t_         152.

The spelling _goud_ 5, 50, &c., for _g[=o]d_ 'good' may indicate a sound
change.

Notable is the carefully distinguished use of _[gh]_ in _[gh]e_, but _y_
in _yow_, e.g. at ll. 23-6.

       *       *       *       *       *

3. _blessed hym_, 'crossed himself'; cp. XII _b_ 86.

4-6. 'He gives a word of praise to the porter,--<who> kneeled before the
prince (i.e. Gawayn) <and who> greeted him with "God and good day," and
"May He save Gawayn!"--and went on his way, attended only by his man,
who, &c.' Clumsiness in turning direct speech into reported speech is a
constant source of difficulty in Middle English. For the suppressed
relative cp. note to XIII _a_ 36.

11. 'The clouds were high, but it was threatening below them.' _Halt_
for _halet_ pp. 'drawn up'.

16. 'The way by which they had to go through the wood was very wild.'
Note the regular omission of a verb of motion after _shall_, _will_,
&c. Cp. l. 64 _I wyl to [th]e chapel_; l. 332 _[gh]e schal... to my
wone[gh]_, &c.

28. 'If you would act according to my wit (i.e. by my advice) you would
fare the better.'

34. _Hector, o[th]er o[th]er_, 'Hector, or any other'. Hector is quoted
as the great hero of the Troy story, from which, and from the legends
of Arthur, the Middle Ages drew their models of valour.

35. 'He brings it about at the green chapel <that>', &c.

37. _dynge[gh]_: for MS. _dynne[gh]_; Napier's suggestion.

41. 'He would as soon (lit. it seems to him as pleasant to) kill him, as
be alive himself.'

43. 'If you reach that place you will be killed, I may warn you,
knight.' Possibly _I_, _y_, has fallen out of the text after _y_ of
_may_ (cp. VI 3), though there are clear instances in Old and Middle
English where the pronominal subject must be understood from the
context, e.g. I 168, VIII _a_ 237, 273. Note the transitions from
plural _[gh]e_ to singular _[th]e_ in ll. 42-3; and the evidence at l.
72 f. that _[th]ou_ could still be used in addressing a superior.

44. _Trawe [gh]e me [th]at_: _trow_ has here a double construction with
both _me_ and _[th]at_ as direct objects.

56. 'That I shall loyally screen you, and never give out the tale that
you fled for fear of any man that I knew.'

64. _for chaunce [th]at may falle_, 'in spite of anything that may
happen'.

68-9. 'Though he be a stern lord (lit. a stern man to rule), and armed
with a stave'. The short lines are built more with a view to rime than
to sense.

72-4. 'Marry!' said the other, 'now you say so decidedly that you will
take your own harm upon yourself, and it pleases you to lose your life,
I have no wish to hinder you.'

76. _ryde me_: an instance of the rare ethic dative, which expresses
some interest in the action of the verb on the part of one who is
neither the doer of the action nor its object. Distinguish the uses
referred to in the notes to II 289, XV _g_ 24.

86. _Lepe[gh] hym_, 'gallops'. For _hym_, which refers to the rider, not
the horse, cp. note to XV _g_ 24.

92. _Gryngolet_: the name of Gawayn's horse. _gedere[gh] [th]e rake_
seems to mean 'takes the path'. No similar transitive use of 'gather'
is known.

95. _he wayted hym aboute_, 'he looked around him'. Cp. l. 221
_wayte[gh]_, and note to l. 121.

99. 'The clouds seemed to him grazed by the crags'; i.e. the crags were
so high that they seemed to him to scrape the clouds. I owe to Professor
Craigie the suggestion that _skayned_ is ON. _skeina_ 'to graze',
'scratch'.

102-4. 'And soon, a little way off on an open space, a mound (as it
appeared) seemed to him remarkable.'

107. _kache[gh] his caple_, 'takes control of his horse', i.e. takes up
the reins again to start the horse after the halt mentioned at l. 100.

109. _his riche_: possibly 'his good steed'. The substantival use of an
adjective is common in alliterative verse, e.g. l. 188 _[th]at schyre_
(neck); 200 _[th]e schene_ (axe); 245 _[th]e scharp_ (axe); 343 _[th]at
cortays_ (lady). But it has been suggested that _brydel_ has fallen out
of the text after _riche_.

114. 'And it was all hollow within, nothing but an old cave.'

115 f. _he cou[th]e hit no[gh]t deme with spelle_, 'he could not say
<which it was>'. For _deme_ 'to speak', &c., cp. VI 1, XV _b_ 29-30.

118. _Whe[th]er_ commonly introduces a direct question and should not be
separately translated. Cp. VI 205 and note to XI _a_ 51.

121. _wysty is here_, 'it is desolate here'. Note _Wowayn_ = _Wauwayn_,
an alternative form of _Gawayn_ used for the alliteration. The
alternation is parallel to that in _guardian_: _warden_; _regard_:
_reward_ XIV _c_ 105; _guarantee_: _warranty_; _(bi)gyled_ 359:
_(bi)wyled_ 357; _werre_ 'war' beside French _guerre_; _wait_ 'watch'
(as at l. 95) beside French _guetter_; and is due to dialectal
differences in Old French. The Anglo-Norman dialect usually preserved
_w_ in words borrowed from Germanic or Celtic, while others replaced it
by _gw_, _gu_, which later became simple _g_ in pronunciation.

125. _in my fyue wytte[gh]_: construe with _fele_.

127. _[th]at chekke hit bytyde_, 'which destruction befall!' _[th]at...
hit_ = 'which'. _chekke_ refers to the checkmate at chess.

135. Had we not Chaucer's Miller and _The Reeves Tale_, the vividness
and intimacy of the casual allusions would show the place of the
flour-mill in mediaeval life. Havelok drives out his foes

      _So dogges ut of milne-hous;_

and the Nightingale suggests as fit food for the Owl

                                    _one frogge
      [Th]at sit at mulne vnder cogge._

These are records of hours spent by the village boys amid the noise of
grinding and rush of water, in times when there was no rival mechanism
to share the fascination of the water-driven mill.

137-43. 'This contrivance, as I believe, is prepared, sir knight, for
the honour of meeting me by the way. Let God work His will, Lo! It
helps me not a bit. Though I lose my life, no noise causes me to fear.'
It has been suggested that _wel o<r w>oo_ 'weal or woe' should be read
instead of the interjection _we loo!_ But Gawayn's despair (l. 141) is
not in keeping with ll. 70 f., 90 f., or with the rest of his speech.
The looseness of the short lines makes emendation dangerous. Otherwise
we might read _Hit helppe[gh] [th]e not a mote_, i.e. whatever happens,
mere noise will not help the Green Knight by making Gawayn afraid; or,
alternatively, _herme[gh]_ 'harms' for _helppe[gh]_.

151. 'Yet he went on with the noise with all speed for a while, and
turned away <to proceed> with his grinding, before he would come
down.' The nonchalance of the Green Knight is marked throughout the
poem.

155. _A Dene[gh] ax_: the ordinary long-bladed battle-axe was called a
'Danish' axe, in French _hache danoise_, because the Scandinavians in
their raids on England and France first proved its efficiency in battle.

158. _bi [th]at lace_, '<measured> by the lace'. In _Gawayne_ (ll. 217
ff. of the full text) the axe used at the first encounter is described.
It had:

      _A lace lapped aboute, [th]at louked at [th]e hede,
      And so after [th]e halme halched ful ofte,
      Wyth tryed tassele[gh] [th]erto tacched innoghe, &c._

'A lace wrapped about <the handle>, which was fastened at the <axe's>
head, and was wound about the handle again and again, with many choice
tassels fastened to it', &c.

159. _as fyrst_, 'as at the first encounter', i.e. when he rode into
Arthur's hall. His outfit of green is minutely described at ll. 151 ff.
of the full text.

162. _Sette [th]e stele to [th]e stone_: i.e. he used the handle of the
axe as a support when crossing rough ground. _stele_ = 'handle', not
'steel'.

164. _hypped... stryde[gh]_: note the frequent alternation of past tense
and historic present. So ll. 3-4 _passed... prayses_; 107-8
_kache[gh]... com... li[gh]te[gh]_; 280-1 _halde[gh]... gef_, &c.

169 f. 'Now, sweet sir, one can trust you to keep an appointment.'

175. _[th]at [th]e falled_, 'what fell to your lot', i.e. the right to
deal the first blow.

177. _oure one_, 'by ourselves'. To _one_ 'alone' in early ME. the
dative pronoun was added for emphasis, _him one_, _us one_, &c. Later
and more rarely the possessive pronoun is found, as here. _Al(l)_ was
also used to strengthen _one_; so that there are six possible ME. types:
(1) _one_, e.g. ll. 6, 50; (2) _him one_; (3) _his one_; (4) _al one_ =
_alone_ l. 87; (5) _al him one_, or _him al one_; (6) _al his one_, or
_his al one_.

181. _at a wap one_, 'at a single blow'.

183. 'I shall grudge you no good-will because of any harm that befalls
me.'

189-90. 'And acted as if he feared nothing: he would not tremble
(_dare_) with terror.'

196. 'He (Gawayn) who was ever valiant would have been dead from his
blow there.'

200. It must not be supposed that the chief incidents of _Sir Gawayne_
were invented by the English poet. The three strokes, for example, two
of them mere feints and the third harmless, can be shown to derive from
the lost French source, which has Irish analogues. See pp. 71-4 of _A
Study of Gawain and the Green Knight_ (London 1916), by Professor
Kittredge, a safe guide in the difficult borderland of folklore and
romance.

207. 'Nor did I raise any quibble in the house of King Arthur.' On
_kynge[gh] hous Arthor_ see note to II 518.

222. _ryue[gh]_: the likeness of _n_ and _u_ in MSS. of the time makes
it impossible to say whether the verb is _riue_ 'to cleave', which is
supported by l. 278, or _rine_, OE. _hr[=i]nan_, 'to touch'.

230. 'And look out for your neck at this stroke, <to see> if it may
survive.'

233. _I hope_: here, and often in ME., _hope_ means 'believe', 'expect'.

250. Gawayn appears to have carried his shield on his back. By a
movement of his shoulders he lets it fall in front of him, so that he
can use it in defence.

258. _foo_, 'fiercely', adv. parallel with _[gh]ederly_.

269. _ry<n>kande_, 'ringing'; Napier's suggestion for MS. _rykande_.

271-2. 'Nobody here has ill-treated you in an unmannerly way, nor shown
you <discourtesy>': the object of _kyd_ being understood from _vnmanerly
mysboden_. _habbe[gh]_ for MS. _habbe_ is Napier's reading.

278-9. 'And cleft you with no grievous wound, <which> I rightly
<merely> proffered you, because of the compact we made fast', &c. It is
better to assume a suppression of the relative, than to put a strong
stop after _rof_ and treat _sore_ as sb. object of _profered_. This
latter punctuation gives _sore_ the chief stress in the line, and breaks
the alliteration and rhythm, which is correct as long as _sore_ is taken
with _rof_, so that its stress is subordinated.

286-7. 'Let a true man truly repay--then one need dread no peril.'

291. _weued_: perhaps not a weak pa. t. of _weave-woven_, but rather
means 'to give', from OE. _w[=ae]fan_, 'to move'; _weue_ in this sense
occurs in _Gawayne_ l. 1976.

294-5. 'And truly you seem to me the most faultless man that ever walked
on foot.' The ME. construction, _on [th]e fautlest_, where _on_ 'one'
strengthens the superlative, is found in Chaucer, _Clerk's Tale_ 212:

      _Thanne was she oon the faireste under sonne,_

and still survives in Shakespeare's time, e.g. _Henry VIII_, II. iv. 48
f. _one the wisest prince_. It has been compared with Latin _unus
maximus_, &c. In modern English the apposition has been replaced, with
weakening of the sense: _one_ of _the (wisest)_, &c.

298. _yow lakked... yow wonted_: impersonal, since _yow_ is dative,
'there was lacking in you'.

319. 'Let me win your good-will', 'Pardon me'.

331. I have transposed MS. #of# _[th]e grene chapel_ #at# _cheualrous
kny[gh]te[gh]_, because such a use of _at_ is hardly conceivable. A
copyist might easily make the slip. Cp. l. 35.

344. _Bo[th]e [th]at on and [th]at o[th]er_: Besides the Green Knight's
young wife, there was a much older lady in the castle, 'yellow', with
'rugh, ronkled cheke[gh]', and so wrapped up

      _[Th]at no[gh]t wat[gh] bare of [th]at burde bot [th]e blake
          bro[gh]es,
      [Th]e tweyne y[gh]en, and [th]e nase, [th]e naked lyppe[gh],
      And [th]ose were soure to se, and sellyly blered._

      _Gawayne_ ll. 961-3.

350-1. 'And David afterwards, who suffered much evil, was <morally>
blinded by Bathsheba.'

352-6. 'Since these were injured with their wiles, it would be a great
gain to love them well, and not believe them--for a man who could do it
[cp. note to XI _b_ 209]. For these (Adam, Solomon, &c.) were of old the
noblest, whom all happiness followed, surpassingly, above all the others
that lived beneath the heavens.' _mused_ 'thought' is used for the rime,
and means no more than 'lived'. ll. 354-6 amount to 'above all other
men'.


VI

#Dialect#: West Midland, like _Gawayne_.

The metre occasionally gives clear evidence that final flexional _-e_ of
the original has not always been preserved in the extant MS., e.g.

      _[Th]a[gh] cortaysly [gh]e carp<[.e]> con_      21.

The most noteworthy verbal forms are:

      pres. ind. 1 sg. _byswyke[gh]_ 208 (once only, in rime);
                 2 sg. _[th]ou quyte[gh]_ 235;
                 3 sg. _le[th]e[gh]_ 17; _tot[gh]_ (= _t[=o,]s_ =
                     _t[=a]s_ = _takes_) 153 (note).
                 1 pl. _we leuen_ 65; _we calle_ 70;
                 3 pl. _temen_ 100 (and cp. ll. 151-2); _knawe_ 145; but
                       _[th]ay got[gh]_ 150, _pyke[gh]_ 213 (both in
                       rime).
      imperative pl. _dysplese[gh]_ 62; _gos_, _dot[gh]_ 161.
      pres. p. _spornande_ 3.
      pp. _runne_ (in rime) 163, beside _wroken_ 15, &c.

Characteristic Western forms are _burne_ 37 (OE. _beorn_); _vr[th]e_ 82
(OE. _eor[th]e_).

       *       *       *       *       *

5. 'Like bubbling water that flows from a spring', i.e. his wild words
rise from a heart that can no longer contain its affliction.

11-12. 'You, who were once the source of all my joy, made sorrow my
companion.'

15. 'From the time when you were removed from every peril'. The child
died before she was two years old (l. 123).

22. 'I am but dust, and rough in manners.' The MS. has _marere[gh]
mysse_, which has been rendered 'botcher's waste'; but the poet is
contrasting his own ill-mannered speech with the Pearl's courtesy.

23. 'But the mercy of Christ and of Mary and of John'. The genitive
inflexion is confined to the noun immediately preceding _mersy_, while
the two following nouns, which are logically genitives with exactly the
same construction as _Crystes_, remain uninflected. For analogies see
note to II 518.

36. _and_: MS. _in_. The sign for _and_ is easily mistaken for _[=i]_ =
_in_. Cp. note to XVII 42.

48. _[Th]at_, 'wh'o.

65. _[th]at... of_, 'from whom'; the later relative form _of quom_
occurs at l. 93.

70. _Fenyx of Arraby_: the symbol of peerless perfection. Cp. Chaucer,
_Death of Blanche the Duchess_, ll. 980-3

      _Trewly she was to myn ye
      The soleyn Fenix of Arabye,
      For ther lyveth never but oon,
      Ne swich as she ne knew I noon._

71. 'which was faultless in form'; _fle[gh]e_ 'flew' is used with
weakened sense because a bird is normally thought of as on the wing.

74. _folde vp hyr face_, '<with> her face upturned'; _folde_ is pp.

91-2. 'And each would wish that the crowns of the others were five times
as precious, if it were possible to better them.'

97. _Poule_: the common OFr. and ME. form, as at VIII _a_ 25, 270, XI
_b_ 80. But the rime with _naule_ 'nail' (ON. _nagl_) points to the form
_Paule_ for the original. The reference is to 1 Corinthians vi. 15 and
xii. 12 ff.

100. _hys body_, 'its body', 'the body'. _tyste_: for _ty[gh]te_
'tight', like l. 102 _myste_ for _my[gh]te_ 'might'. The rimes with
_Kryst_, _gryste_, _lyste_ show that _st_ and _[gh]t_ were very similar
in pronunciation. See Appendix [P] 6 (end).

106. 'Because you wear a ring on arm or finger.'

109-11. 'I <well> believe that there is great courtesy and charity among
you.' The construction of the next line (which conveys an apology, cp.
l. 62) is not clear owing to the following gap in the MS.; nor is it
easy to guess the missing rime word, as _emong_ can rime with OE.
_-ung-_ (e.g. with _[gh]onge_, ll. 114, 175), or with OE. _-ang-_; see
the note to XVII 400.

116. _stronge_ may be adj. 'violent' with _worlde_, but is more likely
adv. 'severely'.

124-5. Note the cumulation of negatives. _cow[th]e[gh]_ has a double
construction: 'You never knew how to please God nor pray to Him, nor
<did you know even> the Paternoster and Creed.' The Lord's Prayer and
the Apostles' Creed were prescribed by the Church as the elements of
faith to be taught first to a child.

137. Matthew xx. 1-16.

139. 'He represented it very aptly in a parable.'

141. _My regne... on hy[gh]t_, 'My kingdom on high'.

145. _[th]ys hyne_: the labourers. _This_, _these_ are sometimes used in
early English to refer to persons or things that have not been
previously mentioned, but are prominent in the writer's mind. Cp. XV
_b_ 4, 19; and the opening of Chaucer's _Prologue_ to the _Franklin's
Tale_ quoted in the note to II 13.

150. _pen'e_: in ME. the final sound developed from OFr. _-'e_ (_e_)
fell together with the sounds arising from OE. _-ig_, OFr. _ie_,
&c. Hence _pen'e_ or _peny_ 186 (OE. _penig_); _repren'e_ 184 for
_repreny_; _cortays'e_ 120, 121, beside _cortaysye_ 72, 84, 96. The
acute accent is editorial.

153. 'At midmorning the master goes to the market.' _tot[gh]_ (=
_t[=o,]s_) = _t[=a]s_, contracted form of _takes_ 'betakes himself'; cp.
_tone_ = _taken_ V 91. The spelling and rimes with _o_ (which cannot
develop normally from _[)a]_ lengthened in open syllables because this
lengthening is everywhere later than the change _[=a]_ > _[=o,]_) are
usually explained as artificial. It is assumed that as Northern _b[=a]n_
corresponded to Midland _b[=o,]n_, so from Northern _t'a_ 'take' an
unhistorical Midland _t[=o,]_ was deduced. But it is possible that the
contraction of _t[)a]ke(n)_, and consequent lengthening _t'a(n)_, is
older than the ordinary lengthening _t[)a]ke_ > _t'ake_, and also older
than the development of _[=a]_ to _[=o,]_ in North Midland.

164. _I yow pay_: note the survival of the old use of the present to
express future tense.

176. _[th]at at [gh]e moun_, 'what you can'. _At_ as a relative appears
usually to be from Old Norse _at_, with the same sense, and it is not
uncommon in Northern English. But _[th]at at_ here is more likely the
normal development of _[th]at [th]at_ > _[th]at tat_ (note to II 102) >
_[th]at at_.

179. _sumoun_ is infin. not sb.: 'he had (them) summoned'; cp. note to
VIII _a_ 79.

192. 'It seems to us we ought to receive more.' _Vus [th]ynk_ is
a remnant of the old impersonal construction of _[th]ynce[th]_
'it seems'. In this phrase, probably owing to confusion with _we
[th]ynk(en)_, the verb often has no flexional ending; cp. l. 192. _vus
o[gh]e_ is formed by analogy, the verb being properly personal; cp.
_must vs_ XVII 292, 334.

200. _And_, 'If'.

205-8. _More_, which is necessary for the metrical form, is best taken
as conj. 'moreover', 'further'; _we[th]er_ introduces a direct question
(note to V 118). _louyly_ is perhaps miswritten for _lauly_ 'lawful',
as the _Pearl-Gawayne_ group often show the converse _au_, _aw_ for
normal _ou_, _ow_, e.g. _bawe_ for _bowe_, _traw[th]e_ for _trow[th]e_.
'Further, is my power to do what pleases me with my own lawful?' The
meaning is fixed by Matthew xx. 15 'Is it not lawful for me to do what
I will with mine own? Is thine eye evil because I am good?'

212. _myke[gh]._ In the few recorded examples _mik_, _myk_ seems to mean
'an intimate friend'. Here it is used for the sake of rime in an
extended sense 'chosen companion of the Lord'.

221 f. _Whe[th]er_, &c., 'Although I began <only> just now, coming into
the vineyard in the eventide, <yet>', &c.

224. Note the rime (OE. _s[)u]m_) with ON. _bl'om(i)_, OE. _d[=o]m_,
_c[=o]m_. Such rimes occur occasionally in Northern texts of the
fourteenth century--never in the South.

233. Psalm lxii. 12 'Also unto Thee, O Lord, belongeth mercy; for Thou
renderest to every man according to his work.'

237-40. Loosely constructed. 'Now, if you came to payment before him
that stood firm through the long day, then he who did less work would be
more entitled to receive pay, and the further <it is carried>, the less
<work>, the more <claim to be paid>.'

249-51. On the meaning of these lines there is no agreement. Gollancz
and Osgood interpret: 'That man's privilege is great who ever stood in
awe of Him (God) who rescues sinners. From such men no happiness is
withheld, for,' &c. Yet it is difficult to believe that even a poet hard
pressed would use _dard to Hym_ to mean 'feared Him'. One of several
rival interpretations will suffice to show the ambiguities of the text:
'His (God's) generosity, which is always inscrutable (lit. lay hidden),
is abundant to the man who recovers his soul from sin. From such men no
happiness is withheld', &c. The sense and construction of _dard_ (for
which the emendation _fard_, pret. of _fere_ 'to go', has been
suggested, the rest of the interpretation following Gollancz), and the
obscurity of the argument, are the chief obstacles to a satisfactory
solution.


VII

#Dialect#: Irregular, but predominantly North-West Midland; cp. V and
VI.

#Inflexions#:--

      VERB: pres. ind. 3 sg. _warys_ 19, _has_ 20.
                       3 pl. _ben_ 11, _sayn_ 182, _haue_ 31.
            pres. p. _claterand_ 137, _[th]riuaund_ 158, _leymonde_ 153;
                beside _blowyng_ 106, _doutyng_ 114.
            strong pp. _slydyn_ 6, _stoken_ 11.
            The weak pp. and pa. t. have _-it_, _-(e)t_ for _-(e)d_:
                _drepit_ 9, _suet_ 24.
      PRONOUN 3 PERS.: pl. nom. _[th]ai_ 45;
            poss. _hor_ 8, beside _[th]ere_ 9, 10;
            obj. _hom_ 24.

#Sounds and Spelling#: Northern and North Midland forms are _qwiles_ (=
_whiles_) 39, _hondqwile_ 117; and _wysshe_ 4 (note). West Midland
indications are _buernes_ 'men' 90, 91 = OE. _beorn_ (but _buerne_ 'sea'
159 = OE. _burn-_ is probably miswritten owing to confusion with _buern_
'man'); and perhaps the spelling _u_ in unaccented syllables: _mecull_
10, _watur_ 119, _wintur_ 124.

       *       *       *       *       *

4. _wysshe_ = _wisse_ 'guide'. In the North final _sh_ was commonly
pronounced _ss_; cp. note to I 128-9, and the rimes in XVII 1-4.
Conversely etymological _ss_ was sometimes spelt _ssh_.

7-8. _strongest... and wisest... to wale_, 'the strongest... and
wisest... that could be chosen' (lit. 'to choose').

15. _On lusti to loke_, 'pleasant to look upon'.

21 ff. A typical example of the vague and rambling constructions in
which this writer indulges: apparently 'but old stories of the valiant
<men> who <once> held high rank may give pleasure to some who never saw
their deeds, through the writings of men who knew them at first hand
(?) (_in dede_), <which remained> to be searched by those who followed
after, in order to make known (_or_ to know?) all the manner in which
the events happened, by looking upon letters (i.e. writings) that were
left behind of old'.

