Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, Pearl, Cleanness, and Patience

The Gawain Poet (fl. late 14th century) is the anonymous author of four alliterative poems preserved in a single manuscript (British Library, Cotton Nero A.x): Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, Pearl, Cleanness (or Purity), and Patience. These poems are among the supreme achievements of medieval English literature. Sir Gawain is the finest Arthurian romance in English; Pearl is an exquisite dream-vision elegy; Cleanness and Patience are vivid biblical paraphrases.

This edition presents the original Middle English texts alongside modern English translations. The Middle English texts are drawn from public domain transcriptions of the Cotton Nero manuscript.

Cleanness - Original Middle English

Clannesse who so kyndly cowþe comende
& rekken vp alle þe resounz þat ho by ri3t askez, Fayre formez my3t he fynde in for[þ]ering his speche

& in þe contrare kark & combraunce huge.
For wonder wroth is þe Wy3þat wro3t alle þinges Wyth þe freke þat in fylþe fol3es Hym after, As renkez of relygioun þat reden & syngen & aprochen to hys presens & prestez arn called;

Thay teen vnto his temmple & temen to hym seluen, Reken with reuerence þay rychen His auter;

Þay hondel þer his aune body & vsen hit boþe.
If þay in clannes be clos þay cleche gret mede; Bot if þay conterfete crafte & cortaysye wont, As be honest vtwyth & inwith alle fylþez, Þen ar þay synful hemself & sulped altogeder

Boþe God & His gere, & hym to greme cachen.
He is so clene in His courte, þe Kyng þat al weldez, & honeste in His housholde & hagherlych serued With angelez enourled in alle þat is clene, Boþ withine & withouten in wedez ful bry3t;

Nif he nere scoymus & skyg & non scaþe louied, Hit were a meruayl to much, hit mo3t not falle.

Kryst kydde hit Hymself in a carp onez,
Þeras He heuened a3t happez & hy3t hem her medez.
Me mynez on one amonge oþer, as Maþew recordez, Þat þus clanness vnclosez a ful cler speche:

Þe haþel clene of his hert hapenez ful fayre, For he schal loke on oure Lorde with a bone chere'; As so saytz, to þat sy3t seche schal he neuer Þat any vnclannesse hatz on, auwhere abowte; For He þat flemus vch fylþe fer fro His hert May not byde þat burre þat hit His body ne3en.

Forþy hy3not to heuen in haterez totorne, Ne in þe harlatez hod, & handez vnwaschen.

For what vrþly haþel þat hy3honour haldez Wolde lyke if a ladde com lyþerly attyred, When he were sette solempnely in a sete ryche, Abof dukez on dece, with dayntys serued?

Þen þe harlot with haste helded to þe table, With rent cokrez at þe kne & his clutte traschez,

& his tabarde totorne, & his totez oute, Oþer ani on of alle þyse, he schulde be halden vtter, With mony blame ful bygge, a boffet peraunter, Hurled to þe halle dore & harde þeroute schowued,

& be forboden þat bor3e to bowe þider neuer, On payne of enprysonment & puttyng in stokkez;

& þus schal he be schent for his schrowde feble, Þa3neuer in talle ne in tuch he trespas more.

& if vnwelcum he were to a worþlych prynce, 3et hym is þe hy3e Kyng harder in her euen; As Maþew melez in his masse of þat man ryche, Þat made þe mukel mangerye to marie his here dere,

& sende his sonde þen to say þat þay samne schulde, & in comly quoyntis to com to his feste:

'For my boles & my borez arn bayted & slayne, & my fedde foulez fatted with scla3t, My polyle þat is penne-fed & partrykez boþe, Wyth scheldez of wylde swyn, swanez & cronez,

Al is roþeled & rosted ry3t to þe sete;
Comez cof to my corte, er hit colde worþe.'
When þay knewen his cal þat þider com schulde, Alle excused hem by þe skyly he scape by mo3t.

On hade bo3t hym a bor3, he sayde, by hys trawþe:

'Now turne I þeder als tyd þe toun to byholde.'

Anoþer nayed also & nurned þis cawse:

'I haf 3erned & 3at 3okkez of oxen,

& for my hy3ez hem bo3t; to bowe haf I mester, To see hem pulle in þe plow aproche me byhouez.'

'& I haf wedded a wyf,' so wer hym þe þryd; 'Excuse me at þe court, I may not com þere.'

Þus þay dro3hem adre3with daunger vchone, Þat non passed to þe plate þa3he prayed were.

Thenne þe ludych lorde lyked ful ille,
& hade dedayn of þat dede; ful dry3ly he carpez.
He saytz: 'Now for her owne sor3e þay forsaken habbez; More to wyte is her wrange þen any wylle gentyl.

Þenne gotz forth, my gomez, þe grete streetez, & forsettz on vche a syde þe cete aboute;

Þe wayferande frekez, on fote & on hors, Boþe burnez & burdez, þe better & þe wers,

Laþez hem alle luflyly to lenge at my fest, & bryngez hem blyþly to bor3e as barounez þay were, So þat my palays plat ful be py3t al aboute; Þise oþer wrechez iwysse worþy no3t wern.'

Þen þay cayred & com þat þe cost waked,
Bro3ten bachlerez hem wyth þat þay by bonkez metten, Swyerez þat swyftly swyed on blonkez,

& als fele vpon fote, of fre & of bonde.
When þay com to þe courte keppte weren þay fayre, Sty3tled with þe stewarde, stad in þe halle,

Ful manerly with marchal mad for to sitte, As he watz dere of degre dressed his seete.

Þenne seggez to þe souerayn sayden þerafter:
'Lo! Lorde, with your leue, at your lege heste & at þi banne we haf bro3t, as þou beden habbez,

Mony renischsche renkez, & 3et is roum more.'
Sayde þe lorde to þo ledez, 'Laytez 3et ferre, Ferre out in þe felde, & fechez mo gestez;

Waytez gorstez & greuez, if ani gomez lyggez; Whatkyn folk so þer fare, fechez hem hider; Be þay fers, be þay feble, forlotez none, Be þay hol, be þay halt, be þay ony3ed,

& þa3þay ben boþe blynde & balterande cruppelez, Þat my hous may holly by halkez by fylled.

For, certez, þyse ilk renkez þat me renayed habbe, & denounced me no3t now at þis tyme,

Schul neuer sitte in my sale my soper to fele, Ne suppe on sope of my seve, þa3þa3þay swelt schulde.'

Thenne þe sergauntez, at þat sawe, swengen þeroute, & diden þe dede þat [watz] demed, as he deuised hade,

& with peple of alle plytez þe palays þay fyllen; Hit weren not alle on wyuez sunez, wonen with on fader.

Wheþer þay wern worþy oþer wers, wel wern þay stowed, Ay þe best byfore & bry3test atyred,

Þe derrest at þe hy3e dese, þat dubbed wer fayrest, & syþen on lenþe bilooghe ledez inogh.

& ay a[s] segge[s] [serly] semed by her wedez, So with marschal at her mete mensked þay were.

Clene men in compaynye forknowen wern lyte, & 3et þe symplest in þat sale watz serued to þe fulle,

Boþe with menske & with mete & mynstrasy noble, & alle þe laykez þat a lorde a3t in londe schewe.

& þay bigonne to be glad þat god drink haden.
& vch mon with his mach made hym at ese.
Now inmyddez þe mete þe mayster hym biþo3t Þat he wolde se þe semble þat samned was þere,

& rehayte rekenly þe riche & þe pou[eren], & cherisch hem alle with his cher, & chaufen her joye.

Þen he bowez fro his bour into þe brode halle & to þe best on þe bench, & bede hym be myry,

Solased hem with semblaunt & syled fyrre, Tron fro table to table & talkede ay myrþe.

Bot as he ferked ouer þe flor, he fande with his y3e, Hit watz not for a halyday honestly arayed, A þral þry3t in þe þrong vnþryuandely cloþed, Ne no festiual frok, bot fyled with werkkez;

Þe gome watz vngarnyst with god men to dele.
& gremed þerwith þe grete lorde, & greue hym he þo3t.
'Say me, frende,' quoþ þe freke with a felle chere, 'Hov wan þou into þis won in wedez so fowle?

Þe abyt þat þou hatz vpon, no halyday hit menskez; Þou, burne, for no brydale art busked in wedez.

How watz þou hardy þis hous for þyn vnhap [to] ne3e In on so ratted a robe & rent at þe sydez?

Þow art a gome vngoderly in þat goun febele; Þou praysed me & my place ful pouer & ful [g]nede,

Þat watz so prest to aproche my presens hereinne.
Hopez þou I be a harlot þi erigaut to prayse?'
Þat oper burne watz abayst of his broþe wordez, & hurkelez doun with his hede, þe vrþe he biholdez;

He watz so scoumfit of his scylle, lest he skaþe hent, Þat he ne wyst on worde what he warp schulde.

Þen þe lorde wonder loude laled & cryed, & talkez to his tormenttourez: 'Takez hym,' he biddez,

'Byndez byhynde, at his bak, boþe two his handez, & felle fetterez to his fete festenez bylyue;

Stik hym stifly in stokez, & stekez hym þerafter Depe in my doungoun þer doel euer dwellez,

Greuing & gretyng & gryspyng harde
Of teþe tenfully togeder, to teche hym be quoynt.'
Thus comparisunez Kryst þe kyndom of heuen To þis frelych feste þat fele arn to called; For alle arn laþed luflyly, þe luþer & þe better, Þat euer wern ful3ed in font, þat fest to haue.

Bot war þe wel, if þou wylt, þy wedez ben clene & honest for þe halyday, lest þou harme lache, For aproch þou to þat Prynce of parage noble, He hates helle no more þen hem þat ar sowle.

Wich arn þenne þy wedez þou wrappez þe inne, Þat schal schewe hem so schene schrowde of þe best?

Hit arn þy werkez, wyterly, þat þou wro3t hauez, & lyued with þe lykyng þat ly3e in þyn hert;

Þat þo be frely & fresch fonde in þy lyue, & fetyse of a fayr forme to fote & to honde,

& syþen alle þyn oþer lymez lapped ful clene; Þenne may þou se þy Sauior & His sete ryche.

For fele[r] fautez may a freke forfete his blysse, Þat he þe Souerayn ne se, þen for slauþe one; As for bobaunce & bost & bolnande priyde Þroly into þe deuelez þrote man þryngez bylyue.

For couetyse & colwarde & croked dedez,
For monsworne & menscla3t & to much drynk, For þefte & for þrepyng, vnþonk may mon haue; For roborrye & riboudrye & resounez vntrwe, & dsyheriete & depryue dowrie of wydoez, For marryng of maryagez & mayntnaunce of schrewez, For traysoun & trichcherye & tyrauntyre boþe,

& for fals famacions & fayned lawez;
Man may mysse þe myrþe þat much is to prayse For such vnþewez as þise, & þole much payne,

& in þe Creatores cort com neuermore,
Ne neuer see Hym with sy3t for such sour tournez.
Bot I haue herkned & herde of mony hy3e clerkez, & als in resounez of ry3t red hit myseluen,

Þat þat ilk proper Prynce þat paradys weldez Is displesed at vch a poynt þat plyes to scaþe;

Bot neuer 3et in no boke breued I herde
Þat euer He wrek so wyþerly on werk þat He made, Ne venged for no vilte of vice ne synne,

Ne so hastyfly watz hot for hatel of His wylle, Ne neuer so sodenly so3t vnsoundely to weng, As for fylþe of þe flesch þat foles han vsed; For, as I fynde, þer He for3et alle His fre þewez,

& wex wod to þe wrache for wrath at His hert.
For þe fyrste felonye þe falce fende wro3t Whyl he watz hy3e in þe heuen houen vpon lofte, Of alle þyse aþel aungelez attled þe fayrest:
& he vnkyndely, as a karle, kydde a reward.
He se3no3t bot hymself how semly he were, Bot his Souerayn he forsoke & sade þyse wordez:

`I schal telde vp my trone in þe tramountayne, & by lyke to þat Lorde þat þe lyft made.' With þis worde þat he warp, þe wrake on hym ly3t:
Dry3tyn with His dere dom hym drof to þe abyme, In þe mesure of His mode, His metz neuer þe lasse.

Bot þer He tynt þe tyþe dool of His tour ryche:
Þa3þe feloun were so fers for his fayre wedez & his glorious glem þat glent so bry3t, As sone as Dry3tynez dome drof to hymseluen, Þikke þowsandez þro þrwen þeroute,

Fellen fro þe frymament fendez ful blake, Sweued at þe fryst swap as þe snaw þikke,

Hurled into helle-hole as þe hyue swarmez.

Fylter fenden folk forty dayez lencþe,

Er þat styngande storme stynt ne my3t;

Bot as smylt mele vnder smal siue smokez forþikke.

So fro heuen to helle þat hatel schor laste, On vche syde of þe worlde aywhere ilyche.

3is, hit watz a brem brest & a byge wrache, & 3et wrathed not þe Wy3; ne þe wrech sa3tled,

Ne neuer wolde, for wyl[fulnes], his worþy God knawe, Ne pray Hym for no pite, so proud watz his wylle.

Forþy þa3þe rape were rank, þe rawþe watz lytt[el]; Þa3he be kest into kare, he kepes no better.

Bot þat oper wrake þat wex, on wy3ez hit ly3t Þur3þe faut of a freke þat fayled in trawþe,

Adam inobedyent, ordaynt to blysse.
Þer pryuely in paradys his place watz devised, To lyue þer in lykyng þe lenþe of a terme,

& þenne enherite þat home þat aungelez forgart; Bot þur3þe eggyng of Eue he ete of an apple

Þat enpoysened alle peplez þat parted fro hem boþe, For a defence þat watz dy3t of Dry3tyn Seluen,

& a payne þeron put & pertly halden.
Þe defence watz þe fryt þat þe freke towched, & þe dom is þe deþe þat drepez vus alle;

Al in mesure & meþe watz mad þe vengiaunce, & efte amended with a mayden þat make had neuer.

Bot in þe þryd watz forþrast al þat þryue schuld:
Þer watz malys mercyles & mawgre much scheued, Þat watz for fylþe vpon folde þat þe folk vsed,

Þat þen wonyed in þe worlde withouten any maysterz.
Hit wern þe fayrest of forme & of face als, Þe most & þe myriest þat maked wern euer,

Þe styfest, þe stalworþest þat stod euer on fete, & lengest lyf in hem lent of ledez alle oþer.

For hit was þe forme foster þat þe folde bred, Þe aþel aunceterez sunez pat Adam watz called, To wham God hade geuen alle þat gayn were, Alle þe blysse boute blame þat bodi my3t haue;

& þose lykkest to þe lede, þat lyued next after; Forþy so semly to see syþen wern none.

Þer watz no law to hem layd bot loke to kynde, & kepe to hit, & alle hit cors clanly fulfylle.

& þenne founden þay fylþe in fleschlych dedez, & controeued agayn kynde contrare werkez,

& vsed hem vnþryftyly vchon on oþer,
& als with oþer, wylsfully, upon a wrange wyse:
So ferly fowled her flesch þat þe fende loked How þe de3ter of þe douþe wern derelych fayre,

& fallen in fela3schyp with hem on folken wyse, & engendered on hem jeauntez with her japez ille.

Þose wern men meþelez & ma3ty on vrþe,
Þat for her lodlych laykez alosed þay were; He watz famed for fre þat fe3t loued best,

& ay þe bigest in bale þe best watz halden.
& þenne euelez on erþe ernestly grewen
& multyplyed monyfolde inmongez mankynde, For þat þe ma3ty on molde so marre þise oþer

Þat þe Wy3e þat al wro3t ful wroþly bygynnez.
When He knew vche contre coruppte in hitseluen, & vch freke forloyned fro þe ry3t wayez,

Felle temptande tene towched His hert.
As wy3e wo hym withinne, werp to Hymseluen:
'Me forþynkez ful much þat euer I mon made, Bot I schal delyuer & do away þat doten on þis molde,

& fleme out of þe folde al þat flesch werez, Fro þe burne to þe best, fro bryddez to fyschez;

Al schal doun & be ded & dryuen out of erþe Þat euer I sette saule inne; & sore hit Me rwez

Þat euer I made hem Myself; bot if I may herafter, I schal wayte to be war her wrenchez to kepe.'

Þenne in worlde watz a wy3e wonyande on lyue, Ful redy & ful ry3twys, & rewled hym fayre, In þe drede of Dry3tyn his dayez he vsez, & ay glydande wyth his God, his grace watz þe more.

Hym watz þe nome Noe, as is innoghe knawen.

He had þre þryuen sunez, & þay þre wyuez:

Sem soþly þat on, þat oþer hy3t Cam,

& þe jolef Japheth watz gendered þe þryd.

Now God in nwy to Noe con speke

Wylde wrakful wordez, in His wylle greued:

'Þe ende of alle kynez flesch þat on vrþe meuez Is fallen forþwyth My face, & forþer hit I þenk.

With her vnworþelych werk Me wlatez withinne; Þe gore þerof Me hatz greued & þe glette nwyed.

I schal strenkle My distresse, & strye al togeder, Boþe ledez & londe & alle þat lyf habbez.

Bot make to þe a mancioun, & þat is My wylle, A cofer closed of tres, clanlych planed.

Wyrk wonez þerinne for wylde & for tame, & þenne cleme hit with clay comly within[n]e,

& alle þe endentur dryuen daube withouten.
& þus of lenþe & of large þat lome þou make:
Þre hundred of cupydez þou holde to þe lenþe, Of fyfty fayre ouerþwert forme þe brede;

& loke euen þat þyn ark haue of he3þe þrette, & a wyndow wyd vpon[ande] wro3t vpon lo[f]te, In þe compas of a cubit kyndely sware;

A wel dutande dor, don on þe syde;

Haf hallez þerinne & halkez ful mony,

Boþe boske[n]z & bourez & wel bounden penez.

For I schal waken vp a water to wasch alle þe worlde, & quelle alle þat is quik with quauende flodez,

Alle þat glydez & gotz & gost of lyf habbez; I schal wast with My wrath þat wons vpon vrþe.

Bot My forwarde with þe I festen on þis wyse, For þou in reysoun hatz rengned & ry3twys ben euer:

Þou schal enter þis ark with þyn aþel barnez & þy wedded wyf; with þe þou take

Þe makez of þy myry sunez; þis meyny of a3te I schal saue of monnez saulez, & swelt þose oþer.

Of vche best þat berez lyf busk þe a cupple, Of vche clene comly kynde enclose seuen makez, Of vche horwed in ark halde bot a payre, For to saue Me þe sede of alle ser kyndez.

& ay þou meng with þe malez þe mete ho-bestez, Vche payre by payre to plese ayþer oþer; With alle þe fode þat may be founde frette þy cofer, For sustnaunce to yowself & also þose oþer.'

Ful grayþely gotz þis god man & dos Godez hestes, In dry3dred & daunger þat durst do non oþer.

Wen hit watz fettled & forged & to þe fulle grayþed, Þenn con Dry3ttyn hym dele dry3ly þyse wordez.

'Now Noe,' quoþ oure Lorde, 'art þou al redy?
Hatz þou closed þy kyst with clay alle aboute?'
'3e, Lorde, with þy leue,' sayde þe lede þenne, Al is wro3t at Þi worde, as Þou me wyt lantez.'

'Enter in, þenn,' quoþ He, & haf þi wyf with þe, Þy þre sunez, withouten þrep, & her þre wyuez;

Bestez, as I bedene haue, bosk þerinne als, & when 3e arn staued, styfly stekez yow þerinne.

Fro seuen dayez ben seyed I sende out bylyue Such a rowtande ryge þat rayne schal swyþe

Þat schal wasch alle þe worlde of werkez of fylþe; Schal no flesch vpon folde by fonden onlyue,

Outtaken yow a3t in þis ark staued
& sed þat I wyl saue of þyse ser bestez.'
Now Noe neuer sty[n]tez, þat niy3[t] he bygynnez, Er al wer stawed & stoken as þe steuen wolde.

Thenne sone com þe seuenþe day, when samned wern alle, & alle woned in þe whichche, þe wylde & þe tame.

Þen bolned þe abyme, & bonkez con ryse,
Waltes out vch walle-heued in ful wode stremez; Watz no brymme þat abod vnbrosten bylyue;

Þe mukel lauande loghe to þe lyfte rered.
Mony clustered clowde clef alle in clowtez; Torent vch a rayn-ryfte & rusched to þe vrþe,

Fon neuer in forty dayez. & þen þe flod ryses, Ouerwaltez vche a wod & þe wyde feldez.

For when þe water of þe welkyn with þe worlde mette, Alle þat deth mo3t dry3e drowned þerinne.

Þer watz moon for to make when meschef was cnowen, Þat no3t dowed bot þe deth in þe depe stremez;

Water wylger ay wax, wonez þat stryede,
Hurled into vch hous, hent þat þer dowelled.
Fryst feng to þe fly3t alle þat fle my3t; Vuche burde with her barne þe byggyng þay leuez

& bowed to þe hy3bonk þer brentest hit wern, & heterly to þe hy3e hyllez þay [h]aled on faste.

Bot al watz nedlez her note, for neuer cowþe stynt Þe ro3e raynande ryg, þe raykande wawez,

Er vch boþom watz brurdful to þe bonkez eggez, & vche a dale so depe þat demmed at þe brynkez.

Þe moste mountaynez on mor þenne watz no more dry3e, & þeron flokked þe folke, for ferde of þe wrake.

Syþen þe wylde of þe wode on þe water flette; Summe swymmed þeron þat saue hemself trawed,

Summe sty3e to a stud & stared to þe heuen, Rwly wyth a loud rurd rored for drede.

Harez, herttez also, to þe hy3e runnen;
Bukkez, bausenez, & bulez to þe bonkkez hy3ed; & alle cryed for care to þe Kyng of heuen,

Recouerer of þe Creator þay cryed vchone, Þat amounted þe masse, þe mase His mercy watz passed,

& alle His pyte departed fro peple þat He hated.
Bi þat þe flod to her fete flo3ed & waxed, Þen vche a segge se3wel þat synk hym byhoued.

Frendez fellen in fere & faþmed togeder, To dry3her delful deystyne & dy3en alle samen;

Luf lokez to luf & his leue takez,
For to ende alle at onez & for euer twynne.
By forty dayez wern faren, on folde no flesch styryed Þat þe flod nade al freten with fe3tande wa3ez; For hit clam vche a clyffe, cubites fyftene Ouer þe hy3est hylle þat hurkled on erþe.

Þenne mourkne in þe mudde most ful nede
Alle þat spyrakle inspranc, no sprawlyng awayled, Saue þe haþel vnder hach & his here straunge,

Noe þat ofte neuened þe name of oure Lorde, Hym a3tsum in þat ark, as aþel God lyked,

Þer alle ledez in lome lenged druye.
Þe arc houen watz on hy3e with hurlande gotez, Kest to kythez vncouþe þe clowdez ful nere.

Hit waltered on þe wylde flod, went as hit lyste, Drof vpon þe depe dam, in daunger hit semed,

Withouten mast, oþer myke, oþer myry bawelyne, Kable, oþer capstan to clyppe to her ankrez,

Hurrok, oþer hande-helme hasped on roþer, Oþer any sweande sayl to seche after hauen,

Bot flote forthe with þe flyt of þe felle wyndez.
Whederwarde so þe water wafte, hit rebounde; Ofte hit roled on rounde & rered on ende;

Nyf oure Lorde hade ben her lodezmon hem had lumpen harde.
Of þe lenþe of Noe lyf to lay a lel date, Þe sex hundreth of his age & none odde 3erez, Of secounde monyth þe seuen[ten]þe day ry3tez, Towalten alle þyse welle-hedez & þe water flowed;

& þryez fyfty þe flod of folwande dayez; Vche hille watz þer hidde with y[þ]ez ful graye.

Al watz wasted þat þer wonyed þe worlde withinne, Þ[at] euer flote, oþer flwe, oþer on fote 3ede, That ro3ly watz þe remnaunt þat þe rac dryuez Þat alle gendrez so joyst wern joyned wythinne

Bot quen þe Lorde of þe lyfte lyked Hymseluen For to mynne on His mon His meth þat abydez,

Þen He wakened a wynde on watterez to blowe; Þenne lasned þe llak þat large watz are.

Þen He stac vp þe stangez, stoped þe wellez, Bed blynne of þe rayn: hit batede as faste;

Þenne lasned þe lo3lowkande togeder.
After harde dayez wern out an hundreth & fyfte, As þat lyftande lome luged aboute.

Where þe wynde & þe weder warpen hit wolde, Hit sa3tled on a softe day, synkande to grounde; On a rasse of a rok hit rest at þe laste, On þe mounte of Mararach of Armene hilles.

Þat oþerwayez on Ebrv hit hat þe Thanes.
Bot þa3þe kyste in þe cragez wern closed to byde, 3et fyned not þe flod ne fel to þe boþemez,

Bot þe hy3est of þe eggez vnhuled weren a lyttel, Þat þe burne bynne borde byhelde þe bare erþe.

Þenne wafte he vpon his wyndowe, & wysed þeroute A message fro þat meyny hem moldez to seche:

Þat watz þe rauen so ronk, þat rebel watz euer; He watz colored as þe cole, corbyal vntrwe.

& he fongez to þe fly3t & fannez on þe wyndez, Halez hy3e vpon hy3t to herken tyþyngez.

He croukez for comfort when carayne he fyndez Kast vp on a clyffe þer costese lay drye;

He hade þe smelle of þe smach & smoltes þeder sone, Fallez on þe foule flesch & fyllez his wombe,

& sone 3ederly for3ete 3isterday steuen, How þe cheuetayn hym charged þat þe kyst 3emed.

Þe rauen raykez hym forth, þat reches ful lyttel How alle fodez þer fare, ellez he fynde mete;

Bot þe burne bynne borde þat bod to hys come Banned hym ful bytterly with bestes alle samen.

He sechez anoþer sondezmon, & settez on þe dou[u]e, Bryngez þat bry3t vpon borde, blessed, & sayde:

'Wende, worþelych wy3t, vus wonez to seche; Dryf ouer þis dymme water; if þou druye fyndez

Bryng bodworde to bot blysse to vus alle.
Þa3þat fowle be false, fre be þou euer.'
Ho wyrle out on þe weder on wyngez ful scharpe, Dre3ly alle alonge day þat dorst neuer ly3t;

& when ho fyndez no folde her fote on to pyche, Ho vmbekestez þe coste & þe kyst sechez.

Ho hittez on þe euentyde & on þe ark sittez; Noe nymmes hir anon & naytly hir stauez.

Noe on anoþer day nymmez efte þe doveue, & byddez hir bowe ouer þe borne efte bonkez to seche;

& ho skyrmez vnder skwe & skowtez aboute, Tyl hit watz ny3e at þe na3t, & Noe þen sechez.

On ark on an euentyde houez þe dowue;
On stamyn ho stod & stylle hym abydez.
What! ho bro3t in hir beke a bronch of olyue, Gracyously vmbegrouen al with grene leuez;

Þat watz þe syngne of sauyte þat sende hem oure Lorde, & þe sa3tlyng of Hymself with þo sely bestez.

Þen watz þer joy on þat gyn where jumpred er dry3ed, & much comfort in þat cofer þat watz clay-daubed.

Myryly on a fayr morn, monyth þe fyrst,
Þat fallez formast in þe 3er, & þe fyrst day, Ledez lo3en in þat lome & loked þeroute, How þat watterez wern woned & þe worlde dryed.
Vchon loued oure Lorde, bot lenged ay stylle Tyl þay had tyþyng fro þe Tolke þat tyned hem þerinne.

Þen Godez glam to hem glod þat gladed hem alle, Bede hem drawe to þe dor: delyuer hem He wolde.

Þen went þay to þe wykket, hit walt vpon sone; Boþe þe burne & his barnez bowed þeroute, Her wyuez walkez hem wyth & þe wylde after, Þroly þrublande in þronge, þrowen ful þykke.

Bot Noe of vche honest kynde nem out an odde, & heuened vp an auter & hal3ed hit fayre,

& sette a sakerfyse þeron of vch a ser kynde Þat watz comly & clene: God kepez non oþer.

When bremly brened þose bestez, & þe breþe rysed, Þe sauour of his sacrafyse so3t to Hym euen

Þat al spedez & spyllez; He spekes with þat ilke In comly comfort ful clos & cortays wordez:

'Now, Noe, no more nel I neuer wary
Alle þe mukel mayny [on] molde for no mannez synnez, For I se wel þat hit is sothe þat alle mannez wyttez To vnþryfte arn alle þrawen with þo3t of her herttez, & ay hatz ben, & wyl be 3et; fro her barnage

Al is þe mynde of þe man to malyce enclyned.
Forþy schal I neuer schende so schortly at ones As dysstrye al for manez synne, dayez of þis erþe.

Bot waxez now & wendez forth & worþez to monye, Multyplyez on þis molde, & menske yow bytyde.

Sesounez schal yow neuer sese of sede ne of heruest, Ne hete, ne no harde forst, vmbre ne dro3þe,

Ne þe swetnesse of somer, ne þe sadde wynter, Ne þe ny3t, ne þe day, ne þe newe 3erez,

Bot euer renne restlez: rengnez 3e þerinne.'
Þerwyth He blessez vch a best, & byta3t hem þis erþe.
Þen watz a skylly skyualde, quen scaped alle þe wylde, Vche fowle to þe fly3t þat fyþerez my3t serue,

Vche fysch to þe flod þat fynne couþe nayte.
Vche beste to þe bent þat þat bytes on erbez; Wylde wormez to her won wryþez in þe erþe,

Þe fox & þe folmarde to þe fryth wyndez, Herttes to hy3e heþe, harez to gorstez,

& lyounez & lebardez to þe lake-ryftes:
Hernez & hauekez to þe hy3e rochez,
Þe hole-foted fowle to þe flod hy3ez,
& vche best at a brayde þer hym best lykez; Þe fowre frekez of þe folde fongez þe empyre.

Lo! suche a wrakful wo for wlatsum dedez Parformed þe hy3e Fader on folke þat He made;

Þat He chysly hade cherisched He chastysed ful hardee, In devoydynge þe vylanye þat venkquyst His þewez.

Forþy war þe now, wy3e þat worschyp desyres In His comlych courte þat Kyng is of blysse, In þe fylþe of þe flesch þat þou be founden neuer, Tyl any water in þe worlde to wasche þe fayly.

For is no segge vnder sunne so seme of his craftez, If he be sulped in synne, þat syttez vnclene; On spec of spote may spede to mysse
Of þe sy3te of þe Souerayn þat syttez so hy3e; For þat schewe me schale in þo schyre howsez, As þe beryl bornyst byhouez be clene.
Þat is sounde on vche a syde & no sem habes, Withouten maskle oþer mote, as margerye-perle.

Syþen þe Souerayn in sete so sore forþo3t Þat euer He man vpon molde merked to lyuy, For he in fylþe watz fallen, felly He uenged, Quen fourferde alle þe flesch þat He formed hade.

Hym rwed þat He hem vprerde & ra3t hem lyflode; & efte þat He hem vndyd, hard hit Hym þo3t.

For quen þe swemande sor3e so3t to His hert, He knyt a couenaunde cortaysly with monkynde þere, In þe mesure of His mode & meþe of His wylle, Þat He schulde neuer for no syt smyte al at onez, As to quelle alle quykez for qued þat my3t falle, Whyl of þe lenþe of þe londe lastez þe terme.

Þat ilke skyl for no scaþe ascaped Hym neuer.
Wheder wonderly He wrak on wykked men after, Ful felly for þat ilk faute forferde a kyth ryche, In þe anger of His ire, þat ar3ed mony;
& al watz for þis ilk euel, þat vnhappen glette, Þe venym & þe vylanye & þe vycios fylþe

Þat bysulpez mannez saule in vnsounde hert, Þat he his Saueour ne see with sy3t of his y3en.

Alle illez He hates as helle þat alle stynkkez; Bot non nuyez Hym on na3t ne neuer vpon dayez As harlottrye vnhonest, heþyng of seluen:
Þat schamez for no schrewedschyp, schent mot he worþe.
Bot sauyour, mon, in þyself, þa3þou a sotte lyuie, Þa3þou bere þyself babel, byþenk þe sumtyme

Wheþer He þat stykked vche a stare in vche steppe y3e, 3if Hymsel[f] be bore blynde hit is a brod wonder;

& He þat fetly in face fettled alle eres, If he hatz losed þe lysten hit lyftez meruayle:

Trave þou neuer þat tale, vntrwe þou hit fyndez.
Þer is no dede so derne þat dittez His y3en; Þer is no wy3e in his werk so war ne so stylle

Þat hit ne þrawez to Hym þr[o] er he hit þo3t haue.
For He is þe gropande God, þe grounde of alle dedez, Rypande of vche a ring þe reynyez & hert.

& þere He fyndez al fayre a freke wythinne, Þat hert honest & hol, þat haþel He honourez,

Sendez hym a sad sy3t: to se His auen face, & harde honysez þise oþer, & of His erde flemez.

Bot of þe dome of þe douþe for dedez of schame, He is so skoymos of þat skaþe, He scarrez bylyue;

He may not dry3e to draw allyt, bot drepez in hast:

& þat watz schewed schortly by a scaþe onez.

