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120 | This mayden, bright Cecilie, as hir lyf seith, |
Was comen of Romayns, and of noble kynde, | |
And from hir cradel up fostred in the feith | |
Of Crist, and bar his gospel in hir mynde. | |
She nevere cessed, as I writen fynde, | |
125 | Of hir preyere, and God to love and drede, |
Bisekynge hym to kepe hir maydenhede. |
And whan this mayden sholde unto a man | |
Ywedded be, that was ful yong of age, | |
Which that ycleped was Valerian, | |
130 | And day was comen of hir mariage, |
She, ful devout and humble in hir corage, | |
Under hir robe of gold, that sat ful faire, | |
Hadde next hir flessh yclad hir in an haire. |
And whil the organs maden melodie, | |
135 | To God allone in herte thus sang she: |
"O Lord, my soule and eek my body gye | |
Unwemmed, lest that I confounded be." | |
And, for his love that dyde upon a tree, | |
Every seconde and thridde day she faste, | |
140 | Ay biddynge in hir orisons ful faste. |
The nyght cam, and to bedde moste she gon | |
With hir housbonde, as ofte is the manere, | |
And pryvely to hym she seyde anon, | |
"O sweete and wel biloved spouse deere, | |
145 | Ther is a conseil, and ye wolde it heere, |
Which that right fayn I wolde unto yow seye, | |
So that ye swere ye shul me nat biwreye." |
Valerian gan faste unto hire swere | |
That for no cas, ne thyng that myghte be, | |
150 | He sholde nevere mo biwreyen here, |
And thanne at erst to hym thus seyde she, | |
"I have an aungel which that loveth me, | |
That with greet love, wher so I wake or sleepe, | |
Is redy ay my body for to kepe. |
155 | And if that he may feelen, out of drede |
That ye me touche, or love in vileynye, | |
He right anon wol sle yow with the dede, | |
And in youre yowthe thus ye sholden dye. | |
And if that ye in clene love me gye, | |
160 | He wol yow loven as me for youre clennesse, |
And shewen yow his joye and his brightnesse." |
Valerian, corrected as God wolde, | |
Answerde agayn, "If I shal trusten thee, | |
Lat me that aungel se, and hym biholde, | |
165 | And if that it a verray aungel bee, |
Thanne wol I doon as thou hast prayed me; | |
And if thou love another man, forsothe | |
Right with this swerd thanne wol I sle yow bothe." |
Cecile answerde anon right in this wise, | |
170 | "If that yow list, the aungel shul ye see, |
So that ye trowe in Crist, and yow baptize. | |
Gooth forth to Via Apia," quod she, | |
"That fro this toun ne stant but miles thre; | |
And to the povre folkes that ther dwelle | |
175 | Sey hem right thus as that I shal yow telle. |
Telle hem, that I Cecile yow to hem sente, | |
To shewen yow the goode Urban the olde, | |
For secree thynges and for good entente; | |
And whan that ye Seint Urban han biholde, | |
180 | Telle hym the wordes whiche that I to yow tolde, |
And whan that he hath purged yow fro synne, | |
Thanne shul ye se that aungel er ye twynne." |
Valerian is to the place ygon, | |
And right as hym was taught by his lernynge, | |
185 | He foond this hooly olde Urban anon |
Among the seintes buryeles lotynge. | |
And he anon, withouten tariynge, | |
Dide his message, and whan that he it tolde, | |
Urban for joye his handes gan up holde. |
190 | The teeris from hise eyen leet he falle. |
"Almyghty lord, O Jesu Crist," quod he, | |
"Sower of chaast conseil, hierde of us alle, | |
The fruyt of thilke seed of chastitee | |
That thou hast sowe in Cecile, taak to thee. | |
195 | Lo, lyk a bisy bee, withouten gile, |
Thee serveth ay thyn owene thral Cecile! |
For thilke spouse that she took but now | |
Ful lyk a fiers leoun, she sendeth heere | |
As meke as evere was any lomb, to yow." | |
200 | And with that word anon ther gan appeere |
An oold man clad in white clothes cleere, | |
That hadde a book with lettre of gold in honde, | |
And gan bifore Valerian to stonde. |
Valerian as deed fil doun for drede | |
205 | Whan he hym saugh, and he up hente hym tho, |