45. Benoit de Sainte-Maure says the Athenians rejected Homer's story of
gods fighting like mortals, but charitably explains that, as Homer lived
a hundred years after the siege, it is no wonder if he made mistakes:

      _N'est merveille s'il i faillit,
      Quar onc n'i fu ne rien n'en vit._

      _Prologue_, ll. 55-6.

53-4. 'That was elegantly compiled by a wise clerk--one Guido, a man who
had searched carefully, and knew all the actions from authors whom he
had by him.' See Introductory note, pp. 68 f.

66-7. Cornelius Nepos was supposed to have found the Greek work of Dares
at Athens when rummaging in an old cupboard (Benoit de Sainte-Maure,
_Prologue_, ll. 77 ff.).

157. Note the slovenly repetition from l. 151. So l. 159 repeats l. 152.

168-9. I have transposed these lines, assuming that they were misplaced
by a copyist. Guido's Latin favours the change, and the whole passage
will illustrate the English translator's methods:

_Oyleus uero Aiax qui cum 32 nauibus suis in predictam incidit
tempestatem, omnibus nauibus suis exustis et submersis in mari, in
suis uiribus brachiorum nando semiuiuus peruenit ad terram; et,
inflatus pre nimio potu aque, uix se nudum recepit in littore, vbi
usque ad superuenientis diei lucem quasi mortuus iacuit in arena, [et]
de morte sua sperans potius quam de uita. Sed cum quidam ex suis nando
similiter a maris ingluuie iam erepti nudi peruenissent ad littus,
dominum eorum querunt in littore [et] si forsitan euasisset. Quem in
arena iacentem inueniunt, dulcibus uerborum fouent affatibus, cum nec
in uestibus ipsum nec in alio possunt subsidio refouere._ (MS. Harley
4123, fol. 117 a--the bracketed words are superfluous.)

178. _Telamon_ was not at the siege, and his name appears here and in l.
150 as the result of a tangle which begins in the confusion of Oyleus
Ajax with Ajax the son of Telamon. In classical writers after Homer it
is Oyleus Ajax who, at the sack of Troy, drags Cassandra from the temple
of Minerva. This is the story in Dictys. Dares, like Homer, is silent.
In Benoit de Sainte-Maure's poem (ll. 26211-16), the best MSS. name
Oyleus Ajax as Cassandra's captor, but others have '_Thelamon Aiax_',
i.e. Ajax, the son of Telamon. Guido read Benoit in a MS. of the latter
class, and accordingly makes _Telamonius Aiax_ do the sacrilege. With
the English translator this becomes _Telamon_ simply (Bk. xxix, ll.
11993-7). So when later, in Bk. xxxi, he comes to describe the
shipwreck, he replaces Guido's _Aiax_ by _Telamon_, and spoils the story
of Minerva's vengeance on the actual violator of her sanctuary.


VIII

#Dialect#: South Midland, with mixture of forms.

      _a._ VERB: pres. ind. 2 sg. _seist_ 226, _wilnest_ 256.
                            3 sg. _comaundeth_ 16.
                            1 pl. _haue_ 118, _preye_ 119.
                            2 pl. _han_ 11, _wasten_ 127.
                            3 pl. _liggeth_ 15, &c.; beside _ben_ 50,
                                  _waste_ 155.
                 imper. pl. _spynneth_ 13.
                 pres. p. (none in _a_); _romynge_ _b_ 11.
                 strong pp. _bake_ 187, _ybake_ 278, _ybaken_ 175.
                 Infinitives in _-ie_ (OE. _-ian_) are retained: _erye_
                     4, _hatie_ 52, _tilye_ 229 (OE. _erian_, _hatian_,
                     _tilian_).
           PRONOUN 3 PERS.: pl. nom. _[th]ei_ 126, &c., beside _hii_ 15;
                 poss. _her_ 54; obj. _hem_ 2.

#Sounds#: OE. _y_ often shows the Western development, as in _huyre(d)_
108, 133, &c.; _abugge_ 75, 159; beside _bigge_ 275. So _Cornehulle_ _b_
1. But such forms were not uncommon in the London dialect of the time.

_b._ The second extract has a more Southern dialectal colouring. Note
especially the gen. pl. forms _lollarene_ 31, _knauene_ 56, _lordene_
77, continuing or extending the OE. weak gen. pl. in _-ena_; and _menne_
29, 74, retaining the ending of the OE. gen. pl. _manna_.

The representation of unaccented vowels by _u_ in _hure_ (= 'their') 50,
(= 'her') 53; _(h)us_ 'his' 60, 101; _clerkus_ 65, is commonest in
Western districts. _h(w)_ is no longer aspirated: _wanne_ 1, _werby_
35, MS. _eggen_ 19; and conversely _hyf_ 'if' 43, _his_ 'is' 105.

       *       *       *       *       *

_a_ 9. _for shedyng_, 'to prevent spilling'; and so _for colde_ 62 'as a
protection against cold'; _for bollyng_ 209 'to prevent swelling'; _for
chillyng_ 306, &c.

_a_ 11. _[Th]at [gh]e han silke and sendal to sowe_: The construction
changes as if Piers had begun: _Ich praye [gh]ow_, which is the reading
in the C-text. The difficulty of excluding modern ideas from the
interpretation of the Middle Ages is shown by the comment of a scholar
so accomplished as M. Petit-Dutaillis: 'Il attaque les riches peu
mis'ericordieux, les _dames charmantes aux doigts effil'es_, qui ne
s'occupent pas des pauvres' (_Soulevement_, p. lxii). But there is no
hint of satire or reproach in the text. The poet, always conventional,
assigns to high-born ladies the work which at the time was considered
most fitting for them. So it is reported in praise of the sainted
Isabella of France, sister of St. Louis: _Quand elle fust introduicte
des lettres suffisamment, elle s'estudioit a apprendre a ouurer de soye,
et faisoit estolles et autres paremens a saincte Eglise_--'When she was
sufficiently introduced to letters, she set herself to learn how to work
in silk, and made stoles and other vestments for Holy Church.'
(Joinville, _Histoire d. S. Louys_, Paris 1668, pt. i, p. 169.)

_a_ 19. _for [th]e Lordes loue of heuene_: cp. l. 214, and notes to I
44, I 83, II 518.

_a_ 23. _on [th]e teme_, 'on this subject'; _teme_ 'theme' is a correct
form, because Latin _th_ was pronounced _t_. The modern pronunciation is
due to the influence of classical spelling.

_a_ 32. _affaite [th]e_, 'tame for thyself'; cp. l. 64 _(I shal) brynge
me_ = 'bring (for myself)', and the note to II 289.

_a_ 40-1. 'And though you should fine them, let Mercy be the assessor,
and let Meekness rule over you, in spite of Gain.' This is a warning
against abuse of the lord of the manor's power to impose fines in the
manorial court with the object of raising revenue rather than of
administering justice. Cp. Ashley, _Introduction to English Economic
History_, vol. i (1894), pt. ii, p. 266. For _maugr'e Medes chekes_ cp.
151.

_a_ 49. Luke xiv. 10.

_a_ 50. _yuel to knowe_, 'hard to distinguish'.

_a_ 72-5. These clumsy lines, which are found in all versions, exemplify
the chief faults in _Piers Plowman_: structural weakness and superfluous
allegory.

_a_ 79. _I wil... do wryte my biqueste_, 'I will have my will written';
_make(n)_, _ger_ (_gar_), and _lete(n)_ are commonly used like _do(n)_
with an active infinitive, which is most conveniently rendered by the
passive; so _do wryte_ 'cause to be written'; _dyd werche_ 'caused to be
made' I 218; _mad sumoun_ 'caused to be summoned' VI 179; _gert dres
vp_ 'caused to be set up' X 16; _leet make_ 'caused to be made' IX 223,
&c.

_a_ 80. _In Dei nomine, amen_: A regular opening phrase for wills.

_a_ 84. 'I trust to have a release from and remission of my debts which
are recorded in that book.' _Rental_, a book in which the sums due from
a tenant were noted, here means 'record of sins'.

_a_ 86. _he_: the parson, as representing the Church.

_a_ 91. _dou[gh]tres._ In l. 73 only one daughter is named. In the
B-text, Passus xviii. 426, she is called _Kalote_ (see note to _b_ 2
below).

_a_ 94. _bi [th]e rode of Lukes_: at Lucca (French _Lucques_) is a
Crucifix and a famous representation of the face of Christ, reputed
to be the work of the disciple Nicodemus. From Eadmer and William of
Malmesbury we learn that William the Conqueror's favourite oath was
'By the Face of Lucca!', and it is worth noting that the frequent and
varied adjurations in Middle English are copied from the French.

_a_ 114. 'May the Devil take him who cares!'

_a_ 115 ff. _faitoures_ (cp. ll. 185 ff.), who feigned some injury or
disease to avoid work and win the pity of the charitable, multiplied in
the disturbed years following the Black Death. Statutes were passed
against them, and even against those who gave them alms (Jusserand,
_English Wayfaring Life_, pp. 261 ff.). But the type was long lived. In
the extract from _Handlyng Synne_ (No. I), we have already a monument of
their activities.

_a_ 141. 'And those that have cloisters and churches (i.e. monks and
priests) shall have some of my goods to provide themselves with copes.'

_a_ 142. _Robert Renne-aboute._ The type of a wandering preacher;
_posteles_ are clearly preachers with no fixed sphere of authority, like
the mendicant friars and Wiclif's 'poor priests'. Against both the
regular clergy constantly complained that they preached without the
authority of the bishop.

_a_ 186. _[Th]at seten_: the MS. by confusion has _[th]at seten to
seten to begge_, &c.

_a_ 187. _[th]at was bake for Bayarde_: i.e. 'horse-bread' (l. 208),
which used to be made from beans and peas only. _Bayard_, properly a
'bay horse', was, according to romance, the name of the horse given by
Charlemagne to Rinaldo. Hence it became the conventional name for a
horse, just as _Reynard_ was appropriated to the fox. Chaucer speaks of
_proude Bayard_ (_Troilus_, Bk. i. 218) and, referring to an unknown
story, _Bayard the blynde_ (_Canon's Yeoman's Tale_, 860).

_a_ 221. _Michi vindictam_: Romans xii. 19.

_a_ 224. Luke xvi. 9.

_a_ 229. Genesis iii. 19.

_a_ 231. _Sapience_: the Book of Wisdom, but the quotation is actually
from Proverbs xx. 4.

_a_ 234. _Mathew with mannes face._ Each of the evangelists had his
symbol: Matthew, a man; Mark, a lion; Luke, a bull; John, an eagle; and
in early Gospel books their portraits are usually accompanied by the
appropriate symbols.

_a_ 235 ff. Matthew xxv. 14 ff.; Luke xix. 12 ff.

_a_ 245. _Contemplatyf lyf or actyf lyf._ The merits of these two ways
of life were endlessly disputed in the Middle Ages. In XI _b_ Wiclif
attacks the position of the monks and of Rolle's followers; and the
author of _Pearl_ (VI 61 ff.) takes up the related question of salvation
by works or by grace.

_a_ 246. Psalm cxxviii. 1.

_a_ 264. Jusserand gives a brief account of the old-time physicians
in _English Wayfaring Life_, pp. 177 ff. The best were somewhat
haphazard in their methods, and the mountebanks brought
discredit on the profession. Here are a few fourteenth-century
prescriptions:

_For hym that haves the squynansy ['quinsy']_:--

  Tak a fatte katte, and fla hit wele and clene, and draw oute the
  guttes; and tak the grees of an urcheon ['hedgehog'], and the
  fatte of a bare, and resynes, and feinygreke ['fenugreek'], and
  sauge ['sage'], and gumme of wodebynde, and virgyn wax: al this
  mye ['grate'] smal, and farse ['stuff'] the catte within als thu
  farses a gos: rost hit hale, and geder the grees, and enoynt hym
  tharwith. (_Reliquiae Antiquae_, ed. Wright and Halliwell (1841),
  vol. i, p. 51.)

_[Gh]yf a woud hund hat ybite a man_:--

  Take tou<n>karsyn ['towncress'], and pulyole ['penny-royal'], and
  se[th] hit in water, and [gh]ef hym to drynke, and hit schal caste
  out [th]e venym: and [gh]if [th]ou miste ['might'] haue of [th]e
  hundys here, ley hit [th]erto, and hit schal hele hit. (_Medical
  Works of the Fourteenth Century_, ed. G. Henslow, London 1899, p. 19.)

_A goud oynement for [th]e goute_:--

  Take [th]e grece of a bor, and [th]e grece of a ratoun, and cattys
  grece, and voxis grece, and hors grece, and [th]e grece of a brok
  ['badger']; and take fe[th]eruoye ['feverfew'] and eysyl ['vinegar'],
  and stampe h_e_m togedre; and take a litel lynnesed, and stampe hit
  wel, and do hit [th]erto; and meng al togedre, and het hit in a
  scherd, and [th]erwith anoynte [th]e goute by the fuyre. Do so ofte
  and hit schal be hol. (Ibid., p. 20.)

_a_ 284. _Lammasse tyme_: August 1, when the new corn (l. 294) would be
in. On this day a loaf was offered as firstfruits: whence the name, OE.
_hl[=a]f-maesse_.

_a_ 307 ff. Owing to repeated famines, the wages of manual labour rose
throughout the first half of the fourteenth century. A crisis was
reached when the Black Death (1349) so reduced the number of workers
that the survivors were able to demand wages on a scale which seemed
unconscionable to their employers. By the Statute of Labourers (1350 and
1351) an attempt was made to force wages and prices back to the level of
1346. For a day's haymaking 1_d._ was to be the maximum wage; for
reaping 2_d._ or 3_d._ Throughout the second half of the fourteenth
century vain attempts were made to enforce these maxima, and the
penalties did much to fan the unrest that broke out in the Peasants'
Revolt of 1381.

_a_ 309-10. From Bk. i of the _Disticha_ of Dionysius Cato, a collection
of proverbs famous throughout the Middle Ages.

_a_ 321. Saturn was a malevolent planet, as we see from his speech in
Chaucer's _Knight's Tale_, 1595 ff.

_a_ 324. _Deth_: the Plague.

_b_ 1. _Cornehulle._ Cornhill was one of the liveliest quarters of
fourteenth-century London, and a haunt of idlers, beggars, and doubtful
characters. Its pillory and stocks were famous. Its market where, if
_The London Lickpenny_ is to be credited, dealing in stolen clothes was
a speciality, was privileged above all others in the city. See the
documents in Riley's _Memorials of London_.

_b_ 2. _Kytte_: In the B-text, Passus xviii. 425-6, _Kytte_ is mentioned
again:

                          _and ri[gh]t with [th]at I waked
      And called Kitte my wyf and Kalote my dou[gh]ter._

_b_ 4. _lollares of London_: The followers of Wiclif were called
'Lollards' by their opponents; but the word here seems to mean 'idlers'
as in l. 31. _lewede heremytes_: 'lay hermits': hermits were not
necessarily in holy orders, and so far from seeking complete solitude,
they often lived in the cities or near the great highways, where many
passers would have opportunity to recognize their merit by giving alms.
See Cutts, _Scenes and Characters of the Middle Ages_, pp. 93 ff.

_b_ 5. 'For I judged those men as Reason taught me.' Skeat's
interpretation--that _made of_ means 'made verses about'--is forced. The
sense is that the idlers and hermits thought little of the dreamer, and
he was equally critical of them.

_b_ 6. _as ich cam by Conscience_: 'as I passed by Conscience',
referring to a vision described in the previous Passus, in which
Conscience is the principal figure.

_b_ 10 f. _In hele and in vnit'e_, 'in health and in my full senses',
and _Romynge in remembraunce_ qualify _me_.

_b_ 14. _Mowe o[th]er mowen_, 'mow or stack'. For these unrelated words
see the Glossary.

_b_ 16. _haywarde_: by derivation 'hedge-ward'. He watched over
enclosures and prevented animals from straying among the crops. Observe
that ME. nouns denoting occupation usually survive in surnames:--Baxter
'baker', Bow(y)er, Chapman, Dyer, Falconer, Fletcher 'arrow-maker',
Fo(re)ster, Franklin, Hayward, Lister (= litster, 'dyer'), Palmer,
Reeve(s), Spicer, Sumner, Tyler 'maker or layer of tiles', Warner
'keeper of warrens', Webb, Webster, Wright, Yeoman, &c.

_b_ 20-1. 'Or craft of any kind that is necessary to the community, to
provide food for them that are bedridden.'

_b_ 24. _to long_, 'too tall': cp. B-text, Passus xv. 148 _my name is
Longe Wille_. Consistency in such details in a poem full of
inconsistencies makes it probable that the poet is describing himself,
not an imagined dreamer.

_b_ 33. Psalm lxii. 12.

_b_ 45. 1 Corinthians vii. 20.

_b_ 46 ff. Cp. the note to XI _b_ 131 f. The dreamer appears to have
made his living by saying prayers for the souls of the dead, a service
which, from small beginnings in the early Middle Ages, had by this time
withdrawn much of the energy of the clergy from their regular duties.
See note to XI _b_ 140 f.

_b_ 49. _my Seuene Psalmes_: the Penitential Psalms, normally vi, xxxii,
xxxviii, li, cii, cxxx, cxliii, in the numbering of the Authorised
Version. The _Prymer_, which contained the devotions supplementary to
the regular Church service, included the Placebo, Dirige, and the Seven
Psalms: see the edition by Littlehales for the Early English Text
Society.

_b_ 50. _for hure soules of suche as me helpen_: combines the
constructions _for [th]e soules of suche as me helpen_, and _for hure
soules [th]at me helpen_.

_b_ 51. _vochen saf_: supply _me_ as object, 'warrant me that I shall be
welcome'.

_b_ 61. 1 Thessalonians v. 15; Leviticus xix. 18.

_b_ 63. _churches_: here and in l. 110 read the Norse form _kirkes_ for
the alliteration, as in _a_ 28, 85. But the English form also belongs to
the original, for it alliterates with _ch_ at _a_ 12, 50.

_b_ 64. _Dominus_, &c.: Psalm xvi. 5.

_b_ 83. _Symondes sone_: a son of Simon Magus--one guilty of simony, or
one who receives preferment merely because of his wealth.

_b_ 90. Matthew iv. 4.

_b_ 103-4. _Simile est_, &c.: Matthew xiii. 44. _Mulier que_, &c.: Luke
xv. 8 ff.


IX

#Dialect#: South-East Midland.

#Vocabulary#: A number of French words are taken over
from the original, e.g. _plee_ 81, _ryot_ 83, _violastres_ 97, _saphire
loupe_ 116, _gowrdes_ 139, _clowe gylofres_ 157, _canell_ 158, _avaled_
195, _trayne_ (for _taynere_?) 222, _bugles_ 256, _gowtes artetykes_
314, _distreynen_ 315.

#Inflexions#: Almost modern.

      VERB: pres. ind. 3 sg. _schadeweth_ 19, _turneth_ 23.
                       3 pl. _ben_ 4, _han_ 14, _wexen_ 22, _loue_ 100.
            pres. p. _fle(e)ynge_ 148, 252; _recordynge_ 317.
            strong pp. _[gh]ouen_ 90, _begonne_ 171.
      PRONOUN 3 PERS.: pl. _[th]ei_ 5; _here_ 71; _hem_ 20.

#Sounds#: OE. _[=a]_ becomes _[=o,]_: _hoot_ 11, _cold_ 31.

OE. _y_ appears as _y_ (= _i_): _byggynge_ 90, _ky[gh]n_ 'kine' 256;
except regular _left_ (hand) 69, 71, 72, where Modern English has also
adopted the South-Eastern form of OE. _lyft_.

       *       *       *       *       *

21-3. The French original says that the children have white _hair_ when
they are young, which becomes black as they grow up.

24-5. The belief that one of the Three Kings came from Ethiopia is based
on Ps. lxviii. 31: 'Princes shall come out of Egypt, Ethiopia shall soon
stretch out her hands unto God.' In mediaeval representations one of the
three is usually a negro.

27. _Emlak_: miswritten for _Euilak_, a name for India taken from
_Havilah_ of Genesis ii. 11.

28. _[th]at is: [th]e more_: _Ynde_ has probably fallen out of the text
after _is_.

34-5. _[Gh]alow cristall draweth <to> colour lyke oylle_: the insertion
of _to_ is necessary to give sense, and is supported by the French:
_cristal iaunastre trehant a colour doile_. (MS. Harley 4383, f. 34 b.)

36-7. The translation is not accurate. The French has: _et appelle homme
les dyamantz en ceo pais 'Hamese'_.

64 ff. It was supposed that the pearl-bearing shell-fish opened at low
tide to receive the dew-drops from which the pearls grew.

74. _[gh]if [gh]ou lyke_, 'if it please you', impersonal = French _si
vous plest_.

75. _[th]e Lapidarye_, Latin _Lapidarium_, was a manual of precious
stones, which contained a good deal of pseudo-scientific information
about their natures and virtues, just as the _Bestiary_ summed up
popular knowledge of animals. A Latin poem by Marbod bishop of
Rennes (d. 1123) is the chief source of the mediaeval lapidaries,
and, curiously enough, there is a French prose text attributed by so
intimate an authority as Jean d'Outremeuse to Mandeville himself.
Several Old French texts have been edited by L. Pannier, _Les
Lapidaires Francais du Moyen Age_, Paris 1882. Their high repute may
be judged from the inclusion of no less than seven copies in the
library of Charles V of France (d. 1380); and it is surprising that
no complete ME. version is known. But much of the matter was absorbed
into encyclopaedic works like the _De Proprietatibus Rerum_ of
Bartholomaeus, which Trevisa translated.

97. Mistranslated. The French has: _qi sont violastre, ou pluis broun qe
violettes_.

100-1. _But in soth to me_: French: _Mes endroit de moy_, 'but for my
part'; the English translator has rendered _en droit_ separately.

108. _[th]erfore_: the context requires the sense 'because', but the
translator would hardly have used _[th]erfore_ had he realized that ll.
108-9 correspond to a subordinate clause in the French, and do not form
a complete independent sentence. He was misled by the bad punctuation of
some French MSS., e.g. Royal 20 B. X and (with consequent corruption)
Harley 4383.

136. _Cathaye_: China. See the classic work of Colonel Yule, _Cathay and
the Way Thither_, 2 vols., London 1866. The modernization of the Catalan
map of 1375 in vol. i gives a good idea of Mandeville's geography.

142. _withouten wolle_: the story of the vegetable lamb is taken from
the Voyage of Friar Odoric, which is accessible in Hakluyt's _Voyages_.
Hakluyt's translation is reprinted, with the Eastern voyages of John de
Plano Carpini (1246) and of William de Rubruquis (1253), in _The Travels
of Sir John Mandeville_, ed. A. W. Pollard, London 1900. The legend
probably arose from vague descriptions of the cotton plant; and
Mandeville makes it still more marvellous by describing as without wool
the lamb which had been invented to explain the wool's existence.

143-4. _Of [th]at frute I haue eten_: This assertion seems to be due
to the English translator. The normal French text has simply: _et cest
bien grant meruaille de ceo fruit, et si est grant oure [= oeuvre] de
nature_ (MS. Royal 20 B. X, f. 70 b).

147. _the Bernakes_: The barnacle goose--introduced here on a hint from
Odoric--is a species of wild goose that visits the Northern coasts in
winter. It was popularly supposed to grow from the shell-fish called
'barnacle', which attaches itself to floating timber by a stalk
something like the neck and beak of a bird, and has feathery filaments
not unlike plumage. As the breeding place of the barnacle goose was
unknown, and logs with the shell-fish attached were often found on the
coasts, it was supposed that the shell-fish was the fruit of a tree,
which developed in the water into a bird. Giraldus Cambrensis,
_Topographia Hibernica_, I. xv, reproves certain casuistical members of
the Church who ate the barnacle goose on fast-days on the plea that it
was not flesh; but himself vouches for the marvel. The earliest
reference in English is No. 11 of the Anglo-Saxon _Riddles_, of which
the best solution is 'barnacle goose'. For a full account see Max
Mueller's _Lectures on the Science of Language_, vol. ii, pp. 583-604.