Olde Abraham in erde onez he syttez

Euen byfore his hous-dore, vnder an oke grene; Bry3t blykked þe bem of þe brode heuen; In þe hy3e hete þerof Abraham bidez:

He watz schunt to þe schadow vnder schyre leuez.

Þenne watz he war on þe waye of wlonk Wy3ez þrynne; If þay wer farande & fre & fayre to beholde

Hit is eþe to leue by þe last ende.
For þe lede þat þer laye þe leuez anvnder, When he hade of Hem sy3t he hy3ez bylyue,

& as to God þe goodmon gos Hem agaynez
& haylsed Hem in onhede, & sayde: 'Hende Lorde, 3if euer Þy mon vpon molde merit disserued,

Lenge a lyttel with Þy lede, I lo3ly biseche; Passe neuer fro Þi pouere, 3if I hit pray durst,

Er Þou haf biden with Þi burne & vnder bo3e restted, & I schal wynne Yow wy3t of water a lyttel,

& fast aboute schal I fare Your fette wer waschene.
Resttez here on þis rote & I schal rachche after & brynge a morsel of bred to banne Your hertte.'

'Fare forthe,' quoþ þe Frekez, '& fech as þou seggez; By bole of þis brode tre We byde þe here.'

Þenne orppedly into his hous he hy3ed to Sare, Commaunded hir to be cof & quyk at þis onez:

'Þre mettez of mele menge & ma kakez;
Vnder askez ful hote happe hem byliue;
Quyl I fete sumquat fat, þou þe fyr bete, Prestly at þis ilke poynte sum polment to make.'

He cached to his covhous & a calf bryngez, Þat watz tender & not to3e, bed tyrue of þe hyde,

& sayde to his seruaunt þat hit seþe faste; & he deruely at his dome dy3t hit bylyue.

Þe burne to be bare-heued buskez hym þenne, Clechez to a clene cloþe & kestez on þe grene,

Þrwe þryftyly þeron þo þre þerue kakez,
& bryngez butter wythal & by þe bred settez; Mete messez of mylke he merkkez bytwene,

Syþen potage & polment in plater honest.
As sewer in a god assyse he serued Hem fayre, Wyth sadde semblaunt & swete of such as he hade;

& God as a glad gest mad god chere
Þat watz fayn of his frende, & his fest praysed.
Abraham, al hodlez, with armez vp-folden, Mynystred mete byfore þo Men þat my3tes al weldez.

Þenne Þay sayden as Þay sete samen alle þrynne, When þe mete watz remued & Þay of mensk speken,

'I schal efte hereaway, Abram,' Þay sayden, '3et er þy lyuez ly3t leþe vpon erþe,

& þenne schal Sare consayue & a sun bere, Þat schal be Abrahamez ayre & after hym wynne With wele & wyth worschyp þe worþely peple Þat schal halde in heritage þat I haf men 3ark[ed].'

Þenne þe burde byhynde þe dor for busmar la3ed; & sayde sothly to hirself Sare þe madde:

'May þou traw for tykle þat þou tonne mo3tez, & I so hy3e out of age, & also my lorde?' For soþely, as says þe wryt, he wern of sadde elde, Boþe þe wy3e & his wyf, such werk watz hem fayled

Fro mony a brod day byfore; ho barayn ay byene, Þat selue Sare, withouten sede into þat same tyme.

Þenne sayde oure Syre þer He sete: 'Se! so Sare la3es, Not trawande þe tale þat I þe to schewed.

Hopez ho o3t may be harde My hondez to work?
& 3et I avow verayly þe avaunt þat I made; I schal 3eply a3ayn & 3elde þat I hy3t,

& sothely send to Sare a soun & an hayre.'
Þenne swenged forth Sare & swer by hir trawþe Þat for lot þat Þay laused ho la3ed neuer.

'Now innoghe: hit is not so,' þenne nurned þe Dry3tyn, 'For þou la3ed alo3, bot let we hit one.' With þat Þay ros vp radly, as Þay rayke schulde, & setten toward Sodamas Her sy3t alle at onez; For þat cite þerbysyde watz sette in a vale, No mylez fro Mambre mo þen tweyne,

Whereso wonyed þis ilke wy3, þat wendez with oure Lorde For to tent Hym with tale & teche Hym þe gate.

Þen glydez forth God; þe godmon Hym fol3ez; Abraham heldez Hem wyth, Hem to conueye In towarde þe cety of Sodamas þat synned had þenne In þe faute of þis fylþe. Þe Fader hem þretes,

& sayde þus to þe segg þat sued Hym after:
'How my3t I hyde Myn hert fro Habraham þe trwe, Þat I ne dyscouered to his corse My counsayl so dere,

Syþen he is chosen to be chef chyldryn fader, Þat so folk schal falle fro to flete alle þe worlde,

& vche blod in þat burne blessed schal worþe?
Me bos telle to þat tolk þe tene of My wylle, & alle Myn atlyng to Abraham vnhaspe bilyue.

The grete soun of Sodamas synkkez in Myn erez, & þe gult of Gomorre garez Me to wrath.

I schal ly3t into þat led & loke Myseluen
[If] þay haf don as þe dyne dryuez on lofte.
Þay han lerned a lyst þat lykez me ille, Þat þay han founden in her flesch of fautez þe werst:

Vch male matz his mach a man as hymseluen, & fylter folyly in fere on femmalez wyse.

I compast hem a kynde crafte & kende hit hem derne, & amed hit in Myn ordenaunce oddely dere,

& dy3t drwry þerinne, doole alþer-swettest, & þe play of paramorez I portrayed Myseluen,

& made þerto a maner myriest of oþer:
When two true togeder had ty3ed hemseluen, Bytwene a male & his make such merþe schulde conne,

Welny3e pure paradys mo3t preue no better; Ellez þay mo3t honestly ayþer oþer welde, At a stylle stollen steuen, vnstered wyth sy3t, Luf-lowe hem bytwene lasched so hote

Þat alle þe meschefez on mold mo3t hit not sleke.
Now haf þay skyfted My skyl & scorned natwre, & henttez hem in heþyng an vsage vnclene.

Hem to smyte for þat smod smartly I þenk, Þat wy3ez schal be by hem war, worlde withouten ende.'

Þenne ar3ed Abraham & alle his mod chaunge[d], For hope of þe harde hate þat hy3t hatz oure Lorde.

Al sykande he sayde: 'Sir, with Yor leue, Schal synful & saklez suffer al on payne?

Weþer euer hit lyke my Lorde to lyfte such domez Þat þe wykked & þe worþy schal on wrake suffer,

& weye vpon þe worre half þat wrathed Þe neuer?
Þat watz neuer Þy won þat wro3tez vus alle.
Now fyfty fyn frendez wer founde in 3onde toune, In þe cety of Sodamas & also Gomorre,

Þat neuer lakked Þy laue, bot loued ay trauþe, & re3tful wern & resounable & redy Þe to serue,

Schal þay falle in þe faute þat oþer frekez wro3t, & joyne to her juggement, her juise to haue?

Þat nas neuer Þyn note, vnneuened hit worþe, Þat art so gaynly a God & of goste mylde.'

'Nay, for fyfty,' quoþ þe Fader, '& þy fayre speche, & þay be founden in þat folk of her fylþe clene,

I schal forgyue alle þe gylt þur3My grace one, & let hem smolt al unsmyten smoþely at onez.'

'Aa! blessed be Þow,' quoþ þe burne, 'so boner & þewed, & al haldez in Þy honde, þe heuen & þe erþe;

Bot, for I haf þis talke tatz to non ille 3if I mele a lyttel more þat mul am & askez.

What if fyue faylen of fyfty þe noumbre, & þe remnaunt be reken, how restes Þy wylle?'

'And fyue wont of fyfty,' quoþ God, 'I schal for3ete alle & wythhalde My honde for hortyng on lede.'

'& quat if faurty be fre & fauty þyse oþer:
Schalt Þow schortly al schende & schape non oþer?'
'Nay, þa3faurty forfete, 3et fryst I a whyle, & voyde away My vengaunce, þa3Me vyl þynk.'

Þen Abraham obeched Hym & lo3ly Him þonkkez:

'Now sayned be Þou, Sauiour, so symple in Þy wrath!

I am bot erþe ful euel & vsle so blake,

For to mele wyth such a Mayster as my3tez hatz alle.

Bot I haue bygonnen wyth my God, & He hit gayn þynkez; 3if I forloyne as a fol Þy fraunchyse may serue.

What if þretty þryuande be þrad in 3on tounez, What schal I leue of my Lorde, [i]f He hem leþe wolde?'

Þenne þe godlych God gef hym onsware:
'3et for þretty in þrong I schal My þro steke, & spare spakly of spyt in space of My þewez,

& My rankor refrayne four þy reken wordez.'
'What for twenty,' quoþ þe tolke, 'vntwynez Þou hem þenne?'
'Nay, 3if þou 3ernez hit 3et, 3ark I hem grace; If þat twenty be trwe, I tene hem no more,

Bot relece alle þat regioun of her ronk werkkez.'
'Now, aþel Lorde,' quoþ Abraham, 'onez a speche, & I schal schape no more þo schalkkez to helpe.

If ten trysty in toune be tan in Þi werkkez, Wylt Þou mese Þy mode & menddyng abyde?'

'I graunt,' quoþ þe grete God, 'Graunt mercy,' þat oþer; & þenne arest þe renk & ra3t no fyrre.

& Godde glydez His gate by þose grene wayez, & he conueyen Hym con with cast of his y3e;

& als he loked along þereas oure Lorde passed, 3et he cryed Hym after with careful steuen:

'Meke Mayster, on Þy mon to mynne if Þe lyked, Loth lengez in 3on leede þat is my lef broþer;

He syttez þer in Sodomis, þy seruaunt so pouere, Among þo mansed men þat han Þe much greued.

3if Þou tynez þat toun, tempre Þyn yre,
As Þy mersy may malte, Þy meke to spare.'
Þen he wendez, wendez his way, wepande for care, Towarde þe mere of Mambre, wepande for sorewe;

& þere in longyng al ny3t he lengez in wones, Whyl þe Souerayn to Sodamas sende to spye.

His sondes into Sodamas watz sende in þat tyme, In þat ilk euentyde, by aungels tweyne,

Meuand meuande mekely togeder as myry men 3onge, As Loot in a loge dor lened hym alone, In a porche of þat place py3t to þe 3ates, Þat watz ryal & ryche so watz þe renkes seluen.

As he stared into þe strete þer stout men played, He sy3e þer swey in asent swete men tweyne;

Bolde burnez wer þay boþe with berdles chynnez, Ryol rollande fax to raw sylk lyke, Of ble as þe brere-flour whereso þe bare scheweed.
Ful clene watz þe countenaunce of her cler y3en; Wlonk whit watz her wede & wel hit hem semed.

Of alle feturez ful fyn & fautlez boþe;
Watz non autly in ouþer, for aungels hit wern, & þat þe 3ep vnder3ede þat in þe 3ate syttez;

He ros vp ful radly & ran hem to mete,
& lo3e he loutez hem to, Loth, to þe grounde, & syþen soberly: 'Syrez, I yow byseche

Þat 3e wolde ly3t at my loge & lenge þerinne.
Comez to your knaues kote, I craue at þis onez; I schal fette yow a fatte your fette for to wasche;

I norne yow bot for on ny3t ne3e me to lenge, & in þe myry mornyng 3e may your waye take.'

& þay nay þat þay nolde ne3no howsez,
Bot stylly þer in þe strete as þay stadde wern Þay wolde lenge þe long na3t & logge þeroute:

Hit watz hous inno3e to hem þe heuen vpon lofte.
Loth laþed so longe wyth luflych wordez
Þat þay hym graunted to go & gru3t no lenger.
Þe bolde to his byggyng bryngez hem bylyue, Þat [watz] ryally arayed, for he watz ryche euer.

Þe wy3ez wern welcom as þe wyf couþe;
His two dere do3terez deuoutly hem haylsed, Þat wer maydenez ful meke, maryed not 3et,

& þay wer semly & swete, & swyþe wel arayed.
Loth þenne ful ly3tly lokez hym aboute,
& his men amonestes mete for to dy3t:
'Bot þenkkez on hit be þrefte what þynk so 3e make, For wyth no sour no no salt seruez hym neuer.'

Bot 3et I wene þat þe wyf hit wroth to dyspyt, & sayde softely to hirself: 'Þis vn[s]auere hyne

Louez no salt in her sauce; 3et hit no skyl were Þat oþer burne be boute, þa3boþe be nyse.'

Þenne ho sauerez with salt her seuez vchone, Agayne þe bone of þe burne þat hit forboden hade,

& als ho scelt hem in scorne þat wel her skyl knewen.
Why watz ho, wrech, so wod? Ho wrathed oure Lorde.
Þenne seten þay at þe soper, wern serued bylyue, Þe gestes gay & ful glad, of glam debonere,

Welawynnely wlonk, tyl þay waschen hade, Þe trestes tylt to þe wo3e & þe table boþe.

Fro þe seggez haden souped & seten bot a whyle, Er euer þay bosked to bedde, þe bor3watz al vp,

Alle þat weppen my3t welde, þe wakker & þe stronger, To vmbely3e Lothez hous þe ledez to take.

In grete flokkez of folk þay fallen to his 3atez; As a scowte-wach scarred so þe asscry rysed; With kene clobbez of þat clos þay clatz on þe wowez, & wyth a schrylle scarp schout þay schewe þyse worde[z]:

'If þou louyez þy lyf, Loth, in þyse wones, 3ete vus out þose 3ong men þat 3ore-whyle here entred,

Þat we may lere hym of lof, as oure lyst biddez, As is þe asyse of Sodomas to seggez þat passen.'

Whatt! þay sputen & speken of so spitous fylþe, What! þay 3e3ed & 3olped of 3estande sor3e,

Þat 3et þe wynd & þe weder & þe worlde stynkes Of þe brych þat vpbraydez þose broþelych wordez.

Þe godman glyfte with þat glam & gloped for noyse; So scharpe schame to hym schot, he schrank at þe hert.

For he knew þe costoum þat kyþed þose wrechez, He doted neuer for no doel so depe in his mynde.

'Allas!' sayd hym þenne Loth, & ly3tly he rysez, & bowez forth fro þe bench into þe brode 3ates.

What! he wonded no woþe of wekked knauez, Þat he ne passed þe port þe p[er]il to abide.

He went forthe at þe wyket & waft hit hym after, Þat a clyket hit cle3t clos hym byhynde.

Þenne he meled to þo men mesurable wordez, For harlotez with his hendelayk he hoped to chast:

'Oo, my frendez so fre, your fare is to strange; Dotz away your derf dyn & derez neuer my gestes.

Avoy! hit is your vylaynye, 3e vylen yourseluen; & 3e are jolyf gentylmen, your japez ar ille

Bot I schal kenne yow by kynde a crafte þat is better:
I haf a tresor in my telde of tow my fayre de3ter, Þat ar maydenez vnmard for alle men 3ette; In Sodamas, þa3I hit say, non semloker burdes; Hit arn ronk, hit arn rype, & redy to manne; To samen wyth þo semly þe solace is better.
I schal biteche yow þo two þat tayt arn & quoynt, & laykez wyth hem as yow lyst, & letez my gestes one.'

Þenne þe rebaudez so ronk rerd such a noyse Þat a3ly hurled in his erez her harlotez speche:

'Wost þou not wel þat þou wonez here a wy3e strange, An outcomlyng, a carle? We kylle of þyn heued!

Who joyned þe be jostyse oure japez to blame, Þat com a boy to þis bor3, þa3þou be burne ryche?'

Þus þay þrobled & þrong & þrwe vmbe his erez, & distresed hym wonder strayt with strenkþe in þe prece,

Bot þat þe 3onge men, so 3epe, 3ornen þeroute, Wapped vpon þe wyket & wonnen hem tylle,

& by þe hondez hym hent & horyed hym withinne, & steken þe 3ates ston-harde wyth stalworth barrez.

Þay blwe a boffet inblande þat banned peple, Þat þay blustered, as blynde as Bayard watz euer;

Þay lest of Lotez logging any lysoun to fynde, Bot nyteled þer alle þe ny3t for no3t at þe last.

Þenne vch tolke ty3t hem, þat hade of tayt fayled, & vchon roþeled to þe rest þat he reche mo3t;

Bot þay wern wakned al wrank þat þer in won lenged, Of on þe vglokest vnhap þat euer on erd suffred.

Ruddon of þe day-rawe ros vpon v3ten,
When merk of þe mydny3t mo3t no more last.
Ful erly þose aungelez þis haþel þay ruþen, & glopnedly on Godez halue gart hym vpryse;

Fast þe freke ferkez vp ful ferd at his hert; Þay comaunded hym cof to cach þat he hade,

'Wyth þy wyf & þy wy3ez & þy wlonc de3tters, For we laþe þe, sir Loth, þat þou þy lyf haue.

Cayre tid of þis kythe er combred þou worþe, With alle þi here vpon haste, tyl þou a hil fynde;

Foundez faste on your fete; bifore your face lokes, Bot bes neuer so bolde to blusch yow bihynde,

& loke 3e stemme no stepe, bot strechez on faste; Til 3e reche to a reset, rest 3e neuer.

For we schal tyne þis toun & trayþely disstrye, Wyth alle þise wy3ez so wykke wy3tly devoyde,

& alle þe londe with þise ledez we losen at onez; Sodomas schal ful sodenly synk into grounde,

& þe grounde of Gomorre gorde into helle, & vche a koste of þis kythe clater vpon hepes.'

Þen laled Loth: 'Lorde, what is best?
If I me fele vpon fote þat I fle mo3t,
Hov schulde I huyde me fro H[y]m þat hatz His hate kynned In þe brath of His breth þat brennez alle þinkez?

To crepe fro my Creatour & know not wheder, Ne wheþer His fooschip me fol3ez bifore oþer bihynde.'

Þe freke sayde: 'No foschip oure Fader hatz þe schewed, Bot hi3ly heuened þi hele fro hem þat arn combred.

Nov wale þe a wonnyng þat þe warisch my3t, & He schal saue hit for þy sake þat hatz vus sende hider, For þou art oddely þyn one out of þis fylþe, & als Abraham þyn eme hit at Himself asked.'

'Lorde, loued He worþe,' quoþ Loth, 'vpon erþe!
Þen is a cite herbisyde þat Segor hit hatte, Here vtter on a rounde hil hit houez hit one.

I wolde, if His wylle wore, to þat won scape.'
'Þenn fare forth,' quoþ þat fre, '& fyne þou neuer, With þose ilk þat þow wylt þat þrenge þe after,

& ay goande on your gate, wythouten agayn-tote, For alle þis londe schal be lorne longe er þe sonne rise.'

Þe wy3e wakened his wyf & his wlonk de3teres, & oþer two myri men þo maydenez schulde wedde;

& þay token hit as tyt & tented hit lyttel; Þa3fast laþed hem Loth, þay le3en ful stylle.

Þe aungelez hasted þise oþer & a3ly hem þratten, & enforsed alle fawre forth at þe 3atez:

Þo wern Loth & his lef, his luflyche de3ter; Þer so3t no mo to sauement of cities aþel fyue.

Þise aungelez hade hem by hande out at þe 3atez, Prechande hem þe perile, & beden hem passe fast:

'Lest 3e be taken in þe teche of tyrauntez here, Loke 3e bowe now bi bot; bowez fast hence!'

& þay kayre ne con, & kenely flowen.
Erly, er any heuen-glem, þay to a hil comen.
Þe grete God in His greme bygynnez on lofte To wakan wederez so wylde; þe wyndez He callez,

& þay wroþely vpwafte & wrastled togeder, Fro fawre half of þe folde flytande loude.

Clowdez clustered bytwene kesten vp torres, Þat þe þik þunder-þrast þirled hem ofte.

Þe rayn rueled adoun, ridlande þikke
Of felle flaunkes of fyr & flakes of soufre, Al in smolderande smoke smachande ful ille,

Swe aboute Sodamas & hit sydez alle,
Gorde to Gomorra, þat þe grounde laused, Abdama & Syboym, þise ceteis alle faure

Al birolled wyth þe rayn, rostted & brenned, & ferly flayed þat folk þat in þose fees lenged.

For when þat þe Helle herde þe houndez of heuen, He watz ferlyly fayn, vnfolded bylyue;

Þe grete barrez of þe abyme he barst vp at onez, Þat alle þe regioun torof in riftes ful grete,

& clouen alle in lyttel cloutes þe clyffez aywhere, As lauce leuez of þe boke þat lepes in twynne.

Þe brethe of þe brynston bi þat hit blende were, Al þo citees & her sydes sunkken to helle.

Rydelles wern þo grete rowtes of renkkes withinne, When þay wern war of þe wrake þat no wy3e achaped; Such a 3omerly 3arm of 3ellyng þer rysed, Þerof clatered þe cloudes, þat Kryst my3t haf rawþe.

Þe segge herde þat soun to Segor þat 3ede, & þe wenches hym wyth þat by þe way fol3ed;

Ferly ferde watz her flesch þat flowen ay ilyche, Trynande ay a hy3e trot, þat torne neuer dorsten.

Loth & þo luly-whit, his lefly two de3ter, Ay fol3ed here face, bifore her boþe y3en;

Bot þe balleful burde, þat neuer bode keped, Blusched byhynden her bak þat bale for to herkken.

Hit watz lusty Lothes wyf þat ouer he[r] lyfte schulder Ones ho bluschet to þe bur3e, bot bod ho no lenger

Þat ho nas stadde a stiffe ston, a stalworth image, Al so salt as ani se, & so ho 3et standez.

Þay slypped bi & sy3e hir not þat wern hir samen-feres, Tyl þay in Segor wern sette, & sayned our Lorde;

Wyth ly3t louez vplyfte þay loued Hym swyþe, Þat so His seruauntes wolde see & saue of such woþe.

Al watz dampped & don & drowned by þenne; Þe ledez of þat lyttel toun wern lopen out for drede Into þat malscrande mere, marred bylyue, Þat no3t saued watz bot Segor, þat sat on a lawe.

Þe þre ledez þerin, Loth & his de3ter;
For his make watz myst, þat on þe mount lenged In a stonen statue þat salt sauor habbes, For two fautes þat þe fol watz founde in mistrauþe:
On, ho serued at þe soper salt bifore Dry3tyn, & syþen, ho blusched hir bihynde, þa3hir forboden were; For on ho standes a ston, & salt for þat oþer, & alle lyst on hir lik þat arn on launde bestes.

Abraham ful erly watz vp on þe morne,
Þat alle na3t much niye hade no mon in his hert, Al in longing for Loth leyen in a wache;

Þer he lafte hade oure Lorde he is on lofte wonnen; He sende toward Sodomas þe sy3t of his y3en,

Þat euer hade ben an erde of erþe þe swettest, As aparaunt to paradis, þat plantted þe Dry3tyn;

Nov is hit plunged in a pit like of pich fylled.
Suche a roþun of a reche ros fro þe blake, Askez vpe in þe arye & vsellez þer flowen, As a fornes ful of flot þat vpon fyr boyles When bry3t brennande brondez ar bet þeranvnder.

Þis watz a uengaunce violent þat voyded þise places, Þat foundered hatz so fayr a folk & þe folde sonkken.

Þer þe fyue citees wern set nov is a see called, Þat ay is drouy & dym, & ded in hit kynde,

Blo, blubrande, & blak, vnblyþe to ne3e; As a stynkande stanc þat stryed synne,

Þat euer of synne & of smach smart is to fele.
Forþy þe derk Dede See hit is demed euermore, For hit dedez of deþe duren þere 3et; For hit is brod & boþemlez, & bitter as þe galle, & no3t may lenge in þat lake þat any lyf berez,

& alle þe costez of kynde hit combrez vchone.
For lay þeron a lump of led, & hit on loft fletez, & folde þeron a ly3t fyþer, & hit to founs synkkez;

& þer water may walter to wete any erþe
Schal neuer grene þeron growe, gresse ne wod nawþer.
If any schalke to be schent wer schowued þerinne, Þa3he bode in þat boþem broþely a monyth,

He most ay lyue in þat lo3e in losyng euermore, & neuer dry3e no dethe to dayes of ende.

& as hit is corsed of kynde & hit coostez als, Þe clay þat clenges þerby arn corsyes strong, As alum & alkaran, þat angre arn boþe,
Soufre sour & saundyuer, & oþer such mony; & þer waltez of þat water in waxlokes grete

Þe spuniande aspaltoun þat spyserez sellen; & suche is alle þe soyle by þat se halues,

Þat fel fretes þe flesch & festred bones.
& þer ar tres by þat terne of traytoures, & þay borgounez & beres blomez ful fayre,

& þe fayrest fryt þat may on folde growe, As orenge & oþer fryt & apple-garnade, Also red & so ripe & rychely hwed
As any dom my3t deuice of dayntyez oute; Bot quen hit is brused oþer broken, oþer byten in twynne, No worldez goud hit wythinne, bot wyndowande askes.
Alle þyse ar teches & tokenes to trow vpon 3et, & wittnesse of þat wykked werk, & þe wrake after

Þat oure Fader forferde for fylþe of þose ledes.
Þenne vch wy3e may wel wyt þat He þe wlonk louies; & if He louyes clene layk þat is oure Lorde ryche,

& to be couþe in His courte þou coueytes þenne, To se þat Semly in sete & His swete face,

Clerrer counseyl, counseyl con I non, bot þat þou clene worþe.
For Clopyngnel in þe compas of his clene Rose, Þer he expounez a speche to hym þat spede wolde Of a lady to be loued: 'Loke to hir sone Of wich beryng þat ho be, & wych ho best louyes,

& be ry3t such in vch a bor3e of body & of dedes, & fol3þe fet of þat fere þat þou fre haldes;

& if þou wyrkkes on þis wyse, þa3ho wyk were, Hir schal lyke þat layk þat lyknes hir tylle.' If þou wyl dele drwrye wyth Dry3tyn þenne, & lelly louy þy Lorde & His leef worþe,

Þenne confourme þe to Kryst, & þe clene make, Þat euer is polyced als playn as þe perle seluen.

For, loke, fro fyrst þat He ly3t withinne þe lel mayden, By how comly a kest He watz clos þere, When venkkyst watz no vergynyte, ne vyolence maked, Bot much clener watz hir corse, God kynned þerinne.

& efte when He borne watz in Beþelen þe ryche, In wych puryte þay departed; þa3þay pouer were, Watz neuer so blysful a bour as watz a bos þenne, Ne no schroude hous so schene as a schepon þare,

Ne non so glad vnder God as ho þat grone schulde.
For þer watz seknesse al sounde þat sarrest is halden, & þer watz rose reflayr where rote hatz ben euer,

& þer watz solace & songe wher sor3hatz ay cryed; For aungelles with instrumentes of organes & pypes,

& rial ryngande rotes & þe reken fyþel,
& alle hende þat honestly mo3t an hert glade, Aboutte my lady watz lent quen ho delyuer were.

Þenne watz her blyþe Barne burnyst so clene Þat boþe þe ox & þe asse Hym hered at ones;

Þay knewe Hym by His clannes for Kyng of nature, For non so clene of such a clos com neuer er þenne.

& 3if clanly He þenne com, ful cortays þerafter, Þat alle þat longed to luþer ful lodly He hated, By nobleye of His norture He nolde neuer towche O3t þat watz vngoderly oþer ordure watz inne.

3et comen lodly to þat Lede, as lazares monye, Summe lepre, summe lome, & lomerande blynde,

Poysened, & parlatyk, & pyned in fyres,
Drye folk & ydropike, & dede at þe laste, Alle called on þat Cortayse & claymed His grace.

He heled hem wyth hynde speche of þat þay ask after, For whatso He towched also tyd tourned to hele,

Wel clanner þen any crafte cowþe devyse.
So clene watz His hondelyng vche ordure hit schonied, & þe gropyng so goud of God & Man boþe,

Þat for fetys of His fyngeres fonded He neuer Nauþer to cout ne to kerue with knyf ne wyth egge;

Forþy brek He þe bred blades wythouten,
For hit ferde freloker in fete in His fayre honde, Displayed more pryuyly when He hit part schulde,

Þenne alle þe toles of Tolowse mo3t ty3t hit to kerue.

Þus is He kyryous & clene þat þou His cort askes:

Hov schulde þou com to His kyth bot if þou clene were?

Nov ar we sore & synful & sovly vchone;

How schulde we se, þen may we say, þat Syre vpon throne?

3is, þat Mayster is mercyable, þa3þou be man fenny, & al tomarred in myre whyle þou on molde lyuyes;

Þou may schyne þur3schryfte, þa3þou haf schome serued, & pure þe with penaunce tyl þou a perle worþe.

Perle praysed is prys þer perre is schewed, Þa3hym not derrest be demed to dele for penies.

Quat may þe cause be called bot for hir clene hwes, Þat wynnes worschyp abof alle whyte stones?

For ho schynes so schyr þat is of schap rounde, Wythouten faut oþer fylþe 3if ho fyn were, & wax euer in þe worlde in weryng so olde, 3et þe perle payres not whyle ho in pyese lasttes;

& if hit cheue þe chaunce vncheryst ho worþe, Þat ho blyndes of ble in bour þer ho lygges,

Nobot wasch hir wyth wourchyp in wyn as ho askes, Ho by kynde schal becom clerer þen are.

So if folk be defowled by vnfre chaunce, Þat he be sulped in sawle, seche to schryfte,

& he may polyce hym at þe prest, by penaunce taken, Wel bry3ter þen þe beryl oþer browden perles.

Bot war þe wel, if þou be waschen wyth water of schryfte, & polysed als playn as parchmen schauen,

Sulp no more þenne in synne þy saule þerafter, For þenne þou Dry3tyn dyspleses with dedes ful sore,

& entyses Hym to tene more trayþly þen euer, & wel hatter to hate þen hade þou no waschen.

For when a sawele is sa3tled & sakred to Dry3tyn, He holly haldes hit His & haue hit He wolde;

Þenne efte lastes hit likkes, He loses hit ille, As hit were rafte wyth vnry3t & robbed wyth þewes.

War þe þenne for þe wrake: His wrath is achaufed For þat þat ones watz His schulde efte be vnclene,

Þa3hit be bot a bassyn, a bolle oþer a scole, A dysche oþer a dobler, þat Dry3tyn onez serued.

To defowle hit euer vpon folde fast He forbedes, So is He scoymus of scaþe þat scylful is euer.

& þat watz bared in Babyloyn in Baltazar tyme, Hov harde vnhap þer hym hent & hastyly sone, For he þe vesselles avyled þat vayled in þe temple In seruyse of þe Souerayn sumtyme byfore.

3if 3e wolde ty3t me a tom telle hit I wolde, Hov charged more watz his chaunce þat hem cherych nolde

Þen his fader forloyne þat feched hem wyth strenþe, & robbed þe relygioun of relykes alle.

Danyel in his dialokez devysed sumtyme,
As 3et is proued expresse in his profecies, Hov þe gentryse of Juise & Jherusalem þe ryche

Watz disstryed wyth distres, & drawen to þe erþe.
For þat folke in her fayth watz founden vntrwe, Þat haden hy3t þe hy3e God to halde of Hym euer;

& He hem hal3ed for His & help at her nede In mukel meschefes mony, þat meruayl [is] to here.

& þay forloyne her fayth & fol3ed oþer goddes, & þat wakned His wrath & wrast hit so hy3e

Þat He fylsened þe faythful in þe falce lawe To forfare þe falce in þe faythe trwe.

Hit watz sen in þat syþe þat Zedethyas rengned In Juda, þat justised þe Juyne kynges.

He sete on Salamones solie on solemne wyse, Bot of leaute he watz lat to his Lorde hende:

He vsed abominaciones of idolatrye,

& lette ly3t bi þe lawe þat he watz lege tylle.

Forþi oure Fader vpon folde a foman hym wakned:

Nabigodenozar nuyed hym swyþe.

He pursued into Palastyn with proude men mony, & þer he wast wyth with werre þe wones of þorpes;

He her3ed vp alle Israel & hent of þe beste, & þe gentylest of Judee in Jerusalem biseged,

Vmbewalt alle þe walles wyth wy3es ful stronge, At vche a dor a do3ty duk, & dutte hem wythinne; For þe bor3watz so bygge baytayled alofte, & stoffed wythinne with stout men to stalle hem þeroute.

Þenne watz þe sege sette þe cete aboute, Skete skarmoch skelt, much skaþe lached; At vch brugge a berfray on basteles wyse Þat seuen syþe vch a day asayled þe 3ates;

Trwe tulkkes in toures teueled wythinne, In bigge brutage of borde bulde on þe walles;

Þay fe3t & þay fende of, & fylter togeder Til two 3er ouertorned, 3et tok þay hit neuer.

At þe laste, vpon longe, þo ledes wythinne, Faste fayled hem þe fode, enfannined monie;

Þe hote hunger wythinne hert hem wel sarre Þen any dunt of þat douthe þat dowelled þeroute.

Þenne wern þo rowtes redles in þo ryche wones; Fro þat mete watz myst, megre þay wexen,

& þay stoken so strayt þat þay ne stray my3t A fote fro þat forselet to forray no goudes.

Þenne þe kyng of þe kyth a counsayl hym takes Wyth þe best of his burnes, a blench for to make;

Þay stel out on a stylle ny3t er any steuen rysed, & harde hurles þur3þe oste er enmies hit wyste.