And on his book right thus he gan to rede, | |
"O lord, o feith, o God, withouten mo, | |
O Cristendom, and fader of alle also, | |
Aboven alle, and over alle, everywhere." | |
210 | Thise wordes al with gold ywriten were. |
Whan this was rad, thanne seyde this olde man, | |
"Leevestow this thyng or no? sey ye or nay?" | |
"I leeve al this thyng," quod Valerian, | |
"For sother thyng than this, I dar wel say, | |
215 | Under the hevene no wight thynke may." |
Tho vanysshed this olde man, he nyste where; | |
And Pope Urban hym cristned right there. |
Valerian gooth hoom, and fynt Cecile | |
Withinne his chambre with an aungel stonde. | |
220 | This aungel hadde of roses and of lilie |
Corones two, the whiche he bar in honde; | |
And first to Cecile, as I understonde, | |
He yaf that oon, and after gan he take | |
That oother to Valerian hir make. |
225 | "With body clene and with unwemmed thoght |
Kepeth ay wel thise corones," quod he, | |
"Fro Paradys to yow have I hem broght, | |
Ne nevere mo ne shal they roten bee, | |
Ne lese hir soote savour, trusteth me, | |
230 | Ne nevere wight shal seen hem with his eye |
But he be chaast and hate vileynye. |
And thow Valerian, for thow so soone | |
Assentedest to good conseil also, | |
Sey what thee list, and thou shalt han thy boone." | |
235 | "I have a brother," quod Valerian tho, |
"That in this world I love no man so. | |
I pray yow that my brother may han grace, | |
To knowe the trouthe, as I do in this place." |
The aungel seyde, "God liketh thy requeste, | |
240 | And bothe with the palm of martirdom |
Ye shullen com unto his blisful feste." | |
And with that word Tiburce his brother coom; | |
And whan that he the savour undernoom, | |
Which that the roses and the lilies caste, | |
245 | Withinne his herte he gan to wondre faste, |
And seyde, "I wondre, this tyme of the yeer, | |
Whennes that soote savour cometh so | |
Of rose and lilies that I smelle heer. | |
For though I hadde hem in myne handes two, | |
250 | The savour myghte in me no depper go, |
The sweete smel that in myn herte I fynde | |
Hath chaunged me al in another kynde." |
Valerian seyde, "Two corones han we, | |
Snow white and rose reed that shynen cleere, | |
255 | Whiche that thyne eyen han no myght to see, |
And as thou smellest hem thurgh my preyere, | |
So shaltow seen hem, leeve brother deere, | |
If it so be thou wolt, withouten slouthe, | |
Bileve aright and knowen verray trouthe." |
260 | Tiburce answerde, "Seistow this to me? |
In soothnesse or in dreem I herkne this?" | |
"In dremes," quod Valerian, "han we be | |
Unto this tyme, brother myn, ywes; | |
But now at erst in trouthe oure dwellyng is." | |
265 | "How woostow this," quod Tiburce, "in what wyse?" |
Quod Valerian, "That shal I thee devyse. |
The aungel of God hath me the trouthe ytaught | |
Which thou shalt seen, if that thou wolt reneye | |
The ydoles and be clene, and elles naught." | |
270 | And of the myracle of thise corones tweye |
Seint Ambrose in his preface list to seye. | |
Solempnely this noble doctour deere | |
Commendeth it, and seith in this manere: |
"The palm of martirdom for to receyve | |
275 | Seinte Cecile, fulfild of Goddes yifte, |
The world and eek hire chambre gan she weyve, | |
Witnesse Tyburces and Valerians shrifte, | |
To whiche God of his bountee wolde shifte | |
Corones two, of floures wel smellynge, | |
280 | And made his aungel hem the corones brynge. |
The mayde hath broght thise men to blisse above; | |
The world hath wist what it is worth, certeyn, | |
Devocioun of chastitee to love." | |
Tho shewed hym Cecile, al open and pleyn, | |
285 | That alle ydoles nys but a thyng in veyn, |
For they been dombe and therto they been deve, | |
And charged hym hise ydoles for to leve. |
"Whoso that troweth, nat this, a beest he is," | |
Quod tho Tiburce, "if that I shal nat lye." | |
290 | And she gan kisse his brest, that herde this, |