157. _grete notes of Ynde_, 'coco-nuts'.

163-4. _Goth and Magoth_: see Ezekiel xxxviii and xxxix. The forms of
the names are French.

170. _God of Nature_: Near the end of the _Travels_ it is explained
that all the Eastern peoples are Deists, though they have not the light
of Christianity: _[th]ei beleeven in God [th]at formede all thing and
made the world, and clepen him 'God of Nature'_.

191-2. _[th]at [th]ei schull not gon out on no syde, but be the cost
of hire lond_: the general sense requires the omission of _but_, which
has no equivalent in the original French text: _qils ne<nt> issent fors
deuers la coste de sa terre_ (MS. Sloane 1464, f. 139 b). But some MSS.
like Royal 20 B. X have _fors qe deuers_, a faulty reading that must
have stood in the copy used by the Cotton translator. Cp. note to l.
108.

199-200. _a four grete myle_: renders the French _iiii grantz lieus_.
There is no 'great mile' among English measures.

209 ff. In the Middle Ages references to the Jews are nearly always
hostile. They were hated as enemies of the Church, and prejudice was
hardened by stories, like that in the text, of their vengeance to come,
or of ritual murder, like Chaucer's _Prioress's Tale_. England had its
supposed boy martyrs, William of Norwich (d. 1144), and Hugh of Lincoln
(d. 1255) whom the Prioress invokes:

      _O yonge Hugh of Lyncoln, slayn also
      With cursed Jewes, as it is notable,
      For it is but a litel while ago,
      Preye eek for us_, &c.

Religion was not the only cause of bitterness. The Jews, standing
outside the Church and its laws against usury, at a time when financial
needs had outgrown feudal revenues, became the money-lenders and bankers
of Europe; and with a standard rate of interest fixed at over 40 per
cent., debtors and creditors could hardly be friends. In England the
Jews reached the height of their prosperity in the twelfth century, so
that in 1188 nearly half the national contribution for a Crusade came
from them. In the thirteenth century their privileges and operations
were cut down, and they were finally expelled from the country in 1290
(see J. Jacobs, _The Jews of Angevin England_, 1893). The Lombards,
whose consciences were not nice, took their place as financiers in
fourteenth-century England.

222. _trayne_: read _taynere_, OFr. _taignere_ 'a burrow'.

237-8. The cotton plant has already given us the vegetable lamb
(l. 142). This more prosaic account is taken from the _E[th]istola
Alexandri ad Aristotelem_: '_in Bactriacen... penitus ad abditos Seres,
quod genus hominum foliis arborum decerpendo lanuginem ex silvestri
vellere vestes detexunt_' (Julius Valerius, ed. B. Kuebler, p. 194).
From the same text come the hippopotami, the bitter waters (Kuebler, p.
195), and the griffins (Kuebler, p. 217). The _Letter of Alexander_ was
translated into Anglo-Saxon in the tenth century.

254 ff. _talouns_ etc.: In the 1725 edition there is a reference to 'one
4 Foot long in the Cotton Library' with the inscription, _Griphi Unguis
Divo Cuthberto Dunelmensi sacer_, 'griffin's talon, sacred to St.
Cuthbert of Durham'. This specimen is now in the Mediaeval Department of
the British Museum, and is really the slim, curved horn of an ibex. The
inscription is late (sixteenth century), but the talon was catalogued
among the treasures of Durham in the fourteenth century.

260. _Prestre Iohn_: Old French _Prestre Jean_, or 'John the Priest',
was reputed to be the Christian ruler of a great kingdom in the East. A
rather minatory letter professing to come from him reached most of the
princes of Europe, and was replied to in all seriousness by Pope
Alexander III. Its claims include the lordship over the tribes of Gog
and Magog whom Alexander the Great walled within the mountains. Official
missions were sent to establish relations with him; but neither in the
Far East nor in Northern Africa, where the best opinion in later times
located his empire, could the great king ever be found. The history of
the legend is set out by Yule in the article _Prester John_ in the
_Encyclopaedia Britannica_.

261. _Yle of Pentexoire_: to Mandeville most Eastern countries are
'isles'. _Pentexoire_ in the French text of Odoric is a territory about
the Yellow River (Yule, _Cathay_, vol. i, p. 146).

262 ff.: For comparison the French text of the Epilogue is given from
MS. Royal 20 B. X, f. 83 a, the words in < > being supplied from MS.
Sloane 1464:

'Il y a plusours autres diuers pais, et moutz dautres meruailles par de
la, qe ieo nay mie tout veu, si nen saueroye proprement parler. Et
meismement el pais en quel iay este, y a plusours diuersetes dont ieo ne
fais point el mencioun, qar trop serroit long chose a tout deuiser. Et
pur ceo qe ieo vous ay deuisez dascuns pais, vous doit suffire quant a
present. Qar, si ieo deuisoie tout quantqez y est par de la, vn autre qi
se peneroit et trauailleroit le corps pur aler en celles marches, et pur
sercher la pais, serroit empeschez par mes ditz a recompter nuls choses
estranges, qar il ne purroit rien dire de nouelle, en quoy ly oyantz y
puissent prendre solaces. Et lem dit toutdis qe choses nouelles
pleisent. Si men taceray a tant, saunz plus recompter nuls diuersetez qi
soyent par de la, a la fin qe cis qi vourra aler en celles parties y
troeue assez a dire.

'Et ieo, Iohan Maundeuille dessudit, qi men party de nos pais et
passay le mer lan de grace mil cccxxiide; qi moint terre et moint
passage et moint pays ay puis cerchez; et qy ay este en moint
bone compaignie et en molt beal fait, come bien qe ieo <ne fuisse
dignes, et> ne feisse vncqes ne beal fait ne beal emprise; et qi
meintenant suy venuz a repos maugre mien, pur goutes artetikes qi
moy destreignont; en preignan solacz en mon cheitif repos, en
recordant le temps passe, ay cestes choses compilez et mises en
escript, si come il me poet souuenir, lan de grace mil ccc.lvime,
a xxxiiiite an qe ieo men party de noz pais.

'Si pri a toutz les lisauntz, si lour plest, qils voillent Dieu prier
pur moy, et ieo priera pur eux. Et toutz cils qi pur moy dirrount vne
_Paternoster_ qe Dieu me face remissioun de mes pecches, ieo les face
parteners et lour ottroie part dez toutz les bons pelrinages et dez
toutz les bienfaitz qe ieo feisse vnqes, et qe ieo ferray, si Dieu
plest, vncqore iusqes a ma fyn. Et pry a Dieu, de qy toute bien et toute
grace descent, qil toutz les lisantz et oyantz Cristiens voille de sa
grace reemplir, et lour corps et les almes sauuer, a la glorie et loenge
de ly qi est trinz et vns, et saunz comencement et saunz fin, saunz
qualite bons, saunz quantite grantz, en toutz lieus present et toutz
choses contenant, et qy nul bien ne poet amender ne nul mal enpirer, qy
en Trinite parfite vit et regne par toutz siecles et par toutz temps.
Amen.'

274. _blamed_: The Old French verb _empescher_ means both 'to hinder,
prevent', and 'to accuse, impeach'. But here _empeschez_ should have
been translated by 'prevented', not 'blamed'.

284-306. This passage, which in one form or another appears in nearly
all the MSS. in English, has no equivalent in the MSS. in French so far
examined: and, as it conflicts with ll. 313 ff., which--apart from the
peculiarities of the Cotton rendering--indicate that the _Travels_ were
written after Mandeville's return, it must be set down as an
interpolation.

The art of forging credentials was well understood in the Middle Ages,
and the purpose of this addition was to silence doubters by the
_imprimatur_ of the highest authority, just as the marvel of the Dancers
of Colbek is confirmed by the sponsorship of Pope Leo IX (I 246-9). The
different interpretation of the latest editor, Hamelius, who thinks it
was intended as a sly hit at the Papacy (_Quarterly Review_ for April
1917, pp. 349 f.) seems to rest on the erroneous assumption that the
passage belonged to the French text as originally written.

The anachronism by which the author is made to seek the Pope _in Rome_
gives a clue to the date of the interpolation. From the beginning of the
fourteenth century until 1377 Avignon, and not Rome, was the seat of the
Pope; and for another thirty years there was doubt as to the issue of
the conflict between the popes, who had their head-quarters at Rome and
were recognized by England, and the antipopes, who remained at Avignon
and had the support of the French. The facts were notorious, so that the
anachronism would hardly be possible to one who wrote much before the
end of the century, even though he were a partisan of the Roman court.

From internal evidence it would seem that the interpolation first
appeared in French. The style is the uniform style of translation, with
the same tags--_and [gh]ee schull vndirstonde_ = _et sachiez_; _[gh]if
it lyke [gh]ou_ = _si vous plest_; and the same trick of double
rendering, e.g. _of dyuerse secte and of beleeve_; _wyse and discreet_;
_the auctour ne the persone_. More decisive is an example of the
syntactical compromise explained in the note to l. 329: #be# _the whiche
the Mappa Mundi was made_ #after#. With so many French MSS. of
Mandeville in use in England, an interpolation in French would have more
authority than one that could not be traced beyond English; and it can
hardly be an insuperable objection that no such French text exists
to-day, since our knowledge of the Cotton and Egerton versions
themselves depends in each case on the chance survival of a single MS.

The point has a bearing on the vexed question of the relations of the
English texts one to another. For brevity we may denote by D the
defective text of the early prints and most MSS., which is specially
distinguished by a long gap near the beginning; by C the Cotton text
(ed. Halliwell, Pollard, Hamelius); by E the Egerton text (ed. Warner).
Nicholson (in the _Encyclopaedia Britannica_) and Warner give priority
to D, and consider that C and E are independent revisions and expansions
of D by writers who had recourse to the French original. Their argument
seems to be this: There is precise evidence just before the gap that D
derives direct from a mutilated French text (see _Enc. Brit._), and if
it be granted that a single translation from the French is the base of
C, D, and E, it follows that C and E are based on D.

A fuller study by Vogels (_Handschriftliche Untersuchungen ueber die
Englische Version Mandeville's_, Crefeld 1891) brings to light a new
fact: the two Bodleian MSS., E Museo 116 and Rawlinson D 99, contain an
English translation (say L) made from a Latin text of the _Travels_.
Vogels also shows that E is based on D, because the characteristic
lacuna of D is filled in E by a passage which is borrowed from L and is
not homogeneous with the rest of E. So far there is no conflict with the
view of Nicholson and Warner. But, after adducing evidence in favour of
the contention that C, D, and E are at base one translation, Vogels
concludes that D derives from C, arguing thus: There is good evidence
that C is a direct translation from the French, and if it be granted
that a single translation from the French is the base of C and D, it
follows that D derives from C.

In short, the one party maintains that C is an expansion of D, the other
that D is an abridgement of C; and this flat opposition results from
the acceptance of common ground: that C and D represent in the main one
translation and not two translations.

To return to our interpolation:

(1) Vogels's first piece of evidence that C, D, and E are at base one
translation is the appearance in all of this interpolation, which is
absent from the MSS. in French. But a passage so remarkable might spread
from one to the other of two independent English texts; or if the
interpolation originated in England in a MS. of the French text since
lost, it might be twice translated.

(2) Vogels assumes that the interpolation first appeared in type C. But
C is the form in which it would be least likely to originate, because
here the contradiction of statement is sharpest owing to the rendering
at ll. 313-14: _and now I am comen hom_, which is peculiar to C (see the
French).

(3) If, in order to eliminate individual peculiarities, we take two MSS.
of the D type--say Harley 2386 and Royal 17 C. XXXVIII--we find that
their text of the interpolation is identical with that of E. This is
consistent with Vogels's finding that the body of E derives from D; and
it confirms the evidence of all the defective MSS. that the
interpolation in this particular form was an integral part of the D
type.

(4) But between the text of the interpolation in D and that in C there
are differences in matter, in sentence order, and in phrasing, which,
while they do not exclude the possibility of interdependence, do not
suggest such a relation. In D the passage is a naked attempt at
authentication; in C it is more artfully though more shamelessly
introduced by the touch of piety conventional in epilogues. And as the
signs of a French original that appear in C are absent from D, it is
unlikely that the text of the interpolation in C derives from D.

(5) Again, in D and E the addition follows the matter of ll. 307-20.
Unfortunately, though the balance of probability is in favour of the
order in C, the order intended by the interpolator is not certain enough
to be made the basis of arguments. But such a difference in position is
naturally explained from the stage when the interpolation stood in the
margin of a MS., or on an inserted slip, so that it might be taken into
the consecutive text at different points. And an examination of the
possibilities will show that if the interpolation originated in French,
the different placing is more simply explained on the assumption that C
and D are independent translations than on the assumption that one of
them derives from the other.

To sum up: the central problem for the history of the English texts is
the relation of C and D. Taken by itself the evidence afforded by the
text of the interpolation is against the derivation of C from D; it
neither favours nor excludes the derivation of D from C; it rather
favours independent translation in C and D.

For the relations of the rest of the text these deductions afford no
more than a clue. Against independent translation of C and D stands the
evidence adduced by Vogels for basic unity. Much of this could be
accounted for by the coincidences that are inevitable in literal prose
translations from a language so near to English in vocabulary and word
order; and a few striking agreements might be due to the use of French
MSS. having abnormal variants in common, or even to reference by a
second translator to the first. The remainder must be weighed against a
considerable body of evidence in the contrary sense, e.g. several places
where the manuscripts of the French text have divergent readings, of
which C translates one, and D another.

It is unlikely that any simple formula will be found to cover the whole
web of relationships: but any way of reconciling the conclusions of the
authorities should be explored; and the first step is an impartial
sifting of all the evidence, with the object of discovering to what
extent C and D are interdependent, and to what extent independent
translations. The chief obstacle is the difficulty of bringing the
necessary texts together; for an investigator who wished to clear the
ground would have to face the labour of preparing a six-text
_Mandeville_, in the order, French, C, D, E, L, Latin.

301. _Mappa Mundi_: OFr. and ME. _Mappemounde_, was the generic name for
a chart of the world, and, by extension, for a descriptive geography of
the world. It is not clear what particular _Mappa Mundi_ is referred to
here, or whether such a map was attached to the manuscript copy of the
_Travels_ in which this interpolation first appeared.

329. _fro whom all godenesse and grace cometh fro_: cp. 24-5 _the
lond of the whiche on of the [th]re Kynges... was kyng offe_; 76-8
_[th]ei... of whom all science... cometh from_; and 301-2 _be the
whiche the_ Mappa Mundi _was made after_. The pleonasm is explained by
the divergence of French and ME. word order. In French, as in modern
literary English, the preposition is placed at the beginning of the
clause, before the relative (_de qui_, _dont_, &c.). ME. writers
naturally use the relative _that_, and postpone the preposition to
the end of the clause: e.g. _[th]at all godenesse cometh fro_. The
translator compromises between his French original and his native habit
by placing the preposition both at the beginning and at the end.


X

#Dialect#: Northern (Scots): the MS. copy was made in 1487 more than a
century after the poem was composed.

#Vocabulary#: Note _till_ 'to' 4, 77 (in rime); _syne_ 'afterwards' 35,
112; the forms _sic_ 'such' 135, _begouth_ 94, and the short verbal
forms _ma_ (in rime) 'make' 14, _tane_ (in rime) 'taken' 19.

#Inflexions#:

      VERB: pres. ind. 3 sg. _has_ 76.
                       3 pl. _has_ 52, _mais_ 72; but _thai haf_ 16.
            pres. p. _rynand_ 17, _vyndland_ 129 (in rime).
            strong pp. _gane_ 84, _drawyn_ 124.
      PRONOUN 3 PERS.: sg. fem. nom. _scho_ (in rime) 80;
            pl. _thai_ 1: _thair_ 28; _thame_ 3.

#Sounds#: OE. _[=a]_ remains: _brynstane_ (in rime) 20, _sare_ 51.

OE. _[=o]_ (close _[=o.]_) appears as _u_ (_[=ue]_?): _gude_ 36, _fut_
57, _tume_ 143.

Unaccented _-(e)d_ of weak pa. t. and pp. becomes _-(i)t_: _passit_ 2,
&c.

#Spelling#: _i_ (_y_) following a vowel indicates length: _weill_ 10,
_noyne_ 'noon' 67.

OE. _hw-_ appears as _quh-_ (indicating strong aspiration): _quhelis_
'wheels' 17, _quhar_ 18.

_v_ and _w_ are interchanged: _vithall_ 9, _behevin_ 163, _in swndir_
106.

       *       *       *       *       *

Book XVII of _The Bruce_ begins with the capture of Berwick by the Scots
in March 1318. Walter Stewart undertakes to hold the city, and is aided
in preparing defences by a Flemish engineer, John Crab. Next year King
Edward II determines to recapture the stronghold by an attack from both
land and sea. He entrenches his forces and makes the first assault
unsuccessfully early in September 1319. In this battle the Scotch
garrison capture a clever engineer (see note to l. 71 below). King
Robert Bruce meanwhile orders a raid into England as a diversion, and on
20 September 1319, an English army, led by the Archbishop of York, is
disastrously defeated by the invaders at Mitton. Our extract gives the
story of the second assault on Berwick, which was also fruitless. The
fortress fell into English hands again as a result of the battle of
Halidon Hill in 1333: see XIV _a_ 35-6.

       *       *       *       *       *

5-6. 'They made a sow of great joists, which had a stout covering over
it.' The _sow_ was essentially a roof on wheels. The occupants, under
shelter of the roof, pushed up to the walls of the besieged place and
tried to undermine them. For an illustration see Cutts, _Scenes and
Characters of the Middle Ages_, Pt. VI, chap. vi, where other military
engines of the time are described.

15. _Crabbis consale_: John Crab was the engineer of the garrison. He is
no doubt the same as the John Crab who in 1332 brought Flemish ships
round from Berwick to attack the English vessels at Dundee. There was an
important Flemish colony at Berwick from early times.

36. _Schir Valter, the gude Steward_: Walter Steward, whose surname
denotes his office as Steward of Scotland, was the father of Robert II,
the first king of the Stuart line.

42. _Rude-evyn_: September 13, the eve of the feast of the Exaltation of
the Cross.

49. _thame... of the toune_, 'the defenders of the town'.

51. _or than_, 'or else'.

71 ff. _The engynour_: an English engineer captured by the garrison in
the previous assault and forced into their service.

80. _scho_, 'she', some engine of war not previously referred to:
apparently a mechanical sling.

123 ff. The boats were filled with men and hoisted up the masts, so as
to overtop the walls and allow the besiegers to shoot at the garrison
from above. The same engine that proved fatal to the sow was used to
break up the boats.

146. _thar wardane with him had_, 'their warden <who> had with him'; cp.
note to XIII _a_ 36.

158-61. A confused construction. The writer has in mind: (1) 'Of all the
men he had there remained with him only one whom he had not left to
relieve', &c.; and (2) 'There were no members of his company (except
one) whom he had not left', &c.


XI

#Dialect#: South Midland.

#Inflexions#: _u_ for inflexional _e_, as in _knowun_ _a_ 2, _seun_ _a_
51, _a[gh]enus_ _a_ 29, _mannus_ _b_ 114 is found chiefly in West
Midland.

      VERB: pres. ind. 2 sg. _madist_ _b_ 214.
                       3 sg. _groundi[th]_ _a_ 4.
                       3 pl. _seyn_ _a_ 1, _techen_ _b_ 5.
            pres. p. _brennynge_ _b_ 67.
            strong pp. _knowun_ _a_ 2, _[gh]ouen_ _b_ 264, _take_ _b_
                271.
      PRONOUN 3 PERS.: pl. _[th]ey_, _[th]ei_, _a_ 3, _b_ 9;
            possessive usually _[th]er_ in _a_ 1, 23, &c.; but _her_ _a_
                52, and regularly _here_ in _b_ 25, 36, &c.;
            objective _hem_ _a_ 4, _b_ 3.

#Sounds#: OE. _[=a]_ appears regularly as _o_, _oo_: _more_ _a_ 7,
_Hooly_ _a_ 10, _toolde_ _a_ 65.

OE. _y_ appears as _y_, _i_: _synne_ _a_ 61, _stiren_ _b_ 93.

The form _[th]ou[th]_ (= _[th]ou[gh]_) _b_ 190 probably indicates
sound-substitution; and in _ynow[th][gh]_ (= _ynou[gh]_) _b_ 149 there
is wavering between the two forms.

       *       *       *       *       *

_a_ 12. _Wit Sunday_: the first element is OE. _hw[=i]t_ 'white', not
'wit'.

_a_ 25 ff. Translations of the Bible were common in France at this
time. No less than six fine copies survive from the library of John,
Duke of Berry (d. 1416). About the middle of the fourteenth century King
John of France ordered a new translation and commentary to be made at
the expense of the Jews, but it was never finished, although several
scholars were still engaged on it at the end of the century. The early
French verse renderings, which incorporate a good deal of mediaeval
legend, are described by J. Bonnard, _Les Traductions de la Bible en
Vers Francais au Moyen Age_ (Paris 1884); the prose by S. Berger, _La
Bible Francaise au Moyen Age_ (Paris 1884). Of the surviving manuscripts
mentioned in these excellent monographs several were written in England.

_a_ 28 ff. In earlier times, when most of those who could read at all
were schooled in Latin, the need for English translations of the
Scriptures was not so pressing, and the partial translations that were
made were intended rather for the use of the clergy and their noble
patrons than for the people. Bede (d. 735) completed a rendering of St.
John's Gospel on his death-bed. Old English versions of the Gospels and
the Psalms still survive. Abbot Aelfric (about A.D. 1000) translated the
first five books of the Old Testament; and more than one Middle English
version of the Psalms is known. Wiclif was perhaps unaware of the Old
English precedents because French renderings became fashionable in
England from the twelfth century onwards, and he would probably think of
the Psalter more as a separate service book than as an integral part of
the Bible. But the prologue to the Wiclifite version attributed to John
Purvey quotes the example of Bede and King Alfred; and the Dialogue on
Translation which, in Caxton's print, serves as preface to Trevisa's
translation of Higden, emphasizes the Old English precedents. Both may
be read in _Fifteenth Century Prose and Verse_, ed. A. W. Pollard,
London 1903, pp. 193 ff. The attitude of the mediaeval Church towards
vernacular translations of the Bible has been studied very fully by Miss
M. Deanesly, _The Lollard Bible and other Medieval Biblical Versions_,
Cambridge 1920.

_a_ 34. _[th]e pley of [Gh]ork._ The York Paternoster Play has not
survived, but there are records from 1389 of a Guild of the Lord's
Prayer at York, whose main object was the production of the play. It
seems to have been an early example of the moral play, holding up 'the
vices to scorn and the virtues to praise', and it probably consisted of
several scenes, each exhibiting one of the Seven Deadly Sins. The last
recorded representation was in 1572. See Chambers, _The Mediaeval
Stage_, vol. ii, p. 154. The association of the friars with the
production of religious plays is confirmed by other writings of the
time. They were quick to realize the value of dramatic representation
as a means of gaining favour with the people, and their encouragement
must be reckoned an important factor in the development of the Miracle
Play.

_a_ 51. _wher_, 'whether'; cp. _b_ 207. In ll. 197, 266, 274, it
introduces a direct question; see note to V 118.

_b_ 20. _Gregory_, Gregory the Great. See his work _In Primum Regum
Expositiones_, Bk. iii, c. 28: _praedicatores autem Sanctae Ecclesiae...
prophetae ministerio utuntur_ (Migne, _Patrologia_, vol. lxxix, col.
158).

_b_ 44. <_God_>. Such omissions from the Corpus MS. are supplied
throughout from the copy in Trinity College, Dublin, MS. C. III. 12.

_b_ 79-80. Cp. Luke xxi. 36 and 1 Thessalonians v. 17.

_b_ 89-91. Proverbs xxviii. 9.

_b_ 126. _as Ambrose_: In 386 St. Ambrose, besieged in the Portian
Church at Milan by Arian sectaries, kept his followers occupied and in
good heart by introducing the Eastern practice of singing hymns and
antiphons. See St. Augustine's _Confessions_ Bk. ix, c. 7.

_b_ 131-2. _placebo._ Vespers of the Dead, named from the first word of
the antiphon, _Placebo Domino in regione vivorum_ (Psalm cxiv. 9).