Bot er þay atwappe ne mo3t þe wach wythoute Hi3e skelt watz þe askry þe skewes anvnder.

Loude alarom vpon launde lulted watz þenne; Ryche, ruþed of her rest, ran to here wedes,

Hard hattes þay hent & on hors lepes;
Cler claryoun crak cryed on lofte.
By þat watz alle on a hepe hurlande swyþee, Fol3ande þat oþer flote, & fonde hem bilyue,

Ouertok hem as tyd, tult hem of sadeles, Tyl vche prynce hade his per put to þe grounde.

& þer watz þe kyng ka3t wyth Calde prynces, & alle hise gentyle forjusted on Jerico playnes,

& presented wern as presoneres to þe prynce rychest, Nabigodenozar, noble in his chayer;

& he þe faynest freke þat he his fo hade, & speke spitously hem to, & spylt þerafter.

Þe kynges sunnes in his sy3t he slow euervch one, & holkked out his auen y3en heterly boþe,

& bede þe burne to be bro3t to Babyloyn þe ryche, & þere in dongoun be don to dre3e þer his wyrdes.

Now se, so þe Soueray[n] set hatz His wrake:
Nas hit not for Nabugo ne his noble nauþer Þat oþer depryued watz of pryde with paynes stronge,

Bot for his beryng so badde agayn his blyþe Lorde; For hade þe Fader ben his frende, þat hym bifore keped,

Ne neuer trespast to Him in teche of mysseleue, To colde wer alle Calde & kythes of Ynde,

3et take Torkye hem wyth, her tene hade ben little.
3et nolde neuer Nabugo þis ilke note leue Er he hade tuyred þis toun & torne hit to grounde.

He joyned vnto Jerusalem a gentyle duc þenne, His name watz Nabuzardan, to noye þe Jues;

He watz mayster of his men & my3ty himseluen, Þe chef of his cheualrye his chekkes to make;

He brek þe bareres as bylyue, & þe bur3after, & enteres in ful ernestly, in yre of his hert.

What! þe maysterry watz mene: þe men wern away, Þe best bo3ed wyth þe burne þat þe bor33emed,

& þo þat byden wer [s]o biten with þe bale hunger Þat on wyf hade ben worþe þe welgest fourre.

Nabizardan no3t forþy nolde not spare,
Bot bede al to þe bronde vnder bare egge; Þay slowen of swettest semlych burdes,

Baþed barnes in blod & her brayn spylled; Prestes & prelates þay presed to deþe,

Wyues & wenches her wombes tocoruen,
Þat her boweles outborst aboute þe diches, & al watz carfully kylde þat þay cach my3t.

And alle swypped, vnswol3ed of þe sworde kene, Þay wer cagged & ka3t on capeles al bare,

Festned fettres to her fete vnder fole wombes, & broþely bro3t to Babyloyn þer bale to suffer, To sytte in seruage & syte, þat sumtyme wer gentyle.
Now ar chaunged to chorles & charged wyth werkkes, Boþe to cayre at þe kart & þe kuy mylke,

Þat sumtyme sete in her sale syres & burdes.
& 3et Nabuzardan nyl neuer stynt
Er he to þe tempple tee wyth his tulkkes alle; Betes on þe barers, brestes vp þe 3ates,

Slouen alle at a slyp þat serued þerinne, Pulden prestes bi þe polle & plat of her hedes,

Di3ten dekenes to deþe, dungen doun clerkkes, & alle þe maydenes of þe munster ma3tyly hokyllen

Wyth þe swayf of þe sworde þat swol3ed hem alle.
Þenne ran þay to þe relykes as robbors wylde, & pyled alle þe apparement þat pented to þe kyrke,

Þe pure pyleres of bras pourtrayd in golde, & þe chef chaundeler charged with þe ly3t,

Þat ber þe lamp vpon lofte þat lemed euermore Bifore þ[e] sancta sanctorumþer selcouth watz ofte.

Þay ca3t away þat condelstik, & þe crowne als Þat þe auter hade vpon, of aþel golde ryche,

Þe gredirne & þe goblotes garnyst of syluer, Þe bases of þe bry3t postes & bassynes so schyre,

Dere disches of golde & dubleres fayre,
Þe vyoles & þe vesselment of vertuous stones.
Now hatz Nabuzardan nomen alle þyse noble þynges, & pyled þat precious place & pakked þose godes;

Þe golde of þe gazafylace to swyþe gret noumbre, Wyth alle þe vrnmentes of þat hous, he hamppred togeder;

Alle he spoyled spitously in a sped whyle Þat Salomon so mony a sadde 3er so3t to make.

Wyth alle þe coyntyse þat he cowþe clene to wyrke, Deuised he þe vesselment, þe vestures clene;

Wyth sly3t of his ciences, his Souerayn to loue, Þe hous & þe anournementes he hy3tled togedere.

Now hatz Nabuzardan numnend hit al samen, & syþen bet doun þe bur3& brend hit in askes.

Þenne wyth legiounes of ledes ouer londes he rydes, Her3ez of Israel þe hyrne aboute;

Wyth charged chariotes þe cheftayn he fynde, Bikennes þe catel to þe kyng, þat he ca3t hade;

Presented him þe prisoneres in pray þat þay token, Moni a worþly wy3e whil her worlde laste,

Moni semly syre soun, & swyþe rych maydenes, Þe pruddest of þe prouince, & prophetes childer, As Ananie & Azarie & als Mizael,
& dere Daniel also, þat watz deuine noble, With moni a modey moder-chylde mo þen innoghe.

& Nabugo_de_nozar makes much joye,
Nov he þe kyng hatz conquest & þe kyth wunnen, & dreped alle þe do3tyest & derrest in armes,

& þe lederes of her lawe layd to þe grounde, & þe pryce of þe profetie prisoners maked.

Bot þe joy of þe juelrye so gentyle & ryche, When hit watz schewed hym so schene, scharp watz his wonder; Of such vessel auayed, þat vayled so huge, Neuer 3et nas Nabugo_de_nozar er þenne.

He sesed hem with solemnete, þe Souerayn he praysed Þat watz aþel ouer alle, Israel Dry3tyn:

Such god, such gomes, such gay vesselles, Comen neuer out of kyth to Caldee reames.

He trussed hem in his tresorye in a tryed place, Rekenly, wyth reuerens, as he ry3t hade;

& þer he wro3t as þe wyse, as 3e may wyt hereafter, For hade he let of hem ly3t, hym mo3t haf lumpen worse.

Þat ryche in gret rialte rengned his lyue, As conquerour of vche a cost he cayser watz hatte,

Emperour of alle þe erþe & also þe saudan, & als þe god of þe grounde watz grauen his name.

& al þur3dome of Daniel, fro he deuised hade Þat alle goudes com of God, & gef hit hym bi samples,

Þat he ful clanly bicnv his carp bi þe laste, & ofte hit mekned his mynde, his maysterful werkkes.

Bot al drawes to dy3e with doel vp[o]n ende:
Bi a haþel neuer so hy3e, he heldes to grounde.
& so Nabugo_de_nozar, as he nedes moste, For alle his empire so hi3e in erþe is he grauen.

Bot þenn þe bolde Baltazar, þat watz his barn aldest, He watz stalled in his stud, & stabled þe rengne In þe bur3of Babiloyne, þe biggest he trawed, Þat nauþer in heuen ne [on] erþe hade no pere; For he bigan in alle þe glori þat hym þe gome lafte, Nabugo_de_nozar, þat watz his noble fader.

So kene a kyng in Caldee com neu[er] er þenne; Bot honoured he not Hym þat in heuen wonies.

Bot fals fantummes of fendes, formed with handes, Wyth tool out of harde tre, & telded on lofte,

& of stokkes & stones, he stoute goddes callz, When þay ar gilde al with golde & gered wyth syluer;

& þere he kneles & callez & clepes after help.
& þay reden him ry3t rewarde he hem hetes, & if þay gruchen him his grace, to gremen his hert,

He cleches to a gret klubbe & knokkes hem to peces.
Þus in pryde & olipraunce his empyre he haldes, In lust & in lecherye & loþelych werkkes,

& hade a wyf for to welde, a worþelych quene, & mony a lemman, neuer þe later, þat ladis wer called.

In þe clernes of his concubines & curious wedez, In notyng of nwe metes & of nice gettes,

Al watz þe mynde of þat man on misschapen þinges, Til þe Lorde of þe lyfte liste hit abate.

Thenne þis bolde Baltazar biþenkkes hym ones To vouche on avayment of his vayne g[l]orie;

Hit is not innoghe to þe nice al no3ty þink vse Bot if alle þe worlde wyt his wykked dedes.

Baltazar þur3Babiloyn his banne gart crye, & þur3þe cuntre of Caldee his callyng con spryng,

Þat alle þe grete vpon grounde schulde geder hem samen & assemble at a set day at þe saudans fest.

Such a mangerie to make þe man watz auised, Þat vche a kythyn kyng schuld com þider,

Vche duk wyth his duthe, & oþer dere lordes, Schulde com to his court to kyþe hym for lege,

& to reche hym reuerens, & his reuel herkken, To loke on his lemanes & ladis hem calle.

To rose hym in his rialty rych men so3tten, & mony a baroun ful bolde, to Babyloyn þe noble.

Þer bowed toward Babiloyn burnes so mony, Kynges, cayseres ful kene, to þe court wonnen,

Mony ludisch lordes þat ladies bro3ten,
Þat to neuen þe noumbre to much nye were.
For þe bour3watz so brod & so bigge alce, Stalled in þe fayrest stud þe sterrez anvnder,

Prudly on a plat playn, plek alþer-fayrest, Vmbesweyed on vch a syde with seuen grete wateres, With a wonder wro3t walle wruxeled ful hi3e, With koynt carneles aboue, coruen ful clene,

Troched toures bitwene, twenty spere lenþe, & þiker þrowen vmbeþour with ouerþwert palle.

Þe place þat plyed þe pursaunt wythinne
Watz longe & ful large & euer ilych sware, & vch a syde vpon soyle helde seuen myle,

& þe saudans sete sette in þe myddes.
Þat watz a palayce of pryde passande alle oþer, Boþe of werk & of wunder, & walle[d] al aboute;

He3e houses withinne, þe halle to hit med, So brod bilde in a bay þat blonkkes my3t renne.

When þe terme of þe tyde watz towched of þe feste, Dere dro3en þerto & vpon des metten,

& Baltazar vpon bench was busked to sete, Stepe stayred stones of his stoute throne.

Þenne watz alle þe halle flor hiled with kny3tes, & barounes at þe sidebordes bounet aywhere, For non watz dressed vpon dece bot þe dere seluen, & his clere concubynes in cloþes ful bry3t.

When alle segges were þet set þen seruyse bygynnes, Sturnen trumpen strake steuen in halle,

Aywhere by þe wowes wrasten krakkes,
& brode baneres þerbi blusnande of gold, Burnes berande þe bredes vpon brode skeles

Þat were of sylueren sy3t, & served þerwyth, Lyfte logges þerouer & on lofte coruen,

Pared out of paper & poynted of golde,

Broþe baboynes abof, besttes anvnder,

Foles in foler flakerande bitwene,

& al in asure & ynde enaumayld ryche;

& al on blonkken bak bere hit on honde.

& ay þe nakeryn noyse, notes of pipes,

Tymbres & tabornes, tulket among,

Symbales & sonetez sware þe noyse,

& bougounz busch batered so þikke.

So watz serued fele syþe þe sale alle aboute, With solace at þe sere course, bifore þe self lorde,

Þer þe lede & alle his loue lenged at þe table:
So faste þay we3ed to him wyne hit warmed his hert & breyþed vppe into his brayn & blemyst his mynde,

& al waykned his wyt, & welne3e he foles; For he waytez on wyde, his wenches he byholdes,

& his bolde baronage aboute bi þe wo3es.
Þenne a dotage ful depe drof to his hert, & a caytif counsayl he ca3t bi hymseluen;

Maynly his marschal þe mayster vpon calles, & comaundes hym cofly coferes to lauce,

& fech forþ þe vessel þat his fader bro3t, Nabugo_de_nozar, noble in his strenþe,

Conquered with his kny3tes & of kyrk rafte In Jude, in Jerusalem, in gentyle wyse:

'Bryng hem now to my borde, of beuerage hem fylles, Let þise ladyes of hem lape, I luf hem in hert;

Þat schal I cortaysly kyþe, & þay schin knawe sone, Þer is no bounte in burne lyk Baltazar þewes.'

Þenne towched to þe tresour þis tale watz sone, & he with keyes vncloses kystes ful mony;

Mony burþen ful bry3t watz bro3t into halle, & couered mony a cupborde with cloþes ful quite.

Þe jueles out of Jerusalem with gemmes ful bry3t Bi þe syde of þe sale were semely arayed;

Þe aþel auter of brasse watz hade into place, Þe gay coroun of golde gered on lofte.

Þat hade ben blessed bifore wyth bischopes hondes & wyth besten blod busily anoynted, In þe solempne sacrefyce þat goud sauor hade Bifore þe Lorde of þe lyfte in louyng Hymseluen, Now is sette, for to serue Satanas þe blake, Bifore þe bolde Baltazar wyth bost & wyth pryde;

Houen vpon þis auter watz aþel vessel
Þat wyth [s]o curious a crafte coruen watz wyly.
Salamon sete him s[eue]n 3ere & a syþe more, With alle þe syence þat hym sende þe souerayn Lorde, For to compas & kest to haf hem clene wro3t.
For þer wer bassynes ful bry3t of brende golde clere, Enaumaylde with azer, & eweres of sute,

Couered cowpes foul clene, as casteles arayed, Enbaned vnder batelment with bantelles quoynt,

& fyled out of fygures of ferlyle schappes.
Þe coperounes of þe canacles þat on þe cuppe reres Wer fetysely formed out in fylyoles longe;

Pinacles py3t þer apert þat profert bitwene, & al bolled abof with braunches & leues,

Pyes & papejayes purtrayed withinne,
As þay prudly hade piked of pomgarnades; For alle þe blomes of þe bo3es wer blyknande perles,

& alle þe fruyt in þo formes of flaumbeande gemmes, Ande safyres, & sardiners, & semely topace,

Alabaundarynes, & amaraunz, & amaffised stones, Casydoynes, & crysolytes, & clere rubies,

Penitotes, & pynkardines, ay perles bitwene; So trayled & tryfled atrauerce wer alle,

Bi vche bekyrande þe bolde, þe brurdes al vmbe; Þe gobelotes of golde grauen aboute,

& fyoles fretted with flores & fleez of golde; Vpon þat avter watz al aliche dresset.

Þe candelstik bi a cost watz cayred þider sone, Vpon þe pyleres apyked, þat praysed hit mony,

Vpon hit basez of brasse þat ber vp þe werkes, Þe bo3es bry3t þerabof, brayden of golde,

Braunches bredande þeron, & bryddes þer seten Of mony kyndes, of fele kyn hues, As þay with wynge vpon wynde hade waged her fyþeres.
Inmong þe leues of þe lampes wer grayþed, & oþer louflych ly3t þat lemed ful fayre, As mony morteres of wax merkked withoute With mony a borlych best al of brende golde.

Hit watz not wonte in þat wone to wast no serges, Bot in temple of þe trauþe trwly to stonde

Bifore þe sancta sanctorum, soþefast Dry3tyn Expouned His speche spiritually to special prophetes.

Leue þou wel þat þe Lorde þat þe lyfte 3emes Displesed much at þat play in þat plyt stronge,

Þat His jueles so gent wyth jaueles wer fouled, Þat presyous in His presens wer proued sumwhyle.

Soberly in His sacrafyce summe wer anoynted, Þur3þe somones of Himselfe þat syttes so hy3e; Now a boster on benche bibbes þerof
Tyl he be dronkken as þe deuel, & dotes þer he syttes.
So þe Worcher of þis worlde wlates þerwyth Þat in þe poynt of her play He poruayes a mynde;

Bot er harme hem He wolde in haste of His yre, He wayned hem a warnyng þat wonder hem þo3t.

Nov is alle þis guere geten glotounes to serue, Stad in a ryche stal, & stared ful bry3t[e];

Baltazar in a brayd: 'Bede vus þerof!
We3e wyn in þis won! Wassayl!' he cryes.
Swyfte swaynes ful swyþe swepen þertylle, Kyppe kowpes in honde kyngez to serue; In bry3t bollez ful bayn birlen þise oþer, & vche mon for his mayster machches alone.

Þer watz rynging, on ry3t, of ryche metalles, Quen renkkes in þat ryche rok rennen hit to cache;

Clatering of couaclez þat kesten þo burdes As sonet out of sau[t]eray songe als myry.

Þen þe dotel on dece drank þat he my3t;
& þenne arn dressed dukez & prynces,
Concubines & kny3tes, bi cause of þat merthe; As vchon hade hym inhelde he haled of þe cuppe.

So long likked þise lordes þise lykores swete, & gloryed on her falce goddes, & her grace calles,

Þat were of stokkes & stones, stille euermore, Neuer steuen hem astel, so stoken [is] hor tonge.

Alle þe goude golden goddes þe gaulez 3et neuenen, Belfagor & Belyal, & Belssabub als,

Heyred hem as hy3ly as heuen wer þayres, Bot Hym þat alle goudes giues, þat God þay for3eten.

For þer a ferly bifel þat fele folk se3en; Fryst knew hit þe kyng & alle þe cort after:

In þe palays pryncipale, vpon þe playn wowe, In contrary of þe candelstik, þat clerest hit schyned,

Þer apered a paume, with poyntel in fyngres, Þat watz grysly & gret, & grymly he wrytes;

Non oþer forme bot a fust faylande þe wryste Pared on þe parget, purtrayed lettres.

When þat bolde Baltazar blusched to þat neue, Such a dasande drede dusched to his hert

Þat al falewed his face & fayled þe chere; Þe stronge strok of þe stonde strayned his joyntes, His cnes cachches toclose, & cluchches his hommes, & he with plattyng his paumes displayes his ler[e]s,

& romyes as a rad ryth þat rorez for drede, Ay biholdand þe honde til hit hade al grauen

& rasped on þe ro3wo3e runisch sauez.
When hit þe scrypture hade scraped wyth a strof penne, As a coltour in clay cerues þo for3es,

Þenne hit vanist verayly & voyded of sy3t, Bt þe lettres bileued ful large vpon plaster.

Sone so þe kynge for his care carping my3t wynne, He bede his burnes bo3to þat were bok-lered, To wayte þe wryt þat hit wolde, & wyter hym to say, 'For al hit frayes my flesche, þe fyngres so grymme.'

Scoleres skelten þeratte þe skyl for to fynde, Bot þer watz neuer on so wyse couþe on worde rede,

Ne what ledisch lore ne langage nauþer,

What tyþyng ne tale tokened þo dra3tes.

Þenne þe bolde Baltazar bred ner wode,

& ede þe cete to seche segges þur3out

Þat wer wyse of wychecrafte, & warla3es oþer Þat con dele wyth demerlayk & deuine lettres.

'Calle hem alle to my cort, þo Calde clerkkes, Vnfolde hem alle þis ferly þat is bifallen here,

& calle wyth a hi3e cry: "He þat þe kyng wysses, In expounyng of speche þat spredes in þise lettres,

& make þe mater to malt my mynde wythinne, Þat I may wyterly wyt what þat wryt menes,

He schal be gered ful gaye in gounes of porpre, & a coler of cler golde clos vmbe his þrote;

He schal be prymate & prynce of pure clergye, & of my þreuenest lordez þe þrydde he schal,

& of my reme þe rychest to ryde wyth myseluen, Outtaken bare two, & þenne he þe þrydde."'

Þis cry watz vpcaste, & þer comen mony
Clerkes out of Caldye þat kennest wer knauen, As þe sage sathrapas þat sorsory couþe,

Wychez & walkyries wonnen to þat sale,
Deuinores of demorlaykes þat dremes cowþe rede, Sorsers & exorsismus & fele such clerkes;

& alle þat loked on þat letter as lewed þay were As þay had loked in þe leþer of my lyft bote.

Þenne cryes þe kyng & kerues his wedes.
What! he corsed his clerkes & calde hem chorles; To henge þe harlotes he he3ed ful ofte:

So watz þe wy3e wytles he wed wel ner.
Ho herde hym chyde to þe chambre þat watz þe chef quene.
When ho watz wytered bi wy3es what watz þe cause, Suche a chaungande chaunce in þe chef halle,

Þe lady, to lauce þat los þat þe lorde hade, Glydes doun by þe grece & gos to þe kyng.

Ho kneles on þe colde erþe & carpes to hymseluen Wordes of worchyp wyth a wys speche.

'Kene kyng,' quoþ þe quene, 'kayser of vrþe, Euer laste þy lyf in lenþe of dayes!

Why hatz þou rended þy robe for redles hereinne, Þa3þose ledes ben lewed lettres to rede,

& hatz a haþel in þy holde, as I haf herde ofte, Þat hatz þe gostes of God þat gyes alle soþes?

His sawle is ful of syence, sa3es to schawe, To open vch a hide þyng of aunteres vncowþe.

Þat is he þat ful ofte hatz heuened þy fader Of mony anger ful hote with his holy speche.

When Nabugo_de_nozar watz nyed in stoundes, He devysed his dremes to þe dere trawþe;

He keuered hym with his counsayl of caytyf wyrdes; Alle þat he spured hym, in space he expowned clene,

Þur3þe sped of þe spyryt, þat sprad hym withinne, Of þe godelest goddez þat gaynes aywhere.

For his depe diuinite & his dere sawes,
Þy bolde fader Baltazar bede by his name, Þat now is demed Danyel, of derne coninges,

Þat ca3t watz in þe captyuide in cuntre of Jues; Nabuzardan hym nome, & now is he here, A prophete of þat prouince & pryce of þe worlde.
Sende into þe cete to seche hym bylyue,
& wynne hym with þe worchyp to wayne þe bote; & þa3þe mater be merk þat merked is 3ender,

He schal declar hit also as hit on clay stande.'
Þat gode counseyl at þe quene watz cached as swyþe; Þe burne byfore Baltazar watz bro3t in a whyle.

When he com bifore þe kyng & clanly had halsed, Baltazar vmbebrayde hym, & 'Leue sir,' he sayde,

'Hit is tolde me bi tulkes þat þou trwe were Profete of þat prouynce þat prayed my fader,

Ande þat þou hatz in þy hert holy connyng, Of sapyence þi sawle ful, soþes to schawe;

Goddes gost is þe geuen þat gyes alle þynges, & þou vnhyles vch hidde þat Heuen-Kyng myntes.

& here is a ferly byfallen, & I fayn wolde Wyt þe wytte of þe wryt þat on þe wowe clyues, For alle Calde clerkes han cowwardely fayled.
If þou with quayntyse con quere hit, I quyte þe þy mede:
For if þou redes hit by ry3t & hit to resoun brynges, Fyrst telle me þe tyxte of þe tede lettres,

& syþen þe mater of þe mode mene me þerafter, & I schal halde þe þe hest þat I þe hy3t haue,

Apyke þe in porpre cloþe, palle alþer-fynest, & þe by3e of bry3t golde abowte þyn nekke,

& þe þryd þryuenest þat þrynges me after, Þou schal be baroun vpon benche, bede I þe no lasse.'

Derfly þenne Danyel deles þyse wordes:
'Ryche kyng of þis rengne, rede þe oure Lorde!
Hit is surely soth þe Souerayn of heuen
Fylsened euer þy fader & vpon folde cheryched, Gart hym grattest to be of gouernores alle,

& alle þe worlde in his wylle welde as hym lykes.
Whoso wolde wel do, wel hym bityde,
& quos deth so he dezyre, he dreped als fast; Whoso hym lyked to lyft, on lofte watz he sone,

& quoso hym lyked to lay watz lo3ed bylyue.
So watz noted þe note of Nabugo_de_nozar, Styfly stabled þe rengne bi þe stronge Dry3tyn, For of þe Hy3est he hade a hope in his hert, Þat vche pouer past out of þat Prynce euen.

& whyle þat watz cle3t clos in his hert
Þere watz no mon vpon molde of my3t as hymseluen; Til hit bitide on a tyme towched hym pryde For his lordeschyp so large & his lyf ryche; He hade so huge an insy3t to his aune dedes

Þat þe power of þe hy3e Prynce he purely for3etes.
Þenne blynnes he not of blasfemy on to blame þe Dry3tyn; His my3t mete to Goddes he made with his wordes:

"I am god of þe grounde, to gye as me lykes.
As He þat hy3e is in heuen, His aungeles þat weldes.
If He hatz formed þe folde & folk þervpone, I haf bigged Babiloyne, bur3alþer-rychest,

Stabled þerinne vche a ston in strenkþe of myn armes; Mo3t neuer my3t bot myn make such anoþer."

Watz not þis ilke worde wonnen of his mowþe one Er þenne þe Souerayn sa3e souned in his eres:

"Now Nabugo_de_nozar inno3e hatz spoken, Now is alle þy pryncipalte past at ones,

& þou, remued fro monnes sunes, on mor most abide & in wasturne walk & wyth þe wylde dowelle, As best, byte on þe bent of braken & erbes, With wroþe wolfes to won & wyth wylde asses."

Inmydde þe poynt of his pryde departed he þere Fro þe soly of his solempnete; his solace he leues,

& carfully is outkast to contre vnknawen, Fer into a fyr fryth þere frekes neuer comen.

His hert heldet vnhole; he hoped non oþer Bot a best þat he be, a bol oþer an oxe.

He fares forth on alle faure, fogge watz his mete, & ete ay as a horce when erbes were fallen;

Þus he countes hym a kow þat watz a kyng ryche, Quyle seuen syþez were ouerseyed, someres I trawe.

By þat mony þik thy3e þry3t vmbe his lyre, Þat alle watz dubbed & dy3t in þe dew of heuen;

Faxe, fyltered & felt, flosed hym vmbe,
Þat schad fro his schulderes to his schyre wykes, & twenty-folde twynande hit to his tos ra3t,

Þer mony clyuy as clyde hit cly3t togeder.
His berde ibrad alle his brest to þe bare vrþe, His browes bresed as breres aboute his brode chekes;

Hol3e were his y3en & vnder campe hores, & al watz gray as þe glede, with ful grymme clawres

Þat were croked & kene as þe kyte paune; Erne-hwed he watz & al ouerbrawden,

Til he wyst ful wel who wro3t alle my3tes, & cowþe vche kyndam tokerue & keuer when Hym lyked.

Þenne He wayned hym his wyt, þat hade wo soffered, Þat he com to knawlach & kenned hymseluen;

Þenne he loued þat Lorde & leued in trawþe Hit watz non oþer þen He þat hade al in honde.

Þenne sone watz he sende agayn, his sete restored; His barounes bo3ed hym to, blyþe of his come,

Ha3erly in his aune hwe his heued watz couered, & so 3eply watz 3arked & 3olden his state.

Bot þou, Baltazar, his barne & his bolde ayre, Se3þese syngnes with sy3t & set hem at lyttel,

Bot ay hatz hofen þy hert agaynes þe hy3e Dry3t[y]n, With bobaunce & with blasfamye bost at Hym kest,

& now His vessayles avyled in vanyte vnclene, Þat in His hows Hym to honour were heuened of fyrst;

Bifore þe barounz hatz hom bro3t, & byrled þerinne Wale wyne to þy wenches in waryed stoundes;

Bifore þy borde hatz þou bro3t beuerage in þede, Þat blyþely were fyrst blest with bischopes hondes,

Louande þeron lese goddez þat lyf haden neuer, Made of stokkes & stonez þat neuer styry mo3t.

& for þat froþande fylþe, þe Fader of heuen Hatz sende into þis sale þise sy3tes vncowþe,

Þe fyste with þe fyngeres þat flayed þi hert, Þat rasped renyschly þe wo3e with þe ro3penne.

Þise ar þe wordes here wryten, withoute werk more, By vch fygure, as I fynde, as oure Fader lykes:

Mane, Techal, Phares: merked in þrynne,

Þat þretes þe of þyn vnþryfte vpon þre wyse.

Now expowne þe þis speche spedly I þenk:

Manemenes als much as "Maynful Gode

Hatz counted þy kyndam bi a clene noumbre, & fulfylled hit in fayth to þe fyrre ende".

To teche þe of Techal, þat terme þus menes:
"þy wale rengne is walt in we3tes to heng, & is funde ful fewe of hit fayth-dedes."

& Pharesfol3es for þose fawtes, to frayst þe trawþe; In Phares fyndeI forsoþe þise felle sa3es:

"Departed is þy pryncipalte, depryued þou worpes, Þy rengne rafte is þe fro, & ra3t is þe Perses;

Þe Medes schal be maysteres here, & þou of menske schowued."'
Þe kyng comaunded anon to cleþe þat wyse In frokkes of fyn cloþ, as forward hit asked;

Þenne sone watz Danyel dubbed in ful dere porpor, & a coler of cler golde kest vmbe his swyre.

Þen watz demed a decre bi þe duk seluen:
Bolde Baltazar bed þat hym bowe schulde
Þe comynes al of Calde þat to þe kyng longed, As to þe prynce pryuyest preued þe þrydde,

He3est of alle oþer saf onelych tweyne,
To bo3after Baltazar in bor3e & in felde.
Þys watz cryed & knawen in cort als fast, & alle þe folk þerof fayn þat fol3ed hym tylle.

Bot howso Danyel watz dy3t, þat day ouer3ede; Ny3t ne3ed ry3t now with nyes fol mony, For da3ed neuer anoþer day, þat ilk derk after, Er dalt were þat ilk dome þat Danyel deuysed.

Þe solace of þe solempnete in þat sale dured Of þat farand fest, tyl fayled þe sunne;

Þenne blykned þe ble of þe bry3t skwes,
Mourkenes þe mery weder, & þe myst dryues Þor3þe lyst of þe lyfte, bi þe lo3medoes.

Vche haþel to his home hy3es ful fast,
Seten at her soper & songen þerafter;
Þen foundez vch a fela3schyp fyrre at forþ na3tes.
Baltazar to his bedd with blysse watz caryed; Reche þe rest as hym lyst: he ros neuer þerafter.

For his foes in þe felde in flokkes ful grete, Þat longe hade layted þat lede his londes to strye, Now ar þay sodenly assembled at þe self tyme.
Of hem wyst no wy3e þat in þat won dowelled.
Hit watz þe dere Daryus, þe duk of þise Medes, Þe prowde prynce of Perce, & Porros of Ynde, With mony a legioun ful large, with ledes of armes, Þat now hatz spyed a space to spoyle Caldeez.

Þay þrongen þeder in þe þester on þrawen hepes, Asscaped ouer þe skyre watteres & scaþed þe walles,

Lyfte laddres ful longe & vpon lofte wonen, Stelen stylly þe toun er any steuen rysed.

Withinne an oure of þe niy3t an entre þay hade, 3et afrayed þay no freke. Fyrre þay passen,

& to þe palays pryncipal þay aproched ful stylle, Þenne ran þay in on a res on rowtes ful grete;

Blastes out of bry3t brasse brestes so hy3e, Ascry scarred on þe scue, þat scomfyted mony.

Segges slepande were slayne er þay slyppe my3t; Vche hous heyred watz withinne a hondewhyle.

Baltazar in his bed watz beten to deþe,
Þat boþe his blod & his brayn blende on þe cloþes; The kyng in his cortyn watz ka3t bi þe heles,

Feryed out bi þe fete & fowle dispysed.
Þat watz so do3ty þat day & drank of þe vessayl Now is a dogge also dere þat in a dych lygges.

For þe mayster of þyse Medes on þe morne ryses, Dere Daryous þat day dy3t vpon trone,

Þat cete seses ful sounde, & sa3tlyng makes Wyth alle þe barounz þeraboute, þat bowed hym after.

& þus watz þat londe lost for þe lordes synne, & þe fylþe of þe freke þat defowled hade

Þe ornementes of Goddez hous þat holy were maked.
He watz corsed for his vnclannes, & cached þerinne, Done doun of his dyngnete for dedez vnfayre,

& of þyse worldes worchyp wrast out for euer, & 3et of lykynges on lofte letted, I trowe:

To loke on oure lofly Lorde late bitydes.
Þus vpon þrynne wyses I haf yow þro schewed Þat vnclannes tocleues in corage dere Of þat wynnelych Lorde þat wonyes in heuen, Entyses Hym to be tene, telled vp His wrake;

Ande clannes is His comfort, & coyntyse He louyes, & þose þat seme arn & swete schyn se His face.

Þat we gon gay in oure gere þat grace He vus sende, Þat we may serue in His sy3t, þer solace neuer blynnez.

Amen.

Cleanness - Modern English Translation

Cleanness, whoever could naturally understand, coming and recounting all the reasons that it rightly asks, Fair forms might he find before him to further his speech, And in contrast, hardship and great burden.
For wondrously wrathful is the Wise One who fashioned all things With the man who follows in filth, As ranks of religion that read and sing and approach His presence, and priests are called; They tend to His temple and discipline themselves,

They reckon with reverence at His altar; They handle His own body and use it both.

If they are indeed in cleanliness, they receive great reward; But if they counterfeit craft and courtesy habitually, As though honest without and within, all filths, Then are they sinful themselves and altogether sullied, Both God and His retinue, and bring Him to anger.