_dirige._ Matins of the Dead, named from the first word of the antiphon,
_Dirige, Domine, Deus meus, in conspectu tuo viam meam_ (Psalm v. 9).
Hence our word _dirge_.

_comendacion_: an office in which the souls of the dead are commended to
God.

_matynes of Oure Lady_: one of the services in honour of the Virgin
introduced in the Middle Ages.

The whole question of these accretions to the Church services is dealt
with by our English master in liturgical study, the late Mr. Edmund
Bishop, in his essay introductory to the Early English Text Society's
edition of the _Prymer_, since reprinted with additional notes in his
_Liturgica Historica_ (Oxford 1918), pp. 211 ff.

_b_ 137 f. _deschaunt, countre note, and orgon, and smale brekynge._ The
elaboration of the Church services in mediaeval times was accompanied by
a corresponding enrichment of the music. To the plain chant additional
parts were joined, sung in harmony either above or below the plain
chant. _Descant_ usually means the addition of a part above, _organ_ and
_countre-note_ (= counterpoint) the addition of parts either above or
below. All these could be composed note for note with the plain chant.
But _smale brekyng_ represents a further complication, whereby the
single note in the plain chant was represented by two or more notes in
the accompanying parts.

_b_ 140 f. The abuse is referred to in _Piers Plowman_:

      _Persones and parsheprests pleynede to the bisshop
      That hure parshens ben poore sitthe the pestelence tyme,
      To haue licence and leue in Londone to dwelle,
      And synge ther for symonye, for seluer ys swete._

      _Prologue_ ll. 81-4.

and by Chaucer in his description of the Parson:

      _He sette nat his benefice to hyre,
      And leet his sheepe encombred in the myre,
      And ran to Londoun, unto Seint Poules,
      To seken hym a chaunterie for soules._

      _Prologue_ ll. 507-10.

_b_ 183. _Ordynalle of Salisbury._ An 'ordinal' is a book showing the
order of church services and ceremonies. In mediaeval times there was
considerable divergence in the usage of different churches. But after
the Conquest, and more especially in the thirteenth century, there was
developed at Salisbury Cathedral an elaborate order and form of service
which spread to most of the English churches of any pretensions. This
was called 'Sarum' or 'Salisbury' use.

_b_ 209. _[th]ei demen it dedly synne a prest to fulfille_, &c. For this
construction, cp. Chaucer, _Prologue_ 502 _No wonder is a lewed man to
ruste_; Shakespeare, _Two Gentlemen of Verona_, V. iv. 108 f. _It is the
lesser blot... Women to change their shapes_, &c. The same construction,
where we now insert _for_, is seen in _Gawayne_ (v. 352-3) _hit were a
wynne huge... a leude, [th]at cou[th]e, to luf hom wel_, &c.

_b_ 221-3. 'They say that a priest may be excused from saying mass, to
be the substance of which God gave Himself, provided that he hears one.'

_b_ 228 f. _newe costy portos, antifeners, graielis, and alle o[th]ere
bokis._ _Portos_, French _porte hors_, represents Latin _portiforium_, a
breviary convenient for 'carrying out of doors'. The _antifener_
contained the antiphons, responses, &c., necessary for the musical
service of the canonical hours. The _graiel_, or _gradual_, was so
called from the gradual responses, sung at the steps of the altar, or
while the deacon ascended the steps of the pulpit: but the book actually
contained all the choral service of the Mass.

_b_ 230. _makynge of biblis._ Wiclif in his _Office of Curates_ (ed.
Matthew, p. 145) complains of the scarcity of bibles. _But fewe curatis
han [th]e Bible and exposiciouns of [th]e Gospelis, and litel studien
on hem, and lesse donne after hem. But wolde God [th]at euery parische
chirche in [th]is lond hadde a good Bible!_ &c.

_b_ 234. At this time books, especially illuminated books, were
very dear. The Missal of Westminster Abbey, which is now shown in
the Chapter-house, was written in 1382-4 at a cost of _l._34 14_s._
7_d._--a great sum in those days, for the scribe, Thomas Preston, who
took two years to write it, received only _l._4 for his labour, 20_s._
for his livery, and board at the rate of 21_s._ 8_d._ the half year.
The inscription in British Museum MS. Royal 19 D. II, a magnificently
illustrated Bible with commentary, shows that it was captured at
Poitiers with King John of France, and bought by the Earl of Salisbury
for 100 marks (about _l._66). Edward III gave the same sum to a nun of
Amesbury for a rich book of romance. In France John, Duke of Berry,
paid as much as _l._200 for a breviary, and the appraisement of his
library in 1416 shows a surprisingly high level of values (L. Delisle,
_Le Cabinet des Manuscrits_, vol. iii, pp. 171 ff.). These were
luxurious books. The books from the chapel of Archbishop Bowet of York
(d. 1423) sold more reasonably: _l._8 for a great antiphonar and _l._6
13_s._ 4_d._ _pro uno libro vocato 'Bibill'_, were the highest prices
paid; and from his library there were some fascinating bargains: 4_s._
for a small copy of Gregory's _Cura Pastoralis_; 5_s._ _pro uno libro
vocato 'Johannes Andrewe', vetere et debili_, which would probably turn
out to be a dry work on the Decretals; and 3_s._ 4_d._ for a nameless
codex, _vetere et caduco_, 'old and falling to pieces'. (_Historians of
the Church of York_, ed. J. Raine, vol. iii, pp. 311, 315.)

But the failing activity of the monastic scriptoria, and the formation
of libraries by the friars and by rich private collectors, made study
difficult for students at the universities, where at this time a
shilling per week--a third of the price of Bowet's most dilapidated
volume--was reckoned enough to cover the expenses of a scholar living
plainly. The college libraries were scantily supplied: books were lent
only in exchange for a valuable pledge; or even pawned, in hard times,
by the colleges themselves.

These conditions were not greatly improved until printing gave an easy
means of duplication, and for a time caused the humble manuscripts in
which most of the mediaeval vernacular literature was preserved to be
treated as waste paper. As late as the eighteenth century Martene found
the superb illuminated manuscripts left by John, Duke of Berry, to the
Sainte Chapelle at Bourges serving as roosting places to their keeper's
hens (_Voyage Litt'eraire_, Paris 1717, pt. i, p. 29).

_b_ 261-3. The reference is to Acts vi. 2, 'It is not reason that we
should leave the word of God, and serve tables.'

_b_ 266. _wisere [th]an._ After these words the Corpus MS. (p. 170,
col. i, l. 34 mid.), without any warning, goes on to the closing
passage of an entirely unrelated 'Petition to the King and Parliament'.
By way of compensation, the end of our sermon appears at the close of
the Petition. Clearly the scribe (or some one of his predecessors)
copied without any regard for the sense from a MS. of which the leaves
had become disarranged.

_b_ 285. Cp. Acts iii. 6.


XII

#Dialect#: London (SE. Midland) with Kentish features.

#Inflexions#:

      VERB: pres. ind. 3 sg. _loveth_ _a_ 5; contracted _stant_ _a_ 74.
                       3 pl. _schewen_ _a_ 136, _halsen_ _a_ 148, _be_
                           (in rime) _a_ 92.
            pres. p. _growende_ _a_ 80.
            strong pp. _schape_ (in rime) _a_ 130, beside _schapen_ _a_
                169.
      PRONOUN 3 PERS.: sg. fem. nom. _sche_ _a_ 32;
            pl. _thei_ _a_ 148; _here_ _a_ 144; _hem_ _a_ 112.

Unaccented final _-e_ is treated as in Chaucer, having its full value in
the verse when it represents an inflexion or final vowel in Old English
or Old French, e.g.

      _And for he schold[.e] slep[.e] soft[.e]_      _a_ 93
      _An ap[.e], which at thilk[.e] throw[.e]_      _b_ 5

#Sounds#: _e_ appears as in Kentish for OE. _y_: _hell_ 'hill' _a_ 65,
79, 86; _keste_ 'kissed' _a_ 178; note the rimes _unschette_: _lette_
_a_ 71-2; _pet_ 'pit': _let_ _b_ 9-10; and less decisive _pet_: _knet_
(OE. _knyttan_) _b_ 29-30, 53-4; _dreie_: _beie_ _b_ 23-4.

#Spelling#: _ie_ represents close _[=e.]_: _flietende_ _a_ 157, _hier_
_b_ 34; _diemed_ _b_ 216.

#Syntax#: The elaborate machinery of sentence connexion deserves special
attention; and many turns of phrase are explained by Gower's fluency in
French.

       *       *       *       *       *

_a_ 1. Gower follows Ovid, _Metamorphoses_, Bk. xi. Chaucer tells the
story of Ceix and Alcyone in his _Death of Blanche the Duchess_, ll. 62
ff. This is presumably the early work to which the Man of Law refers:

      _I kan right now no thrifty tale seyn
      But Chaucer, thogh he kan but lewedly
      On metres and on rymyng craftily,
      Hath seyd hem, in swich Englissh as he kan,
      Of olde tyme, as knoweth many a man;
      And if he have noght seyd hem, leve brother,
      In o book, he hath seyd hem in another;
      For he hath toold of loveris up and doun
      Mo than Ovide made of mencioun
      In his ~Epistelles~, that been ful olde.
      What sholde I tellen hem, syn they ben tolde?
      In youthe he made of Ceys and Alcione_, &c.

      (Link to _Man of Law's Tale_, ll. 46 ff.)

Gower's rendering is the more poetical.

_a_ 2. _Trocinie._ Ovid's _Trachinia tellus_, so called from the city of
Trachis, north-west of Thermopylae.

_a_ 23. _As he which wolde go_: otiose, or at best meaning no more than
'desiring to go'. Cp. _b_ 25 _As he which hadde_ = 'having' simply; and
similarly _b_ 37, 203. It is an imitation of a contemporary French idiom
_comme celui qui_.

_a_ 26. _and_: the displacement of the conjunction from its natural
position at the beginning of the clause is characteristic of Gower's
verse. Cp. l. 152 _Upon the morwe and up sche sterte_ = 'and in the
morning she got up', and _a_ 45, 49, _b_ 121, 124, 135, 160, 182. See
notes to ll. 32, 78 f.

_a_ 32. Editors put a comma after _wepende_, and no stop after
_seileth_: but it is Alceoun who weeps. The displacement of _and_ is
exemplified in the notes to l. 26 and ll. 78 f.

_a_ 37. 'One had not to look for grief'; a regular formula of
understatement, meaning 'her grief was great'.

_a_ 53. _Hire reyny cope_, &c.: the rainbow, which was the sign or
manifestation of Iris.

_a_ 59 ff.

            _Prope Cimmerios longo spelunca recessu,
      Mons cavus, ignavi domus et penetralia Somni._

      (_Metamorphoses_ xi. 592-3.)

Much of the poetry of Gower's description is due to Ovid.

_a_ 78 f. Editors put no stop after _may_ and a comma after _hell_.
Hence _The New English Dictionary_ quotes this passage as an isolated
instance of _noise_, transitive, meaning 'disturb with noise'. But
_noise_ is intransitive, _hell_ is governed by _aboute round_, and the
position of _bot_ is abnormal as in l. 105. Cp. notes to ll. 26, 32, and
render 'But all round about the hill'.

_a_ 105. For the word order see notes to ll. 26, 32, 78 f.

_a_ 117. _The lif_, 'the man', cp. IV _a_ 43.

_a_ 118. _Ithecus_: for Icelos. According to Ovid 'Icelos' was the name
by which he was known to the gods, but men called him 'Phobetor'.

_a_ 123. _Panthasas_: Ovid's _Phantasos_.

_a_ 152. See note to l. 26.

_a_ 197. The halcyon, usually identified with the kingfisher, was
supposed to build a floating nest on the sea in midwinter, and to have
power to calm the winds and waves at that season, bringing 'halcyon
weather'.

_b_ 2. _I finde._ Matthew Paris in his _Chronica Maiora_ (ed. Luard,
Rolls Series, vol. ii, pp. 413 ff.) gives a similar story, which, he
says, King Richard the First often told to rebuke ingratitude. In this
version, Vitalis of Venice falls into a pit dug as a trap for wild
beasts. The rescued animals are a lion and a serpent; the rescuer is
nameless, and the gem given to him by the serpent has not the magic
virtue of returning whenever sold. Nearer to Gower is the story told in
Nigel Wireker's _Speculum Stultorum_, a late twelfth-century satire in
Latin verse, which, from the name of its principal character Burnellus
the Ass, who is ambitious to have a longer tail, is sometimes called
_Burnellus_; cp. Chaucer, _Nun's Priest's Tale_, l. 492:

      _I have wel rad in Daun Burnel the Asse
      Among his vers_, &c.

The poem is printed in T. Wright's _Anglo-Latin Satirical Poets and
Epigrammatists of the Twelfth Century_ (Rolls Series, 1872), vol. i. At
the end the Ass returns disappointed to his master Bernardus (= Bardus).
Bernardus, when gathering wood, hears Dryanus (= Adrian), a rich citizen
of Cremona, call from a pit for help. The rescued animals are a lion, a
serpent, and an ape. The gem given by the serpent in token of gratitude
always returns to Bernardus, who, with more honesty than Gower's poor
man shows, takes it back to the buyer. The fame of the marvellous stone
reaches the king; his inquiries bring to light the whole story; and
Dryanus is ordered to give half his goods to Bernardus.

Gower probably worked on a later modification of Nigel's story.

_b_ 86. _blessed_, 'crossed (himself)'.

_b_ 89. _Betwen him and his asse_, i.e. pulling together with the ass.
The ass is, of course, the distinguished Burnellus.

_b_ 116. _his ape_: for _this ape_ (?).

_b_ 191. _Justinian_, Emperor of the Eastern Roman Empire (d. 565), was
best known for his codification of the Roman Law, and so is named here
as the type of a lawgiver.


XIII

#Dialect#: South-Western, with some Midland forms.

#Inflexions#:

      VERB: pres. ind. 3 sg. _blowe[th]_ _a_ 7, _caste[th]_ _a_ 8.
                       3 pl. _bu[th]_ _a_ 10, _habbe[th]_ _a_ 15.
            pres. p. _slyttyng_, _frotyng_ _b_ 59.
            strong pp. _yknowe_ _a_ 12, _ysode_ _a_ 30.
      NOUN: Note the plural in _-(e)n_, _tren_ 'trees' _a_ 44, 51, 53;
                _chyldern_ _b_ 16 is a double plural.
      PRONOUN 3 PERS.: pl. _hy_ _a_ 17; _here_ _a_ 61; _ham_ _a_ 23.
            Note the unstressed 3 sg. and 3 pl. form _a_, e.g. at _a_
                13, 27.

#Sounds#: There is no instance of _v_ for initial _f_, which is
evidenced in the spelling of early South-Western writers like Robert of
Gloucester (about 1300), or of _z_ for initial _s_, which is less
commonly shown in spelling. _u_ for OE. _y_ occurs in _hulles_ 'hills'
_a_ 18 (beside _bysynes_ _b_ 24, where Modern English has _u_ in
spelling but _i_ in pronunciation; and _lift_ (OE. _lyft_) _b_ 39, where
Modern English has the South-Eastern form _left_).

       *       *       *       *       *

_a_ 2-3. _Mayster... Minerua... hys_: Trevisa appears to have understood
'Minerva' as the name of a god.

_a_ 6-49. Higden took all this passage from Book i of the
twelfth-century Annals of Alfred of Beverley (ed. Hearne, pp. 6-7). The
_Polychronicon_ is a patchwork of quotations from earlier writers.

_a_ 7. _Pectoun._ Higden has _ad Peccum_, and Alfred of Beverley _in
monte qui vocatur Pec_, i.e. The Peak of Derbyshire. _cc_ and _ct_ are
not distinguishable in some hands of the time, and Trevisa has made
_Peccum_ into _Pectoun_.

_a_ 14. _Cherdhol._ Hearne's text of Alfred of Beverley has _Cherole_;
Henry of Huntingdon (about 1150), who gives the same four marvels in his
_Historia Anglorum_, has _Chederhole_; and on this evidence the place
has been identified with Cheddar in Somerset, where there are famous
caves.

_a_ 22. _an egle hys nest_: cp. _b_ 23 _a child hys brouch_. This
construction has two origins: (1) It is a periphrasis for the genitive,
especially in the case of masculine and neuter proper names which had no
regular genitive in English; (2) It is an error arising from false
manuscript division of the genitive suffix _-es_, _-is_, from its stem.

_a_ 36. <_[th]at_> here and in l. 52 is inserted on the evidence of the
other MSS. Syntactically its omission is defensible, for the suppressed
relative is a common source of difficulty in Middle English; see the
notes to V 4-6, 278-9; X 146; XIV _c_ 54; XVII 66.

_a_ 50. _Wynburney._ Wimborne in Dorset. Here St. Cuthburga founded a
nunnery, which is mentioned in one of Aldhelm's letters as early as A.D.
705. The information that it is 'not far from Bath', which is hardly
accurate, was added by Higden to the account of the marvel he found in
the _Topographia Hibernica_ of Giraldus Cambrensis (vol. v, p. 86 of the
Rolls Series edition of his works).

_a_ 54-64. Higden took this passage from Giraldus, _Itinerarium
Cambriae_, Bk. ii, c. 11 (vol. vi, p. 139 of the Rolls edition).

_a_ 60-1. _be at here aboue_, 'be over them', 'have the upper hand'.

_a_ 63. _Pimbilmere_: the English name for Lake Bala.

_b_ 6-7. _[th]e Flemmynges._ The first settlement of Flemings in
Pembrokeshire took place early in the twelfth century, and in 1154,
Henry II, embarrassed alike by the turbulence of the Welsh, and of the
new host of Flemish mercenaries who had come in under Stephen,
encouraged a further settlement. They formed a colony still
distinguishable from the surrounding Welsh population.

_b_ 11-12. The threefold division of the English according to their
Continental origin dates back to Bede's _Ecclesiastical History_. But
the areas settled by Bede's three tribes do not correspond to Southern,
Northern, and Midland. The Jutes occupied Kent, whence the South-Eastern
dialect; the Saxons occupied the rest of the South, whence the
South-Western dialect; and the Angles settled in the Midlands and the
North; so that the Midland and Northern dialects are both Anglian, and
derive from the same Continental tribe or tribal group.

_b_ 26. _[th]e furste moreyn_: the Black Death of 1349. There were fresh
outbreaks of plague in 1362, 1369, 1376.

_b_ 26-42. The bracketed passage is an addition by Trevisa himself, and
is of primary importance for the history of English and of English
education. See the valuable article by W. H. Stevenson in _An English
Miscellany Presented to Dr. Furnivall_, pp. 421 ff.

_b_ 27-8. _Iohan Cornwal, a mayster of gramere._ A 'master of grammar'
was a licensed teacher of grammar. Mr. Stevenson points out that in
1347-8 John of Cornwall received payment from Merton College, Oxford,
for teaching the boys of the founder's kin. His countryman Trevisa
probably had personal knowledge of his methods of teaching.

_b_ 39-40. _and a scholle passe [th]e se_, 'if they should cross the
sea'.

_b_ 47-8. The bracketed words are introduced by Trevisa.

_b_ 50 f. _and ys gret wondur_: _and_ is superfluous and should perhaps
be deleted.

_b_ 58-65. Though still often quoted as a fourteenth-century witness to
the pronunciation of Northern English (e.g. by K. Luick, _Historische
Grammatik der englischen Sprache_, 1914, pp. 40 f.), this passage, as
Higden acknowledges, comes from the Prologue to Book iii of William of
Malmesbury's _Gesta Pontificum_, completed in the year 1125: see the
Rolls Series edition, p. 209.


XIV

_a_ 2. _Bannokburn._ Minot's subject is not so much the defeat of the
English at Bannockburn in 1314, as the English victory at Halidon Hill
on 19 July 1333, which he regards as a vengeance for Bannockburn.

_a_ 7. _Saint Iohnes toune_: Perth, so called from its church of St.
John the Baptist. It was occupied by the English in 1332 after the
defeat of the Scots at Dupplin Moor.

_a_ 13. _Striflin_, 'Stirling'.

_a_ 15. Hall suggests that this refers to Scotch raids on the North of
England undertaken to distract Edward III from the siege of Berwick.

_a_ 19 f. _Rughfute riueling... Berebag_: nicknames for the Scots, the
first because they wore brogues (_riuelings_) of rough hide; the second
because, to allow of greater mobility, each man carried his own bag of
provisions instead of relying on a baggage train.

_a_ 22. _Brig_ = _Burghes_ l. 25, 'Bruges'. At this time Scots, English,
and French had all close connexions with the Netherlands. Observe that
John Crab, who aided the Scots in the defence of Berwick (note to X 15),
was a Fleming.

_a_ 35. _at Berwik._ Berwick fell as a result of the battle of Halidon
Hill which the Scots fought with the object of raising the siege. For an
earlier siege of Berwick, in 1319, see No. X.

_a_ 36. _get_, 'watch', 'be on the look out' (ON. _g['oe]ta_).

_b_ 5-6. Calais was at this time a convenient base for piracy in the
Channel.

_b_ 19. _A bare_: Edward III, whom Minot often refers to as
'the boar'.

_b_ 24-6. In preparation for the long siege Edward III had built a
regular camp beside Calais.

_b_ 32. _Sir Philip._ Philip de Valois, Philip VI of France (1293-1350).
His son, John Duke of Normandy (1319-64), who succeeded him in 1350, is
of good memory as a lover of fine books. Two are mentioned in the notes
to XI _a_ 25 ff. and XI _b_ 234. A splendid copy of the _Miracles de
Notre Dame_, preserved until recently in the Seminary Library at
Soissons, seems also to have been captured with his baggage at Poitiers,
for it was bought back from the English by King Charles V. Another
famous book produced by his command was the translation of Livy by
Bersuire, with magnificent illuminations. The spirit of the collector
was not damped by his captivity in England from 1356-60, for his account
books show that he continued to employ binders and miniaturists, to
encourage original composition, and to buy books, especially books of
romance. See _Notes et Documents relatifs a Jean, Roi de France_, &c.,
ed. by Henry of Orleans, Duc d'Aumale (Philobiblon Soc., London 1855-6).

_b_ 40. _[th]e Cardinales._ Pope Clement VI had sent cardinals Annibale
Ceccano bishop of Frascati, and Etienne Aubert, who became Pope Innocent
VI in 1352, to arrange a peace between France and England. But the
English were suspicious of the Papal court at Avignon, and accused the
cardinals of favouring the French cause.

_b_ 82. _Sir Iohn de Viene._ Jean de Vienne, seigneur de Pagny (d.
1351), a famous captain in the French wars.

_c_ 5 f. 'They (friends) are so slippery when put to the test, so
eager to have <for themselves>, and so unwilling to give up <to
others>.'

_c_ 14. _And_, 'if'.

_c_ 47. King John of France was captured at Poitiers in 1356 and held in
England as a prisoner until the Treaty of Bretigny in 1360. See note to
XIV _b_ 32.

_c_ 54. Note the omission of the relative: 'which recked not a cleat for
all France', and cp. ll. 43-4, XIII _a_ 36 (note).

_c_ 59. _his helm_, 'its helm'--the bar by which the rudder was moved.

_c_ 61. 'The King sailed and rowed aright'; on _him_, see note to XV _g_
24.

_c_ 83. _An ympe_: Richard II.

_c_ 90. _sarri_: not in the dictionaries in this sense, is probably
OFr. _serr'e_, _sarr'e_, in the developed meaning 'active', 'vigorous',
seen in the adv. _sarr'eement_.

_c_ 103-4. 'If we are disloyal and inactive, so that what is rarely seen
is straightway forgotten.'

_c_ 108. 'Who was the fountain of all courage.'

_c_ 111. _los_, 'fame'.

_d_ 1. SCHEP: here means 'shepherd', 'pastor', a name taken by Ball as
appropriate to a priest.

_Seynte Marie prest of [Gh]ork_, 'priest of St. Mary's of York' (cp.
note to I 44), a great Benedictine abbey founded soon after the
Conquest; see Dugdale, _Monasticon Anglicanum_, vol. iii, pp. 529 ff.
_Marie_ does not take the _s_ inflexion, because it has already the
Latin genitive form, cp. _Mary-[gh]et_ X 163.

_d_ 2. _Iohan Nameles_, 'John Nobody', for _nameless_ has the sense
'obscure', 'lowly'.

_d_ 6. _Hobbe [th]e Robbere._ _Hob_ is a familiar form for _Robert_,
and it has been suggested that _Hobbe [th]e Robbere_ may refer to
Robert Hales, the Treasurer of England, who was executed by the rebels
in 1381. But _Robert_ was a conventional name for a robber, presumably
owing to the similarity of sound. Already in the twelfth century,
Mainerus, the Canterbury scribe of the magnificent Bible now in the
library of Sainte-Genevieve at Paris, plays upon it in an etymological
account of his family: _Secundus_ (sc. _frater meus_) _dicebatur
Robertus, quia a re nomen habuit: spoliator enim diu fuit et praedo_.
From the fourteenth century lawless men were called _Roberts men_. In
_Piers Plowman_ Passus v (A- and B-texts) there is a confession of
'Robert the Robber'; and the literary fame of the prince of highwaymen,
'Robin Hood', belongs to this period.

_d_ 14. _do wel and bettre_: note this further evidence of the
popularity of _Piers Plowman_, with its visions of _Dowel_, _Dobet_, and
_Dobest_.


XV

_a_ 8. _[Th]e clot him clingge!_ 'May the clay cling to him!' i.e.
'Would he were dead!'

_a_ 12. _[Th]ider_: MS. _Yider_, and conversely MS. _[Th]iif_ 23 for
_Yiif_ 'if'. _y_ and _[th]_ are endlessly confused by scribes.

_b_ 1. _Lenten ys come... to toune._ In the Old English _Metrical
Calendar_ phrases like _cyme[dh]... us to tune Martius re[dh]e_,
'fierce March comes to town', are regular. The meaning is 'to the
dwellings of men', 'to the world'.

_b_ 3. _[Th]at_: construe with _Lenten_.

_b_ 7. _him [th]rete[th]_, 'chides', 'wrangles' (ON. _[th]r['ae]ta_?).
See the thirteenth-century debate of _The Thrush and the Nightingale_
(_Reliquiae Antiquae_, vol. i, pp. 241 ff.), of which the opening lines
are closely related to this poem.

_b_ 11. _Ant wlyte[th] on huere wynter wele_, 'and look at their winter
happiness (?)'. This conflicts with _huere wynter wo_ above; and the
explanation that the birds have forgotten the hardships of the past
winter and recall only its pleasures is forced. Holthausen's emendation
_wynne wele_ 'wealth of joys' (cp. l. 35) is good.

_b_ 20. _Miles_: a crux. It has been suggested without much probability
that _miles_ means 'animals' from Welsh _m[=i]l_.

_b_ 28. _Deawes donke[th] [th]e dounes._ Of the suggestions made to
improve the halting metre the best is _[th]ise_ for _[th]e_. The poet
is thinking of the sparkle of dew in the morning sun; cp. _Sir Gawayne_
519 f.:

      _When [th]e donkande dewe drope[gh] of [th]e leue[gh]
      To bide a blysful blusch of [th]e bry[gh]t sunne._

_b_ 29-30. 'Animals with their cries (_rounes_) unmeaning to us
(_derne_), whereby they converse (_domes for te deme_).' For the
weakened sense of _deme_ (_domes_) see note to V 115.

_c_ 30. _Wery so water in wore_: the restless lover (l. 21) has tossed
all night like the troubled waters in a _wore_; cp. _I wake so water in
wore_ in another lyric of the same MS. It has been suggested that _wore_
= Old High German _wuor_ 'weir'; but the rimes in both passages show
that the stem is OE. _w[=a]r_, not _w[=o]r_.

_d_ 2. _the holy londe_: because Ireland was _par excellence_ 'the Land
of the Saints'.

_f._ I am obliged to Professor Carleton Brown for the information that
this poem is found, with two additional stanzas, in MS. 18. 7. 21 of the
Advocates' Library, Edinburgh; and that the full text will be published
shortly in his _Religious Lyrics of the Fourteenth Century_.

_f_ 4. _bere_ (OE. _b[=y]r_) riming with _fere_ (OE. _(ge)f[=e]ra_)
indicates a South-Eastern composition.

_g_ 1. _Scere [Th]orsday_: Maundy Thursday, the eve of Good Friday.

_g_ 1-2. _aros_: _Iudas_: the alternative form _aras_ may have given the
rime in the original, but it is not justifiable to accept this as
certain and so to assume an early date of composition for the poem.
Morsbach, _ME. Grammatik_, [P] 135, n. 4, quotes a number of parallel
rimes with proper names, and the best explanation is that _o_ in _aros_
still represented a sound intermediate between _[=a]_ and _[=o,]_, and
so served as an approximate rime to _[)=a]_ in proper names.

_g_ 6. _cunesmen_: as _c_ and _t_ are hard to distinguish in some ME.
hands, and are often confused by copyists, this reading is more likely
than _tunesmen_ of the editors--Wright-Halliwell, Maetzner, Child, Cook
(and _N. E. D._ s.v. _townsman_). For (1) _tunesman_ is a technical, not
a poetical word. (2) In a poem remarkable for its terseness, _tunesmen_
reduces a whole line to inanity, unless the poet thinks of Judas quite
precisely as a citizen of a town other than Jerusalem; and in the
absence of any Biblical tradition it is unlikely that a writer who calls
Pilate _[th]e riche Ieu_ would gratuitously assume that Judas was not a
citizen of Jerusalem, where his sister lived. (3) Christ's words are
throughout vaguely prophetic, and as Judas forthwith _imette wid is
soster_--one of his kin--_cunesmen_ gives a pregnant sense. [I find the
MS. actually has _cunesmen_, but leave the note, lest _tunesmen_ might
appear to be better established.]

_g_ 8. The repetition of ll. 8, 25, 30 is indicated in the MS. by 'ii'
at the end of each of these lines, which is the regular sign for _bis_.

_g_ 16. 'He tore his hair until it was bathed in blood.' The MS. has
_top_, not _cop_.

_g_ 24. _In him com ur Lord gon._ In the MS. _c'ist_ = _Crist_ has been
erased after _Lord_. Note (1) the reflexive use of _him_, which is very
common in OE. and ME. with verbs of motion, e.g. _Up him stod_ 27, 29;
_[Th]au Pilatus him com_ 30; _Als I me rode_ XV _a_ 4; _The Kyng him
rod_ XIV _c_ 61; cp. the extended use _ar [th]e coc him crowe_ 33, and
notes to II 289, V 86: (2) the use of the infinitive (_gon_) following,
and usually defining the sense of, a verb of motion, where Modern
English always, and ME. commonly (e.g. _[gh]ede karoland_ I 117; _com
daunceing_ II 298), uses the pres. p.: 'Our Lord came walking in'.

_g_ 27. _am I [th]at?_ 'Is it I?', the interrogative form of _ich hit
am_ or _ich am hit_. The editors who have proposed to complete the
line by adding _wrech_, have missed the sense. The original rime was
_[th]et_: _spec_, cp. note to I 240.

_g_ 30. _cnistes_: for _cniste_ = _cnihte_ representing the OE. gen. pl.
_cnihta_. On the forms _meist_ 6, _heiste_ 18, _eiste_ 20, _bitaiste_
21, _iboust_ 26, _miste_ 29, _cnistes_ 30, _fiste_ 31, all with _st_ for
OE. _ht_, see Appendix [P] 6 end.

_h_ 17-18. Difficult. Perhaps 'The master smith lengthens a little
piece [sc. of hot iron], and hammers a smaller piece, twines the two
together, and strikes [with his hammer] a treble note'.

_h_ 21-2. _clo[th]emerys... brenwaterys_: not in the dictionaries, but
both apparently nonce names for the smiths: they 'clothe horses' (for
by the end of the fourteenth century a charger carried a good deal of
armour and harness), and 'burn water' (when they temper the red-hot
metal).

_i_ 4. _[Th]at_: dat. rel. 'to whom'; cp. VI 64. But _lowte_ is
sometimes transitive 'to reverence'.

_i_ 6. This line, at first sight irrelevant, supplies both rime and
doctrine. See in Chaucer's Preface to his _Tale of Melibeus_ the passage
ending:

      _I meene of Marke, Mathew, Luc and John--
      Bot doutelees hir sentence is all oon._

An erased _t_ after _Awangelys_ in the MS. shows that the scribe wavered
between _Awangelys_ 'Gospels' and _Awangelystes_.

_i_ 7. _Sent Geretrude_: Abbess of Nivelle (d. 659), commemorated on
March 17. She is appropriately invoked, for one or more rats make her
emblem.

_i_ 11. _Sent Kasi._ I cannot trace this saint, or his acts against the
rats. But parallels are not wanting. St. Ivor, an Irish saint, banished
rats from his neighbourhood _per imprecationem_ because they gnawed his
books; and the charm-harassed life of an Irish rat was still proverbial
in Shakespeare's day: 'I was never so berhymed' says Rosalind (_As You
Like It_, III. ii) 'since Pythagoras' time, that I was an Irish rat'. In
the South of France the citizens of Autun trusted more to the processes
of the law, and brought a suit against the rats which ended in a victory
for the defendants because the plaintiffs were unable to guarantee them
safe conduct to the court (see Chambers, _Book of Days_, under Jan. 17).
Even in such little things the Normans showed their practical genius:--A
friend chancing to meet St. Lanfranc by the way inquired the cause of
the strange noises that came from a bag he was carrying: 'We are
terribly plagued with mice and rats', explained the good man, 'and so,
to put down their ravages, I am bringing along a cat' (_Mures et rati
valde nobis sunt infesti, et idcirco nunc affero catum ad comprimendum
furorem illorum_). _Acta Sanctorum_ for May 28, p. 824.


XVI

#Dialect#: Yorkshire.

#Inflexions#:

      VERB: pres. ind. 2 sg. _[th]ou royis_ 99, _[th]ou is_ 360; beside
                           _[th]ou hast_ 69.
                       3 sg. _bidis_ 23, _comes_ 57.
                       1 pl. _we here_ 169.
                       2 pl. _[gh]e haue_ 124.
                       3 pl. _[th]ei make_ 103, _[th]ei crie_ 107,
                           _dwelle_ (rime) 102 ; beside _musteres_ 104,
                           _sais_ 108.
            imper. pl. _harkens_ 37, _beholdes_ 195; but _vndo_ 182.
            pres. p. _walkand_ 53 (in rime); beside _shynyng_ 94.
            strong pp. _stoken_ 193, _brokynne_ 195, &c.
            Contracted verbal forms are _mase_ pres. 3 pl. (in rime)
                116, _bus_ pres. 2 sg. 338, _tane_ pp. 172.
      PRONOUN 3 PERS.: pl. nom. _[th]ei_ 21; poss. _thare_ 18, _[th]er_
                20; obj. _[th]ame_ 9; but _hemselue_ 307.
                The demonstrative _[th]er_ 'these' 97, 399, is Northern.

#Sounds#: _[=a]_ remains in rimes: _are_: _care_ 345-7, _waa_: _gloria_
406-8, _lawe_: _knawe_ 313-15, _moste_ (for _m[=a]ste_): _taste_ 358-60;
but _[=o)]_ is also proved for the original in _restore_: _euermore_:
_were_ (for _w[=o,]re_): _before_ 13 ff.

#Spelling#: In _fois_ (= _f[=o,]s_) 30, the spelling with _i_ indicates
vowel length.

       *       *       *       *       *

17. _were_: rime requires the alternative form _w[=o,]re_.

39. _Foure thowsande and sex hundereth [gh]ere._ I do not know on what
calculation the writer changes 5,500, which is the figure in the Greek
and Latin texts of the Gospel of Nicodemus, in the French verse
renderings, and the ME. poem _Harrowing of Hell_. Cp. l. 354.

40. _in [th]is stedde_: the rimes _hadde_: _gladde_: _sadde_ point
to the Towneley MS. reading _in darknes stad_, 'set in darkness', as
nearer the original, which possibly had _in [th]ister(nes) stad_.

49. _we_: read _[gh]e_ (?). For what follows cp. Isaiah ix. 1-2.

59. _puplisshid_: the rime with _Criste_ shows that the pronunciation
was _puplist_. Similarly, _abasshed_: _traste_ 177-9. In French these
words have _-ss-_, which normally becomes _-sh-_ in English. It is hard
to say whether _-ss-_ remained throughout in Northern dialects, or
whether the development was OFr. _-ss-_ > ME. _-sh-_ > Northern _-ss-_
(notes to I 128, VII 4).

62. _[th]is_: read _His (?) frendis_: here 'relatives', 'parents' (ON.
_fr['ae]ndi_); see Luke ii. 27.

65-8. Luke ii. 29-32.

73-82. Matthew iii. 13-17, &c.

75. _hande_: the rime requires the Norse plural _hend_ as at l. 400; cp.
XVII 255, IV _a_ 65 (foot-note).

86 ff. Cp. Matthew xvii. 3 ff., Mark ix. 2 ff.

113. _Astrotte_: cp. 2 Kings xxiii. 13 'Ashtoreth, the abomination of
the Zidonians'. I cannot identify _Anaball_ among the false gods.

115. _Bele-Berit_: Judges viii. 33 'the children of Israel... made
Baal-Berith their god'. For _Belial_ see 2 Cor. vi. 15.

122-4. A common misrendering for 'Be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors',
Psalm xxiv. 7.

125 ff. postulate a preceding _et introibit rex glori[e,]_, which the
writer has not been able to work into the frame of his verse.

128. _a kyng of vertues clere_ = _dominus virtutum_, rendered 'Lord of
Hosts' in Psalm xxiv. 10.

154-6. _ware_: _ferre_: the rime indicates some corruption. _ware_
probably stands for _werre_ 'worse'. The Towneley MS. has _or it be
war_.

162. John xi.

165. John xiii. 27.

171 ff. 'And know he won away Lazarus, who was given to us to take
charge of, do you think that you can hinder him from showing the powers
that he has purposed (to show)?' But it is doubtful whether _what_ is a
true relative. Rather 'from showing his powers--those he has purposed
(to show)'.

188. _I prophicied_: MS. _of prophicie_ breaks the rime scheme.

190. Psalm cvii. 16 'For he hath broken the gates of brass, and cut the
bars of iron in sunder.'

205 ff. The rimes _saide_: _braide_: _ferde_: _grathed_ are bad. For the
last two read _flaide_ = 'terrified', and _graid_, a shortened form of
_graithed_.

208. _and we wer moo_, 'if we were more', 'even if there were more of
us'.

220. _as my prisoune_ might be taken closely with _here_: 'in this place
as my prison'. The Towneley MS. has _in_ for _as_. Better would be
_prisoune<s>_ 'prisoners'.

240. _wolle_: read _wille_ for the rime.

241. _God<ys> sonne_: MS. _God sonne_ might be defended as parallel to
the instances in the note to XVII 88.

256. Apparently, 'you argue his men in the mire', i.e. if Jesus is God's
Son, the souls should remain in hell because God put them there. But the
text may be corrupt.

267 ff. Cp. Ezekiel xxxi. 16, &c.

281 ff. _Salamon saide_: Proverbs ii. 18-19 taken with vii. 27 and ix.
18. It was hotly disputed in the Middle Ages whether Solomon himself was
still in hell. Dante, _Paradiso_, x. 110, informs a world eager for
tidings that he is in Paradise: but Langland declares _Ich leyue he be
in helle_ (C-text, iv. 330); and, more sweepingly, coupling him with
Aristotle: _Al holy chirche holden hem in helle_ (A-text, xi. 263).

285-8. Perhaps a gloss on Job xxxvi. 18 'Because there is wrath, beware
lest he take thee away with his stroke: then a great ransom cannot
deliver thee.'

301. _menys_, the reading of the Towneley MS. is better than _mouys_,
which appears to be a copyist's error due to the similarity of _n_ and
_u_, _e_ and _o_, in the handwriting of the time.

308. Judas hanged himself, according to Matthew xxvii. 3-5; Acts i. 18
gives a different account of his end. _Archedefell_: Ahithophel who
hanged himself (2 Samuel xvii. 23) after the failure of his plot against
David.

309. _Datan and Abiron_: see Numbers xvi.

313-16. 'And all who do not care to learn my law (which I have left in
the land newly, and which is to make known my Coming), and to go to my
Sacrament, and those who will not believe in my Death and my
Resurrection read in order--they are not true.'

338. _[th]ou bus_, 'you ought'; _bus_, a Northern contracted form of
_behoves_, is here used as a personal verb, where _[th]e bus_, 'it
behoves thee', is normal. See note to XVII 196.

360. _moste_: read _maste_ to rime with _taste_.

371. _Of [th]is comyng_: the Towneley MS. reading _of Thi commyng_ is
possible.

378-80: Corrupt. The copy from which the extant MS. was made seems to
have been indistinct here. The Towneley MS. has:

      _Suffre thou neuer Thi sayntys to se
      The sorow of thaym that won in wo,
      Ay full of fylth, and may not fle_,

which is more intelligible and nearer Psalm xvi. 10:

      _Nec dabis sanctum tuum videre corruptionem._

405. _louyng_: 'praise', cp. IV _a_ 24 (note).


XVII

#Dialect#: Late Yorkshire.

#Vocabulary#: Northern are _then_ 108 (note), and _at_ 'to' 235.

#Inflexions#:

      VERB: pres. ind. 2 sg. _thou spekis_ 206.
                       3 sg. _ligis he_ 84; _he settis_ 92; _(God)
                           knowes_ 202.
                       1 pl. _we swete or swynk_ 195.
                       2 pl. _ye carp_ (in rime) 360.
                       3 pl. _thay ryn_ (in rime) 277, 357; beside
                           _has_ 345, _renys_ 351.
            pres. p. _liffand_ 73, _bowand_ 76, _wirkand_ 120 (all in
                rime); beside _lifyng_ 47, 48; _standyng_ 416; _taryyng_
                497.
            strong pp. _rysen_ 442; _fon_ 'found' 503 is a Northern
                short form.
      PRONOUN 3 PERS.: sg. fem. nom. _she_ 186;
            pl. _thay_ 27; _thare_ 75; _thaym_ 31. (MS. _hame_ 143 is
                miswritten for _thame_.)

#Sounds#: OE. _[=a]_ appears as _[=o,]_ in rime: _old_: _cold_: _mold_
(OE. _m'old_) 60-2, and probably _dold_: _old_ 266-70; _sore_: _store_:
_therfor_: _more_ 91-4; but elsewhere remains _[=a]_, e.g. _draw_ (OE.
_dr[)a]gan_): _knaw_ 245-6. The spelling with _o_ is the commoner.

See notes on _emong_ 400; _grufe_ 463.

#Spelling#: Note the Northern spellings with _i_, _y_ following a vowel
to indicate length: _moyne_ 'moon' 6, _bayle_ 'bale' 26, _leyde_ =
_lede_ 48; and conversely _farest_ 'fairest' 79, _fath_ 'faith' 330.

       *       *       *       *       *

The maritime associations of the play of _Noah_ made it a special
favourite with the Trinity House guild of master mariners and pilots at
Hull; and some of their records of payments for acting and equipment are
preserved, although the text of their play is lost (Chambers, _Mediaeval
Stage_, vol. ii, pp. 370-1):

      _anno_ To the minstrels, 6d.
      1485.  To Noah and his wife, 1s. 6d.
             To Robert Brown playing God, 6d.
             To the Ship-child, 1d.
             To a shipwright for clinking Noah's ship, one day, 7d.
             22 kids for shoring Noah's ship, 2d.
             To a man clearing away the snow, 1d.
             Straw for Noah and his children, 2d.
             Mass, bellman, torches, minstrels, garland &c., 6s.
             For mending the ship, 2d.
             To Noah for playing, 1s.
             To straw and grease for wheels, 1/4d.
             To the waits for going about with the ship, 6d.
      1494.  To Thomas Sawyr playing God, 10d.
             To Jenkin Smith playing Noah, 1s.
             To Noah's wife, 8d.
             The clerk and his children, 1s. 6d.
             To the players of Barton, 8d.
             For a gallon of wine, 8d.
             For three skins for Noah's coat, making it, and a rope to
                 hang the ship in the kirk, 7s.
             To dighting and gilding St. John's head, painting two
                 tabernacles, beautifying the boat and over the table,
                 7s. 2d.
             Making Noah's ship, _l._5. 8s.
             Two wrights a day and a half, 1s. 6d.
             A halser [i.e. hawser] 4 stone weight, 4s. 8d.
             Rigging Noah's ship, 8d.

       *       *       *       *       *

10. _is_: read _es_ for the rime. Cp. note to I 128-9.

42. _and sythen_: MS. _in sythen_. Cp. note to VI 36.

49. _syn_: 3 pl. because _euery liffyng leyde_ is equivalent to a plural
subject 'all men'.

52. _coueteis_: MS. _couetous_.

56. _alod_: a shortened form of _allowed_, apparently on the analogy of
such words as _lead_ infin., _led_ pa. t. and pp. For a parallel see
note to I 254-5.

57. _Sex hundreth yeris and od_: the _od_ thrown in to rime, as Noah was
exactly 600 years old according to Genesis vii. 6.

66. _and my fry shal with me fall_: 'and the children <that> I may have'
(?).

88. _for syn sake_: 'because of sin'. Until modern times a genitive
preceding _sake_ usually has no _s_, e.g. _for goodness sake_. The
genitive of _sin_ historically had no _s_ (OE. _synne_), but the
omission in a Northern text is due rather to euphony than to survival of
an old genitive form. Cp. _for tempest sake_ I 177.

108. _then_: 'nor', a rare Northern usage, which is treated as an error
here in England and Pollard's text, though it occurs again at l. 535.
Conversely _nor_ is used dialectally for _than_.

109. _Hym to mekill wyn_: 'to his great happiness'.

137. _take_: 'make', and so in l. 272.

167-71. _knowe_: _awe_. The rime requires _kn[=a]we_ or _[=o,]we_.

191. 'The worse <because> I see thee.'

196. _what thou thynk_: 'what seems to you best', 'what you like'; _thou
thynk_ for _thee thynk_--the verb being properly impersonal; see notes
to XVI 338 and VI 192.

200. _Stafford blew_: from the context this line might mean 'you are a
scaremonger', for blue is the recognized colour of fear, and it might be
supposed that 'Stafford blue' represents a material like 'Lincoln
green'. But Maetzner is certainly right in interpreting the line 'you
deserve a beating'. _Stafford blew_ would then be the livid colour
produced by blows. The reference, unless there is a play on _staff_, is
obscure.

202. _led_: 'treated'.

211. _sory_: the rime requires _sary_.

220. _Mary_: the later _marry!_ = 'by (the Virgin) Mary!' cp. l. 226. So
_Peter!_ 367 = 'by St. Peter!'

246. _to knaw_: 'to confess'.

247-8. _daw to ken_: 'to be recognized as stupid', 'a manifest fool'.

272. _castell_: note the rime with _sayll_: _nayll_: _fayll_, which may
be due to suffix substitution on the analogy of _catail_ beside _catel_
'cattle'. For _take_ see note to 137.

281. _chambre_: the rime points to a by-form _chamb(o)ur_, but the
uninflected form is awkward. Cp. _thre chese chambres_ 'three tiers of
chambers' 129, where the construction is the same as the obsolete _three
pair gloves_.

289-92. Read _lider_, _hider_, _togider_.

292. _must vs_: cp. l. 334 and note to VI 192.

298. 'There is other yarn on the reel', i.e. there is other business on
hand.

320. _brether sam_: 'brothers both'. Some editors prefer to read
_brother Sam_ 'brother Shem'.

336 ff. Chaucer refers to the quarrels of Noah and his wife in the
_Miller's Tale_ (ll. 352 ff.):--

      _'Hastou nat herd', quod Nicholas, 'also
      The sorwe of Noe with his felaweshipe
      Er that he myghte brynge his wyf to shipe?
      Hym hadde be levere, I dar wel undertake,
      At thilke tyme, than alle his wetheres blake,
      That she hadde had a shipe hirself allone.'_

The tradition is old. In the splendid tenth-century Bodleian MS. Junius
11, which contains the so-called Caedmon poems, a picture of the Ark
shows Noah's wife standing at the foot of the gangway, and one of her
sons trying to persuade her to come in.

370. _Yei_ is defensible; cp. l. 353. _[Th]e_ 'the' has been suggested.