He is so pure in His court, the King who wields all, And honorable in His household and served nobly, With angels adorned in all that is clean, Both inside and outside, in garments full bright; If He were not ashamed and shy, and did not love damage, It would be too marvelous, it could not happen.

Christ Himself named it once in a parable, Where He took heed at the happenings and promised them their reward.

I remember one among others, as Matthew records, That thus cleanliness unlocks a most clear speech:

The noble clean of his heart happens most fair, For he shall look upon our Lord with a blessed face; As it says, to that sight shall he never search Who bears anywhere around any uncleanness; For He who banishes all filth far from His heart Cannot abide that burr that nears His body.

Therefore do not hurry to heaven torn by hatreds, Nor into the harlot’s hood, and hands unwashed.

For what earthly noble that high honor holds Would like if a youth came unseemly attired, When he was solemnly seated in a rich seat, Above dukes on dais, served with delicacies?

Then the harlot hastened to the table,
With rent socks at the knees and his garment torn, And his tabard tattered, and his toes out, Or anyone of all these, he should be held utterly out, With many heavy blame, a buffet perchance,

Hurled to the hall door and hard pushed there against, And forbidden that borough to bow thither ever, On pain of imprisonment and being placed in stocks; And thus shall he be shamed for his shroud weak, So that he in status nor touch trespasses no more.

And if he were unwelcome to a worthy prince, Yet the high King is harder on him in the end; As Matthew tells in his mass of that rich man, Who made much preparation to marry his beloved, And sent his messengers then to say that they together should, And in comely attire come to his feast:

“For my bulls and my boars are baited and slain, And my fed fowls fat with slaughter, My poultry that is penned and partridges both, With shields of wild swine, swans and cranes, All is roasted and cooked right to the seat; Come quickly to my court, ere it become cold.” When they knew his call that thither should come, All excused themselves wisely, he escaped by much.

One had bought him a borough, he said, by his truth:
“Now turn I thither as is fitting the town to behold.” Another named also and nursed this cause:

“I have earned and got yokers of oxen, and for my beasts have bought them; To bow I must, to see them pull in the plow approach me behooves.”

“And I have wed a wife,” so said he the third; “Excuse me at the court, I may not come there.” Thus they drew away each one with danger, That none passed to the plate although he prayed.

Then the lord of the manor liked very ill, And had disdain of that deed; full earnestly he spoke.

He said: “Now for their own sorrow they have forsaken; More to blame is their fault than any gentle will.

Then go forth, my men, the great streets, And watch on every side the city about; The wayfaring men, on foot and on horse, Both sons and daughters, the better and the worse,

Hate them all lovingly to linger at my feast, And bring them gladly to borough as barons they were, So that my palace place be fully be seated all about; These other wretches assuredly worthy are not to defend.” Then they carried and came till the coast waked, Bachelors brought themselves with whom they by banks met,

Swineherds that swiftly swayed on benches, and as many on foot, Of free and of bond.

When they came to the court, fair kept were they, Stipulated with the steward, stood in the hall,

Fully mannerly with marshal made for to sit, As he was dear of degree dressed his seat.

Then said to the sovereign those who spake thereafter:
“Lo! Lord, with your leave, at your legal behest and at your command We have brought, as you commanded, many noble ranks, And yet is room more.”
Said the lord to those lords,
“Lay yet further, further out in the field, And fetch more guests; watch for worst and grieves, if any noble lies;

Whatever folk so there fare, fetch them hither; Be they fierce, be they feeble, lose none, Be they whole, be they halt, be they one-eyed, And though they be both blind and lame and crippled, That my house may wholly be filled with halls.
For, certainly, these same ranks that I have retained, And denounced me not now at this time,

Shall never sit in my hall my supper to feel, Nor sup on the soup of my broth, though they should die.” Then the sergeants, at that saw,
Swept them thence, and did the deed that was decreed, As he devised had, and with people of all sorts the palace they filled;

It were not all one wives' sons, dwelling with one father.
Whether they were worthy or worse, well were they stowed, Always the best before and brightest attired, The dearest at the high dais, that dubbed were fairest, And then along length enough lords.

And always, as it seemed notably by their garments, So with marshal at their meat they were mannered.

Clean men in company were little known, and yet The simplest in that hall was served to the full, Both with manners and with meat and noble minstrelsy, And all the lords that a lord eats in land shows.

And they began to be glad that good drink had; And each man with his match made him at ease.

Now amid the meat the master commands himself That he would see the assembly that gathered was there, And carefully rehearse the rich and the poor, And cherish them all with his cheer, and crown their joy.

Then he bows from his chamber into the broad hall, and to the best on the bench, And bids himself be merry,

Solaced them with semblance and warm fire, Traveling from table to table and talked always mirth.

But as he lurched over the floor,
He found with his eyes,
It was not for a holiday honestly arrayed, A thrall pressed in the throng unthriftily clothed,

Nor any festival frock, but soiled with work; The man was ungarnished with good men to deal.

And grieved therewith the great lord, and displeased him he thought.

“Tell me, friend,” quoth the fellow with a sharp face, “How came thou into this house in garments so foul?

The habit that thou hast upon does not mean holiday; Thou, man, for no bridal art busked in garments.

How was thou hardy this house for thy mishap near In so ragged a robe and rent at the sides?

Thou art a man ungodly in that gown feeble; Thou praised me and my place full poor and full dull, That was so ready to approach my presence herein.
Hopest thou I be a harlot thy errant to praise?” That man was abashed of his brother’s words, And crouched down with his head, the shame he beholds;

He was so confounded of his skill, lest he harm caught, That he knew not a word what he should say.

Then the lord wondrously loud called and cried, And spoke to his tormentors:

“Take him,” he bids,
“Bind behind, at his back, both his hands, And strong fetters to his feet fasten likewise;

Stick him stiffly in stocks, and peg him thereafter Deep in my dungeon where pain ever dwells,

Grieving and crying and gnashing hard
Of teeth tenfold together, to teach him by cunning.” Thus compares Christ the kingdom of heaven To this noble feast that many are to call; For all are hated lovingly, the worse and the better, That ever were washed in font, that feast to have.

But beware well, if thou wilt, thy garments be clean and honest for the holiday, Lest thou lack good; For approaching to that Prince of noble lineage, He hates hell no more than those that are soul.

Which are then thy garments thou wraptest thee in, That shall show them so shining a shroud of the best?

It are thy works, fully,
That thou wroughtest and lived with the liking that lies in thy heart; That be freely and fresh found in thy life, And neat of a fair form to foot and to hand, And then all thy other limbs lapped full clean; Then may thou see thy Savior and His rich seat.

For many faults may a man forfeit his bliss, That he the Sovereign may not see, then for sloth one; As for arrogance and boast and bellowing pride Thoroughly into the devil’s throat a man plunges alive.

For covetousness and cowardice and crooked deeds, For perjury and manslaughter and too much drink, For theft and for robbery, unthankful may one have; For robbery and ribaldry and untrue reasonings, And dishonesty and deprived dowry of widows, For marrying of marriages and maintenance of shrews, For treason and trickery and tyranny both, And for false accusations and feigned laws;

Man may miss the mirth that much is to praise For such vices as these, and endure much pain, And in the Creator’s court come nevermore, Nor ever see Him with sight for such sour turnings.

But I have listened and heard of many high clerics, And also in reasonings of right read it myself, That that same proper Prince who rules paradise well Is displeased at each point that plays to harm; But never yet in no book briefly heard I That ever He wreaked so wildly on work that He made,

Nor avenged for no vileness of vice nor sin, Nor so hastily was hot for hatred of His will, Nor ever so suddenly sought unsoundly to wend, As for filth of the flesh that fools have used; For, as I find, there He forgets all His free laws, And waxed mad to the wrath for anger at His heart.

For the first felony the false fiend wrought While he was high in the heaven above, Of all these noble angels attired the fairest:
And he unkindly, as a churl, made a rebellion.
He saw not but himself how seemly he were, But his Sovereign he forsook and said these words:

“I shall set up my throne in the mountaintop, And be like to the Lord that made the sky.” With this word that he spake, the revenge on him fell:
The Lord with His dear judgment drove him to the abyss, In the measure of His mood, His mettle never the less.

But there He lost the tenth dole of His tower rich:
Though felonious were so fierce for his fair garments and his glorious gleam that glistened so bright, As soon as the Lord’s doom drove to Himself,

Thick thousands throng through therethrough, Fell from the firmament, fiends fully black,

Swirled at the first sweep as the snow thick, Hurled into hell-hole as the hive swarms.

Filthy fiendish folk forty days length,
Ere that stinging storm stint nor might; But as melted meal under small sieve smokes thicken.

So from heaven to hell that hated scourge lasted, On each side of the world anywhere alike.

Yes, it was a fierce breast and a great wrath, And yet did not the Wise wrath;

Nor the wretch settled,
Nor ever would, for willfulness, his worthy God know, Nor pray Him for any pity, so proud was his will.

Therefore though rape were rank, the wrath was little; Though be cast into care, he keeps no better.

But that other revenge that waxed, on wretches it lies Through fault of a man that failed in truth,

Adam disobedient, ordained to bliss.
There privately in paradise his place was devised, To live there in liking the length of a term, And then inherit that home that angels forgot; But through egging of Eve he ate of an apple That poisoned all peoples who parted from them both, For a defense that was set by the Lord Himself, and a pain thereon placed and partly held.

The defense was the fruit that the man touched, And the doom is the death that kills us all; All in measure and method was made the vengeance, And afterward amended with a maiden that made had never.

But in the third was forth all that thrive should:
There was malice merciless and despite much skewed, That was for filth upon field that the folk used, That then dwelled in the world without any masters.

They were the fairest of form and of face likewise, The most and the merriest that makers were ever, The stiffest, the stalworthest that stood ever on feet, And longest life in them lent of leaders all other.

For it was the form foster that the field bred, The noble ancestors’ sons that Adam was called, To whom God had given all that gain was, All the bliss without blame that body might have; And those likest to the leader, that lived next after; Therefore so seemly to see since were none.

There was no law to them laid but look to kind, and keep thereto, and all its course cleanly fulfill.
And then found they filth in fleshly deeds, And contrived against kind contrary works, And used themselves unthriftily each on other, And likewise with others, willfully, upon a wrong wise:

So utterly fouled their flesh that the fiend looked How the daughter of death were dearly fair, And fell in companionship with them on folkwise, And engendered on them giants with their japes ill.

Those were men cruel and mighty on earth, That for their lewdness lost they were; He was famed for free that feud loved best, And aye the biggest in bale the best was held.

And then evils on earth earnestly grew and multiplied manifold among mankind, For that the mighty on mold so marred these others That the Wise One who all wrought began full wrathfully.

When He knew each country corrupt in itself, And each man forsaken from the right ways,

Fell tempting woe touched His heart.
As woe within Him, He cast to Himself:
“It seems to Me fully much that ever I man made, But I shall deliver and do away that dunce on this mold, And banish out of the fold all that flesh wears, From the man to the beast, from birds to fish:

All shall be down and be dead and driven out of earth That ever I set soul within; And sore it grieves Me that ever I made them Myself; But if I may hereafter, I shall watch to be wary their wretches to keep.” Then in the world was a wise one dwelling alive, Full ready and fully righteous, and ruled him fair, In the dread of the Lord his days he used, And ever gliding with his God, His grace was the more.
His name was Noah, as enough is known.
He had three tried sons, and they three wives:
So truly that one, the other was named Ham, And the young Japheth was begotten the third.

Now God in newly to Noah can speak
Wild wrathful words, in His will grieved:
“The end of all kinds of flesh that on earth moves Is fallen forthwith My face, and further it I think.

With their unworthy works it displeases Me within; The gore thereof Me hates and the slime noiseth.

I shall strengthen My distress and strike all together, Both lands and realms and all that life has.

But make to thee a mansion, and that is My will, A coffer closed of trees, cleanly planed.

Work dwelleth therein for wild and for tame, And then close it with clay comely within, And all the joints driven daub without.

And thus of length and of largeness that loom thou make:
Three hundred of cubits thou hold to the length, Of fifty fair overwise form the breadth; And look even that thy ark have of height thirty, And a window wide upon wrought upon loft, In the compass of a cubit kindly square; A well-dutiful door, done on the side; Have halls therein and halls full many,
Both bosk and bower and well bound pens.

For I shall waken up a water to wash all the world, And quell all that is quick with quaking floods, All that glides and gaits and ghosts of life have; I shall waste with My wrath that dwells upon earth.

But My foreword with thee fasten on this wise, For thou in reason hast reigned and rightly been ever:

Thou shall enter this ark with thy noble children and thy wedded wife; With thee take The makers of thy merry sons; this company of eight I shall save of men’s souls, And wilt those others.

Of each beast that bears life busk thee a couple, Of each clean comely kind enclose seven makes, Of each horned in ark hold but a pair,
For to save to Me the seed of all servant kinds.
And aye thou mingle with the males the meet hoofed beasts, Each pair by pair to please either other; With all the food that may be found, feed thy coffer, For sustenance to yourself and also those others.”

Fully willingly goes this good man and does God’s commands, In dread and danger that durst do none other.

When it was fitted and forged and fully prepared, Then can the Lord him deal fiercely these words.

“Now Noah,” quoth our Lord, “art thou all ready?
Hast thou closed thy chest with clay all about?” “Yes, Lord, with Thy leave,” said the man then,

“All is wrought at Thy word, as Thou me commandest.” “Enter then,” quoth He, “and have thy wife with thee,

Thy three sons, without threat, and their three wives; Beasts, as I bid, busk therein also, And when ye are staved, stiffly fix ye therein.” From seven days be said I send out likewise Such a roaring rain that raine shall swiftly That shall wash all the world of works of filth, Shall no flesh upon fold be found alive,

Except you eight in this ark staved and saved that I will save of these great beasts.” Now Noah never stints, that night he begins, Ere all were staved and stoked as the voice would.

Then soon came the seventh day, when were all gathered, And all dwelled in the which, the wild and the tame.

Then boiled the abyss, and banks began to rise, Waves out each wall-head in full wild streams; Was no brim that abode unbroken alive;
The great lavant lake to the lift reared.
Many clustered clouds cleft all in clouts; Torrent each a rain-rift and rushed to the earth,

Falling never in forty days.

And then the flood rises,
Overwhelms each wood and the wide fields.
For when the water of the firmament with the world met, All that death might drown therein.

There was moon to make when mischief was known, That nothing drowns but the death in the deep streams;

Water willed aye wax, dwelled that strayed, Hurled into each house, took that there dwelled.

First began the flight all that flee might; Each bird with her barn the building they leave, And bowed to the high bank where burnt it was, And hastily to the high hills they hauled on fast.

But all was needless their note,
For never could remain the raging raining rig, The roaring waves, ere each bottom was birdful to the banks' edges, And each a dale so deep that deemed at the brink.
The most mountains on moor than was no more dry, And thereon flocked the folk, for fear of the wreck.

Then the wild of the wood on the water floated; Some swam therein that saved themselves trusted, Some climbed to a stake and stared to the heaven, Rely with a loud roar roared for dread.

Hares, hart also, to the high ran;
Bucks, boars, and bulls to the banks hurried; And all cried for care to the King of heaven,

Recoverer of the Creator they cried each one, That amounted the mass, the mass His mercy was exceeded, And all His pity departed from the people that He hated.

By that the flood to their feet flowed and waxed, Then each man saw well that sink him befitted.

Friends fell in fear and embraced together, To dreary doleful destiny and died all together;

Love looks to love and his leave takes,
For to end all at once and forever twain.

By forty days were traveled, on fold no flesh stirred That the flood had all fretted with feasting waves; For it clammed each a cliff, fifteen cubits Over the highest hill that lurked on earth.

Then dark in the mud most needed
All that sparkle inspired, no sprawling wailed, Save the noble under hatch and his hair strange,

Noah that oft named the Name of our Lord, Obedient in that ark, as noble God liked,

There all realms in gloom lengthened dry.

The ark house was on high with hurling streams, Cast to unknown corners the clouds full near.

It waddled on the wild flood, went as it pleased, Drove upon the deep dam, in danger it seemed, Without mast, or yoke, or merry bawling, Cable, or capstan to clip to their anchors,

Hook, or hand-helm fastened on rudder,
Or any swelling sail to seek after haven, But floated forth with the flight of the fell winds.

Whetherward so the water wafted, it rebounded; Often it rolled on round and reared on end;

Nay if our Lord had been their lodeman
They had stumbled hard.

Of the length of Noah’s life to lay a loyal date, The six hundred of his age and none odd years, Of second month the seventeenth day rightly, Twelve all these wall-heads and the water flowed; And three and fifty the flood of following days; Each hill was there hidden with white hair.

All was wasted that there dwelled the world within, That ever floated or flew, or on foot went, That roughly was the remnant that the race drives That all genders so largest were joined within.

But when the Lord of the lift liked
Himself to remember on His man His mercy that abides, Then He awakened a wind on waters to blow; Then lessened the lake that large was ere.
Then stack up the stakes, stopped the wells, Bade blindness of the rain: it abated as fast; Then lessened the loud together.

After hard days were out one hundred and fifty, As that lifting gloom lurked about.

Where the wind and the weather wove it would, It settled on a soft day, sinking to ground; On a rock’s crag rested at the last,
On the mount of Ararat of Armenian hills.

That other way on Ebro it had the Thanes.
But though the chest in the crags were closed to bide, Yet found not the flood nor fell to the bottoms, But the highest of the edges unrolled were a little, That the man within board beheld the bare earth.

Then waved he upon his window, and whispered thereout A message for that company them to seek:

That was the raven so rank, that raven was ever rebellious; He was colored as the coal, corbyal untrue.

And he began to the flight and fanned on the winds, Haul high upon height to hearken tidings.

He croaked for comfort when carrion he finds, Cast up on a cliff where coast laid dry;

He had the smell of the stench and smelt thither soon, Fell on the foul flesh and filled his womb, And soon utterly forgot yesterday’s voice, How the captain him charged that the chest seemed.

The raven rakes him forth, that reaches full little, How all foods there fare, else he find food; But the man within board that bade to his come Banned him full bitterly with beasts all together.

He seeks another messenger, and sets on the dove, Brings that bright upon board, blessed, and said:

“Go, worthy wise, us dwell to seek;
Drift over this dim water; if thou find dry Bring word to both bliss to us all.

That fowl be false, free be thou ever.” How well out on the water on wings full sharp, Direly all along day that durst never light; And when he found no fold her foot on to pitch, He circumnavigated the coast and the coast seeks.

He hit on the eventide and on the ark sits; Noah takes her anon and nightly her stays.

Noah on another day takes after the dove, And bids her bow over the barn again banks to seek; And she skims under squall and scuds about, Till it was near at night, and Noah then seeks.

On ark on an eventide hovers the dove;
On stem in she stood and still him awaits.
What! She brought in her beak a branch of olive, Graciously surrounded all with green leaves; That was the sign of saving that sent them our Lord, And the assurance of Himself with those wretched beasts.

Then was their joy on that shore where jumped ere dried, And much comfort in that coffer that was clay-daubed.

Merrily on a fair morn, month the first, That falls foremost in the year, and the first day,

Leaders look in that gloom and looked out, How that waters were waned and the world dried.

Each loved our Lord, but longed aye still Till they had tidings from the talk that lost them therein.

Then God’s gleam to them glowed that gladdened them all, Bade them draw to the door: deliver them He would.

Then went they to the wicket, it waited soon; Both the man and his children bowed thither, Their wives walked with and the wild after, Thoroughly thronging in throng, thrown full thick.

But Noah of each honest kind names out an odd, And heaved up an altar and hallowed it fair, And set a sacrifice thereon of each servant kind That was comely and clean: God keeps none other.

When fiercely burned those beasts,
And the breath rose,
The savor of his sacrifice sought to Him even That all sped and spilled;

He speaks with that same in comely comfort fully close and courteous words:

“Now, Noah, no more will I ever weary
All the great company on mold for no man’s sins, For I see well that it is true that all men’s wits To unthrift are all drawn with thought of their hearts, And always has been, and will be yet; from their birth All is the mind of man to malice inclined.

Therefore shall I never shame so shortly all at once As destroy all for man’s sin, days of this earth.

But waxes now and wanders forth and worth to many, Multiplies on this mold, And manners you befit.
Seasons shall you never cease of seed nor of harvest, Nor heat, nor no hard frost, shade nor drought,

Nor the sweetness of summer, nor the sadder winter, Nor the night, nor the day, nor the new years, But ever run restlessly: reign you therein.”

Therewith He blesses each beast and assigns them this earth.

Then was a skillful shielder, when escaped all the wild, Each fowl to the flight that feathers might serve, Each fish to the flood that finning could know.

Each beast to the bent that that bites on grass; Wild worms to their dwelling writhes in the earth, The fox and the polecat to the forest winds, Harts to high heaths, hares to thorns, and lions And leopards to the lake rifts;

Horns and hawks to the high rocks,

The whole-footed fowl to the flood heads, And each beast at a braide where him best likes; The four freemen of the field found the empire.

Lo! Such a wrathful woe for vile deeds
Performed the high Father on folk that He made; That He carefully had cherished,

He chastised full hard,
In driving out the villainy that vanquished His laws.

Therefore beware now, wise one that worship desires In His comely court, that King is of bliss, In the filth of the flesh that thou be found never, Till any water in the world to wash thee fail.

For is no man under sun so seemly of his crafts, If he be sulked in sin, that sits unclean; On spec of spot may speed to miss
Of the sight of the Sovereign that sits so high; For that show me shall In those bright houses, as the beryl burnished ought be clean.

That is sound on each side and no seam has, Without markle or mote, as a margarite pearl.

Since the Sovereign in seat so sore foresaw That ever He man upon mold marked to live, For he in filth was fallen, fiercely He avenged, When He destroyed all the flesh that He had formed.

Him grieved that He them uprooted and razed their lives; And after that He undid them, hard hit Him thought.

For when the swelling sorrow sought to His heart, He knit a covenant courteously with mankind there, In the measure of His mood and method of His will, That He should never for no sin smite all at once, As to kill all quickly for quiddity that might fall, While of the length of the land lasts the term.

That same skill for no harm escaped Him never.
Whether wondrously He wreaked on wicked men after, Full fiercely for that same fault destroyed a rich city, In the anger of His ire, that erased many; And all was for this same evil, That mishap slime,
The venom and villainy and the vicious filth That besmirches man’s soul in unsound heart, That he his Savior may not see with sight of his eyes.

All ills He hates as hell that all stink; But none harms Him on night nor never upon days As harlotry unhonest, boasting of seven:
That shames for no villainy, shame meet he worthy.

But Savior, man, in thyself, though thou a sot live, Though thou bear thyself babel, think at some time

Whether He that stuck each star in each step sky, If Himself be born blind it is a broad wonder; And He that fitted all ears finely in face, If He has lost the listening it lifts marvel:

Believe thou never that tale, untrue thou find it.

There is no deed so hidden that escapes His eyes; There is no wise one in His work so wary nor so still That it not pleases Him before ere he it thought have.
For He is the groveling God,
The grounder of all deeds,
Ripping of each ring the reins and heart.

And there He finds all fair a man within, That heart honest and whole, that noble He honors,

Sends him a sad sight: to see His own face, And harshly hones these others, and of His earth flames.

But of the doom of the deep for deeds of shame, He is so ashamed of that damage,

He shudders alive;
He may not dare to draw a lot, but drips in haste:
And that was shown shortly by a harm once.

Old Abraham in earth once he sits
Even before his house-door, under an oak green; Bright blinked the beam of the broad heaven; In the high heat thereof Abraham abides:
He was shunted to the shadow under sheer leaves.

Then was he wary on the way of proud wise ones pressed; If they were traveling and free and fair to behold

It is easy to believe by the last end.
For the man that there lay the leaves underneath, When he had of them sight he hoped swiftly, And as to God the good man goes them against and hailed them in unity, And said: “Gentle Lord, if ever Thy man upon mold merit deserved,

Linger a little with Thy man, I loyally beseech; Pass never from Thy power, if I it pray dared,

Ere Thou have bided with Thy child and under both rested, And I shall win you wise of water a little, And fast about shall I fare
Your feet be washed.
Rest here on this root and I shall fetch after and bring a morsel Of bread to banish Your heart.”

“Fare forth,” quoth the men, “and fetch as thou sayest; By bulk of this broad tree We bide thee here.” Then hurried into his house he hastened
Commanded her to be quick and quick at this once:
“Three metts of meal mingle and make cakes; Under ashes full hot heap them alive;

While I fetch somewhat fat, thou the fire beat, Promptly at this same point some pudding to make.”

He fetched to his cookhouse and a calf brings, That was tender and not torn, bled well off the hide, And said to his servant that it seethe fast; And he deftly at his doom dressed it alive.

The man to be bare-headed busks him then, Clothes to a clean garment and casts on the green,

Throws thriftily thereon those three dear cakes, And brings butter withal and by the bread sets;

Meat messes of milk he marks between,
Then potage and pudding in platter honest.

As server in a good assize he served them fair, With sad semblance and sweet as such as he had; And God as a glad guest made good cheer
That was glad of his friend, and his feast praised.

Abraham, all heedless, with arms unfolded, Ministered meat before those Men that might all wield.

Then they said as they sat together all pressed, When the meat was removed and they of manner speak,

“I shall after hereaway, Abram,” they said, “Yet ere thy life’s light leaves upon earth, And then shall Sarah conceive and bear a son, That shall be Abraham’s heir and after him win With welfare and with worship the worthy people That shall hold in heritage that I have marked.” Then the bird behind the door for buzzmar laughed; And said truly to herself Sarah the maiden:

“May thou trust for tickle that thou turn mightest, and I so high out of age, and also my lord?” For truly, as says the writ, they were of sad old age, Both the wise and his wife, such work was to them lacked From many a broad day before;

She barren ever has been, that same Sarah, without seed until that same time.

Then said our Lord there where He sat:

“See! so Sarah laughs,

Not trusting the tale that I to thee showed.

Hopes she ought may be heard

My hands to work?

And yet I vow verily the avow that I made; I shall speedily again and yield that I promised, And sure send to Sarah a son and an heir.” Then swung forth Sarah and swore by her loyalty That for little that they laughed she laughed never.

“Now enough: it is not so,” then scorned the Lord, “For thou laughed alone, but let we it one.” With that they rose up readily, as they reckon should, And set toward Sodom, Her sight all at once;
For that city there beside was set in a vale, No miles from the Jordan more than two, Where dwelled this same wise one,
That wendeth with our Lord
For to tempt Him with tale and teach Him the gate.

Then glides forth God; the good man Him follows; Abraham holds them with, them to convey Into toward the city of Sodom that sinned had then In the fault of this filth.

The Father threatens them, and said thus to the man That followed Him after:

“How might I hide My heart from Abraham the true, That I not discovered to his counsel so dear, Since he is chosen to be chief children’s father, That so folk shall fall away From to flee all the world,
And each blood in that man blessed shall worth?
Me behooves tell to that talk the ten of My will, And all My affairs to Abraham unhastily believe.

The great sound of Sodom’s sin sinks in My ears, And the guilt of Gomorrah moves Me to wrath.

I shall light into that land and look Myself, If they have done as the din drives on high.

They have learned a lust that I like ill, That they have found in their flesh of faults the worst:

Each male mates his match a man as himself, And filthier foolishly in fear on females wise.

I compassed them a kind craft and kindled it them hidden, And aimed it in My ordinance oddly dear, And set misery therein,
And the play of paramours I portrayed Myself, And made thereto a manner merriest of others:

When two true together had tied themselves, Between a male and his mate such mirth should come,

Nearly pure paradise might prove no better; Else they must honestly either other wield, At a still stollen voice, unstirred with sight, Love-link between lashed so hot That all the mischiefs on mold might it not slake.

Now have they shifted My skill and scorned nature, And taken them in boasting a usage unclean.

Him to smite for that sin smartly I think, That wise ones shall be by them wary, world without end.” Then arose Abraham and all his mood changed, For hope of the hard hate that hight has our Lord.

All sighing he said:
“Sir, with Your leave,
Shall sinful and forsaken suffer all on pain?
Whether ever it like my Lord to lift such dooms That the wicked and the worthy shall on wreck suffer, And weigh upon the worse half that wrathest The never?

That was never Thy wont that wrought us all.

Now fifty fine friends were found in one town, In the city of Sodom and also Gomorrah, That never lacked Thy law,
But loved aye truth, and restful were and reasonable and ready The to serve, Shall they fall in the fault that other men wrought, And join to their judgment, their justice to have?
That was never Thy note, unevened it were, That art so fair a God and of ghost mild.”

“No, for fifty,” quoth the Father, “and thy fair speech, And they be found in that folk of their filth clean,

I shall forgive all the guilt through My grace once, And let them melt all unmolten smoothly at once.”

“Aa! blessed be Thou,”
Quoth the man, “so boner and well disciplined, and all holdest in Thy hand, the heaven and the earth; But, for I have this talk that I give to none ill, If I mingle a little more that much am and asks:
What if five falter of fifty the number, and the remnant be reckoned, how rests Thy will?”

“And five want of fifty,” quoth God, “I shall forget all And withhold My hand for hurt on land.”

“And what if forty be free and faulty those others:
Shalt Thou shortly all shame and shape none other?”

“Nay, that forty forfeit, yet first I awhile, And void away My vengeance, that me think ill.” Then Abraham obeyed Him and loyally Him thanked:
“Now blessed be Thou, Savior, so simple in Thy wrath!
I am but earth full evil and vile so black, For to mingle with such a Master as might have all.

But I have begun with my God, and He it fair thinks; If I forsake as a fool Thy franchise may serve.

What if thirty tried be thread in that town, What shall I leave of my Lord, if He them leave would?” Then the godly God gave him answer:
“Yet for thirty in throng I shall My throet, And spare speedily of spite in space of My laws, And My rancor refrain for thy reckening words.”

“What for twenty,” quoth the man, “untwine Thou them then?”

“Nay, if thou yearn it yet, mark I them grace; If that twenty be true, I deny them no more, But release all that region of their rank works.”

“Now, noble Lord,” quoth Abraham, “once a speech, And I shall shape no more those scoundrels to help.

If ten trusty in town be taken in Thy works, Wilt Thou change Thy mood and mending abide?”

“I grant,” quoth the great God, “Grant mercy,” That other; and then cease the rank and rule no further.

And God glides His gate by those green ways, And He conveys Him cunning with cast of his eye; And as He looked along where our Lord passed, Yet he cried Him after with careful voice:

“Meek Master, on Thy man to mind if The liked, Loath length thou linger in that land that is my left brother;

He sits there in Sodom, Thy servant so poor, Among those mansed men that have The much grieved.

If Thou forgo that town, temper Thy ire, As Thy mercy may melt, Thy meek to spare.” Then he wended, wended his way,
Weeping for care, toward the river of Jordan, weeping for sorrow; And there in longing all night he lies in dwelling,

While the Sovereign to Sodom sent to spy.

His messengers into Sodom were sent at that time, In that same eventide, By angels twain, moving meekly together as merry men young, As Lot in a lodge door leaned him alone, In a porch of that place right to the gates, That was royal and rich so were the ranks themselves.
As he stared into the street there
Stout men played,
He saw there sway in assent sweet men twain; Bold men were they both with beardless chins,

Royal rolling locks to raw silk like,
Of blue as the brier-flower whereso the bare showed.

Full clean was the countenance of their clear eyes; Proud white was their clothing and well it them seemed.

Of all features full fine and faultless both; Was none awry in either, for angels they were, And that the man understood that in the gate sat;

He rose up full ready and ran them to meet, And bowed low to them, loath, to the ground, and then soberly:

“Sirs, I you beseech
That ye would light at my lodge and linger therein.
Come to your knave's cot, I crave at this once; I shall fetch you a fat to your feet for to wash;

I warn you but for one night near me to lengthen, And in the merry morning ye may your way take.” And they say they would not no houses,
But quietly there in the street as they stood would They would lengthen the long night and lodge thereabout:

It was house enough to them the heaven upon loft.

Lot railed so long with loving words
That they him granted to go and greet no longer.
The bold to his building brings them likewise, That was royally arrayed, for he was rich ever.

The wise men were welcome as the wife could, His two dear daughters devoutly him hailed, That were maidens full meek, married not yet, And they were seemly and sweet, and swiftly well arrayed.

Lot then lightly looks him about, and his men arming meat to dress:
“But think on it before you make,
For with no sour nor no salt serves him ever.” But yet I ween that the wife it wroth to despise, And said softly to herself:

“This unseemly hind loves no salt in her sauce; Yet it no skill were that other man be without, though be nice.” Then she savors with salt her sauces each one, Against the bone of the man that it forbid had, And likewise she scorned them that well her skill knew.
Why was she, wretch, so mad?
She wrathfully hated our Lord.

Then sat they at the supper, were served quickly, The guests gay and full glad, of glam debonair,

Well-affected proud, till they had washed, The trestles tilted to the wall and the table both.

From the seats had supped and sat but a while, Ere ever they busked to bed, the borough was all up, All that wept might wield, the wakener and the stronger, To embattle Lot’s house the lords to take.