383. _Wat Wynk_: an alliterative nick-name like _Nicholl Nedy_ in l.
405.

400. _emong_: OE. _gemang_, here rimes as in Modern English with _u_
(OE. _iung_: _tunge_: _lungen_), cp. note to VI 109 ff.; but in ll.
244-7 it rimes with _lang_: _fang_: _gang_--all with original _a_.

417. <_floodis_>. Some such word is missing in the MS. Cp. ll. 454 f.
and 426.

461. _How_: MS. _Now_. The correction is due to Professor Child. Initial
capitals are peculiarly liable to be miscopied.

463. _grufe_: a Northern and Scottish form of the verb _grow_. The sb.
_ro_ 'rest' 237 sometimes has a parallel form _rufe_.

525. _stold_: for _stalled_ 'fixed'. Note the rime words, which all have
alternative forms _behald_: _bald_: _wald_.




APPENDIX

THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE IN THE FOURTEENTH
CENTURY


[P] 1. GENERAL. Gower's work shows that at the end of the century Latin
and French still shared with English the place of a literary language.
But their hold was precarious.

Latin was steadily losing ground. The Wiclifite translation of the Bible
threatened its hitherto unchallenged position as the language of the
Church; and the Renaissance had not yet come to give it a new life among
secular scholars.

French was still spoken at the court; but in 1387 Trevisa remarks (p.
149) that it was no longer considered an essential part of a gentleman's
education: and he records a significant reform--the replacement of
French by English as the medium of teaching in schools. After the end of
the century Anglo-French, the native development of Norman, was
practically confined to legal use, and French of Paris was the accepted
standard French.

English gained wherever Latin and French lost ground. But though the
work of Chaucer, Gower, and Wiclif foreshadows the coming supremacy of
the East Midland, or, more particularly, the London dialect, there was
as yet no recognized standard of literary English. The spoken language
showed a multiplicity of local varieties, and a writer adopted the
particular variety that was most familiar to him. Hence it is almost
true to say that every considerable text requires a special grammar.

Confusion is increased by the scribes. Nowadays a book is issued in
hundreds or thousands of uniform copies, and within a few months of
publication it may be read in any part of the world. In the fourteenth
century a book was made known to readers only by the slow and costly
multiplication of manuscripts. The copyist might work long after the
date of composition, and he would then be likely to modernize the
language, which in its written form was not stable as it is at present:
so of Barbour's _Bruce_ the oldest extant copies were made nearly a
century after Barbour's death. Again, if the dialect of the author were
unfamiliar to the copyist, he might substitute familiar words and forms.
Defective rimes often bear witness to these substitutions.

Nor have we to reckon only with copyists, who are as a rule careless
rather than bold innovators. While books were scarce and many could not
read them, professional minstrels and amateur reciters played a great
part in the transmission of popular literature; and they, whether from
defective memory or from belief in their own talents, treated the exact
form and words of their author with scant respect. An extreme instance
is given by the MSS. of _Sir Orfeo_ at ll. 267-8:

      Auchinleck MS.:   _His harp, whereon was al his gle,
                        He hidde in an holwe tre;_

      Harley MS.:       _He take[th] his harpe and make[th] hym gle,
                        And ly[th]e al ny[gh]t vnder a tre;_

      Ashmole MS.:      _In a tre [th]at was holow
                        [Th]er was hys haule euyn and morow._

If the Ashmole MS. alone had survived we should have no hint of the
degree of corruption.

And so, before the extant MSS. recorded the text, copyists and reciters
may have added change to change, jumbling the speech of different men,
generations, and places, and producing those 'mixed' texts which are the
will-o'-the-wisps of language study.

Faced with these perplexities, beginners might well echo the words of
Langland's pilgrims in search of Truth:

      _This were a wikked way, but whoso hadde a gyde
          That wolde folwen vs eche a fote._

There is no such complete guide, for the first part of Morsbach's
_Mittelenglische Grammatik_, Halle 1896, remains a splendid fragment,
and Luick's _Historische Grammatik der englischen Sprache_, Leipzig
1914-, which promises a full account of the early periods, is still far
from completion. Happily two distinguished scholars--Dr. Henry Bradley
in _The Making of English_ and his chapter in _The Cambridge History
of English Literature_, vol. i, Dr. O. Jespersen in _Growth and
Structure of the English Language_--have given brief surveys of the
whole early period which are at once elementary and authoritative. But
for the details the student must rely on a mass of dissertations and
articles of very unequal quality, supplemented by introductions to
single texts, and, above all, by his own first-hand observations made on
the texts themselves.

Some preliminary considerations will be helpful, though perhaps not
altogether reassuring:

(i) A great part of the evidence necessary to a thorough knowledge of
spoken Middle English has not come down to us, a considerable part
remains unprinted, and the printed materials are so extensive and
scattered that it is easy to overlook points of detail. For instance, it
might be assumed from rimes in _Gawayne_, _Pearl_, and the Shropshire
poet Myrc, that the falling together of OE. _-ang-_, _-ung-_, which is
witnessed in NE. _among_ (OE. _gemang_), _-monger_ (OE. _mangere_), was
specifically West Midland, if the occurrence of examples in Yorkshire
(XVII 397-400) escaped notice. It follows that, unless a word or form is
so common as to make the risk of error negligible, positive
evidence--the certainty that it occurs in a given period or district--is
immeasurably more important than negative evidence--the belief that it
never did occur, or even the certainty that it is not recorded, in a
period or district. For the same reason, the statement that a word or
form is found 'in the early fourteenth century' or 'in Kent' should
always be understood positively, and should not be taken to imply that
it is unknown 'in the thirteenth century' or 'in Essex', as to which
evidence may or may not exist.

(ii) It is necessary to clear the mind of the impression, derived from
stereotyped written languages, that homogeneity and stability are
natural states. Middle English texts represent a spoken language of many
local varieties, all developing rapidly. So every linguistic fact should
be thought of in terms of time, place, and circumstance, not because
absolute precision in these points is attainable, but because the
attempt to attain it helps to distinguish accurate knowledge from
conclusions which are not free from doubt.

If the word or form under investigation can be proved to belong to the
author's original composition, exactness is often possible. In the
present book, we know nearly enough the date of composition of extracts
I, III, VIII, X, XI _a_, XII, XIII, XIV; the place of composition of I,
III, X, XI _a_, XII, XIII, XVI, XVII (see map).

But if, as commonly happens, a form cannot be proved to have stood in
the original, endless difficulties arise. It will be necessary first to
determine the date of the MS. copy. This is exactly known for _The
Bruce_, and there are few Middle English MSS. which the palaeographer
cannot date absolutely within a half-century, and probably within a
generation. The place where the MS. copy was written is known nearly
enough for IV _b_, _c_, XII, XIV _e_, XV _b_, _c_ (possibly Leominster),
XVI, XVII; and ME. studies have still much to gain from a thorough
inquiry into the provenance of MSS. Yet, when the extant copy is placed
and dated, it remains to ask to what extent this MS. reproduces some
lost intermediary of different date and provenance; how many such
intermediaries there were between the author's original and our MS.;
what each has contributed to the form of the surviving copy--questions
usually unanswerable, the consideration of which will show the
exceptional linguistic value of the _Ayenbyte_, where we have the
author's own transcript exactly dated and localized, so that every word
and form is good evidence.

Failing such ideal conditions, it becomes necessary to limit doubt by
segregating for special investigation the elements that belong to the
original composition. Hence the importance of rimes, alliteration, and
rhythm, which a copyist or reciter is least likely to alter without
leaving a trace of his activities.


[P] 2. DIALECTS. At present any marked variation from the practice of
educated English speakers might, if it were common to a considerable
number of persons, be described as dialectal. But as there was no such
recognized standard in the fourteenth century, it is most convenient to
consider as dialectal any linguistic feature which had a currency in
some English-speaking districts but not in all. For example, _[th]at_
as a relative is found everywhere in the fourteenth century and is not
dialectal; _[th]ire_ 'these' is recorded only in Northern districts,
and so is dialectal. Again, _[=o,]_ represents OE. _[=a]_ in the South
and Midlands, while the North retains _[=a]_ ([P] 7 b i): since neither
_[=o,]_ nor _[=a]_ is general, both may be called dialectal.

If a few sporadic developments be excluded because they may turn up
anywhere at any time, then, provided sufficient evidence were
available,[29] it would be possible to mark the boundaries within which
any given dialectal feature occurs at a particular period: we could draw
the line south of which _[th]ire_ 'these' is not found, or the line
bounding the district in which the Norse borrowing _kirke_ occurs; just
as French investigators in _L'Atlas linguistique de la France_ have
shown the distribution of single words and forms in the modern French
dialects.

[Foot-note 29: Sufficient evidence is not available. If in the year 1340
at every religious house in the kingdom a native of the district had
followed the example of Michael of Northgate, and if all their autograph
copies had survived, we should have a very good knowledge of Middle
English at that time. If the process had been repeated about every ten
years the precision of our knowledge would be greatly increased. For the
area in which any feature is found is not necessarily constant: we know
that in the pres. p. the province of _-ing_ was extending throughout the
fourteenth century; that the inflexion _-es_ in 3 sg. pres. ind. was a
Northern and North-Midland feature in the fourteenth century, but had
become general in London by Shakespeare's time. And though less is known
about the spread of sound changes as distinct from analogical
substitutions, it cannot be assumed that their final boundaries were
reached and fixed in a moment. There is reason to regret the handicap
that has been imposed on ME. studies by the old practice of writing in
Latin or French the documents and records which would otherwise supply
the exactly dated and localized specimens of English that are most
necessary to progress.]

Of more general importance is the fixing of boundaries for sound
changes or inflexions that affect a large number of words, a task to
which interesting contributions have been made in recent years on the
evidence of place-names (see especially A. Brandl, _Zur Geographie
der altenglischen Dialekte_, Berlin 1915, which supplements the work
of Pogatscher on the compounds of _street_ and of Wyld on the ME.
developments of OE. _y_). For example, on the evidence available, which
does not permit of more than rough indications, OE. _[=a]_ remains
_[=a]_, and does not develop to _[=o,]_, north of a line drawn west
from the Humber ([P] 7 b i); _-and(e)_ occurs in the ending of the
pres. p. as far south as a line starting west from the Wash ([P] 13
ii); farther south again, a line between Norwich and Birmingham gives
the northern limit for _Stratton_ forms as against _Stretton_ ([P] 8
iv, note).[30] The direction of all these lines is roughly east and
west, yet no two coincide. But if the developments of OE. _y_ ([P]
7 b ii) are mapped out, _u_ appears below a line drawn athwart from
Liverpool to London, and normal _e_ east of a line drawn north and
south from the western border of Kent. Almost every important feature
has thus its own limits, and the limits of one may cross the limits of
another.

[Foot-note 30: The evidence of place-names does not agree entirely with
the evidence of texts. _Havelok_, which is localized with reasonable
certainty in North Lincolnshire, has _(a)dradd_ in rimes that appear
to be original, and these indicate a North-Eastern extension of the
area in which OE. _str[=ae]t_, _dr[=ae]dan_ appear for normal Anglian
_str[=e]t_, _dr[=e]da(n)_. This evidence, supported by rimes in Robert
of Brunne, is too early to be disposed of by the explanation of
borrowing from other dialects, nor is the testimony of place-names so
complete and unequivocal as to justify an exclusive reliance upon it.]

What then is a ME. dialect? The accepted classification is

                { South-Western  = OE. West Saxon
      Southern  {
                { South-Eastern  = OE. Kentish

                { East Midland }
      Midland   {              } = OE. Mercian
                { West Midland }

      Northern                   = OE. Northumbrian

with the Thames as boundary between Southern and Midland, and the Humber
between Midland and Northern. And yet of five actual limiting lines
taken at random, only the first coincides approximately with the line of
Humber or Thames.

Still the classification rests on a practical truth. Although each
dialectal feature has its own boundaries, these are not set by pure
chance. Their position is to some extent governed by old tribal and
political divisions, by the influence of large towns which served as
commercial and administrative centres, and by relative ease of
communication. Consequently, linguistic features are roughly grouped,
and it is _a priori_ likely that London and Oxford would have more
features in common than would London and York, or Oxford and Hull; and
similarly it is likely that for a majority of phenomena York and Hull
would stand together against London and Oxford. Such a grouping was
recognized in the fourteenth century. Higden and his authorities
distinguish Northern and Southern speech (XIII _b_); in the Towneley
_Second Shepherds' Play_, ll. 201 ff., when Mak pretends to be a yeoman
of the king, he adopts the appropriate accent, and is promptly told to
'take outt that Sothren tothe'. In the _Reeves Tale_ Chaucer makes the
clerks speak their own Northern dialect, so we may be sure that he
thought of it as a unity.

But had Chaucer been asked exactly where this dialect was spoken, he
would probably have replied, _Fer in the North,--I kan nat telle where_.
A dialect has really no precise boundaries; its borders are nebulous;
and throughout this book 'Southern', 'Northern', &c., are used vaguely,
and not with any sharply defined limits in mind. The terms may, however,
be applied to precise areas, so long as the boundaries of single dialect
features are not violently made to conform. It is quite accurate to say
that _-and(e)_ is the normal ending of the pres. p. north of the Humber,
and that _u_ for OE. _y_ is found south of the Thames and west of
London, provided it is not implied that the one should not be found
south of the Humber, or the other north of the Thames. Both in fact
occur in _Gawayne_ (Cheshire or Lancashire); and in general the language
of the Midlands was characterized by the overlapping of features which
distinguish the North from the South.

From what has been said it should be plain that the localization of a
piece of Middle English on the evidence of language alone calls for an
investigation of scope and delicacy. Where the facts are so complex the
mechanical application of rules of thumb may give quick and specious
results, but must in the end deaden the spirit of inquiry, which is the
best gift a student can bring to the subject.


[P] 3. VOCABULARY. The readiness of English speakers to adopt words from
foreign languages becomes marked in fourteenth-century writings. But the
classical element which is so pronounced in modern literary English is
still unimportant. There are few direct borrowings from Latin, and
these, like _obitte_ XVI 269, are for the most part taken from the
technical language of the Church. The chief sources of foreign words are
Norse and French.

(_a_) #Norse.# Although many Norse words first appear in English in late
texts, they must have come into the spoken language before the end of
the eleventh century, because the Scandinavian settlements ceased after
the Norman Conquest. The invaders spoke a dialect near enough to OE. to
be intelligible to the Angles; and they had little to teach of
literature or civilization. Hence the borrowings from Norse are all
popular; they appear chiefly in the Midlands and North, where the
invaders settled; and they witness the intimate fusion of two kindred
languages. From Norse we get such common words as _anger_, _both_,
_call_, _egg_, _hit_, _husband_, _ill_, _law_, _loose_, _low_, _meek_,
_take_, _till_ (prep.), _want_, _weak_, _wing_, _wrong_, and even the
plural forms of the 3rd personal pronoun ([P] 12).

It is not always easy to distinguish Norse from native words, because
the two languages were so similar during the period of borrowing, and
Norse words were adopted early enough to be affected by all ME. sound
changes. But there were some dialectal differences between ON. and OE.
in the ninth and tenth centuries, and these afford the best criteria
of borrowing. For instance in ME. we have _[th]ou[gh]_, _[th]of_ (ON.
_[th][)=o]h_ for _*[th]auh_) beside _[th]ei(h)_ (OE. _[th][=e](a)h_)
II 433; _ay_ (ON. _ei_) 'ever' XVI 293 beside _oo_ (OE. _[=a]_) XV _b_
7; _waik_ (ON. _veik-r_) VIII _b_ 23, where OE. _w[=a]c_ would yield
_w[=o,]k_; the forms _w[=o,]re_ XVI 17 (note) and _w[=a]pin_ XIV _b_ 15
are from ON. _v'arum_, _v'apn_, whereas _w[=e]re(n)_ and _w[)e]ppen_
V 154 represent OE. (Anglian) _w[=e]ron_, _w[=e]pn_. So we have the
pairs _awe_ (ON. _agi_) I 83 and _ay_ (OE. _ege_) II 571; _neuen_ (ON.
_nefna_) 'to name' XVII 12 and _nem(p)ne_ (OE. _nemnan_) II 600; _rot_
(ON. _r'ot_) II 256 and _wort_ (OE. _wyrt_) VIII _a_ 303; _sterne_,
_starne_ (ON. _stjarna_) XVII 8, 423 and native _sterre_, _starre_ (OE.
_steorra_); _systyr_ (ON. _systir_) I 112 and _soster_ (OE. _sweostor_)
XV _g_ 10; _werre_, _warre_ (ON. _verri_) XVI 154 (note), 334 and
native _werse_, _wars_ (OE. _wyrsa_) XVI 200, XVII 191; _wylle_ (ON.
_vill-r_) V 16 and native _wylde_ (OE. _wilde_) XV _b_ 19.

Note that in Norse borrowings the consonants _g_, _k_ remain stops where
they are palatalized in English words: _garn_ XVII 298, _giue_, _gete_
(ON. _garn_, _gefa_, _geta_) beside _[gh]arn_, _[gh]iue_, _for-[gh]ete_
(OE. _gearn_, _giefan_, _for-gietan_); _kirke_ (ON. _kirkja_) beside
_chirche_ (OE. _cirice_). Similarly OE. initial _sc-_ regularly becomes
ME. _sh-_, so that most words beginning with _sk-_, like _sky_, _skin_,
_skyfte_ VI 209 (English _shift_), _skirte_ (English _shirt_), are
Norse; see the alliterating words in V 99.

There is an excellent monograph by E. Bjoerkman: _Scandinavian
Loan-Words in Middle English_, 1900.

(_b_) #French.# Most early borrowings from French were again due to
invasion and settlement. But the conditions of contact were very
different. Some were unfavourable to borrowing: the Normans, who were
relatively few, were dispersed throughout the country, and not, like the
Scandinavians, massed in colonies; and their language had little in
common with English. So the number of French words in English texts is
small before the late thirteenth and the fourteenth centuries. Other
conditions made borrowing inevitable: the French speakers were the
governing class; they gradually introduced a new system of
administration and new standards of culture; and they had an important
literature to which English writers turned for their subject-matter and
their models of form. Fourteenth-century translators adopt words from
their French originals so freely (see note at p. 234, foot), that
written Middle English must give a rather exaggerated impression of the
extent of French influence on the spoken language. But a few examples
will show how many common words are early borrowings from French: nouns
like _country_, _face_, _place_, _river_, _courtesy_, _honour_, _joy_,
_justice_, _mercy_, _pity_, _reason_, _religion_, _war_; adjectives like
_close_, _large_, _poor_; and verbs _cry_, _pay_, _please_, _save_,
_serve_, _use_.

Anglo-French was never completely homogeneous, and it was constantly
supplemented as a result of direct political, commercial, and literary
relations with France. Hence words were sometimes adopted into ME. in
more than one French dialectal form. For instance, Late Latin _ca-_
became _cha-_ in most French dialects, but remained _ca-_ in the North
of France: hence ME. _catch_ and _(pur)chase_, _catel_ and _chatel_,
_kanel_ 'neck' V 230 and _chanel_ 'channel' XIII _a_ 57. So Northern
French preserves initial _w-_, for which other French dialects
substitute _g(u)_: hence _Wowayn_ V 121 beside _Gawayn_ V 4, &c. (see
note to V 121). Again, in Anglo-French, _a_ before nasal + consonant
alternates with _au_:--_dance_: _daunce_; _chance_: _chaunce_; _change_:
_chaunge_; _chambre_ XVII 281: _chaumber_ II 100. English still has the
verbs _launch_ and _lance_, which are ultimately identical.

As borrowing extended over several centuries, the ME. form sometimes
depends on the date of adoption. Thus Latin _fidem_ becomes early
French _fei[dh]_, later _fei_, and later still _foi_. ME. has both
_fei[th]_ and _fay_, and by Spenser's time _foy_ appears.

The best study of the French element in ME. is still that of D.
Behrens: _Beitraege zur Geschichte der franzoesischen Sprache
in England_, 1886. A valuable supplement, dealing chiefly with
Anglo-French as the language of the law, is the chapter by F. W.
Maitland in _The Cambridge History of English Literature_, vol. i.


[P] 4. HANDWRITING. In the ME. period two varieties of script were in
use, both developed from the Caroline minuscule which has proved to be
the most permanent contribution of the schools of Charlemagne. The one,
cursive and flourished, is common in charters, records, and memoranda;
see C. H. Jenkinson and C. Johnson, _Court Hand_, 2 vols., Oxford
1915. The other, in which the letters are separately written, with few
flourishes or adaptations of form in combination, is the 'book hand',
so called because it is regularly used for literary texts. Between the
extreme types there are many gradations; and fifteenth-century copies,
such as the Cambridge MS. of Barbour's _Bruce_, show an increasing use
of cursive forms, which facilitate rapid writing.

The shapes of letters were not always so distinct as they are in print,
so that copyists of the time, and even modern editors, are liable to
mistake one letter for another. Each hand has its own weaknesses, but
the letters most commonly misread are:--

_e_ : _o_ e.g. _Beuo_ for _Bouo_ I 59; _wroche_ for _wreche_ II 333;
_teches_ IV _b_ 60, where _toches_ (foot-note) is probably right;
pesible (MS. _posible_) XI _b_ 67.

_u_ : _n_ (practically indistinguishable) e.g. _menys_ (MS. _mouys_) XVI
301; _skayned_ (edd. _skayued_) V 99; _ryue[gh]_ or _ryne[gh]_ V 222
(note). This is only a special case of the confusion of letters and
combinations formed by repetition of the downstroke, e.g. _u_, _n_, _m_,
and _i_ (which is not always distinguished by a stroke above). Hence
_dim_ II 285 where modern editors have _dun_, although _i_ has the
distinguishing stroke.

_y_ : _[th]_ e.g. _ye_ (MS. _[th]e_) XIV _d_ 11; see note to XV _a_ 12.
Confusion is increased by occasional transference to _[th]_ of the dot
which historically may stand over _y_. _[gh]_ for _[th]_ initially,
as in XVI 170, is more often due to confusion of the letters _[th]_:
_y_ and subsequent preference of _[gh]_ for _y_ in spelling ([P] 5 i)
than to direct confusion of _[th]_: _[gh]_, which are not usually very
similar in late Middle English script.

_[th]_ : _h_ e.g. _do[th]_ (MS. _doh_) XV _b_ 22; and notes to XII _b_
116, XVI 62.

_b_ : _v_ e.g. _vousour_ (edd. _bonsour_) II 363.

_c_ : _t_ e.g. _cunesmen_ (edd. _tunesmen_) XV _g_ 6 (note); _top_ (edd.
_cop_) ibid. 16; see note to XIII _a_ 7.

_f_ : _[s]_ (= _s_) e.g. _slang_ (variant _flang_) X 53.

_l_ : _[s]_ (= _s_) e.g. _al_ (edd. _as_) II 108.

_l_ : _k_ e.g. _ky[th]e[gh]_ (MS. _ly[th]e[gh]_) VI 9.


[P] 5. SPECIAL LETTERS. Two letters now obsolete are common in
fourteenth-century MSS.: _[th]_ and _[gh]_.

_[th]_: 'thorn', is a rune, and stands for the voiced and voiceless
sounds now represented by _th_ in _this_, _thin_. The gradual
displacement of _[th]_ by _th_, which had quite a different sound
in classical Latin (note to VIII _a_ 23), may be traced in the MSS.
printed (except X, XII). _[th]_ remained longest in the initial
position, but by the end of the fifteenth century was used chiefly in
compendia like _[th]e_ 'the', _[th]t_ 'that'.

_[gh]_: called '_[gh]o[gh]_' or '_yogh_', derives from _<g>_, the OE.
script form of the letter _g_. It was retained in ME. after the Caroline
form _g_ had become established in vernacular texts, to represent a
group of spirant sounds:

(i) The initial spirant in _[gh]oked_ IX 253 (OE. _geoc-_), _[gh]ere_ I
151 (OE. _g[=e]ar_), where the sound was approximately the same as in
our _yoke_, _year_. Except in texts specially influenced by the
tradition of French spelling, _y_ (which is ambiguous owing to its
common use as a vowel = _i_) is less frequent than _[gh]_ initially.
Medially the palatal spirant is represented either by _[gh]_ or _y_:
_e[gh]e_ (OE. _[=e](a)[gh]-_) XV _c_ 14 beside _eyen_ VIII _a_ 168;
_ise[gh]e_ (OE. _gesegen_) XIV _c_ 88 beside _iseye_ XIV _c_ 16. The
medial guttural spirant more commonly develops to _w_ in the fourteenth
century: _awe_ (ON. _agi_) I 83, _felawe_ (ON. _f'elagi_) XIV _d_ 7,
_halwes_ (OE. _halg-_), beside _a[gh]-_ V 267, _fela[gh]-_ V 83,
_hal[gh]-_ V 54.