In great flocks of folk they fell to his gates; As a scout-watch scared so the outcry rose; With keen clubs of that close they clapped on the walls, And with a shrill sharp shout they showed these words:

“If thou lovest thy life,
Lot, in these dwellings,
Yield us out those young men that sore-while here entered, That we may learn them of law, as our will bids, As is the assize of Sodom to say those passages that pass.”

What! They spat and spoke of so spiteful filth, What! They stammered and howled of standing sorrow, That yet the wind and the weather and the world stinks Of the breach that upbraids those brotherly words.

The man shivered with that glamour and gaped for noise; So sharp shame to him shot, he shrank at the heart.

For he knew the custom that showed those wretches, He swooned never for no woe so deep in his mind.

“Alas!” said him then Lot, and lightly he rises, And bows forth from the bench into the broad gates.

What! He wounded no woe of wicked knaves, That he not passed the port the peril to abide.

He went forth at the wicket and waved it him after, That a click it clutched close him behind.

Then he melded to those men measurable words, For harlots with his handlay he hoped to chastise:

“O, my friends so free, your fare is too strange; Doze away your deaf din and dares never my guests.

Avoid! it is your villainy, ye vilify yourselves; And ye are jolly gentlemen, your japes are ill, But I shall know you by a kind craft that is better:
I have a treasure in my fold of two my fair daughters, That are maidens unmarred for all men yet; In Sodom, that I say, none seemlier maidens; They are rank, they are ripe, and ready to man;

Together with those seemly the solace is better.

I shall bequeath you those two that taut are and quaint, And lie with them as you please, and let my guests alone.” Then the ribalds so rank roared such a noise That loudly hurled in his ears their harlot’s speech:

“Knowest thou not well

That thou dwellest here a men strange,

An outcoming, a churl?

We will kill off thy head!

Who joined thee be justice our jests to blame, That came a boy to this borough, though thou be man rich?” Thus they troubled and throng and thrust about his ears, And distressed him wondrously straight with strength in the press, But that the young men, so deep, grieved thereout, Tapped upon the wicket and won them till, And by the hands him caught and hurried him within, And shut the gates stone-hard with stalwart bars.

They blew a trumpet in-blend that banned people, That they blustered, as blind as Bayard was ever;

They lost of Lot’s lodging any leaning to find, But nightled there all the night for naught at the last.

Then each man tightly them, that had of tact failed, And each rolled to the rest that he reached most; But they were waked all wranged that there in dwelled longer, Of one the ugliest mishap that ever on earth suffered.

Redden of the dawn rose upon east,
When mark of the midnight might no more last.
Full early those angels this noble they roused, And quickly on God’s behalf bade him arise;

Fast the man armed fully feared at his heart; They commanded him quick to catch that he had,

“With thy wife and thy wise women and thy proud daughters, For we loathe thee, sir Lot, that thou thy life have.

Carry tidings of this city ere troubled thou worth, With all thy household upon haste, till thou a hill find;

Found fast on your feet; before your face looks, But be never so bold to blush you behind, And look ye stem no step, but stretch on fast; Till ye reach to a resting place, rest ye never.

For we shall lose this town and traitorously destroy, With all these wise ones so wicked wickedly devoid, And all the land with these leaders we lose at once:

Sodom shall full suddenly sink into ground, And the ground of Gomorrah gorge into hell, And every a coast of this country clatter upon heaps.” Then called Lot:

“Lord, what is best?

If I me feel on foot that I flee might,

How should I hide me from Him that has His hate kindled In the breath of His breath that burns all things?

To creep from my Creator and know not whether, Nor whether His fellowship me follows before other behind.” The man said:
“No fellowship our Father has thee showed, But highly heaved thy health from those that are troubled.

Now choose thee a dwelling that thee ward might, And He shall save it for thy sake that has us sent hither, For thou art oddly thine own out of this filth, And also Abraham thy uncle it at Himself asked.”

“Lord, loved He worth,” quoth Lot, “upon earth!
Then is a city nearby
That Segor it called, here outer on a round hill it hovers alone.
I would, if His will were, to that haven escape.”

“Then fare forth,” quoth that man, “and find never, With those same that thou wilt that throng thee after, And aye going on your way, without backward turn, For all this land shall be lost long ere the sun rise.” The wise ones awakened his wife and his proud daughters, And other two merry men those maidens should wed; And they took it as jest and tended it little; Yet fast laughed them Lot, they lay full still.

The angels hastened these others and quickly them threatened, And enforced all four forth at the gates:

Those were Lot and his life, his lovely daughter, There sought no more to saving of cities noble five.

These angels had them by hand out at the gates, Preaching them the peril, and bade them pass fast:

“Lest ye be taken in the clutch of tyrants here, Look ye bow now by boat; bow fast hence!” And they cared not, and keenly flew.

Early, ere any heaven gleam, they to a hill come.
The great God in His wrath begins on high To waken winds so wild; He calls the winds, And they wrathfully upwaft and wrestled together, From four parts of the fold flying loud.

Clouds clustered between cast up towers, That the thick thunder thrusts and whirled them oft.

The rain rained down, redland thick
Of fell flanks of fire and flakes of sulphur, All in smoldering smoke smacking full ill,

Swept about Sodom and its sides all,
Gored to Gomorrah, those cities all fair, Ablated with the rain, roasted and burned, And fiercely flayed that folk that in those fees dwelled.

For when that hell heard the hounds of heaven, He was wondrously glad, unfolded alive; The great barriers of the abyss he burst up at once, That all the region tore off in rifts full great, And clove all in little clouts the cliffs anywhere, As leaf leaves of the beech that leaps in twain.

The breath of the brimstone thereby it blinded were, All the cities and their sides sunk to hell.

Riddles were the great routs of ranks within, When they were aware of the wreck that no wise escaped; Such a summerly storm of bellowing there rose, Whereof clattered the clouds, that Christ might have wrath.

The man heard that sound to Segor that went, And the wenches him with that by the way followed;

Wondrous fared was their flesh that flowed ever alike, Turning aye a high trot, That turned never durst.

Lot and the lily-white, his lively two daughters, Aye followed here face, before their both eyes; But the baleful maid, that never bode kept, Blushed behind her back that bale for to hearken.

It was lusty Lot’s wife that over her life shoulder Once she blushed to the borough, but bade her no longer, That she was stamped a stiff stone, a stalwart image, Just as salt as any sea, and so she yet stands.

They slipped by and saw her not that were her companions, Till they in Segor were set, and blessed our Lord; With light loves uplifted they loved Him swiftly, That so His servants would see and save of such woe.

All was dammed and done and drowned by then; The leaders of that little town were driven out for dread Into that miserable mere, marred alive,

That naught saved was but Segor, that sat on a low.

The three leaders therein, Lot and his daughters, For his mate was missed, that on the mount lengthened In a stony statue that salt savor has,

For two faults that the folk was found in mistrust:

One, she served at the supper salt before the Lord, And then, she blushed behind, that she forbid was; For on she stands a stone, and salt for that other, And all lusts on her like that are on land beasts.

Abraham full early was up on the morn,
That all night much nigh had no man in his heart, All in longing for Lot lying in a watch;

There he left had our Lord he is on high dwell; He sent toward Sodom the sight of his eyes, That ever had been an earth of earth the sweetest, As apparent to paradise, that planted the Lord; Now is it plunged in a pit like of pitch filled.

Such a roaring of a region rose from the black, Ashes up in the air and vials there flew, As a furnace full of flame that upon fire boils, When bright burning brands are beaten thereunder.

This was a vengeance violent that voided these places, That founded had so fair a folk and the field sunken.

There the five cities were set, now is a sea called, That aye is dreary and dim and dead in its kind,

Blue, blubbering, and black, unblithe to near, As a stinking stench that spread sin, That ever of sin and of stench smart is to feel.

Therefore the dark Dead Sea it is doomed evermore, For it doth of death inures there yet; For it is broad and bottomless, and bitter as the gall, And naught may length in that lake that any life bears, And all the coasts of kind it scorches each one.

For lay thereon a lump of lead,
And it on loft floats, and fold thereon a light feather, And it to fountain sinks; And there water may wander to wet any earth Shall never green there grow, grass nor wood neither.

If any scoundrel to be shamed were showed therein, Though he abode in that bottom brotherly a month,

He must aye live in that loss in loosing evermore, And never die to days of end.

And as it is cursed of kind and it costs as well, The clay that clings thereby are courses strong, As alum and alcaran, that anger are both, Sulfur sour and sundew, and other such many; And there waltzes of that water in waxlike great The spinning asphalt that spices sell; And such is all the soil by that sea halves, That fell frets the flesh and festers bones.

And there are trees by that tarn of traitors, And they burgeon and bear blooms full fair, And the fairest fruit that may on field grow, As orange and other fruit and pomegranate, Also red and so ripe and richly hued
As any doom might device of dainties out; But when it is bruised or broken, or bitten in twain, No world's good it within, but windowing ashes.

All these are teachings and tokens to trust upon yet, And witness of that wicked work, and the wreck thereafter That our Father forbade for filth of those lands.
Then each wise one may well wit that He the proud loves; And if He loves clean folk that is our Lord’s rich, And to be known in His court thou covet then, To see that seemly in seat and His sweet face,

Clearer counsel, counsel can I none, but that thou clean be worthy.

For Clopyngnel in the compass of his clean Rose, There He expounds a speech to him that speed would Of a lady to be loved: “Look to her son
Of which bearing that she be, and which she best loves, And be right such in each a borough of body and of deeds, And follow feet of that folk that thou friend holdest; And if thou workest on this wise, though he were wicked, Her shall like that folk that likeness her till.” If thou wilt deal dutifully with the Lord then, And loyally love thy Lord and His dear worth, Then conform thee to Christ, and the clean maker, That ever is policed as plain as the pearl itself.

For, look, from first that He light within the loyal maiden, By how comely a cast He was close there, When virginity was no virtue, nor violence made, But much cleaner was her body, God kindled therein.

And after when He born was in Bethlehem the rich, In which purity they parted;

Though they were poor,
Was never so blissful a bower as was a stall then, Nor no robe house so fair as a shepherd’s there,

Nor none so glad under God as she that groaned should.

For there was sickness all sound that sorest is held, And there was rose relief where rot has been ever, And there was solace and song where sorrows aye cried; For angels with instruments of organs and pipes, And royal ringing rotes and the reckoning fiddle, And all gentle that honestly might a heart gladden, About my lady was lent when she delivered were.

Then was her blithe Child born so clean
That both the ox and the ass heard Him at once; They knew Him by His cleanliness for King of nature, For none so clean of such a close came never ere then.

And if cleanly He then came,
Full courteous thereafter,
That all that longed to lower full loudly He hated, By nobility of His nature

He would never touch aught
That was ungodly or ordure was within.

Yet come loudly to that Leader, as lepers many, Some leprous, some lame, and lingering blind,

Poisoned, and palsied, and pined in fires, Dry people and dropsical, and dead at the last, All called on that Court and claimed His grace.

He healed them with gentle speech of that they asked after, For whatsoever He touched also healed turned to health,

Well cleaner than any craft could devise.
So clean was His handling each ordure it shone, And the groping so good of God and Man both, That for fetlocks of His fingers found He never Nail to cut nor to carve with knife nor with edge; Therefore broke He the bread blades without, For it fared freer in feet in His fair hand,

Displayed more privately when He it part should, Than all the tools of Toulouse might tight it to carve.

Thus is He curious and clean that thou His court ask:
How should thou come to His sight but if thou clean were?

Now are we sore and sinful and soot each one; How should we see, then may we say, That Sir upon throne?

Yes, that Master is merciful,
Though thou be man fenny, and all tattered in mire While thou on mold livest;

Thou may shine through shrift,
Though thou have shame served, and pure thee with penance Till thou a pearl worth.

Pearl praised is price where peer is showed, Though him not dearest be deemed to deal for pennies.

What may the cause be called but for her clean hues, That wins worship above all white stones?

For she shines so bright that is of shape round, Without fault or filth if she fine were, And wax ever in the world in wearing so old, Yet the pearl pales not while she in pieces lasts; And if it chance unchristened she worth, That she blinds of blue in bower where she lies, Not washen her with worship in wine as she asks, She by kind shall become clearer than are.

So if folk be defiled by unfree chance,
That he be sulked in soul, seek to shrift, And he may police himself at the priest, By penance taken,
Well brighter than the beryl or broidery pearls.

But beware well, if thou be washed with water of shrift, And policed as plainly as parchment shaven,

Sulk no more than in sin thy soul thereafter, For then thou displeases Lord with deeds full sore, And entices Him to take more vengeance than ever, And well better to hate than had thou no washing.

For when a soul is settled and sacred to Lord, He wholly holds it His and have it He would; Then afterward lasts it likes, He loses it ill, As it were riven with unrighteousness and robbed with laws.

Beware then for the wreck: His wrath is aggrieved For that that once was His shall after be unclean,

Though it be but a basin, a bowl or a scale, A dish or a platter that Lord once served.

To defile it ever upon earth fast He forbids, So is He ashamed of damage that skillful is ever.

And that was barred in Babylon in Belshazzar’s time, How harm there him caught and hastily soon, For he the vessels defiled that veiled in the temple In service of the Sovereign sometime before.

If ye would tightly me a tome tell it I would, How charged was his chance that them cherish would not Than his father forsook that fetched them with strength, And robbed the religion of relics all.

Daniel in his dialogues devised sometime, As yet is proved expressly in his prophecies, How the gentility of Jewry and Jerusalem the rich Was distressed with distress, and drawn to the earth.

For that folk in their faith was found untrue, That had vowed the high God to hold of Him ever, And He them hallowed for His and help at their need In much mischiefs many, that marvel is to hear.

And they forsook their faith and followed other gods, And that wakened His wrath and wrestled it so high That He silenced the faithful in the false law To forfeit the false in the faith true.

It was seen in that time that Zedekiah reigned in Judah, That justified the Jewish kings.

He sat on Solomon's throne in solemn wise, But of loyalty he was late to his Lord hand:

He used abominations of idolatry,
And set light by the law that he was liege till.
Therefore our Father upon earth a woman him waked:
Nebuchadnezzar annoyed him greatly.

He pursued into Palestine with proud men many, And there he wasted with war the dwellings of villages;

He harried up all Israel and took of
The best,
And the gentlest of Judah in Jerusalem besieged, Enclosed all the walls with wise ones full strong, At each a door a dusty duke, and put them within; For the boroughs so big battailed aloft, And stuffed within with stout men to stall them thereout.

Then was the siege set the city about,
Quick skirmish dealt, much harm lasted;
At each bridge a battering ram on bastiles wise That seven times each day assailed the gates;

True towns in towers twelve lived within, In big outburst of border craft on the walls; They fought and they defended off, and fled together

Till two years overturned, yet took they it never.

At the last, upon long, those leaders within, Fast failed them the food, enfeebled many; The hot hunger within hurt them sore
Than any fall of that doubt that dwelled thereabout.

Then were those troops restless in those rich dwellings; From that meat was missed, meagre they waxed, And they stuck so straight that they not stray might a foot From that fortress to foray no goods.

Then the king of the city a counsel him takes With the best of his barns, a plot to make;

They steal out on a silent night ere any voice rose, And hard hurled through host ere enemies it wist.

But ere they slipped or might the watch without High belt was the outcry, the skewers under.

Loud alarm upon the land lulled was then; Richman, robbed of their rest, ran to their weaves,

Hard hats they took and on horse leaps;
Clear clarion crack cried aloft.

By that was all on a heap hurled swiftly, Falling that other float, and found them alike,

Overtook them as tide, tilted them off saddles, Till each prince had his peers put to the ground.

And there was the king cast with Chaldean princes, And all his gentle forsaken on Jericho plains, And presented were as prisoners to the prince richest, Nebuchadnezzar, noble in his chair; And he the finest man that he his foe had, And spoke spitefully to them, and spoilt thereafter.

The king’s sons in his sight he slew each one, And put out his own eyes fiercely both, And bade the men to be brought to Babylon the rich, And there in dungeon be done to dread their words.

Now see, so the Sovereign set has His wreck:
Was it not for Nebuchadnezzar nor his noble nephew That others deprived was of pride with pains strong, But for his bearing so bad against his blithe Lord; For had the Father been his friend, that him before kept, Nor never trespassed to Him in teaching of misbelief, To cold were all Chalde and cities of India, yet take Turkey them with, Their vengeance had been little.

Yet would never Nebuchadnezzar this same note leave, Ere he had tired this town and turned it to ground.

He joined unto Jerusalem a gentle duke then, His name was Nabuzardan, to annoy the Jews;

He was master of his men and mighty himself, The chief of his chivalry his cheeks to make;

He broke the barriers as alive, and the borough afterward, And enters in full earnest, in ire of his heart.

What! the mastery was mean: the men were away, The best beset with the men that the borough needed, And those that endured were so bitten with the bale hunger That one wife had been worth the best fodder.

Nabuzardan knew not therefore would not spare, But bade all to the brand under bare edge;

They slew of sweetest seemly women,
Bathed barns in blood and their brain spilled;

Priests and prelates they pressed to death, Wives and wenches their wombs torn, That their bowels burst about the ditches, And all was carefully killed that they catch might.

And all whipped, unswallowed of the sword keen, They were culled and cast on capes all bare,

Fastened fetters to their feet under full wombs, And horribly brought to Babylon there bale to suffer, To sit in servitude and sadness, that sometime were gentle.

Now are changed to churls and charged with works, Both to carry at the cart and the cow milk, That sometime sat in their hall sires and women.

And yet Nabuzardan will never stint
Ere he to the temple tore with his troops all; Beats on the barriers, breaks up the gates,

Slew all at a slip that served therein,
Pulled priests by the poll and plate of their heads, Dug down clerks, and all the maidens of the monastery mightily howling With the swoosh of the sword that swallowed them all.

Then ran they to the relics as robbers wild, And pillaged all the apparels that pertained to the church, The pure pillars of brass portrayed in gold, And the chief chandelier charged with the light, That bore the lamp upon loft that gleamed evermore Before the Sancta Sanctorum, there weird was often.

They cast away that candlestick,
And the crown also that the altar had upon, Of noble gold rich, The greenery and the goblets garnished of silver, The bases of the bright posts and basins so sheer,

Dear dishes of gold and doubloons fair,
The vials and the vestments of virtuous stones.

Now hath Nabuzardan named all these noble things, And pillaged that precious place and packed those goods; The gold of the treasury in so great number, With all the ornaments of that house,

He hampered together;
All he spoiled spitefully in a sped while That Solomon so many a sad year sought to make.

With all the cunning that he could cleanly to work, Devised he the vessels, the vestures clean; With slight of his sciences,
His Sovereign to love,
The house and the ornaments he knitted together.

Now hath Nabuzardan numbered it all together, And then beat down the town and burned it in ashes.

Then with legions of lords over lands he rides, Harried of Israel the horn about; With charged chariots the chieftain he found, Bickers the cattle to the king that he cast had;

Presented him the prisoners in prey that they taken, Many a worthy wise one while their world lasts,

Many seemly sire sons, and very rich maidens, The proudest of the province, and prophets children, As Ananias and Azarias and also Misael,
And dear Daniel also, that was divine noble, With many a mighty mother-child more than enough.

And Nabugodonosor makes much joy,
Now he the king has conquest and the city won, And killed all the eldest and dearest in arms, And the leaders of their law laid to the ground, And the price of the prophecy prisoners made.

But the joy of the jewelry so gentle and rich, When it was shown him so bright, sharp was his wonder; Of such vessels availed, that veiled so huge, Never yet was Nabugodonosor ere then.

He seized them with solemnity,
The Sovereign he praised that was noble over all, Israel’s Lord: Such God, such men, such gay vessels,

Came never out of country to Chaldean realms.

He trussed them in his treasury in a tried place, Duly, with reverence, as he rightly had; And there he wrought as the wise, as ye may wit hereafter, For had he let of them loose, him might have happened worse.

That rich in great royalty reigned his life, As conqueror of each coast he Caesar was called,

Emperor of all the earth and also the sultan, And as the god of the ground was graved his name.

And all through Daniel’s wisdom, from he devised had That all goods come of God, and gave it to him by samples, That he fully clearly built his craft by the law, And often it made his mind, his masterful works.

But all draws to death with dole upon end:
By a noble never so high, he yields to the ground.
And so Nabugodonosor, as he needs must,
For all his empire so high in earth is he graven.

But then the bold Belshazzar, that was his child eldest, He was stalled in his stud, and stabled the reign In the borough of Babylon, the biggest he trusted, That neither in heaven nor on earth had no peer; For he began in all the glory that him the man left, Nabugodonosor, that was his noble father.

So keen a king in Chaldea came never ere then; But honored he not Him that in heaven dwells.

But false phantasms of fiends, formed with hands, With tool out of hard tree, And held on uplift, and of stocks and stones, He stout gods calls, When they are gilded all with gold and girt with silver; And there he kneels and calls and cries after help; And they give him reward as he bids them, And if they grudge him his grace, to grieve his heart, He clutches to a great club and knocks them to pieces.

Thus in pride and arrogance his empire he holds, In lust and in lechery and loathsome works, And had a wife to wield, a worthy queen, and many a lover, Never the later, that ladies were called.

In the cleanness of his concubines and curious garments, In noting of new meats and of nice gettings, All was the mind of that man on misshapen things, Till the Lord of the lift listed it abate.

Then this bold Belshazzar bethinks him once To vouch for the boasting of his vain glory;

It is not enough to the nice and naughty think use But if all the world wit his wicked deeds.

Belshazzar through Babylon his ban commanded cry, And through country of Chaldea his calling can spring, That all the great upon earth should gather them together And assemble at a set day at the sultan’s feast.

Such a gathering to make the man was advised, That each a city king should come thither, Each duke with his due, and other dear lords, Should come to his court to kiss him for liege, And to give him reverence, and his revel hear, To look on his women and ladies him call.

To raise him in his royalty rich men sought, Many a baron full bold, to Babylon the noble.

There bowed towards Babylon men so many, Kings, Caesars full keen, to the court went,

Many ludicrous lords thereof ladies brought, That to number the number too nigh were.

For the boroughs so broad and so big all over, Stalled in the fairest stud the stars underneath,

Proudly on a flat plain, place all the fairest, Surrounded on each side with seven great waters, With a wondrous wrought wall wrinkled full high, With quaint corbels above, carved full clean,

Trough towers between, twenty spear length, And thicker thrown about with over-ward palisade.

The place that played the pursuivant within Was long and full large and ever alike square, And each side upon soil held seven miles, And the sultan’s seat set in the middle.

That was a palace of pride surpassing all others, Both of work and of wonder, and walled all about; High houses within,
The hall thereto mid,
So broad built in a bay that blankets might run.

When the time of the tide was touched of the feast, Dear drew thither, and upon dais met, And Belshazzar upon bench was busked to sit, Step-staired stones of his stout throne.

Then was all the hall floor hiled with knights, And barons at the sideboards bound everywhere, For none was dressed upon dais but the dear seven, And his clear concubines in clothes full bright.

When all men were there set then service begins, Trumpets sounded strokes in hall,

Everywhere by the walls wrestled cracks, And broad banners thereby blossoming of gold,

Men bearing the blazons upon broad shields That were of silveren sight, and served therewith,

Lifted logs thereover and on loft carved, Painted out of paper and pointed of gold,

Brooch baboons above, beasts beneath,
Fools in folly fluttering between, and all in azure And indigo enameled rich; And all on blankets back bear it on hand.

And aye the nakeryn noise, notes of pipes, Timbres and tabors, tulket among,

Cymbals and sonnets swear the noise,
And bugles’ bush battered so thick.

So was served many times the hall all about, With solace at the several course, before the self lord,

There the leader and all his love lingered at the table:

So fast they toasted to him wine
It warmed his heart and breathed up into his brain, And blemished his mind, and all awakened his wit, And almost he fooled; For he watches on wide, his wenches he beholds, And his bold barons about by the walls.

Then a dotage full deep drove to his heart, And a captive counsel he cast by himself;

Mainly his marshal the master upon calls, And commands him quickly coffers to loose, and fetch forth the vessels
That his father brought, Nabugodonosor, noble in his strength, Conquered with his knights and of kirk reft In Judea, in Jerusalem, in gentle wise:
“Bring them now to my board, of beverage them fill, Let these ladies of them lap, I love them in heart; That shall I courteously show, and they shall soon know There is no bounty in man like Balshazzar’s laws.” Then touched to the treasure this tale was soon, And he with keys unlooses chests full many;

Many burden full bright was brought into hall, And covered many a cupboard with clothes full neat.

The jewels out of Jerusalem with gems full bright By the side of the hall were seemly arrayed; The noble altar of brass was set in place, The gay crown of gold girt on loft.

That had been blessed before with bishops’ hands, And with beasts’ blood busily anointed, In the solemn sacrifice that good savor had Before the Lord of the lift in loving Himself, Now is set, for to serve Satan the black, Before the bold Belshazzar with boast and with pride;

Hung upon this altar was noble vessel
That with so curious a craft carved was wily.

Solomon sat him seven years and a time more, With all the science that him sent the sovereign Lord, For to compass and cast to have them clean wrought.

For there were basins full bright of burnt gold clear, Enameled with azure, and ewers of soot,

Covered cups full clean, as castles arrayed, Enbanned under battlement with castle quaint, And filled out of figures of marvelous shapes.

The copperounes of the candles that on the cup rises Were finely formed out in phials long;

Pinacles put there apart that proffered between, And all bulged above with branches and leaves,

Pies and parrots portrayed within,
As they proudly had picked of pomegranates; For all the blooms of the bushes were blinking pearls, And all the fruit in the forms of flaming gems, And sapphires, and sardines, and seemly topaz, Alabanders, and amaranths, and amazed stones,

Cassidoines, and chrysolites, and clear rubies, Penitotes, and pinkardines, aye pearls between; So trailed and trifled across were all,
By each beaking the bowl, the brides all about; The goblets of gold graven about, And phials fretted with flowers and fleece of gold; Upon that altar was all alike dressed.
The candlestick by a cost was carried thither soon, Upon the pillars aspiked, that praised it many, Upon its bases of brass that bore up the works, The buds bright there above, braiding of gold,

Branches burning thereon, and birds there sat Of many kinds, of many color hues,

As they with wing upon wind had waged their feathers.

Among the leaves of the lamps were grayed, And other lovely lights that limed full fair, As many mortars of wax marked without

With many a burly beast all of burnt gold.

It was not wont in that dwelling to waste no surges, But in temple of the truth truly to stand Before the Sancta Sanctorum, sure-fast Lord Expounded His speech spiritually to special prophets.

Believe well that the Lord that the lift seems Displeased much at that play in that plait strong, That His jewels so gentle with jewels were fouled, That precious in His presence were proved awhile.

Soberly in His sacrifice some were anointed, Through some of Himself that sits so high; Now a boaster on bench bibes thereof
Till he be drunken as the devil,
And dots there he sits.

So the Worcher of this world woefully thereof That in the point of their play He provides a mind; But ere harm them He would in haste of His ire, He warned them a warning that wonder them thought.

Now is all this gear gotten gluttony to serve, Stood in a rich stall and stared full bright;

Belshazzar in a braid: “Bade us thereof!
Be wine in this dwelling! Wassail!” he cries.

Swift swains fully swiftly sweep thither, Keep cups in hand kings to serve; In bright bowls full full burn those others, And each man for his master matches alone.

There was ringing, on right, of rich metals, When ranks in that rich rock run it to catch;

Clattering of quacks that casted those birds As sonnet out of sotar’s song also merry.

Then the dullard on dais drank that he might; And then are dressed dukes and princes,

Concubines and knights, by cause of that mirth; As each had him include he hails of the cup.

So long liked these lords these liquors sweet, And gloried on their false gods, and their grace calls, That were of stocks and stones that never stirred might.
And for that frothing filth, the Father of heaven Has sent into this hall these sights unknown, The fist with the fingers that flayed thy heart, That rasped ruthlessly the face with the rapping.

These are the words here written, without work more, By each figure, as I find, as our Father likes:

“Mane, Techal, Phares”: marked in three, That threatens thee of thy unthrift upon three wise.

Now expound this speech speedily I think:
Mane means as much as
“Many a God has counted thy kingdom by a clean number, And fulfilled it in faith to the first end.” To teach thee of Techal, that term thus means:
“Thy vile reign is wasted in weights to hang, And is found full few of its faith-deeds.” And Phares follows for those faults, to fright the truth; In Phares I find forsooth these fell sayings:

“Departed is thy principality, deprived thou worpest, Thy reign rafts is the fro, and the Persians; The Medes shall be masters here, and thou of men shown.” The king commanded anon to clothe that wise In frocks of fine cloth, as forward demanded; Then soon was Daniel dubbed in full dear purple, And a collar of clear gold cast about his swine.

Then was decreed a decree by the duke himself:
Bold Belshazzar bade that him bow should, The commons all of Chaldea that to the king belonged, As to the prince privy proved the third, Highest of all others, save only two, To be partner Belshazzar in borough and in field.

This was cried and known in court as fast, And all the folk thereof fain that followed him till.

But howsoever Daniel was dressed, that day overcame; Night needed right now with night’s full many, For dazed never another day,
That dark after, ere dealt were that same doom That Daniel devised.

The solace of the solemnity in that hall lasted Of that wandering feast, till failed the sun; Then flickered the blue of the bright skies, Darkness the merry weather, and the mist drives Through lust of the lift, by the lamplight.

Each noble to his home hies full fast,
Sat at their supper and sang thereafter; Then founded each a fellowship fire at fore nights.

Belshazzar to his bed with bliss was carried; Rests the rest as him liked: he rose never thereafter.

For his foes in the field in flocks full great, That long had waited that leader his lands to destroy, Now are they suddenly assembled at the self time.
Of them knew no wise that in that dwelling dwelled.
It was the dear Darius, the duke of these Medes, The proud prince of Persia, and Porus of India, With many a legion full large, with leaders of arms, That now has spied a space to spoil Chaldea.

They thronged thither in the pestilence on drawn heaps, Escaped over the sky waters and scoured the walls,

Lift ladders full long and upon loft dwelled, Stole stealthily the town ere any sound rose.

Within an hour of the night an entry they had, Yet afeared they no man.

First they passed, and to the palace principal they approached full still, Then ran they in on a rush on troops full great;

Blasts out of bright brass breasts so high, Outcry scarred on the shield, that defeated many.

Sages sleeping were slain ere they might slip; Each house yare was within a hand’s while.

Belshazzar in his bed was beaten to death, That both his blood and his brain blended on the clothes; The king in his curtain was cast by the heels, Furied out by the feet and foully despised.

That was so filthy that day and drank of the vessel Now is a dog also dear that in a ditch lies.

For the master of these Medes on the morn rises, Dear Darius that day devised upon throne, That city seizes full soundly, and sallying makes With all the barons thereabout, that bowed him after.

And thus was that land lost for the lord’s sin, And the filth of the man that defiled had The ornaments of God’s house that holy were made.
He was cursed for his uncleanness, and caught therein,

Done down of his dignity for deeds unfair, And of these world’s worship wrest out forever, And yet of likings on loft hindered, I trow:
To look on our lovely Lord late bides.

Thus upon three wise I have you through showed That uncleanness cleaves in heart dear Of that winning Lord that dwells in heaven, Entices Him to be taken, told up His wrath; And cleanliness is His comfort, and courtesy He loves, and those that seem are and sweet shine His face.

That we go gay in our gear that grace He us sends, That we may serve in His sight, where solace never blinks.

Amen.

Pearl - Modern English Translation

Pearl, delight to princes and pure in gold enclosed, From eastern lands I confidently proclaim,

Never have I known your precious equal,

So round, so rare in every display,

So small, so smooth beside the rest.

Wherever I beheld garlands of gems,

I set your radiance alone, beyond compare; Alas! I lost you in one secluded plot, Where in grass to the ground you slipped from me; Now I waste away, pierced through with love’s danger, For that secret pearl without a spot.

Since in that place you slipped from me, How often have I returned, wishing for that joy Which once lived here, and healed my wrongs, And lifted my fortune and all my happiness.

Yet it only sharpens my heart’s pain,

And swells my breast in ache and woe.

And yet, no song ever seemed so sweet

As that silent moment’s stealthy arrival, For in truth still shapes float to me, To think of her beauty now clad in clay.

O earth, you mar a joyous gathering—

My secret pearl without a spot.

That place where spices must needs grow

Now all such riches to rot are given;

Blossoms black and blue and red

Shone brightly there against the sun.

Flower and fruit no longer feed

Where she fell down in the dim mould.

For every blade springs from dead seed,

No wheat would grow else in all the world; Of good, each good is thus begun:

No seemly seed could ever fail
But must spring anew, in root and run,
From that precious pearl without a spot.

To that spot which now my tale recounts

I entered in that flowery garden,

In August, in the high season

When corn is cut with knives keen.

On the mound where the pearl rolled away, Shadowed with herbs so clear and shining—

Cloves, ginger, marjoram bright,
And peonies powdered everywhere between— If fair it was to see it shine, A sweeter fragrance yet from it flowed;
There dwells, I know, and hold as true,
My precious pearl, all free from flaw.

Before that spot, I folded my hands—

Oh, cold care took hold of me!

A deadly sorrow filled my heart,

Though reason urged my soul to peace.

I lamented my pearl, lost from my side,

With trembling arguments that fiercely raged, Though Christ Himself might comfort teach, My wounded will still worked me woe.

I fell upon that flowery patch,

Such perfume shot into my mind,

I slid into a slumber deep

Upon that precious pearl without a spot.

Then from that place my soul took flight, My body lay upon the slope in dream, My spirit gone in God’s good grace,
Into adventure where marvels moved;
I knew not in this world where this might be, But I felt myself cast where cliffs split asunder;

Towards a forest I lifted my face,
Where shining rocks could scarce be described; Their radiance no mortal might believe— The gleaming glory glancing from them;
No weavers ever wrought a fabric
Of half so rare an adornment.

Adorned were all those hillside slopes

With crystal cliffs so bright and clear, About them woods in splendour grew; The trunks blue as indigo dye,

The leaves like burnished silver shone,

Trembling thickly on every branch,

And as the sunlight struck the trees,

They shimmered, dazzling to behold.

The gravel on the ground was precious pearls, The sunlight here seemed dim and pale

Compared to all that rich array.

The richness of those deep downlands
Made me forget all trace of grief,
Fresh was the fragrance of those fruits, Fair food that fostered every wish;

Birds flew there in forest crowds,

Fluttering colours, both great and small— Yet no harp or lute or stringed art Could capture half such joyous sound,

For when those birds beat their wings

They sang in sweetest harmony;

So gracious and subtle their melody

No mortal could hope to match

The rapture found in that adornment.

All was thus arrayed in costly wise;

The fate that guided me onwards

Was too wondrous to describe,

No living tongue might recount its worth.

I walked forth through blissful peace,

No hill or rise impeded me,

The farther I ventured in that wood,

The fairer meadows, plants, and fruits I found, And rows and streams and splendid rivers—

Like filigree, their banks burned bright.
I came to a water, beside which
The Lord!—its beauty was beyond compare.

By lovely banks of beryl bright
Swept the sweet and sounding stream,
And in its floor, steep stones stood,
Shining through the glass, aglow with light, Like stars streaming brightly,

Staring in the sky on winter’s night.

For every pebble in the pool

Was emerald or sapphire or other precious kind; And the whole place shone with light So lovely was its embellishment.

The beauty of that splendid land—

Of woods, of water, of shining plains—

Filled me with joy, abated my grief,

Destroyed my distress, dissolved all pain.

Downstream, along the holy river,

I was filled with bliss, my mind at peace; The further I followed that flowing valley, The more intense became my joy,

As fortune fares where her will calls—

Whether she sends delight or sadness—

The one whose will she guides

Is ever eager for more and more.

More joy was in that world than I
Could find fitting words to express;
For the earthly heart could scarce suffice To gauge even a tenth of such happiness.

Therefore I thought this must be Paradise, There, on that broad and splendid shore;

I believed the water must be a barrier
To mark the boundary of earthly happiness; Beyond that stream, by slope or glen,

I believed a paradise of marvels lay;
But the water was deep—I dared not wade, Though ever I longed for more and more.

Ever still my longing grew,

Desiring to see across the stream,

For if this side was fair,

How much lovelier must be the farther land!

About me I stood and stared,

Trying to find a ford, I searched intently, But more paths there seemed, The more I walked along the shore.

Yet I thought I would never cease

For sorrow, where such joy might be.

Then a new vision came upon me,

That moved my mind ever more and more.

A greater wonder struck my mind:

I saw beyond that lovely mere

A crystal cliff, magnificently bright,

Sending forth rays of royal light;

At its foot there sat a child,

A maiden full of dignity and grace,

Her robe shining blinding white—

(I knew her well, I had seen her before)— Her body glowed as polished gold, So bright she shone beneath the slope;

The longer I gazed upon her there,

The more I recognized her, more and more.

The more I studied her fair face,

Her perfect form, as I had found,

Such glad glory shone on me then

As had never been mine before;

To call her out I would be driven,

But awe upon my heart fell hard—

To see her in such a wondrous place,

Such a chill could make the heart go numb.

Then she lifted up her lovely face,

Her countenance as white as ivory,

A pang so sharp then pierced my heart,

And ever the longer, the more and more.

More than I wished, my fear arose;

I stood in silence, dared not call,

With open eyes and silent mouth,

I stood as still as a well-trained hawk in hall.

I thought this must be a spirit,

I was afraid of what would come to pass, Lest she vanish before I might Have chance to speak and greet her there.

That gracious girl, without a fault,

So smooth, so small, so beautifully shaped, Rise up she did, her robes all royal— A precious piece set with pearls.

Her pearls were set of highest price,

None but by grace might see their kind;

That one fresh as the fleur-de-lys

Bent down along the sloping shore.

All radiant white was her face and vision, Bound at her sides and carefully arrayed With the merriest pearls at my discretion, That ever I saw yet with my own eyes.

With wide lace, as I have seen and know, Trimmed doubly with pearls and gem, Her kirtle of silken shimmering hue,
With lustrous pearls set all around.

A crown was set still on the girl,

Of flawless pearls and none other stone, High pinnacled with shining white pearls, With painted petals perfect on every side, No other adornment had she for her head— Her shimmering hair encompassed her all around.

Her expression grave, for duke or earl,

Her complexion fairer than whalebone;

Her golden hair blazed on her shoulders, Unbound, free and bright; Her deep colour wanted for none—

Of precious pearls the border was set.

A wonderful pearl, pure and without blemish, Rested in the center of her breast.

No man from here to Greece

Was so glad as I

When I saw my pearl on the riverbank.

She offered me a graceful greeting,

Bent low in noble dignity,

Lifted her crown of great treasure,

And hailed me with a gentle note.

How glad I was to have been born

To answer that sweet one so richly dressed!

“O pearl,” I said, “in pearls adorned,
Are you my pearl for whom I have mourned, Lamented alone, by night and day?

Long have I yearned for your presence hidden Since to the grass you slipped from me;

Pensive and impoverished, I am in pain—

And you now live in a life of delight

In Paradise land, where strife is unknown.

What fate has brought you here,

And placed me in this dole and danger?

Since we were parted and torn asunder,

I have been a joyless jeweller.” That jewel then, in precious array,

Looked up with eyes so grey,

Set upon her crown of orient pearls,

And gently then she began to say:

“Sir, you have misunderstood your tale,

To say your pearl is lost for ever—

It is kept, as befits so fine a thing,

Here in this garden, gracious and gay,

Within to linger ever in play.

No grief nor mourning enters here—

A worthy place indeed this is for you,

If you were a noble jeweller.

“But if a jeweller casts away

His joy for a gem once dear,

It seems you hold a childish view,

And busy yourself with briefest reason,

For what you lost was but a rose—

That flowered and faded as nature decreed; Now through nature and the casket’s closure, A pearl of price is made in proof;

And you have called fate a thief

Who made you bright out of nothing;

You blame your own remedy as chief—

No worthy jeweller indeed.” A jewel now was this guest to me,

And her words as precious as gems.

“I swear,” I said, “my blissful best,

Your gentle speech has lessened my distress.

Let me make my request:

I thought my pearl was gone from daylight; Now I have found you, let me rejoice, And dwell with you in this shining wood, And love my lord and all his laws— Who brought me near such bliss as this.

Were I by you beyond these waves,

I would be a joyful jeweller!”

“Jeweller,” she said, “why jest in such fashion?

You have spoken three words together,

All unadvised, all mistaken—

You understand not the meaning of a single one.

You say you believe I dwell here

Because you may see me with your eyes;

Next, you say in this country

You yourself shall stay with me just here; The third, to cross this water free— No happy jeweller may ask such craft.”

"I judge that jeweller little to praise
Who only loves that which he sees with his eyes, And much to blame and discourteous Is he who doubts our Lord’s true promise— Who truthfully promised to raise your life,

Though fate brought your flesh to die.

You disregard His words entirely

If you only love what you see plainly;

That is a mark of wild presumption,

Which all good men should strive to overcome:

To trust no tale save what reason proves Is a folly well lost by the wise.

So judge yourself, if now you can,

As man should hearken to God’s words.

You say you’ll dwell in this domain,

But you should first request leave,

Yet even that request may be denied;

You wish to cross this water

Though first you must be admitted to council— Your body, cold, must lie beneath the earth, For Paradise’s gate was forfeited long ago; Through dreary death, each man must pass

Ere the Lord may judge him across this stream.”

"Do you doom me then, my sweet,

To sorrow once more as before?

Now that I have found the one I lost—

Shall I soon lose you again, before I die?

Why should I both lose and then meet you, My precious pearl brings me much pain;

What use is treasure but to make tears flow When once again it must be lost?

So now I care not to depart,
Nor how far I may be sent from my land,
If I am parted from my pearl.
What comfort remains for men?"

"You judge only by grief and distress,"

She answered then, "why do you so?

For the noise of sorrow and little loss

Oft makes many men lose far more;

Instead, you ought to bless yourself—

Love always God in both joy and woe,

Anger earns you not a coin;

He who must suffer, be not so fierce.

Though you dance as fleet as any deer,

Brandishing and braving your boldest blow, When at last you can go no further,

You must await His decree.

God rules, always dictating,
And not a foot must you stray from His way; Your thoughts amount not to a mite

Though you may never smile for sorrow.

Put an end to your quarrelling and cease your strife, And seek His joy with speed and fervor; Your prayers may move His pity,

And His mercy may reveal its power;

His comfort may ease your longing,

Let your sorrows fade to lightness—

For to spoil or heal, to mourn or cheer, All lies in Him to decide and decree."

Then I replied to that dear maiden,

"Do not be angry with me nor my Lord

If rashly I speak, stumbling in words.

My heart is entirely wrapped in regret

As water bursting from a well.

I entrust myself to His mercy—

Rebuke me never for harsh words

Even though I misplace my devotion.

But grant me kindly your comfort,

Thinking pitifully on us two;

Of care you once made joy for me,

Who was the ground of all my bliss.

My bliss, my woe, you were both,

But much the greater was my moan

Since you were taken from every path.

I never knew where my pearl was gone;

Now I see you, now my pain is eased,

And since we parted, we were as one—

God forbid we now be wroth,

So rarely do we meet on earth.

Though courteously you speak,

I am but dust and will moulder in fault; But Christ’s mercy, Mary and John,

These are the ground of all my bliss.

In bliss now I see you shining bright,

And I, a man, am full of sorrow;

You take little notice there,

Though harm and hatred harry me.

But now I am here in your presence,

I would beseech you calmly,

Tell me truly, without quarrel,

What life you lead, both early and late.

For I am so glad at your fate—

To see you won to such worth and joy

Is the highest gate to all my happiness; It is the root of all my bliss."

She answers:

"Now may bliss be your fate,"

Replied that lovely one of light and form, "And welcome here, to walk and stay, For your words are dear to me.

Pride and arrogance are fiercely hated here:

My Lord loves not to chide,

For all who dwell near Him are meek;

When you appear before Him

Be truly humble, deep in meekness.

My Lord the Lamb, loves such cheer—

That is the ground of all our bliss.

A blessed life, you say I lead,

If you would know the truth of this,

You know when your pearl departed,

I was yet young and tender of age—

But my Lord the Lamb, by His goodness,

Took me to Himself in marriage,

Crowned me queen to dwell in bliss

For all the days that ever shall be,

All His inheritance seized to me;

His beloved I am, wholly His:

His presence and His power and honor

Are my root and ground of bliss."

"Blessed," said I, "may this be true,

Forgive me if I err in my speech;

Are you the Queen of Heaven’s blue

Whom all this world must honour so?

We believe in Mary, blessed in grace,

Who bore a son of virgin’s flower,

Who could remove the crown from her head Save one that might surpass her favour?

Now for the uniqueness of her nature,
We call her the phoenix of Araby,
Who flies unchallenged from her maker,
Like to the Queen of Courtesy."

The maiden bows and responds again:

"Courtesy’s queen," said that shining one, Kneeling towards the ground, face upfolded;

"Matchless mother, most joyful maid,
Blessed author of every grace!"

Then she rises up and speaks to me:

"Here many find riches and rewards,

But none are supplanted in this place.

That empress has all of heaven,

And earth and hell within her charge;

Of her heritage, none will she chase,

For she is Queen of Courtesy.

The court of the kingdom of the living God Has a property in its being:

All who enter are in title
Either king or queen,
Nor shall any ever be deprived,
Each rejoices in the happiness of others, And would, if it were possible,

See all their crowns increased,

But the Lady from whom Jesus came

Holds the empire above us all,

Nor does this displease any here,

For she is Queen of Courtesy.

As St. Paul says, in courtesy,

We are all members of Jesu Christ,

As head and arm and leg and nail,

Joined truly in His body;

Thus every Christian soul

Is a living limb of the lord of might—

And no hate nor wound

Is attached or tied between the limbs;

The head feels no pain

Because of an arm or finger;

Thus, with love and joy we dwell,

All kings and queens by courtesy."

“Courtesy and charity must be great among you,” I said, “but forgive my speech if it give offense…

You set yourself in heaven too high,

To claim the queen’s rank, you that were so young.

What further honors can be given

To those who lived long in sorrow,

And spent their lives in penance and pain, With bodily suffering to purchase bliss?

What higher title might such a one claim Than to be crowned king by courtesy?”

“Courtesy here is more generous in deed,” She answered me, “than you imagine.

I did not live for two years in your world, Could never have pleased God with prayer or act,

Never learned the Pater nor the Creed,

And yet I was made queen on the first day!

Believe me, by God’s might,

God does nothing wrong;

As Matthew reads in your Gospel-mass,

He showed the matter well by parable—

He likened Heaven’s empire

To a lord who owned a vineyard.” The Parable of the Workers:

“At the right time of year the lord rose early, To hire workers for his vines.

He found men and made agreement

For a penny a day, and sent them to work.

They labored, pruning and staking the vines.

At noon he found others in the market idle:

‘Why do you stand here idle?’ he asked.

They answered, ‘Since sunrise, no man has hired us.’ ‘Go now to my vineyard,’ the lord said.

‘I’ll pay you what is right.’
They went and worked. Again,
At afternoon and near to sunset,
He found others standing idle and hired them too.

When the day was done,

He called his steward:

‘Pay the workers their earnings,’

He said, ‘beginning with the last and up to the first, Each alike a penny.’ The first began to grumble,

‘We have borne the heat and burden of the day— Should those who worked only an hour

Receive as much as we?’
But the lord replied, ‘No wrong have I done you, Did you not agree for a penny?

Friend, take what is yours and go.

I wish to give the last as I give to you.

Am I not free with what is mine?

Is your eye evil because I am good?

Thus the last shall be first, the first last, For many are called, but few are chosen.’”

“Thus I have more joy and bliss as I am, Of queenship and life’s bloom, Than all the living in the world might win By demanding strict justice.

For I arrived in the vineyard at eventide, And yet was paid in full before those Who worked longer and harder,
Who may not receive their wage for another year.”

I replied, “Your tale seems unreasonable!
God’s right is clear, as David says—
‘You reward each according to his works.’ If some worked a long day And you come to payment before them,
Should not the greater labor receive the greater reward?”

"In God’s kingdom, more or less brings no peril,"

She said. "Here each is rewarded alike,

Whether little or much was their labor,

For the noble Lord is no miser,

He deals His gifts as freely as a river, His bounty never ends; No sin nor failing can bar you from bliss, For the grace of God is vast enough.

Now, you question whether I have wrongly received my penny.
But tell me, did you know any man so holy in prayer Who did not, at times, forfeit Heaven’s reward through fault?

Mercy and grace must guide all,
For God’s grace is enough.

Yet to the innocent grace is given indeed, As soon as they are baptized and die, Then summoned into the vineyard,
Even at the close of day.
And at the end, the Lord pays for their labor— Though they did not sin before departing this world.

Why should He not honor their labor?
He judges by mercy, not only by right.

Did not Adam, created for bliss,
Through the urging of Eve eat the apple
And so poisoned all humankind?
But there came a maiden who brought remedy, And through Christ, grace grew great enough."

“There is enough grace for any who repent, But with sorrow and penance one must seek it.

But according to the law of right,
The innocent are ever saved by justice.
It is God’s law that the guilty may be lifted by mercy, But the innocent are always safe by right.

David said, ‘Who shall climb Your holy hill, Lord?
Who shall rest in Your holy place?’
The reply—‘He who has clean hands and a pure heart.’ So the innocent remains ever safe by right.

The righteous man, too, approaches His holy place If he has not lied or dealt falsely.

And Solomon affirms,
‘No one living is justified before You.’ Thus we pray to be saved by innocence, not merely by right.

When Christ lived on earth
And children were brought to Him,
His disciples would have turned them away, But He said, ‘Let the little children come to me, For of such is the kingdom of Heaven.’
The innocent are always kept safe by right."

Christ taught further: “None wins Heaven Save as a child—

Harmless, true, and undefiled

By any blemish of sin.

He opens the gate swiftly

To those who knock in childlike grace—

There is bliss ever unending,

The precious pearl, unblemished.

That matchless pearl, bought at great price, Is like the Kingdom of Heaven:

Pure, unmarked, joyful and round.

It is shared by all the righteous—

Look: in the middle of my breast it sits.

The Lamb who shed his blood

Set it there as a token of peace.

I entreat you: forsake the mad world

And purchase your own flawless pearl."

"O peerless pearl, pure in pearls,"

I asked, "who formed your beauty?

Who made these wondrous robes you wear?

Your beauty is not nature’s gift—

No Pygmalion could paint your face,

Nor Aristotle describe these properties.

Your color outshines fleur-de-lys,

Your angelic bearing so perfect.

Tell me, bright one: what high dignity

Bears the pearl so without flaw?"

"My flawless Lamb, who heals all wrongs,"

She replied, "chose me for His bride,

Though I seemed little suited.

When I left your world, He called me,

‘Come to Me, my sweet love,

For there is no spot in you!’

He gave me might and beauty,

Washed my robes in His blood,

And crowned me as a spotless virgin,

Adorned with flawless pearls."

“Spotless,” said the radiant queen,

“I bear no stain or blemish—yet I say not that I am the only queen.

We are the Lamb’s brides in bliss—

A hundred and forty thousand strong, as Saint John saw.

He perceived them, in spirit, in a holy vision:

Gathered upon Zion’s hill, ready for the wedding In the new city Jerusalem.

If you wish to know Him who is my Lamb, my Lord, My joy, my bliss, my beloved one, The prophet Isaiah prophesied pitifully
Of that glorious, guiltless one who was slain by men Without cause or fault.

As a sheep to the slaughter He was led,
And like a lamb whose shearer is silent, He opened not His mouth when the Jews judged Him in Jerusalem.

There, in that city, was my beloved slain— Stretched on the cross by fierce men; All our wounds and sorrows He took upon Himself.
With blows His lovely face was defaced—
He bore all that suffering without ever sinning Himself, He let Himself be bound and nailed As meek as a lamb who utters no complaint— For us He died in Jerusalem.

John the Baptist bore witness to Him:

‘Behold the Lamb of God—

Who takes away the sin of the world.’

The burden of all was laid on Him,

Though He himself had never wronged anyone.

Who could recount the length of His generation, He who died for us in Jerusalem?

Three times, prophets beheld the Lamb at Jerusalem— Slain, raised, and glorified again.

In the midst of the throne, as John saw, With seven seals upon the book, And at that sight the host of heaven
Trembled in awe—earth, hell, and Jerusalem.”

“This Jerusalem Lamb never had spot nor blemish, His wool pure and white without seam or stain.

And so, every soul without fault

Is to the Lamb a worthy bride;

And though each day He adds a bride,

No strife nor envy ever comes among us—

We would all the more rejoice

Were our number even multiplied fivefold.

In great company our love flourishes

And honor abounds without end;

Less delight has no one here

Who bears the pearl upon her breast,

For none here can recall a stain,

Each spotless soul bears the crest of pearls, And though your bodies cling to dust below,

We here, through death, possess full knowledge And place our hope in one death alone— The Lamb makes us all glad;
Each one’s bliss is both the best and deepest, And never is another’s honor diminished thereby.”

“If you doubt my tale,” she said,
“In the Apocalypse it is written—
‘I saw,’ says John, ‘the Lamb upon Mount Zion, With virgins one hundred and forty-four thousand strong.

Upon each forehead was the Lamb’s name and His Father’s.
I heard a voice from heaven, like many waters, And as the sound of thunder, so that voice arose.

Yet the song itself, though shouted loud, Was sweet as harpers playing upon harps.

A new song the virgins sang,
Clearer than any melody mortal could achieve, For only these who follow the Lamb Could ever master that sacred tune.

Before God’s throne and the elders—

So grave of aspect—their song was heard.

None who ever lived could learn it

But the spotless company that serves the Lamb.

These are redeemed from the earth,

Offered as first fruits to God and the Lamb; No lie was ever found in their mouths, And pure and unblemished they are before the throne.”

“My thanks cannot compare,” I said,

“To you, my pearl, although I question you; I ought not to challenge your wisdom As you have been chosen for Christ’s chamber, While I am dust and clay And you are a rose so rare.

Still I ask, for humility’s sake,

Do you and your companions dwell

In palaces, castles, or courts?

You speak of Jerusalem’s magnificence—

Surely for so great a company,

There ought to be a royal city

Of glowing gems and stately towers?

Teach me now if you dwell in such a place.”

“That city you mean in Judea,”
She replied, “is the old Jerusalem,
Where Christ chose to suffer for mankind, And atone for our guilt.

But there is a New Jerusalem

Lit by God’s own sending,

Where the Lamb, without stain,

Has gathered His flock—

And as His flock is without flaw,

So is His city without imperfection.

Both are named Jerusalem—one a city of God, The other, a vision of peace.

In the one, our peace was won by pain—
In the other, peace alone abides forevermore.
There, glory and delight will ever increase For the company found without defect.”

“Gentle, flawless maiden,”

I said to the lovely flower,

“Lead me to that wondrous building—

Let me see your blissful home.”

She said in response:

“You may look upon its outer wonders,

But within you may not take a step—

None may enter those streets

Unless cleansed of every spot.”

“If you wish to behold that city,”

She said, “go up to the river’s head;

I will walk with you on this bank

Until you come to a hill.”

So I journeyed beside her

And, as I reached the summit,

I saw, as St. John once did,

The bright city of New Jerusalem.

Its walls gleamed like burning gold,

Its foundations were precious stones—

Jasper, sapphire, chalcedony,

Emerald, sardonyx, ruby—

And so on through twelve stones,

Each one a gleaming gem.

Above each gateway was inscribed a name

And each gate was a single perfect pearl.

The city was square, its length and breadth Twelve thousand furlongs long, So that every wall, every stretch,

Matched all the others in measure.

As John described, I saw there

Twelve foundation tiers, broad and grand; The city itself stretched above them, As broad as it was high and long.

Its streets shone like burnished glass,

Its walls like crystal jasper bright;

Within, every dwelling was adorned

With every kind of shining jewel.

No need had they for sun or moon,

For God Himself gave them light.

The Lamb was their lamp:

No shadow nor darkness,

No temple nor church stood there—

God was their presence,

Christ Himself their sacrifice.

The city’s gates were never closed;

No night fell within its bounds;

No planet or sun shone there,

Their glory outshone them all.

Every tree yielded fruit each month,

And rivers of life flowed from God’s throne Through every shining avenue.

As softly as the moon rises before the sunrise And banishes the last of night, So suddenly, on a wondrous wise,
I beheld a procession appear within that noble city, Queenly and splendid, its courts filled With a multitude of radiant maidens in white garments.
Crowned in pearls, each bore upon her breast The blissful pearl with great delight.

In that company they glided together

Over golden streets that gleamed like glass; Countless were they, each one arrayed alike So that to distinguish the happiest face was joy indeed.

The Lamb walked before them,

With horns of red gold shining bright—

As colored pearls were his raiment adorned.

They advanced toward the throne, their passage smooth, Though their throng was great, there was no press— As gentle as maidens at a festival mass.

Delight flowed in all their going—

Too deep for my tongue to tell!

The elders of heaven, as He approached,

Cast themselves before His feet;

Legions of angels gathered,

Casting incense with sweet aroma.

Glory and song were then renewed.

All sang the praises of the Lamb—

Their music echoed earth to heaven,

As virtues of paradise chanted joy,

Honoring the Lamb and His company in song.

I looked among the blessed host—
There, among them, I saw my little queen, The one I once thought stood beside me by the stream.

No mirth on earth could match the joy she shared With her fair companions, immaculate and bright.

The wondrous sight made me long to cross the river, For love’s longing and deepest delight

Drew my heart to be with her there.
No fear could halt my steps—
I yearned to cast myself into those celestial courts, To swim the stream though I should die there.

Yet as I braced myself to leap from the bank, A power restrained me— For when I would have entered the stream, Out of that vision I was suddenly snatched;

It was not my Lord's pleasure
That I should cross those marvels in such a rash way.
Though with swift and eager heart I rushed forward, I was checked and held, And then, in a flash, awoke.

Waking in the garden,

I found my head laid on that very mound

Where my precious pearl had sunk to earth.

I rose, half-dazed with awe,

And sighed to myself:

“Now, let all rest in the Prince’s will, Would that I had yearned for no more Than what was given me,
And remained steadfast in true intent,
As my pearl advised—
For if I had drawn closer to God’s presence, I might have been led to yet more of His mysteries.

But ever mankind seeks more of fortune
Than rightfully he may claim,
And so, my joy was torn away,
And I am banished from joys that last always.

O Lord! Mad are they who strive against you or demand Any gift but your loving kindness; To please the Prince, or to achieve peace with Him, Is a simple matter for the good Christian.

For I have found Him, day and night,
A good Lord, a friend most true.

Upon this hill, I left my lament
For pity of my pearl,
And yielded her to God in Christ’s dear keeping and my own— He who, in bread and wine, Is shown by the priest every day.

May He grant us to be His homely servants And precious pearls to His delight.

Amen. Amen.”

Patience - Modern English Translation

Patience is a virtue, Though it often displeases.
When heavy hearts are afflicted
With hardship or other woes,
Endurance can soothe them and relieve overwhelm, For it quells every quarrel and extinguishes malice; For whoever can suffer, sits content; would gladly follow, And who cannot endure punishment, the harder he suffers.

Better is it then to abide
The storm surrounded,
Than always to suffer through hardship,
That displeases me greatly.

I heard on a holy day, at a high mass,
How Matthew discoursed that his Master
Taught his retinue.
According to happenings, He promised them each a reward, Exceptional, for it was deserved, in a special manner:

They are blessed who have poverty in their hearts, For theirs is the kingdom of heaven to hold forever;

They are blessed also who cultivate meekness, For they shall rule this world and have all its desires;

They are blessed also who weep for their evils, For they shall find abundant comfort in their kin;

They are blessed also who hunger after justice, For they shall freely be replenished with all good;

They are blessed also who hold mercy in their hearts, For mercy in all ways shall be their reward;

They are blessed also who are clean of heart, For they shall see their Savior seated with their eyes;

They are blessed also who keep peace,
For they shall be called the gracious sons of God; They are blessed also who know how to steer their hearts, For theirs is the kingdom of heaven, as I said before.

These are all the blessings
That were promised to us,
If we would love these ladies in likeness of manners:

Lady Poverty, Lady Pity, Lady Penance the Third, Lady Meekness, Lady Mercy, and Merry Gentleness, And then Lady Peace, and Patience placed thereafter.

He is blessed who has one; all would be the better for it.
But since I am put to a point called poverty, I shall provide myself with patience and play with both, For in truth these two lie yoked together, They are fitted in one form, the first and the last, And by reason of their nature they inquire upon reward.
And also, in my opinion,
They are of one kind:

For where poverty offers itself, it will not be cast out But will remain wherever it wishes, like other grief; And where poverty oppresses, though one may think pain comes strongly, Much against his will, he must necessarily suffer; Thus poverty and patience are necessarily playmates.

Since I am set together with them, I must suffer; Then it pleases me lightly and I praise my lot,

Rather than against and be angry and have the worse.

If I must be dealt a destiny deemed due, What do I care for disdain, or cause spite?

Or if my loyal lord commands me in life to journey, Or to ride, or to run to Rome on his errand,

What profit is there in grumbling but to increase my grief?
Much if he made me, despite my cheeks,
And then that I must bear and receive thanklessly, He had bound me to his bidding longer than my hire.

Did not Jonah in Jude eke such sport awhile?
To set him to travail, unsound he fetched himself.

Will you tarry a little time and heed me awhile, I shall inform you thereof as Holy Writ tells.

It happened sometime in the lands of Jude, Jonah was joined therein With a Gentile prophet; God’s wrath blazed upon him, That made him unglad,
With a roughly rude roar resounded in his ear:

‘Rise suddenly,’ He says, ‘and journey forth boldly; Take the way to Nineveh without further speech, And in that city My message is sought all about, That in that place, at the point, I place in thy heart.

For surely it is so wicked that within that dwelling abides Such malice in great measure, I cannot abide it, But avenge Me on their villainy and venom forevermore; Now hasten swiftly thither and deliver this errand for Me.’ When that command was ceased, that stunned his mind, All was wrathful in his wit, and oppositely he thought:

‘If I bow to His command and bring them this tale, And I am a stranger in Nineveh, my neighbors deride me:

He calls them traitors, perverse villains; I come with these tidings, they take me for a madman,

Torment me in a prison, put me in stocks, Twist me in a warlock, wrest out my eyes.

This is a marvel of a message for a man to preach Among enemies so many and menacing fiends,

Unless my gracious God would grant me such grief, For the desertion of some cause that I were slain.

Amid all perils,’ said the prophet, ‘I will approach no nearer.
I will find some other way that He does not await; I shall go into Tarshish and stay there awhile, And lightly when I am least He lets me alone.’ Then he rises quickly and journeys boldly, Jonah toward port Joppa, Always grumbling for the sorrow that he would not suffer for nothing Any of those pains, though the Father who formed him was gracious of his healing.

‘Our Lord sits,’ he says, ‘on His throne so high In His glowing glory, and cares little That I am a stranger in Nineveh and naked despoiled, On a rod cruelly torn with many revilers.’ Thus he passes to that port to seek passage, Finds a fair ship ready for the journey,

Matches himself with the mariners, agrees their pay For towing him to Tarshish as tightly as they might.

Then he climbs aboard, and they quickly remove their rigging, Catch up the cross-yards, fasten cables fast, With the winds weighing their anchors, expends effort, spoke to the mast, Spurred the bowsprit, gathered to the guide ropes, The great cloth sails, they laid on a raised board, And the loft wins, the cheerful breeze at their backs he finds;

He swings on this sweet ship swiftly from the harbor.
Never was a more joyful Jew than Jonah then, That the danger of the Lord so dreadfully escaped;

He thought well that the Lord,
Who planted all the world, had no might in that sea, Nor any man to harm.

Lo, the witless wretch!
For he would not suffer,
Now he has put himself in peril's plight far more.

It was a sudden surprise that welled in his mind, That he was far from Samaria, That God sees no further.

Yea, he blushed broadly:

That burdened him surely;

That often chid him—

The song said, David on a dais adjudged

This speech in a psalm that he set within the Psalter:

‘O fools among the people, seemingly fools and senseless, Though he be a fool in step, hope you that He hears not Those ears that made all?
It cannot be that He is blind who built every eye.’ But he feared no stroke that dulls for age.
For he was far in the flood heading to Tarshish, But I believe very soon he was overtaken, So shortly and shamefully he shot off his soul.

For the Welder of wit who knows all things, Who always wakes and watches, at will He has strokes.

He called on that same craft He carved with His hands; They roused well the more wrathful for wrathfully He called:

‘Eurus and Aquilo, that on the east sit, Blow both upon My servant upon blue waters.’ Then from the northeast the noise began, When both breaths came blowing upon the blue waters.

Rough waves arose with reddening thunder; The sea seethed full sore, great terror to hear; The winds on the dwelling water so wrestled together That the waves fiercely weltered so high and again rushed to the abyss, That broad fishes dared nowhere for rough arrest at the bottom.

When the breath and the break and the boat met, It was a joyless ginning that Jonah was in, For it reeled on round upon the rough edges.

The storm bore down upon it, bursting all their gear, Then hurled together the helm and stern;

First tore many ropes and then the mast after; The sail swayed on the sea, then the barque required the cask of the cold water, And then the cry rose.

Yet they cut the cords and cast all thereabout; Many leapt forth to lave and to cast,

Scoop out the dreadful water that would gladly escape, For though man’s way be never so foul, life is ever sweet.

There was busy overboard woe to cast,
Their bags and their feather-beds and their bright clothes, Their chests and their coffers, their caravans all, And all to lighten that load, if death would permit.

But ever loud was the lot of the winds,
And ever wroth the water and wilder the streams.

Then those weary and worn knew no boat,
But each clung to his god that gained him best:

Some to Vernagu, where solemn vows vouched, Some to Diana devout and daring, Neptune, To Mahoun and to Mergot, the moon and the sun, And each laid his heart as he loved and desired.

Then the seaman spoke, despairing well-near:
‘I believe here be some deceiver, some lawless wretch, That has grieved his god and goes here among us.’

Lo, all sink into their sin and for his sake perish.

I believe that we draw lots on lords each one, And whoso escapes the loss, lay it on him; And when the guilty is gone, what may the spared trust But He who rules the wreck may rue on those others?’