(ii) The medial or final spirant, guttural or palatal, which is lost
in standard English, but still spelt in _nought_, _through_, _night_,
_high_: ME. _no[gh]t_, _[th]ur[gh]_, _ny[gh]t_, _hy[gh]_: OE. _noht_,
_[th]urh_, _niht_, _h[=e]h_. The ME. sound was probably like that in
German _ich_, _ach_. The older spelling with _h_ is occasionally found;
more often _ch_ as in _mycht_ X 17; but the French spelling _gh_ gains
ground throughout the century. Abnormal are _write_ for _wrighte_ XVI
230, _wytes_, _nytes_ for _wy[gh]tes_, _ny[gh]tes_ XV _i_ 19 f.

(iii) As these sounds weakened in late Southern ME., _[gh]_ was
sometimes used without phonetic value, or at the most to reinforce a
long _i_: e.g. _Engli[gh]sch_ XI _a_ 28, 37, &c.; _ky[gh]n_ 'kine' IX
256.

N.B.--Entirely distinct in origin and sound value, but identical in
script form, is _[gh]_, the minuscule form of _z_, in _A[gh]one_ (=
_Azone_) I 105, _clyffe[gh]_ 'cliffs' V 10, &c. It would probably be
better to print _z_ in such words.


[P] 6. SPELLING. Modern English spelling, which tolerates almost any
inconsistency in the representation of sounds provided the same word
is always spelt in the approved way, is the creation of printers,
schools, and dictionaries. A Middle English writer was bound by no
such arbitrary rules. Michael of Northgate, whose autograph MS.
survives, writes _diaknen_ III 5 and _dyacne_ 9; _vyf_ 22, _uif_ 23,
_vif_ 37; _[th]ouzond_ 30 and _[th]ousend_ 34. Yet his spelling is not
irrational. The comparative regularity of his own speech, which he
reproduced directly, had a normalizing influence; and by natural habit
he more often than not solved the same problem of representation in the
same way. Scribes, too, like printers in later times, found a measure
of consistency convenient, and the spelling of some transcripts, e.g.
I and X, is very regular. If at first ME. spelling appears lawless to
a modern reader, it is because of the variety of dialects represented
in literature, the widely differing dates of the MSS. printed, and the
tendency of copyists to mix their own spellings with those of their
original.

The following points must be kept in mind:

(i) _i_ : _y_ as vowels are interchangeable. In some MSS. (for instance,
I) _y_ is used almost exclusively; in others (VIII _a_) it is preferred
for distinctness in the neighbourhood of _u_, _n_, _m_, so that the
scribe writes _hym_, but _his_.

(ii) _ie_ is found in later texts for long close _[=e.]_: _chiere_ XII
_a_ 120, _flietende_ XII _a_ 157, _diemed_ XII _b_ 216.

(iii) _ui_ (_uy_), in the South-West and West Midlands, stands for
_[=ue]_ (sounded as in French _amuser_): _puit_ XIV _c_ 12; _vnkuynde_
XIV _c_ 103. The corresponding short _ue_ is spelt _u_: _hull_ '_hill_',
&c.

(iv) Quite distinct is the late Northern addition of _i_ (_y_), to
indicate the long vowels _[=a]_, _[=e]_, _[=o]_: _neid_ X 18, _noyne_
'noon' X 67.

(v) _ou_ (_ow_) is the regular spelling of long _[=u]_ (sounded as in
_too_): _hous_, _now_, _founden_, &c.

(vi) _o_ is the regular spelling for short _u_ (sounded as in _put_) in
the neighbourhood of _u_, _m_, _n_, because if _u_ is written in
combination with these letters an indistinct series of downstrokes
results. Hence _loue_ but _luf_, _come_ infin., _sone_ 'son', _dronken_
'drunk'. In _Ayenbyte_ _o_ for _[)u]_ is general, e.g. _grochinge_ III
10. In other texts it is common in _bote_ 'but'.

(vii) _u_ : _v_ are not distinguished as consonant and vowel. _v_ is
preferred in initial position, _u_ medially or finally: _valay_
'valley', _vnder_ 'under', _vuel_ (= _uevel_) 'evil', _loue_ 'love'.
(Note that in XII the MS. distinction of _v_ and _u_ is not reproduced.)

(viii) So _i_, and its longer form _j_, are not distinguished as vowel
and consonant. In this book _i_ is printed throughout, and so stands
initially for the sound of our _j_ in _ioy_, _iuggement_, &c.

(ix) _c_ : _k_ for the sounds in _kit_, _cot_, are often
interchangeable; but _k_ is preferred before palatal vowels _e_, _i_
(_y_); and _c_ before _o_, _u_. See the alliterating words in V 52,
107, 128, 153, 272, 283.

(x) _c_ : _s_ alternate for voiceless _s_, especially in French words:
_sit'e_ 'city' VII 66, _resayue_ 'receive' V 8, _vyse_ 'vice' V 307,
_falce_ V 314; but also in _race_ (ON. _r'as_) V 8 beside _rase_ XVII
429.

(xi) _s_ : _z_ (_[gh]_) are both used for voiced _s_, the former
predominating: _kyssedes_ beside _ra[gh]te[gh]_ V 283; _[th]ouzond_
III 30 beside _[th]ousend_ III 34. But _[gh]_ occasionally appears for
voiceless _s_: _(a[gh]-)le[gh]_ 'awe-less' V 267, _for[gh]_ 'force'
'waterfall' V 105.

(xii) _sh_ : _sch_ : _ss_ are all found for modern _sh_, OE. _sc_:
_shuld_ I 50; _schert_ II 230; _sserte_ III 40; but _sal_ 'shall',
_suld_ 'should' in Northern texts represent the actual Northern
pronunciation in weakly stressed words.

(xiii) _v_ : _w_: In late Northern MSS. _v_ is often found for initial
_w_: _vithall_ X 9, _Valter_ X 36. The interchange is less common in
medial positions: _in swndir_ X 106.

(xiv) _wh-_ : _qu(h)-_ : _w-_:--_wh-_ is a spelling for _hw-_. In the
South the aspiration is weakened or lost, and _w_ is commonly written,
e.g. VIII _b_. In the North the aspiration is strong, and the sound is
spelt _qu(h)-_, e.g. _quhelis_ 'wheels' X 17. Both _qu-_ and _wh-_ are
found in _Gawayne_. The development in later dialects is against the
assumption that _hw-_ became _kw-_ in pronunciation.

See also [P] 5.

The whole system of ME. spelling was modelled on French, and some
of the general features noted above (e.g. ii, iii, v, vi, x) are
essentially French. But, particularly in early MSS., there are a number
of exceptional imitations. Sometimes the spelling represents a French
scribe's attempt at English pronunciation: _foret_ in XV _g_ 18 stands
for _for[th]_, where _-r[th]_ with strongly trilled _r_ was difficult
to a foreigner; and occasionally such distortions are found as _knith_,
_knit_, and even _kint_ (_Layamon_, _Havelok_) for _kni[gh]t_, which
had two awkward consonant groups. More commonly the copyist, accustomed
to write both French and English, chose a French representation for an
English sound. So _st_ for _ht_ appears regularly in XV _e_: _seuenist_
'sennight', and XV _g_: _iboust_ 'bought', &c. The explanation is that
in French words like _beste_ 'bete', _gist_ 'git', _s_ became only a
breathing before it disappeared; and _h_ in ME. _ht_ weakened to a
similar sound, as is shown by the rimes with _Kryste_ 'Christ' in VI
98-107. Hence the French spelling _st_ is occasionally substituted
for English _ht_. Again, in borrowings from French, _an_ + consonant
alternates with _aun_: _dance_ or _daunce_; _change_ or _chaunge_ (p.
273); and by analogy we have _Irlande_ or _Irlaunde_ in XV _d_. Another
exceptional French usage, _-tz_ for final voiceless _-s_, is explained
at p. 219, top.


[P] 7. SOUND CHANGES. (_a_) #Vowel Quantity.# No fourteenth-century
writer followed the early example of Orm. Marks of quantity are not
used in fourteenth-century texts; doubling of long vowels is not an
established rule; and there are no strictly quantitative metres, or
treatises on pronunciation. Consequently it is not easy to determine
how far the quantity of the vowels in any given text has been affected
by the very considerable changes that occurred in the late OE. and ME.
periods.

Of these the chief are:

(i) In unstressed syllables original long vowels tend to become short.
Hence _[)u]s_ (OE. _[=u]s_), and _b[)o]te_ (OE. _b[=u]tan_) 'but', which
are usually unstressed.

(ii) All long vowels are shortened in stressed close syllables (i.e.,
_usually_, when they are followed by two consonants): e.g. _k[=e]pen_,
pa. t. _k[)e]pte_, pp. _k[)e]pt_; _h[)u]sband_ beside _hous_;
_w[)i]mmen_ (from _w[)i]f-men_) beside _w[=i]f_.

_Exception._ Before the groups _-ld_, _-nd_, _-rd_, _-r[dh]_, _-mb_, a
short vowel is lengthened in OE. unless a third consonant immediately
follows. Hence, before any of these combinations, length may be retained
in ME.: e.g. _f[=e]nd_ 'fiend', _b[=i]nden_, _ch[=i]ld_; but
_ch[)i]ldren_.

(iii) Short vowels _[)a]_, _[)e]_, _[)o]_ are lengthened in stressed
open syllables (i.e., _usually_, when they are followed by a single
consonant with a following vowel): _t[)a]|ke_ > _t'ake_; _m[)e]|te_ >
_m'ete_ 'meat'; _br[)o]|ken_ > _br'oken_. To what extent _[)i]_ and
_[)u]_ were subject to the same lengthening in Northern districts is
still disputed. Normally they remain short in South and S. Midlands,
e.g. _dr[)i]uen_ pp.; _l[)o]uen_ = _l[)u]ven_ 'to love'.

There are many minor rules and many exceptions due to analogy; but
roughly it may be taken that ME. vowels are:

_short_ when unstressed;

_short_ before two consonants, except _-ld_, _-nd_, _-rd_, _-r[dh]_,
_-mb_;

_long_ (except _i_ (_y_), _u_) before a single medial consonant;

otherwise of the quantity shown in the Glossary for the OE. or ON.
etymon.

(_b_) #Vowel Quality.# The ME. sound-changes are so many and so obscure
that it will be possible to deal only with a few that contribute most to
the diversity of dialects, and it happens that the particular changes
noticed all took effect before the fourteenth century.

(i) OE. and ON. _[=a]_ develop to long open _[=o,]_ (sounded as in
_broad_), first in the South and S. Midlands, later in the N. Midlands.
In the North _[=a]_ (sounded approximately as in _f~a~ther_) remains:
e.g. _bane_ 'bone' IV _a_ 54, _balde_ 'bold' IV _a_ 51. The boundary
seems to have been a line drawn west from the Humber, and this
approximates to the dividing line in the modern dialects. There are of
course instances of _[=o,]_ to the north and of _[=a]_ to the south of
the Humber, since border speakers would be familiar with both _[=a]_ and
_[=o,]_, or would have intermediate pronunciations; and poets might use
convenient rimes from neighbouring dialects.

(ii) OE. _[)=y]_ (deriving from Germanic _[)=u]_ followed by _i_)
appears _normally_ in E. Midlands and the North as _[)=i]_ (_[)=y]_):
e.g. _k[=y]n_, _hill_ (OE. _c[=y]_, _hyll_). In the South-East,
particularly Kent, it appears as _[)=e.]_: _k[=e]n_, _hell_. In the
South-West, and in W. Midlands, it commonly appears as _u_, _ui_
(_uy_), with the sound of short or long _ue_. London was apparently
at a meeting point of the _u_, _i_, and _e_ boundaries, because all
the forms appear in fourteenth-century London texts, though _[)=ue]_
and _[)=e]_ gradually give place to _[)=i]_. The extension of _[)=ue]_
forms to the North-West is shown by _Gawayne_, and a line drawn from
London to Liverpool would give a rough idea of the boundary. But
within this area unrounding of _[)=ue]_ to _[)=i]_ seems to have
been progressive during the century. N.B.--It is dangerous to jump
to conclusions from isolated examples. Before _r_ + consonant _e_
is sometimes found in all dialects, e.g. _schert_ II 230. _Church_,
spelt with _u_, _i_, or _e_, had by etymology OE. _i_, not _y_. And in
Northern texts there are a number of _e_-spellings in open syllables,
both for OE. _y_ and _i_.

(_c_) #Consonants#:

(i) _f_ > _v_ (initial): this change, which dates back to OE. times, is
carried through in _Ayenbyte_: e.g. _uele uayre uorbisnen_ = Midland
'_fele fayre forbisnes_'. In some degree it extended over the whole of
the South.

(ii) _s_ > _z_ (initial), parallel to the change of _f_ to _v_, is
regularly represented in spelling in the _Ayenbyte_: _zome_ 'some', &c.
Otherwise _z_ is rare in spelling, but the voiced initial sound probably
extended to most of the Southern districts where it survives in modern
dialect.


[P] 8. PRONUNCIATION. One of the best ways of studying ME. pronunciation
is to learn by heart a few lines of verse in a consistent dialect, and
to correct their repetition as more precise knowledge is gained. The
spelling can be relied on as very roughly phonetic if the exceptional
usages noted in [P] 6 are kept in mind. Supplementary and controlling
information is provided by the study of rimes, of alliteration, and of
the history of English and French sounds.

#Consonants.# Where a consonant is clearly pronounced in Modern English,
its value is nearly enough the same for ME. But modern spelling
preserves many consonants that have been lost in speech, and so is
rather a hindrance than a help to the beginner in ME. For instance, the
initial sounds in ME. _kni[gh]t_ and _ni[gh]t_ were not the same, for
_kni[gh]t_ alliterates always with _k-_ (V 43, 107) and _ni[gh]t_ with
_n-_ (VII 149); and initial _wr-_ in _wringe_, _wri[gh]te_ is distinct
from initial _r-_ in _ring_, _ri[gh]t_ (cp. alliteration in VIII _a_
168, V 136). Nor can _wri[gh]te_ rime with _write_ in a careful
fourteenth-century poem. In words like _lerne_, _doghter_, _r_ was
pronounced with some degree of trilling. And although there are signs of
confusion in late MSS. (IV _a_, XVI, XVII), double consonants were
generally distinguished from single: _sonne_ 'sun' was pronounced
_s[)u]n-ne_, and so differed from _sone_ 'son', which was pronounced
_s[)u]-ne_ ([P] 6 vi).

#Vowels.# Short vowels _[)a]_, _[)e]_, _[)i]_, _[)o]_, _[)u]_ ([P] 6 vi)
were pronounced respectively as in French _patte_, English _pet_, _pit_,
_pot_, _put_. Final unstressed _-e_ was generally syllabic, with a sound
something like the final sound in _China_ ([P] 9).

The long vowels _[=a]_, _[=i]_, _[=u]_ ([P] 6 v) were pronounced
approximately as in _f~a~ther_, _mach~i~ne_, _cr~u~de_. But _[=e]_ and
_[=o]_ present special difficulties, because the spelling failed to make
the broad distinction between open _[=o,]_ and close _[=o.]_, open
_[=e,]_ and close _[=e.]_--a distinction which, though relative only
(depending on the greater or less opening of the mouth passage), is
proved to have been considerable by ME. rimes, and by the earlier and
subsequent history of the long sounds represented in ME. by _e_, _o_.

  (i) Open _[=o,]_ (as in _broad_) derives:

  (_a_) from OE. _[=a]_, according to [P] 7 b i: OE. _br[=a]d_,
  _b[=a]t_, _b'ald_ > ME. _br[=o,]d_, _b[=o,]t_, _b[=o,]ld_ > NE.
  _broad_, _boat_, _bold_. The characteristic modern spelling is
  thus _oa_.

  (_b_) from OE. _[)o]_ in open syllables according to [P] 7 a iii:
  OE. _br[)o]cen_ > ME. _br['o,]ke(n)_ > NE. _broken_.

NOTE.--In many texts the rimes indicate a distinction in
pronunciation between _[=o,]_ derived from OE. _[=a]_ and _[=o,]_
derived from OE. _[)o]_, and the distinction is still made in NW.
Midland dialects.

  (ii) Close _[=o.]_ (pronounced rather as in French _beau_ than as
  in standard English _so_ which has developed a diphthong _[o.]u_),
  derives from OE. _[=o]_: OE. _g[=o]s_, _d[=o]m_, _g'old_ > ME.
  _g[=o.]s_, _d[=o.]m_, _g[=o.]ld_ > NE. _goose_, _doom_, _gold_.
  The characteristic modern spelling is _oo_.

NOTE.--(1) After consonant + _w_, _[=o,]_ often develops in ME.
to _[=o.]_: OE. _(al)sw[=a]_, _tw[=a]_ > ME. _(al)s[=o,]_, _tw[=o,]_ >
later _(al)s[=o.]_, _tw[=o.]_.

(2) In Scotland and the North _[=o.]_ becomes regularly
a sound (perhaps _[=ue]_) spelt _u_: _g[=o]d_ > _gud_, _bl[=o]d_ >
_blud_, &c.

Whereas the distribution of _[=o,]_ and _[=o.]_ is practically the same
for all ME. dialects, the distinction of open _[=e,]_ and close _[=e.]_
is not so regular, chiefly because the sounds from which they derive
were not uniform in OE. dialects. For simplicity, attention will be
confined to the London dialect, as the forerunner of modern Standard
English.

  (iii) South-East Midland open _[=e,]_ (pronounced as in _there_)
  derives:

    (_a_) from OE. (Anglian) _[=ae]_: Anglian _d[=ae]l_ > SE. Midl.
    _d[=e,]l_ > NE. _deal_;

    (_b_) from OE. _[=e]a_: OE. _b[=e]atan_ > ME. _b[=e,]te(n)_ > NE.
    _beat_;

    (_c_) from OE. _[)e]_ in open syllables according to [P] 7 a iii:
    OE. _m[)e]te_ > ME. _m['e,]te_ > NE. _meat_.

The characteristic modern spelling is _ea_.

  (iv) South-East Midland close _[=e.]_ (pronounced as in French
  _'et'e_) derives:

    (_a_) from OE. (Anglian) _[=e]_ of various origins: Anglian
    _h[=e]r_, _m[=e]ta(n)_, _(ge)l[=e]fa(n)_ > SE. Midl. _h[=e.]re_,
    _m[=e.]te(n)_, _l[=e.]ue(n)_ > NE. _here_, _meet_, _(be)lieve_.

    (_b_) from OE. _[=e]o_: OE. _d[=e]op_, _[th][=e]of_ > ME. _d[=e.]p_,
    _[th][=e.]f_ (_[th]ief_) > NE. _deep_, _thief_.

The characteristic modern spellings are _ee_, and _ie_ which already in
ME. often distinguishes the close sound ([P] 6 ii).

NOTE.--The distinction made above does not apply in South-Eastern
(Kentish), because this dialect has ME. _ea_, _ia_, _ya_ for OE.
_[=e]a_ (iii b), and OE. _[=e]_ for Anglian _[=ae]_ (iii a). Nor does
it hold for South-Western, because the West Saxon dialect of OE. had
_gel[=i]efan_ for Anglian _gel[=e]fa(n)_ (iv a). West Saxon also had
_str[=ae]t_, _-dr[=ae]dan_, where normal Anglian had _str[=e.]t_,
_-dr[=e.]da(n)_, but the distribution of the place-names _Stratton_
beside _Stretton_, and of the pa. t. and pp. _dradd(e)_ beside
_dredd(e)_ (p. 270 and n.), shows that the _[=ae]_ forms were common
in the extreme South and the East of the Anglian area; so that in
fourteenth-century London both _[=e,]_ and _[=e.]_ might occur in such
words, as against regular West Midland and Northern _[=e.]_.

In NE. Midland and Northern texts some _[=e]_ sounds which we should
expect to be distinguished as open and close rime together, especially
before dental consonants, e.g. _[gh][=e]de_ (OE. _[=e]ode_): _l[=e]de_
(Anglian _l[=ae]da(n)_) I 152-3.


[P] 9. INFLEXIONS. Weakening and levelling of inflexions is continuous
from the earliest period of English. The strong stress falling regularly
on the first or the stem syllable produced as reflex a tendency to
indistinctness in the unstressed endings. The disturbing influence of
foreign conquest played a secondary but not a negligible part, as may be
seen from a comparison of some verbal forms in the North and the N.
Midlands, where Norse influence was strongest, with those of the South,
where it was inconsiderable:

                   Normal         Early        Early        Old
                   OE.            Sth.         Nth.and      Norse
                                  ME.          N. Midl.
      Infin.      _dr[=i]fan_    _driue(n)_   _driue_      _dr'ifa_
      Pres. p.    _dr[=i]fende_  _driuinde_   _driuande_   _dr'ifandi_
      Pp. strong  _gedrifen_     _ydriue_     _driuen_     _drifenn_

and although tangible evidence of French influence on the flexional
system is wanting (for occasional borrowings like _gowtes artetykes_ IX
314 are mere literary curiosities), every considerable settlement of
foreign speakers, especially when they come as conquerors, must shake
the traditions of the language of the conquered. A third cause of
uncertainty was the interaction of English dialects in different stages
of development.

The practical sense of the speakers controlled and balanced these
disruptive factors. There is no better field than Middle English for a
study of the processes of vigorous growth: the regularizing of
exceptional and inconvenient forms; the choice of the most distinctive
among a group of alternatives; the invention of new modes of expression;
the discarding of what has become useless.

At the beginning of the fourteenth century the inflexional endings
are: _-e_; _-en_; _-ene_ (weak gen. pl.); _-er_ (comparative); _-es_;
_-est_; with _-e[th]_, _-ede_ (_-de_, _-te_), _-ed_ (_-d_, _-t_),
_-ynge_ (_-inde_, _-ende_, _-ande_), which are verbal only.

NOTE.--(_a_) Sometimes one of these inflexions may be substituted for
another: e.g. when _-es_ replaces _-e_ as the Northern ending of the 1st
sg. pres. ind. Such analogical substitutions must be distinguished from
phonetic developments.

(_b_) In disyllabic inflexions like _-ede_, _-ynge_ (_-ande_), final
_-e_ is lost early in the North. In polysyllables it is dropped
everywhere during the century.

(_c_) The indistinct sound of flexional _-e-_ covered by a consonant is
shown by spellings with _-i-_, _-y-_: _woundis_ X 51; _madist_ XI _b_
214; _blyndi[th]_ XI _b_ 7; _fulfillid_ XVI 6; _etin_ XIV _b_ 76;
_brokynne_ XVI 195. And, especially in West Midland texts, _-us_, _-un_
(_-on_) appear for _-es_, _-en_: _mannus_ XI _b_ 234; _foundun_ XI _a_
47; _laghton_ VII 119. Complete syncope sometimes occurs: _days_ I 198,
&c.

Otherwise all the inflexions except _-e_, _-en_, are fairly stable
throughout the century.

#-en#: In the North _-en_ is found chiefly in the strong pp., where it
is stable. In the South (except in the strong pp.) it is better
preserved, occurring rarely in the dat. sg. of adjectives, e.g. _onen_
III 4, dat. pl. of nouns, e.g. _diaknen_ III 5, and in the infinitive;
more commonly in the weak pl. of nouns, where it is stable, and in the
pa. t. pl., where it alternates with _-e_. In the Midlands _-en_,
alternating with _-e_, is also the characteristic ending of the pres.
ind. pl. As a rule (where the reduced ending _-e_ is found side by side
with _-en_) _-e_ is used before words beginning with a consonant, and
_-en_ before words beginning with a vowel or _h_, to avoid hiatus. But
that the preservation of _-en_ does not depend purely on phonetic
considerations is proved by its regular retention in the Northern strong
pp., and its regular reduction to _-e_ in the corresponding Southern
form.