This was put to agreement, and seemed they were, Herring out of each corner to snatch the falls.

A pilot lightly leapt under hatches,
To lay more lots and bring them to lot.
But he lacked no fellow that he might find, Save Jonah the Jew, who crouched in secret.

He was thrown for dread of the flood-lit lots Into the bottom of the boat, and on a board lay,

Held by the hull, for heaven's wrath,
Slipped into a slumber-sleep,
And slumbering he snored.

The comrade fronted him with his foot
And bade him wake up:

‘There Ragnel in his recklessness raises thee from thy dreams!'
By the hasp he hastened him then,
And brought him up by the breast and set him upon board, Rebuked him very roughly, what reason he had In such heaps of sorrow to sleep so fast.

Soon they had cast their lots and surmised wisely, And ever the lot by lot lighted on Jonah.

Then they called him quickly and asked full loud:
‘What devil hast thou done, doting wretch?
What seekest thou on sea, sinful villain, With thy lot so foul to lose us every one?

Hast thou, man, no governor nor god to call on That thou thus slides asleep when thou worthiest death?

Of what land art thou lent, what doth thee here, Whither in the world wilt thou go, and what is thy errand?

Lo, thy doom is doomed, for thy deeds are evil.
Give glory to thy god ere thou slip hence.’

‘I am an Hebrew,’ said he, ‘of Israel born; That Lord I worship, surely, Who wrought all things,
All the world with the heavens, the wind and the stars, And all that dwells therein, in one word alone.

All this mischief for me is made at this time, For I have grieved my God and guilty am found; Therefore bear me to the board and bathe me therein, Ere you gain luck, I hope forsooth.’

He passed by unwittingly that they undertook that he was blown from the face of freely given Lord; Then such a terror on them fell and struck them inside, That they rued him to sorrow, and halted their row one.

Nevertheless, hurried in haste with oars full long, Since their sail was slipped, one side to row,

Huff and hale on high to help themselves, But all was needless noise:

That would not abide.

In the bubbling of the blue flood burst their oars.
Then they had none in their hand that might help them; Then was there no comfort to cover, nor counsel other, But Jonah into his vile dungeon believèd.

First they prayed to the Prince that prophets serve, That He give them the grace to vex Him never, That they in their troubles there bind their hands, Though it be His that they here quelled.

Time by time and piecewise they took him sin; Into that loathsome hole they locked him soon.

He was no better outlawed that tempest ceased; The sea settled therewith as soon as it might.

Then when their tackle were torn,
That tottered on the edge,
Stiff streams and straits strained them awhile, That drove them dreadfully down deep to serve,

Till a sweeper full swiftly overturned them to bank.

There was lying aloft, when they won the land, To our merciful God, after Moses’ manner, With sacrifice offered, and solemn vows, And granted Him alone to be God and glorious none other.

That they be joyful for joy, Jonah yet fears; That he would not suffer any sore, his soul is in anger; For whatever was wrought of that Lord, from whom he dipped in water, It were wondrous to think, if Holy Writ were not true.

Now is Jonah the Jew judged to drown;
From that shattered ship men shoved him soon.

A wild, wandering whale, as fate then shaped, That was beaten from the abyss by that bottom wave, And wary of that Lord that the water sought, Swiftly swung to sweep him, and opened his jaws; The folk yet holding his feet, the fish grasped him lightly; Without touch of any tooth he rooted in his throat.

Then he swings and sways to the sea bottom, By many rocks full rough and ruddled strands, With the man in his maw bruised in dread, As little wonder it was if he feared woe, For had not the high Heaven-King, Through His hand might,
Ward this wretched man in the whale’s gut,

What creature might live by law of any kind, That any life might be lent so long within?

But he was succored by that Lord that sits so high, That was flawless of welfare in the womb of that fish, And also driven through the deep and dark waters.

Lord, cold was his comfort, and his care immense, For he knew every case and care that him lagged, How from the bottom into the bladder was thrust with a beast, And thrown in at his throat without threat more, As mote in at a monastery door, so might his jaws be wide.

He glides in by the gills through glare and gleam, Rolling in by a rope, a rod that him thought,

Ever held overhead, hurling about, Till he blunt in a block as broad as a hall; And there he fastens his feet and fathoms about, And stood up in his stomach that stank as the devil.

There in sameness and in sorrow
That savored as hell,
There was built his dwelling
That will suffer no grief.

And then he lurks and lies where it was best, In every nook of his navel, but nowhere he finds No rest nor recovery, but rumble and mire, In which gut so ever he goes, but ever is God sweet; And there he lingered at the last, and to the Lord called:

‘Now, Prince, of Thy prophet’s pity have.
Though I be foolish and fickle and false of heart, Devoid now Thy vengeance, through power of mercy;

Though I be guilty of guile, as scorn of prophets, Thou art God, and all gods are greatly Thine own.

Have now mercy on Thy man and his misdeeds, And prove lightly a Lord in land and in water.’ With that he huddled to a corner and held himself therein, Where no defilement of filth was fixed about him;

There he sat also sound, save for dark one, As in the bulk of the boat where he before slept.

So in a bow of that beast he bides on life, Three days and three nights, ever thinking on the Lord, His might and His mercy, His measure then.

Now he knew Him in care that could not in joy.

And ever the whale wanders by wild deep, Through many a region full rough, Through the course of his will; For that mote in his maw made him, I trow, That it was little to him, to wamble at his heart; And as sailed the ship, assuredly he heard The burden borne on his back and beaten on his sides.

Then a prayer full pressed the prophet there made; In this form, as I deem, his words were many:

‘Lord, to Thee have I called in cares full strong; Out of the hole Thou heard me from hell’s womb;

I called, and Thou knew my unclear cry.

Thou dipped me in the deep sea
Into the dark heart,
The great flood of Thy waves folded me about; All the gutters of Thy gulfs and groundless pools, And Thy striving streams of shoals so many, In one dashing dam drives me over.

And yet I say as I sat in the sea bottom:
“Careful am I, cast out from Thy clear eyes And severed from Thy sight; Yet surely I hope again to tread on Thy temple And meet Thee again.”

I am wrapped in water to my woe, my body abides within; The abyss binds my body that I bide within; The poor bounding poplar hourly plays on my head; To last more of every mount.
Man, am I fallen; The bars of every bank full tightly hold me, That I may catch no light, and Thou my life wieldest.

Thou shalt relieve me, Lord, while Thy right sleeps, Through might of Thy mercy that is much to trust.

For when the access of anguish was hid in my soul, Then I remembered rightly my rich Lord,

Praying Him for pity His prophet to hear, That into His holy house my prayer might enter.

I have dealt with Thy mistress many long days, But now I know truly that those unwise lords That trust in vanity and in vain things

Think that nothing more holds their mercy forsaken; But I devoutly avow That truly best remains, soberly to do
The sacrifice when I shall be saved worthily, And offer Thee for my health a full holy gift, And hold good that Thou me hast pledged: have here my truth.’ Then our Father to the fish fiercely bid that it spout, speak swiftly upon the spare dry.

There the whale wanders at His will and finds a harbor, And there He breaks up the burrow as commanded by our Lord.

Then he sweeps to the sand in sodden clothes; It may well be that needed were his mantle to wash.

The bank that he blushed to and bade him beside Warn of the region’s right that he had renounced.

Then a wind of God’s word again the vessel rattled:
‘Wilt thou never to Nineveh by no known ways?’

‘Yea, Lord,’ said the man,
‘Lend me Thy grace to go at Thy command: I gain none other.’

‘Rise, approach then to preach, lo, the place is here.
Lo, My teaching is in the book, read it therein.’ Then the man readily rose as he might,
And to Nineveh that night he needed full even;

It was a city full wide and noble of breadth; On through throngs thereof was three days’ journey.

That one journey full joint Jonas went,
Ere ever he wrapped any word to the Lord that he met, And then he cried so clearly That could know all the true tenor of his theme;

He told in this manner:
‘Yet shall forty days fully fare to an end, And then shall Nineveh be named no more and worth nothing;

Truly this same town shall be turned to ground; Upside down shall it tumble deep to the abyss, To be swallowed swiftly with the dark earth, And all that live therein lose the sweet.’

This speech sprang in that space and spread all about, To burgesses and to bachelors that in that borough longed; Such horror seized them and such hateful dread, That all changed their countenance and chilled at the heart.

The city ceased not yet, but said ever alike:
‘The true vengeance of God shall void this place!’ Then the people pitifully pleaded full quietly, And for the dread of the Lord endured in heart;

Hot hairs they seized that sharply bit,
And those that bound themselves to their backs and bare sides, Dropped dust on their heads, and dimly beseeched That that penance pleased Him who punishes their wrong; And ever He cries in that city till the king heard, And he quickly uprose and ran from his chair, His rich robe he tore from his back naked, And of a heap of ashes he cast in the midst.

He asked heatfully a hair and clasped him about, Sewed a sack thereabout, and sighed full cold;

There he dashed in that dust, with dropping tears, Weeping wonderfully all his wrong deeds.

Then said he to his servants:

‘Assemble yourselves quickly;

Drive out a decree, judged of myself,

That all the bodies that be within this borough quick, Both men and beasts, birds and children, Each prince, each priest, and all prelates, All fast freely for their false works;

Sees children of their suck, sought never so, Nor beast bite on no broom, nor no bent nor Pass to no pasture, nor pick any herb,

Nor any ox to hay, nor any horse to water.
All shall cry, overcome with all our clear strength; The roar shall rise to Him who mercy shall have;

What other blame may give the Lord pleasure, That is proper in the height of His grandeur?

I know His might is so great, that
Though He be displeased,
That in His mild jest He mercy may find.

And if we leave the lack of our human sins, And quietly step in the path He steppeth,

He will turn from His worship and His wrath leave, And forgive us this guilt, if we acknowledge Him God.’ Then all believed in His law and lamented their sins, Performed all the penance that the prince commanded; And God through His goodness forgave as He said; That He otherwise promised, withheld His vengeance.

Much sorrow then settled upon city Jonah; He waxed as wrathful as the wind toward our Lord.

So has anger into his heart taken,
He calls a prayer to the High Prince, for pain, in this manner:

‘I beseech Thee, Sir, now Thyself judge; Was not this same my word that is now worth nothing, That I cast in my country, when Thy message thou sentest That I should go to this town to preach Thy talent?

Well knew I Thy courtesy, Thy subtle patience, Thy bounty of liberality and Thy gracious favor,

Thy long abiding with lure,
Thy late vengeance; And ever Thy mercy is meet, be it never so huge.
I knew well, when I had spoken whatsoever I could, To menace all these proud men that in this town dwell, With a prayer and a pain they might get their peace; And therefore I would have flown far into Tarshish.

Now, Lord, cast out my life, it lasts too long.

Strike me, I believe, my bale-storm and bring me to an end, For it were sweeter for me to perish than suffer longer

Thy lore that thus me lessens.’ The sound of our Sovereign then swayed in his ear, That reproves this man upon a stern manner:

‘Hearken, man, is it right so rankly to wrath For any deed that I have done or deemed thee yet?’

Jonah all joyless and grumbling uprisings, And holds out on the east half of the high place, And afar on a field he sets himself to bide, To await on what happened after.

There he busked himself a bower, the best that he might, Of hay and of evergreen and herbs a few, For it was plain in that place for spreading thorns, For to shield from the sheen or any wind-cast harm.

He bowed under his little bough, his back to the sun, And there he swooned and slept sadly all night, The while God of His grace made grow of that soil The fairest bough that ever man knew.

When the dawning day the Lord could send, Then waked the man under wood-binding,

Looked aloft on the leaf that lilted green; Such a leaf-shelter of love never man had, For it was broad at the bottom, bowed aloft,

Hipped upon either half, a house as it were, A nose on the north side and nowhere else, But all shut in a shade that shaded full cool.

The man glided on the green gracious leaves, That ever waved a wind so wide and so cool; The bright sun protected it so
That no shaft might the mountain of a little mote upon that man shine.

Then was the man so glad of his gay lodge, Lies derelict therein looking to town; So blithe of his wood-binding he delighted therein, That of no day that day the devil had any wrath.

And ever he laughed as he looked the lodge all about, And wished it were in his kin there he would dwell, On high upon Ephraim or the hills of Hermon:

‘Truly, a worthier dwelling to wield I never kept.’ And when it needed to nothing he had to attend, He slipped on a slumber-sleep slow under leaves,

While God watered a worm that wrote up the root, And withered was the wood-binding, by that the man waked; And then He warned the west to waken full softly, And said unto Zephyrus that is softly warm, That there quicken no cloud before the clear sun, And it shall sprout broad and burn as a candle.

Then waked the man of his wild dreams,
And blushed to his wood-binding that sorely was marred, All wilted and wasted the worthy leaves; The bright sun had them made vain ere ever the fellow wotted.

And then he raised up the heat and hotter burned; The warm wind of the west, the worthier swiftly.

The man marred on the mold that might not hide him, His wood-binding was away; he wept for sorrow; With hot anger and heat, hotly he called:
‘Ah, Thou Maker of man, what mastery thinkest Thou Thus Thy servant to perish beyond all others?

With all mischief that Thou mayest, never Thou me sparest; I took comfort that now is cast from me, My wood-binding so fair that wore my head.

But now I see Thou art set to rob me of my solace; Why didst Thou not prepare me to die?

I have endured too long.’ Yet our Lord to the man spoke a speech:
‘Is it rightful, man, all thy unreasonable noise, So wrathful for a wood-binding to wax so soon?

Why art thou so wayward, man, for so little?’

‘It is not little,’ said the man, ‘but liker to right; I would I were of this world wrapped in molds.’

‘Then bethink thee, man, if thou lamentest sore, If I would help My handiwork, have no wonder;

Thou art waxen so wrath for thy wood-binding, And toilest never to tend it the time of an hour, But at a moment it here waxes and away at another, And yet liketh thee so foul, thy life wouldst thou lose.

Then blame not Me for the work, that I would help it, And rue on those reckless that remember for sin;

First I made them Myself of My own matter, And then I looked on them full long and had them in hand.

And if I My travail should lose of times so long, And topple down a thunder-town when it turned were, The sorrow of such a sweet place would sink to My heart, So many malicious men as mourn there in.

And of that sum yet are some,
Such fools foredoomed,
As little babes on the breast that never wrought woe, And women unwise that understand not that one hand from the other, For all this high world.

Between the steel and the stair discern not can What rule runs in round between the right hand and his left, That his life should be lost therefore; And also there be dumb beasts in the borough many, That may not sin in any guise themselves to grieve.

Why should I wrath with them,
Since men will turn and come
And know Me for King and leave My speech?

Were I as hasty as thou here, harm would be lumpen; Could I not suffer but as thou, there thrived full few.

I may not be so malicious and mild be held, For malice is not to maintain without mercy within.’ Be not so churlish, good man, but go forth thy ways, Be prudent and be patient in pain and in joy; For he that is too rash to rend his clothes Must afterward sit with more unsound to sew them together.

Therefore when poverty imprisons me and pains inure, Full softly with suffering patience must habit me.

Therefore penance and pain to prove it in sight, That patience is a noble point, though it often displeases.

Amen.

Sir Gawain and the Green Knight - Original Middle English

siþen þe sege and þe assaut watz sesed at troye þe bor3 brittened and brent to brondez and askez þe tulk þat þe trammes of tresoun þer wro3t watz tried for his tricherie þe trewest on erþe hit watz ennias þe athel and his highe kynde þat siþen depreced prouinces and patrounes bicome welne3e of al þe wele in þe west iles

fro riche romulus to rome ricchis hym swyþe with gret bobbaunce þat bur3e he biges vpon fyrst and neuenes hit his aune nome as hit now hat ticius to tuskan and teldes bigynnes langaberde in lumbardie lyftes vp homes

and fer ouer þe french flod felix brutus on mony bonkkes ful brode bretayn he settez wyth wynne

where werre and wrake and wonder bi syþez hatz wont þerinne

and oft boþe blysse and blunder ful skete hatz skyfted synne ande quen þis bretayn watz bigged bi þis burn rych bolde bredden þerinne baret þat lofden in mony turned tyme tene þat wro3ten

mo ferlyes on þis folde han fallen here oft þen in any oþer þat I wot syn þat ilk tyme bot of alle þat here bult of bretaygne kynges ay watz arthur þe hendest as I haf herde telle forþi an aunter in erde I attle to schawe þat a selly in si3t summe men hit holden and an outtrage awenture of arthurez wonderez if 3e wyl lysten þis laye bot on littel quile

I schal telle hit as tit as I in toun herde with tonge as hit is stad and stoken

in stori stif and stronge with lel letteres loken

in londe so hatz ben longe þis kyng lay at camylot vpon kryst masse with mony luflych lorde ledez of þe best rekenly of þe rounde table alle þo rich breþer with rych reuel ory3t and rechles merþes þer tournayed tulkes by tymez ful mony

justed ful jolile þise gentyle kni3tes syþen kayred to þe court caroles to make for þer þe fest watz ilyche ful fiften dayes with alle þe mete and þe mirþe þat men couþe avyse such glaumande gle glorious to here dere dyn vpon day daunsyng on ny3tes

al watz hap vpon he3e in hallez and chambrez with lordez and ladies as leuest him þo3t with all þe wele of þe worlde þay woned þer samen þe most kyd kny3tez vnder krystes seluen and þe louelokkest ladies þat euer lif haden and he þe comlokest kyng þat þe court haldes for al watz þis fayre folk in her first age on sille þe hapnest vnder heuen

kyng hy3est mon of wylle hit werere now gret nye to neuen

so hardy a here on hille wyle nw 3er watz so 3ep þat hit watz nwe cummen þat day doubble on þe dece watz þe douth serued fro þe kyng watz cummen with kny3tes into þe halle þe chauntre of þe chapel cheued to an ende loude crye watz þer kest of clerkez and oþer nowel nayted onewe neuened ful ofte and syþen riche forth runnen to reche hondeselle 3e3ed 3eres3iftes on hi3 3elde hem bi hond debated busyly aboute þo giftes

ladies la3ed ful loude þo3 þay lost haden and he þat wan watz not wrothe þat may 3e wel trawe alle þis mirþe þay maden to þe mete tyme when þay had waschen worþyly þay wenten to sete þe best burne ay abof as hit best semed

whene guenore ful gay grayþed in þe myddes dressed on þe dere des dubbed al aboute smal sendal bisides a selure hir ouer

of tryed tolouse and tars tapites innoghe þat were enbrawded and beten wyth þe best gemmes þat my3t be preued of prys wyth penyes to bye in daye þe comlokest to discry

þer glent with y3en gray a semloker þat euer he sy3e

soth mo3t no mon say bot arthure wolde not ete til al were serued he watz so joly of his joyfnes and sumquat childgered his lif liked hym ly3t he louied þe lasse auþer to lenge lye or to longe sitte so bisied him his 3onge blod and his brayn wylde and also an oþer maner meued him eke þat he þur3 nobelay had nomen he wolde neuer ete vpon such a dere day er hym deuised were of sum auenturus þyng an vncouþe tale

of sum mayn meruayle þat he my3t trawe of of alderes of armes of oþer auenturus oþer sum segg hym biso3t of sum siker kny3t to joyne wyth hym in iustyng in joparde to lay lede lif for lyf leue vchon oþer as fortune wolde fulsun hom þe fayrer to haue þis watz kynges countenaunce where he in court were at vch farand fest among his fre meny

in halle þerfore of face so fere

he sti3tlez stif in stalle ful 3ep in þat nw 3ere

much mirthe he mas with alle þus þer stondes in stale þe stif kyng hisseluen talkkande bifore þe hy3e table of trifles ful hende þere gode gawan watz grayþed gwenore bisyde and agrauayn a la dure mayn on þat oþer syde sittes boþe þe kynges sistersunes and ful siker kni3tes bischop bawdewyn abof biginez þe table and ywan vryn son ette wit hymseluen

þise were di3t on þe des and derworþly serued and siþen mony siker segge at þe sidbordez þen þe first cors come with crakkyng of trumpes wyth mony baner ful bry3t þat þerbi henged nwe nakryn noyse with þe noble pipes

wylde werbles and wy3t wakned lote þat mony hert ful hi3e hef at her towches dayntes dryuen þerwyth of ful dere metes foysoun of þe fresche and on so fele disches þat pine to fynde þe place þe peple biforne for to sette þe syluen' þat sere sewes halden on clothe iche lede as he loued hymselue

þer laght withouten loþe ay two had disches twelue

good ber and bry3t wyn boþe now wyl I of hor seruise say yow no more for vch wy3e may wel wit no wont þat þer were an oþer noyse ful newe ne3ed biliue

þat þe lude my3t haf leue liflode to cach for vneþe watz þe noyce not a whyle sesed and þe fyrst cource in þe court kyndely serued þer hales in at þe halle dor an aghlich mayster on þe most on þe molde on mesure hyghe

fro þe swyre to þe swange so sware and so þik and his lyndes and his lymes so longe and so grete half etayn in erde I hope þat he were

bot mon most I algate mynn hym to bene and þat þe myriest in his muckel þat my3t ride for of bak and of brest al were his bodi sturne bot his wombe and his wast were worthily smale and alle his fetures fol3ande in forme þat he hade ful clene

for wonder of his hwe men hade set in his semblaunt sene

he ferde as freke were fade and oueral enker grene ande al grayþed in grene þis gome and his wedes a strayt cote ful stre3t þat stek on his sides a mere mantile abof mensked with inne

with pelure pured apert þe pane ful clene with blyþe blaunner ful bry3t and his hod boþe þat watz la3t fro his lokkez and layde on his schulderes heme wel haled hose of þat same grene þat spenet on his sparlyr and clene spures vnder of bry3t golde vpon silk bordes barred ful ryche and scholes vnder schankes þere þe schalk rides and alle his vesture uerayly watz clene verdure boþe þe barres of his belt and oþer blyþe stones þat were richely rayled in his aray clene aboutte hymself and his sadel vpon silk werkez þat were to tor for to telle of tryfles þe halue þat were enbrauded abof wyth bryddes and fly3es with gay gaudi of grene þe golde ay inmyddes þe pendauntes of his payttrure pe proude cropure his molaynes and alle þe metail anamayld was þenne þe steropes þat he stod on stayned of þe same and his arsounz al after and his aþel scurtes þat euer glemered and glent al of grene stones þe fole þat he ferkkes on fyn of þat ilke sertayn

a grene hors gret and þikke a stede ful stif to strayne

in brawden brydel quik to þe gome he watz ful gayn wel gay watz þis gome gered in grene

and þe here of his hed of his hors swete fayre fannand fax vmbefoldes his schulderes a much berd as as a busk ouer his brest henges þat wyth his hi3lich here þat of his hed reches watz euesed al vmbetorne abof his elbowes þat half his armes þervnder were halched in þe wyse of a kyngez capados þat closes his swyre þe mane of þat mayn hors much to hit lyke wel cresped and cemmed wyth knottes ful mony folden in wyth fildore aboute þe fayre grene ay a herle of þe here anoþer of golde

þe tayl and his toppyng twynnen of a sute and bounden boþe wyth a bande of a bry3t grene dubbed wyth ful dere stonez as þe dok lasted syþen þrawen wyth a þwong a þwarle knot alofte þer mony bellez ful bry3t of brende golde rungen such a fole vpon folde ne freke þat hym rydes watz neuer sene in þat sale wyth sy3t er þat tyme with y3e he loked as layt so ly3t

so sayd al þat hym sy3e hit semed as no mon my3t

vnder his dynttez dry3e wheþer hade he no helme ne hawbrgh nauþer ne no pysan ne no plate þat pented to armes ne no schafte ne no schelde to schwue ne to smyte bot in his on honde he hade a holyn bobbe þat is grattest in grene when greuez ar bare and an ax in his oþer a hoge and vnmete a spetos sparþe to expoun in spelle quoso my3t þe hede of an eln3erde þe large lenkþe hade þe grayn al of grene stele and of golde hewen þe bit burnyst bry3t with a brod egge as wel schapen to schere as scharp rasores þe stele of a stif staf þe sturne hit bi grypte þat watz wounden wyth yrn to þe wandez ende and al bigrauen with grene in gracios werkes a lace lapped aboute þat louked at þe hede and so after þe halme halched ful ofte wyth tryed tasselez þerto tacched innoghe on botounz of þe bry3t grene brayden ful ryche þis haþel heldez hym in and þe halle entres driuande to þe he3e dece dut he no woþe haylsed he neuer one bot he3e he ouer loked þe fyrst word þat he warp wher is he sayd þe gouernour of þis gyng gladly I wolde

se þat segg in sy3t and with hymself speke raysoun to kny3tez he kest his y3e

and reled hym vp and doun he stemmed and con studie

quo walt þer most renoun ther watz lokyng on lenþe þe lude to beholde for vch mon had meruayle quat hit mene my3t þat a haþel and a horse my3t such a hwe lach as growe grene as þe gres and grener hit semed þen grene aumayl on golde lowande bry3ter al studied þat þer stod and stalked hym nerre wyth al þe wonder of þe worlde what he worch schulde for fele sellyez had þay sen bot such neuer are forþi for fantoum and fayry3e þe folk þere hit demed þerfore to answare watz ar3e mony aþel freke and al stouned at his steuen and stonstil seten in a swoghe sylence þur3 þe sale riche as al were slypped vpon slepe so slaked hor lotez in hy3e

I deme hit not al for doute bot sum for cortaysye
bot let hym þat al schulde loute cast vnto þat wy3e þenn arþour bifore þe hi3 dece þat auenture byholdez and rekenly hym reuerenced for rad was he neuer and sayde wy3e welcum iwys to þis place
þe hede of þis ostel arthour I hat li3t luflych adoun and lenge I þe praye
and quat so þy wylle is we schal wyt after nay as help me quoþ þe haþel he þat on hy3e syttes to wone any quyle in þis won hit watz not myn ernde bot for þe los of þe lede is lyft vp so hy3e and þy bur3 and þy burnes best ar holden stifest vnder stel gere on stedes to ryde þe wy3test and þe worþyest of þe worldes kynde preue for to play wyth in oþer pure laykez and here is kydde cortaysye as I haf herd carp and þat hatz wayned me hider iwyis at þis tyme

3e may be seker bi þis braunch þat I bere here þat I passe as in pes and no ply3t seche for had I founded in fere in fe3tyng wyse I haue a hauberghe at home and a helme boþe a schelde and a scharp spere schinande bry3t ande oþer weppenes to welde I wene wel als bot for I wolde no were my wedez ar softer bot if þou be so bold as alle burnez tellen þou wyl grant me godly þe gomen þat I ask bi ry3t arthour con onsware
and sayd sir cortays kny3t if þou craue batayl bare
here faylez þou not to fy3t nay frayst I no fy3t in fayth I þe telle hit arn aboute on þis bench bot berdlez chylder if I were hasped in armes on a he3e stede here is no mon me to mach for my3tez fo wayke forþy I craue in þis court a crystemas gomen for hit is 3ol and nwe 3er and here ar 3ep mony if any so hardy in þis hous holdez hymseluen be so bolde in his blod brayn in hys hede þat dar stifly strike a strok for an oþer I schal gif hym of my gyft þys giserne ryche þis ax þat is heue innogh to hondele as hym lykes and I schal bide þe fyrst bur as bare as I sitte if any freke be so felle to fonde þat I telle lepe ly3tly me to and lach þis weppen

I quit clayme hit for euer kepe hit as his auen and I schal stonde hym a strok stif on þis flet ellez þou wyl di3t me þe dom to dele hym an oþer barlay and 3et gif hym respite

a twelmonyth and a day now hy3e and let se tite

dar any herinne o3t say if he hem stowned vpon fyrst stiller were þanne alle þe heredmen in halle þe hy3 and þe lo3e þe renk on his rounce hym ruched in his sadel and runischly his rede y3en he reled aboute bende his bresed bro3ez blycande grene

wayued his berde for to wayte quo so wolde ryse when non wolde kepe hym with carp he co3ed ful hy3e ande rimed hym ful richly and ry3t hym to speke what is þis arthures hous quoþ þe haþel þenne þat al þe rous rennes of þur3 ryalmes so mony where is now your sourquydrye and your conquestes your gry dellayk and your greme and your grete wordes now is þe reuel and þe renoun of þe rounde table ouerwalt wyth a worde of on wy3es speche for al dares for drede withoute dynt schewed wyth þis he la3es so loude þat þe lorde greued þe blod schot for scham into his schyre face and lere

he wex as wroth as wynde so did alle þat þer were

þe kyng as kene bi kynde þen stod þat stif mon nere ande sayde haþel by heuen þyn askyng is nys and as þou foly hatz frayst fynde þe behoues

I know no gome þat is gast of þy grete wordes gif me now þy geserne vpon godez halue and I schal bayþen þy bone þat þou boden habbes [fol. 95]

ly3tly lepez he hym to and la3t at his honde þen feersly þat oþer freke vpon fote ly3tis now hatz arthure his axe and þe halme grypez and sturnely sturez hit aboute þat stryke wyth hit þo3t þe stif mon hym bifore stod vpon hy3t

herre þen ani in þe hous by þe hede and more wyth sturne schere þer he stod he stroked his berde and wyth a countenaunce dry3e he dro3 doun his cote no more mate ne dismayd for hyns mayn dintez þen any burne vpon bench hade bro3t hym to drynk of wyne gawan þat sate bi þe quene

to þe kyng he can enclyne

I beseche now with sa3ez sene þis melly mot be myne wolde 3e worþilych lorde quoþ gawan to þe kyng bid me bo3e fro þis benche and stonde by yow þere þat I wythoute vylanye my3t voyde þis table and þat my legge lady lyked not ille

I wolde com to your counseyl bifore your cort ryche for me þink hit not semly as hit is soþ knawen þer such an askyng is heuened so hy3e in your sale þa3 3e 3ourself be talenttyf to take hit to yourseluen whil mony so bolde yow aboute vpon bench sytten þat vnder heuen I hope non ha3erer of wylle ne better bodyes on bent þer baret is rered I am þe wakkest I wot and of wyt feblest and lest lur of my lyf quo laytes þe soþe bot for as much as 3e ar myn em I am only to prayse no bounte bot your blod I in my bode knowe and syþen þis note is so nys þat no3t hit yow falles and I haue frayned hit at yow fyrst foldez hit to me and if I carp not comlyly let alle þis cort rych bout blame

ryche togeder con roun and syþen þay redden alle same

to ryd þe kyng wyth croun and gif gawan þe game þen commaunded þe kyng þe kny3t for to ryse and he ful radly vpros and ruchched hym fayre kneled doun bifore þe kyng and cachez þat weppen and he luflyly hit hym laft and lyfte vp his honde and gef hym goddez blessyng and gladly hym biddes þat his hert and his honde schulde hardi be boþe kepe þe cosyn quoþ þe kyng þat þou on kyrf sette and if þou redez hym ry3t redly I trowe þat þou schal byden þe bur þat he schal bede after gawan gotz to þe gome with giserne in honde and he baldly hym bydez he bayst neuer þe helder þen carppez to sir gawan þe kny3t in þe grene refourme we oure forwardes er we fyrre passe fyrst I eþe þe haþel how þat þou hattes þat þou me telle truly as I tryst may

in god fayth quoþ þe goode kny3t gawan I hatte þat bede þe þis buffet quat so bifallez after and at þis tyme twelmonyth take at þe an oþer wyth what weppen fo þou wylt and wyth no wy3 ellez on lyue

þat oþer onswarez agayn sir gawan so mot I þryue

as I am ferly fayn þis dint þat þou schal dryue bigog quoþ þe grene kny3t sir gawan me lykes þat I schal fange at þy fust þat I haf frayst here and þou hatz redily rehersed bi resoun ful trwe clanly al þe couenaunt þat I þe kynge asked saf þat þou schal siker me segge bi þi trawþe þat þou schal seche me þiself where so þou hopes

I may be funde vpon folde and foch þe such wages as þou deles me to day bifore þis douþe ryche where schulde I wale þe quoþ gauan where is þy plate I wot neuer where þou wonyes bi hym þat me wro3t ne I know not þe kny3t by cort ne þi name bot teche me truly þerto and telle me how þou hattes and I schal ware alle my wyt to wynne me þeder and þat I swere þe for soþe and by my seker traweþ þat is innogh in nwe 3er hit nedes no more quoþ þe gome in þe grene to gawan þe hende

3if I þe telle trwly quen I þe tape haue and þou me smoþely hatz smyten smartly I þe teche of my hous and my home and myn owen nome þen may þou frayst my fare and forwardez holde and if I spende no speche þenne spedez þou þe better for þou may leng in þy londe and layt no fyrre bot slokes

ta now þy grymme tole to þe and let se how þou cnokez

gladly sir for soþe quoþ gawan his ax he strokes þe grene kny3t vpon grounde grayþely hym dresses a littel lut with þe hede þe lere he discouerez his longe louelych lokkez he layd ouer his croun let þe naked nec to þe note schewe gauan gripped to his ax and gederes hit on hy3t þe kay fot on þe folde he before sette let him doun ly3tly ly3t on þe naked

þat þe scharp of þe schalk schyndered þe bones and schrank þur3 þe schyire grece and scade hit in twynne þat þe bit of þe broun stel bot on þe grounde þe fayre hede fro þe halce hit to þe erþe þat fele hit foyned wyth her fete þere hit forth roled þe blod brayd fro þe body þat blykked on þe grene and nawþer faltered ne fel þe freke neuer þe helder bot styþly he start forth vpon styf schonkes and ruyschly he ra3t out þere as renkkez stoden la3t to his lufly hed and lyft hit vp sone and syþen bo3ez to his blonk þe brydel he cachchez steppez into stelbawe and strydez alofte and his hede by þe here in his honde haldez and as sadly þe segge hym in his sadel sette as non vnhap had hym ayled þa3 hedlez ho we in stedde he brayde his bluk aboute

þat vgly bodi þat bledde moni on of hym had doute

bi þat his resounz were redde for þe hede in his honde he haldez vp euen toward þe derrest on þe dece he dressez þe face and hit lyfte vp þe y3e lyddez and loked ful brode and meled þus much with his muthe as 3e may now here loke gawan þou be grayþe to go as þou hettez and layte as lelly til þou me lude fynde as þou hatz hette in þis halle herande þise kny3tes to þe grene chapel þou chose I charge þe to fotte such a dunt as þou hatz dalt disserued þou habbez to be 3ederly 3olden on nw 3eres morn þe kny3t of þe grene chapel men knowen me mony forþi me for to fynde if þou fraystez faylez þou neuer þerfore com oþer recreaunt be calde þe behoueus with a runisch rout þe raynez he tornez halled out at þe hal dor his hed in his hande þat þe fyr of þe flynt fla3e fro fole houes to quat kyth he becom knwe non þere

neuer more þen þay wyste from queþen he watz wonnen what þenne þe kyng and gawen þare

at þat grene þay la3e and grenne

3et breued watz hit ful bare a meruayl among þo menne þa3 arþer þe hende kyng at hert hade wonder he let no semblaunt be sene bot sayde ful hy3e to þe comlych quene wyth cortays speche

dere dame to day demay yow neuer wel bycommes such craft vpon cristmasse

laykyng of enterludez to la3e and to syng among þise kynde caroles of kny3tez and ladyez neuer þe lece to my mete I may me wel dres for I haf sen a selly I may not forsake he glent vpon sir gawen and gaynly he sayde now sir heng vp þyn ax þat hatz innogh hewen and hit watz don abof þe dece on doser to henge þer alle men for meruayl my3t on hit loke and bi trwe tytel þerof to telle þe wonder þenne þay bo3ed to a borde þise burnes togeder þe kyng and þe gode kny3t and kene men hem serued of alle dayntyez double as derrest my3t falle wyth alle maner of mete and mynstralcie boþe wyth wele walt þay þat day til worþed an ende in londe

now þenk wel sir gawan for woþe þat þou ne wonde

þis auenture for to frayn þat þou hatz tan on honde this hanselle hatz arthur of auenturus on fyrst in 3onge 3er for he 3erned 3elpyng to here tha3 hym wordez were wane when þay to sete wenten now ar þay stoken of sturne werk staf ful her hond gawan watz glad to begynne þose gomnez in halle bot þa3 þe ende be heuy haf 3e no wonder for þa3 men ben mery in mynde quen þay han mayn drynk a 3ere 3ernes ful 3erne and 3eldez neuer lyke þe forme to þe fynisment foldez ful selden forþi þis 3ol ouer3ede and þe 3ere after and vche sesoun serlepes sued after oþer after crystenmasse com þe crabbed lentoun þat fraystez flesch wyth þe fysche and fode more symple bot þenne þe weder of þe worlde wyth wynter hit þrepez colde clengez adoun cloudez vplyften

schyre schedez þe rayn in schowrez ful warme fallez vpon fayre flat flowrez þere schewen boþe groundez and þe greuez grene ar her wedez bryddez busken to bylde and bremlych syngen for solace of þe softe somer þat sues þerafter bi bonk and blossumez bolne to blowe

bi rawez rych and ronk þen notez noble inno3e

ar herde in wod so wlonk after þe sesoun of somer wyth þe soft wyndez quen zeferus syflez hymself on sedez and erbez wela wynne is þe wort þat waxes þeroute

when þe donkande dewe dropez of þe leuez to bide a blysful blusch of þe bry3t sunne bot þen hy3es heruest and hardenes hym sone warnez hym for þe wynter to wax ful rype he dryues wyth dro3t þe dust for to ryse fro þe face of þe folde to fly3e ful hy3e wroþe wynde of þe welkyn wrastelez with þe sunne þe leuez lancen fro þe lynde and ly3ten on þe grounde and al grayes þe gres þat grene watz ere þenne al rypez and rotez þat ros vpon fyrst and þus 3irnez þe 3ere in 3isterdayez mony and wynter wyndez a3ayn as þe worlde askez no sage

til me3elmas mone watz cumen wyth wynter wage

þen þenkkez gawan ful sone of his anious uyage

3et quyl alhalday with arþer he lenges and he made a fare on þat fest for þe frekez sake with much reuel and ryche of þe rounde table kny3tez ful cortays and comlych ladies
al for luf of þat lede in longynge þay were bot neuer þe lece ne þe later þay neuened bot merþe mony ioylez for þat ientyle iapez þer maden for aftter mete with mournyng he melez to his eme and spekez of his passage and pertly he sayde now lege lorde of my lyf leue I yow ask

3e knowe þe cost of þis cace kepe I no more to telle yow tenez þerof neuer bot trifel bot I am boun to þe bur barely to morne

to sech þe gome of þe grene as god wyl me wysse þenne þe best of þe bur3 bo3ed togeder aywan and errik and oþer ful mony

sir doddinanal de sauage þe duk of clarence launcelot and lyonel and lucan þe gode sir boos and sir byduer big men boþe

and mony oþer menskful with mador de la port alle þis compayny of court com þe kyng nerre for to counseyl þe kny3t with care at her hert þere watz much derue doel driuen in þe sale þat so worþe as wawan schulde wende on þat ernde to dry3e a delful dynt and dele no more wyth bronde

þe kny3t mad ay god chere and sayde quat schuld I wonde

of destines derf and dere what may mon do bot fonde he dowellez þer al þat day and dressez on þe morn askez erly hys armez and alle were þay bro3t fyrst a tule tapit ty3t ouer þe flet

and miche watz þe gyld gere þat glent þeralofte þe stif mon steppez þeron and þe stel hondelez dubbed in a dublet of a dere tars

and syþen a crafty capados closed aloft

þat wyth a bry3t blaunner was bounden withinne þenne set þay þe sabatounz vpon þe segge fotez his legez lapped in stel with luflych greuez with polaynez piched þerto policed ful clene aboute his knez knaged wyth knotez of golde queme quyssewes þen þat coyntlych closed his thik þrawen þy3ez with þwonges to tachched and syþen þe brawden bryne of bry3t stel ryngez vmbeweued þat wy3 vpon wlonk stuffe

and wel bornyst brace vpon his boþe armes with gode cowters and gay and glouez of plate and alle þe godlych gere þat hym gayn schulde þat tyde wyth ryche cote armure

his gold sporez spend with pryde gurde wyth a bront ful sure

with silk sayn vmbe his syde when he watz hasped in armes his harnays watz ryche þe lest lachet ouer loupe lemed of golde so harnayst as he watz he herknez his masse offred and honoured at þe he3e auter syþen he comez to þe kyng and to his cort ferez lachez lufly his leue at lordez and ladyez and þay hym kyst and conueyed bikende hym to kryst bi þat watz gryngolet grayth and gurde with a sadel þat glemed ful gayly with mony golde frenges ayquere naylet ful nwe for þat note ryched þe brydel barred aboute with bry3t golde bounden þe apparayl of þe payttrure and of þe proude skyrtez þe cropore and þe couertor acorded wyth þe arsounez and al watz rayled on red ryche golde naylez þat al glytered and glent as glem of þe sunne þenne hentes he þe helme and hastily hit kysses þat watz stapled stifly and stoffed wythinne hit watz hy3e on his hede hasped bihynde wyth a ly3tly vrysoun ouer þe auentayle

enbrawden and bounden wyth þe best gemmez on brode sylkyn borde and bryddez on semez as papiayez paynted peruyng bitwene

tortors and trulofez entayled so þyk as mony burde þeraboute had ben seuen wynter in toune þe cercle watz more o prys

þat vmbeclypped hys croun of diamauntez a deuys

þat boþe were bry3t and broun then þay schewed hym þe schelde þat was of schyr goulez wyth þe pentangel depaynt of pure golde hwez he braydez hit by þe bauderyk aboute þe hals kestes þat bisemed þe segge semlyly fayre and quy þe pentangel apendez to þat prynce noble I am in tent yow to telle þof tary hyt me schulde hit is a syngne þat salamon set sumquyle in bytoknyng of trawþe bi tytle þat hit habbez for hit is a figure þat haldez fyue poyntez and vche lyne vmbelappez and loukez in oþer and ayquere hit is emdelez and englych hit callen oueral as I here þe endeles knot forþy hit acordez to þis kny3t and to his cler armez for ay faythful in fyue and sere fyue syþez gawan watz for gode knawen and as golde pured voyded of vche vylany wyth verertuez ennourned in mote

forþy þe pentangel nwe he ber in schelde and cote

as tulk of tale most trwe and gentylest kny3t of lote fyrst he watz funden fautlez in his fyue wyttez and efte fayled neuer þe freke in his fyue fyngres and alle his afyaunce vpon folde watz in þe fyue woundez þat cryst ka3t on þe croys as þe crede tellez and quere soeuer þys mon in melly watz stad his þro þo3t watz in þat þur3 alle oþer þyngez þat alle his forsnes he fong at þe fyue joyez þat þe hende heuen quene had of hir chylde at þis cause þe kny3t comlyche hade

in þe inore half of his schelde hir ymage depaynted þat quen he blusched þerto his belde neuer payred þe fyft fyue þat I finde þat þe frek vsed watz fraunchyse and fela3schyp forbe al þyng his clannes and his cortaysye croked were neuer and pite þat passez alle poyntez þyse pure fyue were harder happed on þat haþel þen on any oþer now alle þese fyue syþez for soþe were fetled on þis kny3t and vchone halched in oþer þat non ende hade and fyched vpon fyue poyntez þat fayld neuer ne samned neuer in no syde ne sundred nouþer withouten ende at any noke I quere fynde whereeuer þe gomen bygan or glod to an ende þerfore on his schene schelde schapen watz þe knot ryally wyth red golde vpon rede gowlez

þat is þe pure pentaungel wyth þe peple called with lore now grayþed is gawan gay

and la3t his launce ry3t þore and gef hem alle goud day

he wende for euermore he sperred þe sted with þe spurez and sprong on his way so stif þat þe stonfyr stroke out þerafter al þat sey þat semly syked in hert

and sayde soþly al same segges til oþer

carande for þat comly bi kryst hit is scaþe þat þou leude schal be lost þat art of lyf noble to fynde hys fere vpon folde in fayth is not eþe warloker to haf wro3t had more wyt bene and haf dy3t 3onder dere a duk to haue worþed a lowande leder of ledez in londe hym wel semez and so had better haf ben þen britned to no3t hadet wyth an aluisch mon for angardez pryde who knew euer any kyng such counsel to take as kny3tez in cauelounz on crystmasse gomnez wel much watz þe warme water þat waltered of y3en when þat semly syre so3t fro þo wonez þad daye

he made non abode bot wy3tly went hys way

mony wylsum way he rode þe bok as I herde say now ridez þis renk þur3 þe ryalme of logres sir gauan on godez halue þa3 hym no gomen þo3t oft leudlez alone he lengez on ny3tez

þer he fonde no3t hym byfore þe fare þat he lyked hade he no fere bot his fole bi frythez and dounez ne no gome bot god bi gate wyth to karp

til þat he ne3ed ful noghe into þe norþe walez alle þe iles of anglesay on lyft half he haldez and farez ouer þe fordez by þe forlondez ouer at þe holy hede til he hade eft bonk in þe wyldrenesse of wyrale wonde þer bot lyte þat auþer god oþer gome wyth goud hert louied and ay he frayned as he ferde at frekez þat he met if þay hade herde any karp of a kny3t grene in any grounde þeraboute of þe grene clapel and al nykked hym wyth nay þat neuer in her lyue þay se3e neuer no segge þat watz of suche hwez of grene þe kny3t tok gates straunge

in mony a bonk vnbene his cher ful oft con chaunge

þat chapel er he my3t sene mony klyf he ouerclambe in contrayez straunge fer floten fro his frendez fremedly he rydez at vche warþe oþer water þer þe wy3e passed he fonde a foo hym byfore bot ferly hit were and þat so foule and so felle þat fe3t hym byhode fo mony meruayl bi mount þer þe mon fyndez hit were to tore for to telle of þe tenþe dole sumwhyle wyth wormez he werrez and with wolues als sumwhyle wyth wodwos þat woned in þe knarrez boþe wyth bullez and berez and borez oþerquyle and etaynez þat hym anelede of þe he3e felle nade he ben du3ty and dry3e and dry3tyn had serued douteles he hade ben ded and dreped ful ofte for werre wrathed hym not so much þat wynter was wors when þe colde cler water fro þe cloudez schadden and fres er hit falle my3t to þe fale erþe ner slayn wyth þe slete he sleped in his yrnes mo ny3tez þen innoghe in naked rokkez þer as claterande fro þe crest þe colde borne rennez and henged he3e ouer his hede in hard ysse ikkles þus in peryl and payne and plytes ful harde bi contray cayrez þis kny3t tyl krystmasse euen al one

þe kny3t wel þat tyde to mary made his mone

þat ho hym red to ryde and wysse hym to sum wone bi a mounte on þe morne meryly he rydes

into a forest ful dep þat ferly watz wylde hi3e hillez on vche a halue and holtwodez vnder of hore okez ful hoge a hundreth togeder þe hasel and þe ha3þorne were harled al samen with ro3e raged mosse rayled aywhere

with mony bryddez vnblyþe vpon bare twyges þat pitosly þer piped for pyne of þe colde þe gome vpon gryngolet glydez hem vnder

þur3 mony misy and myre mon al hym one carande for his costes lest he ne keuer schulde to se þe seruy of þat syre þat on þat self ny3t of a burde watz borne oure baret to quelle and þerfore sykyng he sayde I beseche þe lorde and mary þat is myldest moder so dere

of sum herber þer he3ly I my3t here masse ande þy matynez to morne mekely I ask and þerto prestly I pray my pater and aue and crede he rode in his prayere

and cryed for his mysdede he sayned hym in syþes sere

and sayde cros kryst me spede nade he sayned hymself segge bot þrye

er he watz war in þe wod of a won in a mote abof a launde on a lawe loken vnder bo3ez of mony borelych bole aboute bi þe diches a castel þe comlokest þat euer kny3t a3te pyched on a prayere a park al aboute

with a pyked palays pynned ful þik þat vmbete3e mony tre mo þen two myle

þat holde on þat on syde þe haþel auysed as hit schemered and schon þur3 þe schyre okez þenne hatz he hendly of his helme and he3ly he þonkez jesus and say gilyan þat gentyle ar boþe þat cortaysly hade hym kydde and his cry herkened now bone hostel coþe þe burne I beseche yow 3ette þenne gederez he to gryngolet with þe gilt helez and he ful chauncely hatz chosen to þe chef gate þat bro3t bremly þe burne to þe bryge ende in haste þe bryge watz breme vpbrayde

þe 3atez wer stoken faste þe wallez were wel arayed

hit dut no wyndez blaste þe burne bode on bonk þat on blonk houed of þe depe double dich þat drof to þe place þe walle wod in þe water wonderly depe

ande eft a ful huge he3t hit haled vpon lofte of harde hewen ston vp to þe tablez enbaned vnder þe abataylment in þe best lawe and syþen garytez ful gaye gered bitwene wyth mony luflych loupe þat louked ful clene a better barbican þat burne blusched vpon neuer and innermore he behelde þat halle ful hy3e towre telded bytwene trochet ful þik fayre fylyolez þat fy3ed and ferlyly long with coroun coprounes craftyly sle3e chalk whyt chymnees þer ches he inno3e

vpon bastel rouez þat blenked ful quyte

so mony pynakle payntet watz poudred ayquere among þe castel carnelez clambred so þik þat pared out of papure purely hit semed þe fre freke on þe fole hit fayr innghe þo3t if he my3t keuer to com þe cloyster wythinne to herber in þat hostel whyl halyday lested auinant

he calde and sone þer com a porter pure plesaunt

on þe wal his ernd he nome and haylsed þe kny3t erraunt gode sir quoþ gawan woldez þou go myn ernde to þe he3 lorde of þis hous herber to craue

3e peter quoþ þe porter and purely I trowoe þat 3e be wy3e welcum to won quyle yow lykez þen 3ede þe wy3e a3ayn swyþe

and folke frely hym wyth to fonge þe kny3t þay let doun þe grete dra3t and derely out 3eden and kneled doun on her knes vpon þe colde erþe to welcum þis ilk wy3 as worþy hom þo3t þay 3olden hym þe brode 3ate 3arked vp wyde and he hem raysed rekenly and rod ouer þe brygge sere seggez hym sesed by sadel quel he ly3t and syþen stabeled his stede stif men inno3e kny3tez and swyerez comen doun þenne

for to bryng þis buurne wyth blys into halle quen he hef vp his helme þer hi3ed innoghe for to hent hit at his honde þe hende to seruen his bronde and his blasoun boþe þay token þen haylsed he ful hendly þo haþelez vchone and mony proud mon þer presed þat prynce to honour alle hasped in his he3 wede to halle þay hym wonnen þer fayre fyre vpon flet fersly brenned þenne þe lorde of þe lede loutez fro his chambre for to mete wyth menske þe mon on þe flor he sayde 3e are welcum to welde as yow lykez þat here is al is yowre awen to haue at yowre wylle and welde

graunt mercy quoþ gawayn þer kryst hit yow for3elde

as frekez þat semed fayn ayþer oþer in armez con felde gawayn gly3t on þe gome þat godly hym gret and þu3t hit a bolde burne þat þe bur3 a3te a hoge haþel for þe nonez and of hyghe eldee brode bry3t watz his berde and al beuer hwed sturne stif on þe stryþþe on stalworth schonkez felle face as þe fyre and fre of hys speche and wel hym semed for soþe as þe segge þu3t to lede a lortschyp in lee of leudez ful gode þe lorde hym charred to a chambre and clesly cumaundez to delyuer hym a leude hym lo3ly to serue and þere were boun at his bode burnez inno3e þat bro3t hym to a bry3t boure þer beddyng watz noble of cortynes of clene sylk wyth cler golde hemmez and couertorez ful curious with comlych panez of bry3t blaunmer aboue enbrawded bisydez rudelez rennande on ropez red golde ryngez tapitez ty3t to þe wo3e of tuly and tars and vnder fete on þe flet of fol3ande sute þer he watz dispoyled wyth spechez of myerþe þe burn of his bruny and of his bry3t wedez ryche robes ful rad renkkez hem bro3ten

for to charge and to chaunge and chose of þe best sone as he on hent and happed þerinne þat sete on hyn semly wyth saylande skyrtez þe ver by his uisage verayly hit semed welne3 to vche haþel alle on hwes

lowande and lufly alle his lymmez vnder

þat a comloker kny3t neuer kryst made hem þo3t

wheþen in worlde he were hit semed as he my3t

be prynce withouten pere in felde þer felle men fy3t a cheyer byfore þe chemne þer charcole brenned watz grayþed for sir gawan grayþely with cloþez whyssynes vpon queldepoyntes þa koynt wer boþe and þenne a mere mantyle watz on þat mon cast of a broun bleeaunt enbrauded ful ryche

and fayre furred wythinne with fellez of þe best alle of ermyn in erde his hode of þe same and he sete in þat settel semlych ryche

and achaufed hym cefly and þenne his cher mended sone watz telded vp a tapit on trestez ful fayre clad wyth a clene cloþe þat cler quyt schewed sanap and salure and syluerin sponez þe wy3e wesche at his wylle and went to his mete seggez hym serued semly inno3e wyth sere sewes and sete sesounde of þe best double felde as hit fallez and fele kyn fischez summe baken in bred summe brad on þe gledez summe soþen summe in sewe sauered with spyces and ay sawes so sle3ez þat þe segge lyked þe freke calde hit a fest ful frely and ofte ful hendely quen alle þe haþeles rehayted hym at onez as hende þis penaunce now 3e take

and eft hit schal amende þat mon much merþe con make

for wyn in his hed þat wende þenne watz spyed and spured vpon spare wyse bi preue poyntez of þat prynce put to hymseluen þat he beknew cortaysly of þe court þat he were þat aþel arþure þe hende haldez hym one þat is þe ryche ryal kyng of þe rounde table and hit watz Wawen hymself þat in þat won syttez comen to þat krystmasse as case hym þen lymped when þe lorde hade lerned þat he þe leude hade loude la3ed he þerat so lef hit hym þo3t and alle þe men in þat mote maden much joye to apere in his presense prestly þat tyme þat alle prys and prowes and pured þewes apendes to hys persoun and praysed is euer byfore alle men vpon molde his mensk is þe most vch segge ful softly sayde to his fere

now schal we semlych se sle3tez of þewez and þe teccheles termes of talkyng noble wich spede is in speche vnspurd may we lerne syn we haf fonged þat fyne fader of nurture god hatz geuen vus his grace godly for soþe þat such a gest as gawan grauntez vus to haue when burnez blyþe of his burþe schal sitte and synge in menyng of manerez mere

þis burne now schal vus bryng

I hope þat may hym here schal lerne of luf talkyng bi þat þe diner watz done and þe dere vp hit watz ne3 at þe niy3t ne3ed þe tyme claplaynez to þe chapeles chosen þe gate rungen ful rychely ry3t as þay schulden to þe hersum euensong of þe hy3e tyde

þe lorde loutes þerto and þe lady als into a comly closet coyntly ho entrez

gawan glydez ful gay and gos þeder sone

þe lorde laches hym by þe lappe and ledez hym to sytte and couþly hym knowez and callez hym his nome and sayde he watz þe welcomest wy3e of þe worlde and he hym þonkked þroly and ayþer halched oþer and seten soberly samen þe seruise quyle þenne lyst þe lady to loke on þe kny3t þenne com ho of hir closet with mony cler burdez ho watz þe fayrest in felle of flesche and of lyre and of compas and colour and costes of alle oþer and wener þen wenore as þe wy3e þo3t he ches þur3 þe chaunsel to cheryche þat hende an oþer lady hir lad bi þe lyft honde þat watz alder þen ho an auncian hit semed and he3ly honowred with haþelez aboute bot vnlyke on to loke þo ladyes were

for if þe 3onge watz 3ep 3ol3e watz þat oþer riche red on þat on rayled ayquere rugh ronkled chekez þat oþer on rolled

kerchofes of þat on wyth mony cler perlez hir brest and hir bry3t þrote bare displayed schon schyrer þen snawe þat scheder on hillez þat oþer wyth a gorger watz gered ouer þe swyre chymbled ouer hir blake chyn with mylk quyte vayles hir frount folden in sylk enfoubled ayquere toret and treleted with tryflez aboute

þat no3t watz bare of þat burde bot þe blake bro3es þe tweyne y3en and þe nase þe naked lyppez and þose were soure to se and sellyly blered a mensk lady on molde mon may hir calle for gode

hir body watz schort and þik hir buttokez bay and brode

more lykkerwys on to lyk watz þat scho hade on lode when gawayn gly3t on þat gay þat graciously loked wyth leue la3t of þe lorde he went hem a3aynes þe alder he haylses heldande ful lowe

þe loueloker he lappez a lyttel in armez he kysses hir comlyly and kny3tly he melez þay kallen hym of aquoyntaunce and he hit quyk askez to be her seruant sothly if hemself lyked þay tan hym bytwene hem wyth talkyng hym leden to chambre to chemne and chefly þay asken spycez þat vnsparely men speded hom to bryng and þe wynnelych wyne þerwith vche tyme þe lorde luflych aloft lepez ful ofte

mynned merthe to be made vpon mony syþez hent he3ly of his hode and on a spere henged and wayned hom to wynne þe worchip þerof þat most myrþe my3t meue þat crystenmas whyle and I schal fonde bi my fayth to fylter wyth þe best er me wont þe wedez with help of my frendez þus wyth la3ande lotez þe lorde hit tayt makez for to glade sir gawayn with gomnez in halle þat ny3t

til þat hit watz tyme þe kyng comaundet ly3t

sir gawen his leue con nyme and to his bed hym di3t on þe morne as vch mon mynez þat tyme

þat dry3tyn for oure destyne to de3e watz borne wele waxez in vche a won in worlde for his sake so did hit þere on þat day þur3 dayntes mony boþe at mes and at mele messes ful quaynt derf men vpon dece drest of þe best

þe olde auncian wyf he3est ho syttez þe lorde lufly her by lent as I trowe

gawan and þe gay burde togeder þay seten euen inmyddez as þe messe metely come and syþen þur3 al þe sale as hem best semed bi vche grome at his degre grayþely watz serued þer watz mete þer watz myrþe þer watz much ioye þat for to telle þerof hit me tene were and to poynte hit 3et I pyned me parauenture bot 3et I wot þat wawen and þe wale burde such comfort of her compaynye ca3ten togeder þur3 her dere dalyaunce of her derne wordez wyth clene cortays carp closed fro fylþe and hor play watz passande vche prynce gomen in vayres

trumpez and nakerys much pypyng þer repayres

vche mon tented hys and þay two tented þayres much dut watz þer dryuen þat day and þat oþer and þe þryd as þro þronge in þerafter þe ioye of sayn jonez day watz gentyle to here and watz þe last of þe layk leudez þer þo3ten þer wer gestes to go vpon þe gray morne

forþy wonderly þay woke and þe wyn dronken daunsed ful dre3ly wyth dere carolez at þe last when hit watz late þay lachen her leue vchon to wende on his way þat watz wy3e stronge gawan gef hym god day þe godmon hym lachchez ledes hym to his awen chambre þe hymne bysyde and þere he dra3ez hym on dry3e and derely hym þonkkez of þe wynne worschip and he hym wayued hade as to honour his hous on þat hy3e tyde

and enbelyse his bur3 with his bele chere iwysse sir quyl I leue me worþez þe better þat gawayn hatz ben my gest at goddez awen fest grant nerci sir quoþ gawayn in god fayth hit is yowrez al þe honour is your awen þe he3e kyng yow 3elde and I am wy3e at your wylle to worch youre hest as I am halden þerto in hy3e and in lo3e bi ri3t þe lorde fast can hym payne

to holde lenger þe kny3t to hym answrez gawayn

bi non way þat he my3t then frayned þe freke ful fayre at himseluen quat derue dede had hym dryuen at þat dere tyme so kenly fro þe kyngez kourt to kayre al his one er þe halidayez holly were halet out of toun for soþe sir quoþ þe segge 3e sayn bot þe trawþe a he3e ernde and a hasty me hade fro þo wonez for I am sumned myselfe to sech to a place I wot in worlde whederwarde to wende hit to fynde

I nolde bot if I hit negh my3t on nw 3eres morne for alle þe londe inwyth logres so me oure lorde help forþy sir þis enquest I require yow here þat 3e me telle with trawþe if euer 3e tale herde of þe grene chapel quere hit on grounde stondez and of þe kny3t þat hit kepes of colour of grene þer watz stabled bi statut a steuen vus bytwene to mete þat mon at þat mere 3if I my3t last and of þat ilk nw 3ere bot neked now wontez and I wolde loke on þat lede if god me let wolde gladloker bi goddez sun þen any god welde forþi iwysse bi 3owre wylle wende me bihoues naf I now to busy bot bare þre dayez

and me als fayn to falle feye as fayly of myyn ernde þenne la3ande quoþ þe lorde now leng þe byhoues for I schal teche yow to þa terme bi þe tymez ende þe grene chapayle vpon grounde greue yow no more bot 3e schal be in yowre bed burne at þyn ese quyle forth dayez and ferk on þe fyrst of þe 3ere and cum to þat merk at mydmorn to make quat yow likez in spenne dowellez whyle new 3eres daye

and rys and raykez þenne mon schal yow sette in waye

hit is not two myle henne þenne watz gawan ful glad and gomenly he la3ed now I þonk yow þryuandely þur3 alle oþer þynge now acheued is my chaunce I schal at your wylle dowelle and ellez do quat 3e demen þenne sesed hym þe syre and set hym bysyde let þe ladiez be fette to lyke hem þe better þer watz seme solace by hemself stille

þe lorde let for luf lotez so myry as wy3 þat wolde of his wyte ne wyst quat he my3t þenne he carped to þe kny3t criande loude

3e han demed to do þe dede þat I bidde wyl 3e halde þis hes here at þys onez
3e sir for soþe sayd þe segge trwe whyl I byde in 3owre bor3e be bayn to 3owe hest for 3e haf trauayled quoþ þe tulk towen fro ferre and syþen waked me wyth 3e arn not wel waryst nauþer of sostnaunce ne of slepe soþly I knowe

3e schal lenge in your lofte and ly3e in your ese to morn quyle þe messequyle and to mete wende when 3e wyl wyth my wyf þat wyth yow schal sitte and comfort yow with compayny til I to cort torne

3e lende and I schal erly ryse
on huntyng wyl I wende gauayn grantez alle þyse
hym heldande as þe hende

3et firre quoþ þe freke a forwarde we make quat soeuer I wynne in þe wod hit worþez to yourez and quat chek so 3e acheue chaunge me þerforne swete swap we so sware with trawþe queþer leude so lymp lere oþer better

bi god quoþ gawayn þe gode I grant þertylle and þat yow lyst for to layke lef hit me þynkes who bryngez vus þis beuerage þis bargayn is maked so sayde þe lorde of þat lede þay la3ed vchone þay dronken and daylyeden and dalten vnty3tel þise lordez and ladyez quyle þat hem lyked and syþen with frenkysch fare and fele fayre lotez þay stoden and stemed and stylly speken kysten ful comlyly and ka3ten her leue

with mony leude ful ly3t and lemande torches vche burne to his bed watz bro3t at þe laste ful softe

to bed 3et er þay 3ede recorded couenauntez ofte

þe olde lorde of þat leude cowþe wel halde layk alofte ful erly bifore þe day þe folk vprysen

gestes þat go wolde hor gromez þay calden and þay busken vp bilyue blonkkez to sadel tyffen he takles trussen her males

richen hem þe rychest to ryde alle arayde lepen vp ly3tly lachen her brydeles vche wy3e on his way þer hym wel lyked

þe leue lorde of þe londe watz not þe last arayed for þe rydyng with renkkez ful mony ete a sop hastyly when he hade herde masse with bugle to bent felde he buskez bylyue by þat þat any dayly3t lemed vpon erþe

he with his haþeles on hy3e horsses weren þenne þise cacheres þat couþe cowpled hor houndez vnclosed þe kenel dore and calde hem þeroute blwe bygly in buglez þre bare mote braches bayed þerfore and breme noyse maked and þay chastysed and charred on chasyng þat went a hundreth of hunteres as I haf herde telle of þe best to trystors vewters 3od

couples huntes of kest þer ros for blastez gode

gret rurd in þat forest at þe fyrst quethe of þe quest quaked þe wylde der drof in þe dale doted for drede hi3ed to þe hy3e bot heterly þay were

restayed with þe stablye þat stoutly ascryed þay let þe herttez haf þe gate with þe hy3e hedes þe breme bukkez also with hor brode paumez for þe fre lorde hade defende in fermysoun tyme þat þer schulde no mon meue to þe male dere þe hindez were halden in with hay and war þe does dryuen with gret dyn to þe depe sladez þer my3t mon se as þay slypte slentyng of arwes at vche wende vnder wande wapped a flone þat bigly bote on þe broun with ful brode hedez what þay brayen and bleden bi bonkkez þay de3en and ay rachches in a res radly hem fol3es hunterez wyth hy3e horne hasted hem after wyth such a crakkande kry as klyffes haden brusten what wylde so atwaped wy3es þat schotten watz al toraced and rent at þe resayt bi þay were tened at þe hy3e and taysed to þe wattrez þe ledez were so lerned at þe lo3e trysteres and þe grehoundez so grete þat geten hem bylyue and hem tofylched as fast as frekez my3t loke þer ry3t

þe lorde for blys abloy ful oft con launce and ly3t

and drof þat day wyth joy thus to þe derk ny3t þus laykez þis lorde by lynde wodez euez and gawayn þe god mon in gay bed lygez lurkkez quyl þe dayly3t lemed on þe wowes vnder couertour ful clere cortyned aboute and as in slomeryng he slode sle3ly he herde a littel dyn at his dor and derfly vpon and he heuez vp his hed out of þe cloþes [fol. 107r]

a corner of þe cortyn he ca3t vp a lyttel and waytez warly þiderwarde quat hit be my3t hit watz þe ladi loflyest to beholde

þat dro3 þe dor after hir ful dernly and stylle and bo3ed towarde &t

Colophon

This edition of the works of the Gawain Poet reproduces texts from public domain transcriptions and translations. The four poems survive in a single manuscript (British Library, Cotton Nero A.x, Art. 3), written in a Northwest Midlands dialect of Middle English. The identity of the poet remains unknown, but the works are considered among the greatest of the English medieval period.

Compiled and formatted for the Good Work Library by the New Tianmu Anglican Church, 2026.

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