#-e#: Wherever _-en_ was reduced, it reinforced final _-e_, which so
became the meeting point of all the inflexions that were to disappear
before Elizabethan times.

_-e_ was the ending of several verbal forms; of the weak adjective and
the adjective pl.; of the dat. sg. of nouns; and of adverbs like
_faste_, _deepe_, as distinguished from the corresponding adjectives
_fast_, _deep_.

That _-e_ was pronounced is clear from the metres of
Chaucer, Gower, and most other Southern and Midland
writers of the time. For centuries the rhythm of their verse
was lost because later generations had become so used to
final _-e_ as a mere spelling that they did not suspect that it
was once syllabic.

But already in fourteenth-century manuscripts there is evidence of
uncertainty. Scribes often omit the final vowel where the rhythm shows
that it was syllabic in the original (see the language notes to I, II).
Conversely, in _Gawayne_ forms like _burne_ (OE. _beorn_), _race_ (ON.
_r'as_), _hille_ (OE. _hyll_) appear in nominative and accusative, where
historically there should be no ending. The explanation is that, quite
apart from the workings of analogy, which now extended and now curtailed
its historical functions, _-e_ was everywhere weakly pronounced, and was
dropped at different rates in the various dialects. In the North it
hardly survives the middle of the century (IV _a_, X). In the N.
Midlands its survival is irregular. In the South and S. Midlands it is
fairly well preserved till the end of the century. But everywhere the
proportion of flexionless forms was increasing. It may be assumed that,
in speech as in verse, final _-e_ was lost phonetically first before
words beginning with a vowel or _h_.


[P] 10. NOUNS: Gender, which in standard West Saxon had been to a great
extent grammatical (i.e. dependent on the forms of the noun), was by the
fourteenth century natural (i.e. dependent on the meaning of the noun).
This change had accompanied and in some degree facilitated the transfer
of nearly all nouns to the strong masculine type, which was the
commonest and best defined in late OE.:

                        OE.        ME.
      Sg. nom. acc.  _cniht_    _kni[gh]t_
               gen.  _cnihtes_  _kni[gh]tes_
               dat.  _cnihte_   _kni[gh]te_

                        OE.        ME.
      Pl. nom. acc.  _cnihtas_  _kni[gh]tes_
               gen.  _cnihta_   _kni[gh]tes_
               dat.  _cnihtum_  _kni[gh]tes_

In the North final _-e_ of the dat. sg. was regularly dropped early in
the fourteenth century, and even in the South the dat. sg. is often
uninflected, probably owing to the influence of the accusative. In the
plural the inflexion of the nom. acc. spreads to all cases; but in early
texts, and relatively late in the South, the historical forms are
occasionally found, e.g. gen. pl. _cniste_ (MS. _cnistes_) XV _g_ 30
(note), dat. pl. _diaknen_ III 5.

#Survivals#: (i) The common mutated plurals _man_: _men_, _fot_: _fet_,
&c., are preserved, and in VIII _b_ a gen. pl. _menne_ (OE. _manna_)
occurs; _ky_ pl. of _cow_ forms a new double pl. _kyn_, see (iii) below;
_hend_ pl. of _hand_ is Norse, cp. XVI 75 (note).

(ii) Some OE. neuters like _shep_ 'sheep' VIII _b_ 18, _[gh]er_ 'year'
II 492, _[th]ing_ II 218, _folk_ II 389, resist the intrusion of the
masculine pl. _-es_ in nominative and accusative. Pl. _hors_ II 304,
XIII _a_ 34 remains beside _horses_ XIV _b_ 73; but _deores_ 'wild
animals' occurs at XV _b_ 29, where Modern English preserves _deer_.

(iii) In the South the old weak declension with pl. _-en_ persists,
though by the fourteenth century the predominance of the strong type
is assured. The weak forms occur not only where they are historically
justified, e.g. _ey[gh]en_ (OE. _[=e]agan_) II 111, but also by analogy
in words like _honden_ (OE. pl. _honda_) II 79, _tren_ (OE. pl.
_tr[=e]o_) XIII _a_ 51, _platen_ (OFr. _plate_) XV _g_ 4. The inflexion
still survives in three double plural formations: _children_ VIII _b_
70 beside _childer_ (OE. pl. _cildru_); _bretheren_ VIII _a_ 201 beside
_brether_ XVII 320 (OE. pl. _br[=o][th]or_); and _ky[gh]n_ IX 256 for
_ky_ (cp. (i) above). The OE. weak gen. pl. in _-ena_ leaves its traces
in the South, e.g. _knauene_ VIII _b_ 56, XV _h_ 4, and unhistorical
_lordene_ VIII _b_ 77.

(iv) The group _fader_, _moder_, _bro[th]er_, _doghter_ commonly show
the historical flexionless gen. sg., e.g. _doghtyr arme_ I 136; _moder
wombe_ XI _b_ 29 f.; _brother hele_ XII _a_ 18; _Fadir voice_ XVI 79.

(v) The historical gen. sg. of old strong feminines remains in _soule
dede_ (OE. _s[=a]wle_) I 212; but _Lady day_ (OE. _hl[=ae]fdigan daeg_)
I 242 is a survival of the weak fem. gen. sg.


[P] 11. ADJECTIVES. Separate flexional forms for each gender are not
preserved in the fourteenth century; but until its end the distinction
of strong and weak declensions remains in the South and South Midlands,
and is well marked in the careful verse of Chaucer and Gower. The strong
is the normal form. The weak form is used after demonstratives, _the_,
_his_, &c., and in the vocative. As types _god_ (OE. _g[=o]d_) 'good'
and _grene_ (OE. _gr[=e]ne_) 'green' will serve, because in OE.
_gr[=e]ne_ had a vowel-ending in the strong nom. sg. masc., while
_g[=o]d_ did not. The ME. paradigms are:

              Singular.                      Plural.
        Strong        Weak               Strong and Weak
      _god_         _god[.e]_              _god[.e]_
      _gren[.e]_    _gren[.e]_             _gren[.e]_

Examples: Strong sg. _a gret serpent_ (OE. _gr[=e]at_) XII _b_ 72; _an
unkind[.e] man_ (OE. _uncynde_) XII _b_ 1; _a still[.e] water_ (OE.
_stille_) XII _a_ 83. Weak sg. _The gret[.e] gastli serpent_ XII _b_
126; _hire oghn[.e] hertes lif_ XII _a_ 4; _O lef liif_ (where the metre
indicates _leu[.e]_ for the original) II 102. Strong pl. _[th]er wer
wid[.e] wones_ II 365. Weak pl. _the smal[.e] stones_ XII _a_ 84.

Note that strong and weak forms are identical in the plural; that even
in the singular there is no formal distinction when the OE. strong masc.
nom. ended in a vowel (_gr[=e]ne_); that monosyllables ending in a vowel
(e.g. _fre_), polysyllables, and participles, are usually invariable;
and that regular dropping of final _-e_ levels all distinctions, so that
the North and N. Midlands early reached the relatively flexionless stage
of Modern English.

#Survivals.# The _Ayenbyte_ shows some living use of the adjective
inflexions. Otherwise the survivals are limited to set phrases, e.g.
gen. sg. _nones cunnes_ 'of no kind', _enes cunnes_ 'of any kind', XV
_g_ 20, 22. That the force of the inflexion was lost is shown by the
early wrong analysis _no skynnes_, _al skynnes_, &c.

#Definite Article.# Parallel to the simplification of the adjective,
the full OE. declension _s[=e]_, _s[=e]o_, _[th]aet_, &c., is reduced
to invariable _[th]e_. The _Ayenbyte_ alone of our specimens keeps some
of the older distinctions. Elsewhere traces appear in set phrases, e.g.
neut. sg. _[th]at_, _[th]et_ in _[th]at on_ 'the one', _[th]at o[th]er_
'the other' V 344, and, with wrong division, _[th]e ton_ XI _b_ 27,
_the to[th]er_ IX 4; neut. sg. dat. _[th]en_ (OE. _[th][=ae]m_), with
wrong division, in _atte nale_ (for _at [th]en ale_) VIII _a_ 109.


[P] 12. PRONOUNS. In a brilliant study (_Progress in Language_, London
1894) Jespersen exemplifies the economy and resources of English from
the detailed history of the Pronoun. In the first and second persons
fourteenth-century usage does not differ greatly from that of the
Authorized Version of the Bible. But the pronoun of the third person
shows a variety of developments. In the singular an objective case
replaces, without practical disadvantages, the older accusative and
dative: _him_ (OE. _hine_ and _him_), _her(e)_ (OE. _h[=i]e_ and
_hiere_), _(h)it_ (OE. _hit_ and _him_). The possessive _his_ still
serves for the neuter as well as the masculine, e.g. _[th]at ryuer...
chaunge[th] ~hys~ fordes_ XIII _a_ 55 f.; though an uninflected neuter
possessive _hit_ occasionally appears in the fourteenth century. In the
plural, where one would expect objective _him_ from the regular OE. dat.
pl. _him_, clearness is gained by the choice of unambiguous _hem_, from
an OE. dat. pl. by-form _heom_.

But as we see from _Orfeo_, ll. 408, 446, 185, in some dialects the nom.
sg. masc. (OE. _h[=e]_), nom. sg. fem. (OE. _h[=e]o_), and nom. pl. (OE.
_h[=i]e_), had all become ME. _he_. The disadvantages of such ambiguity
increased as the flexional system of nouns and adjectives collapsed, and
a remedy was found in the adoption of new forms. For the nom. sg. fem.,
_s(c)he_, _s(c)ho_ (mostly Northern), come into use, which are probably
derived from _s[i(][=e]_, _s[e(][=o]_, the corresponding case of the
definite article. The innovation was long resisted in the South, and
_ho_, an unambiguous development of _he[=o]_, remains late in W. Midland
texts like _Pearl_.

In the nom. pl. ambiguous _he_ was replaced by _[th]ei_, the nom. pl.
of the Norse definite article. This is the regular form in all except
the Southern specimens II (orig.), III, XIII. And although the full
series of Norse forms _[th]ei_, _[th]eir_, _[th]e(i)m_ is found in Orm
at the beginning of the thirteenth century, Chaucer and other Midland
writers of the fourteenth century as a rule have only _[th]ei_, with
native English _her(e)_, _hem_ in the oblique cases. (For details see
the language note to each specimen.)

The poss. pl. _her(e)_, beside _hor(e)_, was still liable to confusion
with the obj. sg. fem. _her(e)_, cp. II 92. Consequently this was
the next point to be gained by the Norse forms, e.g. in VII 181. In
the Northern texts X, XVI, XVII, all from late MSS., the Norse forms
_[th]ai_, _[th]a(i)r_, _[th]a(i)me_ are fully established; but _(h)em_,
which was throughout unambiguous, survived into modern dialects in the
South and Midlands.

Note the reduced nominative form _a_ 'he', 'they' in XIII; and the
objective _his(e)_ 'her', 'them' in III, which has not been
satisfactorily explained.

#Relative#: The general ME. relative is _[th]at_, representing all
genders and cases (note to XV _i_ 4). Sometimes definition is gained by
adding the personal pronoun: _[th]at... he (sche)_ = 'who'; _[th]at...
it_ = 'which'; _[th]at... his_ = 'whose'; _[th]at ... him_ = 'whom',
&c.; e.g. _a well, ~[th]at~ in the day ~it~ is so cold_ IX 5-6, cp. V
127 (note); _oon ~That~ with a spere was thirled ~his~ brest-boon_ 'one
whose breast-bone was pierced with a spear', _Knight's Tale_ 1851. For
the omission of _[th]at_ see note to XIII _a_ 36.

In later texts, _which_, properly an interrogative, appears commonly
as a relative, both with personal and impersonal antecedents, e.g.
_Alceone... ~which~... him loveth_ XII _a_ 3 ff.; _[th]at steede... fro
~whilke~ [th]e feende fell_ XVI 13 f. Under the influence of French
_lequel_, &c., _which_ is often compounded with the article _[th]e_,
e.g. _a gret serpent... ~the which~ Bardus anon up drouh_ XII _b_ 72
f.; _no thing of newe, in ~the whiche~ the hereres myghten hauen...
solace_ IX 275 f. Further compounding with _[th]at_ is not uncommon,
e.g. _the queen of Amazoine, ~the whiche [th]at~ maketh hem to ben kept
in cloos_ IX 190 f.

More restricted is the relative use of _whos_, _whom_, which are
originally interrogatives, though both are found very early in ME. as
personal relatives. Examples of the objective after prepositions are:
_my Lady, of ~quom~..._ VI 93; _God, fro ~whom~ ..._ IX 328 f.; _my
Sone... in ~whome~_ XVI 81 f. The possessive occurs in _Seynt Magne...
yn ~whos~ wurschyp_ I 90 f.; _I am ... the same, ~whos~ good_ XII _b_ 78
f.; and, compounded with the article, in _Morpheues, ~the whos~ nature_
XII _a_ 113. The nominative _who_ retains its interrogative meaning,
e.g. _But ~who~ ben more heretikis?_ XI _b_ 77 f.; or is used as an
indefinite, e.g. _a tasse of grene stickes... to selle, ~who that~ wolde
hem beie_ XII _b_ 22 ff.; but it is never used as a relative; and
probably _what_ in XVI 174 is better taken as in apposition to _myghtis_
than as a true relative.


[P] 13. VERB. Syntactically the most interesting point in the history of
the ME. verb is the development of the compound tenses with _have_,
_be_, _will_, _shall_, _may_, _might_, _mun_, _can_, _gan_. But the
flexional forms of the simple tenses are most subject to local
variation, and, being relatively common, afford good evidence of
dialect. Throughout the period, despite the crossings and confusions
that are to be expected in a time of uncertainty and experiment, the
distinction between strong and weak verbs is maintained; and it will be
convenient to deal first with the inflexions common to both classes, and
then to notice the forms peculiar to one or the other.

(i) #The Infinitive# had already in Northumbrian OE. lost final _-n_:
_dr[=i]fa_ 'to drive'. Hence in ME. of the North and N. Midlands the
ending is _-e_, which becomes silent at varying rates during the
fourteenth century; e.g. _dryue_ I 171, _to luf_ IV _a_ 17. In the South
and S. Midlands the common ending is _-e_, e.g. _telle_ III 3, which
usually remains syllabic to the end of the century; but _-(e)n_ is also
found, especially in verse to make a rime or to avoid hiatus: e.g.
_sein_ (: _a[gh]ein_) XII _a_ 27; _to parte and [gh]iven half his good_
XII _b_ 201.

(ii) #The Present Participle# (OE. _dr[=i]fende_) in the North and N.
Midlands ends in _-and(e)_, though _-yng(e)_, _-ing(e)_ is beginning to
appear in V, VII, XVI, XVII. In S. Midlands the historical ending
_-ende_ still prevails in Gower; but Chaucer has more commonly
_-yng(e)_; and in IX, XI, both late texts, only _-yng(e)_ appears. In
the South _-yng(e)_ is established as early as the beginning of the
century, e.g. in II.

N.B. Carefully distinguish the verbal noun which always ends in
_-yng(e)_. Early confusion resulted in the transference of this ending
to the participle.

(iii) #Present Indicative.#

(_a_) Singular: OE. 1 _dr[=i]fe_, 2 _dr[=i]f(e)s(t)_, 3 _dr[=i]f(e)[dh]_
(late Northumbrian _dr[=i]fes_).

In ME. _-e_, _-est_, _-e[th]_ are still the regular endings for
the South and most of the Midlands. Shortened forms like _fint_ =
_finde[th]_ II 239; _stant_ = _stande[th]_ XII _a_ 74 are commonest in
the South, where in OE. they were a feature of West Saxon and Kentish
as distinguished from Anglian. Distinct are the Northern and N. Midland
_mas(e)_ 'makes', _tas_ 'takes', with contracted infinitives _ma_,
_ta_; and _bus_ 'behoves', which Chaucer uses in his imitation of
Northern English, _Reeves Tale_ 172.

In N. Midlands the modern 3rd sg. _-(e)s_ is common (V, VI, but not in
earlier I). Farther North it is invariable (IV, X, XVI, XVII). The
distribution of _-es_ as the ending of the 2nd sg. is the same, and it
is extended even to the 1st person.

(_b_) Plural: OE. _dr[=i]fa[dh]_ (late Northumbrian _dr[=i]fas_).

Only Southern ME. retains the OE. inflexion as _-e[th]_ (II, III, XIII).
The Midland ending, whence the modern form derives, is _-e(n)_; though
in the N. Midlands _-es_ occasionally appears. Northern has regularly
_-es_, _unless the personal pronoun immediately precedes_, when the
ending is _-e_, as in the Midlands, e.g. _[th]ei make_ XVI 103.

N.B. In applying this test, care must be taken to exclude inversions,
which are subject to special rules; to distinguish the subjunctive (e.g.
_falle_ XIII _a_ 52, _drawe_ XIII _b_ 6) from the indicative; and,
generally, to choose examples that are syntactically free from doubt,
because concord of number is not always logical in ME.

SUMMARY.

      OE.

      1. sg. _dr[=i]f-e_
      2.     _dr[=i]f-es(t)_
      3.     _dr[=i]f-e[dh]_ (Nth. _-es_)
      pl.    _dr[=i]f-a[dh]_ (Nth. _-as_)

      ME.
             South   S. Midl.  N. Midl.           North
      1. sg. _-e_    _-e_      _-(e)_             _-(e)_ or _-(e)s_
      2.     _-est_  _-est_    _-es(t)_           _-es_
      3.     _-e[th]_   _-e[th]_     _-e[th]_ or _-es_     _-es_
      pl.    _-e[th]_   _-e(n)_   _-e(n)_ or _-es_   _-es_ or _-(e)_

(iv) #The Imperative Plural# might be expected to agree with the pres.
ind. pl. In fact it has the ending _-e[th]_ not merely in the South,
but in most of the Midlands, e.g. I, VIII, Gower and Chaucer. Northern
and NW. Midland (V, VI, XIV _b_, XVI) have commonly _-es_. But Chaucer,
Gower, and most late ME. texts have, beside the full inflexion, an
uninflected form, e.g. _vndo_ XVI 182.

(v) #Past Tense.#

(_a_) Strong: The historical distinctions of stem-vowel were often
obscured in ME. by the rise of new analogical forms, the variety of
which can best be judged from the detailed evidence presented in the
_New English Dictionary_ under each verb. But, for the common verbs
or classes, the South and S. Midlands preserved fairly well the OE.
vowel distinction of past tense singular and plural; while North and
N. Midlands usually preferred the form proper to the singular for
both singular and plural, e.g. _[th]ey bygan_ I 72; _[th]ey ne blan_
I 73; _thai slang_ X 53, where OE. has sg. _gan_: _gunnon_; _blan_:
_blunnon_; ON. _sl[o,]ng_: _slungu_.

(_b_) Weak: In the South and Midlands the weak pa. t. 2nd sg. usually
ends in _-est_ (N. Midland also _-es_): _hadest_ II 573; _cursedest_ I
130; _kyssedes_, _ra[gh]te[gh]_ V 283. In the North, and sometimes in
N. Midland, it ends in _-(e)_: _[th]ou hadde_ XVI 219. The full ending
of the pa. t. pl. is fairly common in the South, S. Midlands, and
NW. Midlands: _wenten_ II 185, _hedden_ III 42, _maden_ XII _b_ 196,
_sayden_ VI 174.

(vi) #Past Participle (Strong)#: OE. _(ge)dr[)i]fen_.

In the North and N. Midlands the ending _-en_ is usually preserved, but
the prefix _y-_ is dropped. In the South the type is _y-driue_, with
prefix and without final _n_. S. Midland fluctuates--for example, Gower
rarely, Chaucer commonly, uses the prefix _y-_.

(vii) #Weak Verbs with -i- suffix#: In OE. weak verbs of Class II
formed the infinitive in _-ian_, e.g. _acsian_, _lufian_, and the
_i_ appeared also in the pres. ind. and imper. pl. _acsia[dh]_ and
pres. p. _acsiende_. In ME. a certain number of French verbs with an
_-i-_ suffix reinforced this class. In the South and W. Midlands the
_-i-_ of the suffix is often preserved, e.g. _aski_ II 467, _louy_ V
27, and is sometimes extended to forms in which it has no historical
justification, e.g. pp. _spuryed_ V 25. In the North and the E.
Midlands the forms without _i_ are generalized.




PRINTED IN ENGLAND
AT THE OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS




CORRIGENDA

To Sisam's _Fourteenth Century Verse and Prose_

p. xlv, l. 7: _for_ carat _read_ caret

p. xlvii: _for_ Jessop _read_ Jessopp

p. 21, l. 259: _for_ be _read_ he

p. 28, l. 493: _for_ enn _read_ en

p. 43, foot-note to l. 69: _omit_ 'for:'

p. 62, l. 100: _for_ tyste _read_ t<r>yste (_Morris_); _and adjust
note at p. 225_.

p. 103, l. 254: _for_ largeand _read_ large and

p. 175, l. 1: _for_ Daib. _read_ Diab.

p. 214, note to _a_: _for_ 'The best... are' _read_ 'This poem is
largely a translation of sentences excerpted from Rolle's _Incendium
Amoris_, cc. xl-xli (Miss Allen in _Mod. Lang. Review_ for 1919, p.
320). Useful commentaries are'

p. 226, note to l. 153: in l. 8 for _t[o,]_ read _t[=o,]_

p. 243, n. to ll. 5-6: _for_ 'external covering' _read_ 'covering over
it'

p. 291, table, last column, 1 sg.: for '_-e_ or _(e)s_' read '_-(e)_ or
_-(e)s_'




[Transcriber's Note: A number of editorial corrections are without
Footnotes or Notes. The manuscript readings for these are here supplied
by the transcriber from the editions of Hamelius and England & Pollard:

      IX 166 Sy_t_hye] Sychye _MS._
      IX 270 i_t_] is _MS._
      IX 287 gr_e_uous] grouous _MS._
      XVII 85 displeas_es_] displeasse _MS._
      XVII 472 th_ou_] thi _MS._

Unusual characters have been transcribed in the following way:

      [=a]    a with macron
      [)=a]   a with breve and macron
      [)a]    a with breve
      ['a]    a wit acute
      [=ae]   ae with macron
      ['ae]   ae with acute
      [=e]    e with macron
      [=e.]   e with macron and dot below
      [.e]    e with dot above
      [e,]    e with ogonek (e caudata or tailed e)
      ['e,]   e with ogonek and acute
      [e(]    e with inverted breve below
      [)e]    e with breve
      [)=e]   e with breve and macron
      [)=e.]  e with breve and macron with dot below
      ['e]    e with acute
      [=i]    i with macron
      [i(]    i with inverted breve below
      [)i]    i with breve
      [)=i]   i with breve and macron
      [=n]    n with macron
      [=o]    o with macron
      [=o,]   o with macron and ogonek
      [=o.]   o with macron and dot below
      [=o)]   o with macron and breve below
      [)o]    o with breve
      [)=o]   o with breve and macron
      [o,]    o with ogonek
      ['o,]   o with ogonek and acute
      [o.]    o with dot below
      ['oe]   oe ligature, stressed
      [)u]    u with breve
      [)=u]   u with breve and macron
      [=u]    u with macron
      [=ue]   u with macron and diaresis
      [)=ue]  u with diaresis, with breve and macron
      [=y]    y with macron
      [)=y]   y with breve and macron
      [dh]    letter eth
      [gh]    letter yogh
      [Gh]    letter Yogh
      [th]    letter thorn
      [Th]    letter Thorn
      [s]     long s
      ['v]    v with acute
      [+]     dagger symbol
      ['-]    stressed syllable
      [P]     paragraph symbol

The CORRIGENDA to Sisam's _Fourteenth Century Verse and Prose_ (see
above) from the end of the accompanying vocabulary volume has been moved
here. All items listed have been corrected, except

      p. 62, l. 100: [...] _and adjust note at p. 225_

which remains unadjusted.

The line numbering has been regularised to multiples of 5. Lines
of prose have their line numbers in {braces} within the text. The
companion volume, _A Middle English Vocabulary, designed for use with
SISAM's Fourteenth Century Verse & Prose_, by J. R. R. Tolkien is
available at PG #43737.]






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