And was ful glad he koude trouthe espye. | |
"This day I take thee for myn allye," | |
Seyde this blisful faire mayde deere, | |
And after that she seyde as ye may heere. |
295 | "Lo, right so as the love of Crist," quod she, |
"Made me thy brotheres wyf, right in that wise | |
Anon for myn allyee heer take I thee, | |
Syn that thou wolt thyne ydoles despise. | |
Go with thy brother now, and thee baptise, | |
300 | And make thee clene, so that thou mowe biholde |
The aungels face of which thy brother tolde." |
Tiburce answerde and seyde, "Brother deere, | |
First tel me whider I shal, and to what man?" | |
"To whom?" quod he, "com forth with right good cheere, | |
305 | I wol thee lede unto the Pope Urban." |
"Til Urban? Brother myn Valerian," | |
Quod tho Tiburce, "woltow me thider lede? | |
Me thynketh that it were a wonder dede." |
"Ne menestow nat Urban," quod he tho, | |
310 | "That is so ofte dampned to be deed, |
And woneth in halkes alwey to and fro, | |
And dar nat ones putte forth his heed; | |
Men sholde hym brennen in a fyr so reed, | |
If he were founde, or that men myghte hym spye; | |
315 | And we also, to bere hym compaignye, |
And whil we seken thilke divinitee, | |
That is yhid in hevene pryvely, | |
Algate ybrend in this world shul we be!" | |
To whom Cecile answerde boldely, | |
320 | "Men myghten dreden wel and skilfully |
This lyf to lese, myn owene deere brother, | |
If this were lyvynge oonly and noon oother. |
But ther is bettre lyf in oother place, | |
That nevere shal be lost, ne drede thee noght, | |
325 | Which Goddes Sone us tolde thurgh his grace. |
That fadres sone hath alle thyng ywroght, | |
And al that wroght is with a skilful thoght, | |
The goost, that fro the Fader gan procede, | |
Hath sowled hem, withouten any drede. |
330 | By word and by myracel Goddes Sone, |
Whan he was in this world, declared heere | |
That ther was oother lyf ther men may wone." | |
To whom answerde Tiburce, "O suster deere, | |
Ne seydestow right now in this manere, | |
335 | Ther nys but o God, lord in soothfastnesse, |
And now of thre how maystow bere witnesse?" |
"That shal I telle," quod she, "er I go. | |
Right as a man hath sapiences thre, | |
Memorie, engyn, and intellect also, | |
340 | So, in o beynge of divinitee |
Thre persones may ther right wel bee." | |
Tho gan she hym ful bisily to preche | |
Of Cristes come, and of hise peynes teche, |
And many pointes of his passioun; | |
345 | How Goddes Sone in this world was withholde |
To doon mankynde pleyn remissioun, | |
That was ybounde in synne and cares colde; | |
Al this thyng she unto Tiburce tolde; | |
And after this, Tiburce in good entente | |
350 | With Valerian to Pope Urban he wente; |
That thanked God, and with glad herte and light | |
He cristned hym, and made hym in that place | |
Parfit in his lernynge, Goddes knyght. | |
And after this Tiburce gat swich grace | |
355 | That every day he saugh in tyme and space |
The aungel of God, and every maner boone | |
That he God axed, it was sped ful soone. |
It were ful hard by ordre for to seyn | |
How manye wondres Jesu for hem wroghte. | |
360 | But atte laste, to tellen short and pleyn, |
The sergeantz of the toun of Rome hem soghte, | |
And hem biforn Almache the Prefect broghte, | |
Which hem apposed, and knew al hire entente, | |
And to the ymage of Juppiter hem sente, |
365 | And seyde, "Whoso wol nat sacrifise, |
Swap of his heed, this my sentence heer." | |
Anon thise martirs that I yow devyse, | |
Oon Maximus, that was an officer | |
Of the prefectes, and his corniculer, | |
370 | Hem hente, and whan he forth the seintes ladde, |
Hymself he weep, for pitee that he hadde. |
Whan Maximus had herd the seintes loore, | |
He gat hym of the tormentoures leve, | |
And ladde hem to his hous withoute moore. | |
375 | And with hir prechyng, er that it were eve, |
They gonnen fro the tormentours to reve, | |
And fro Maxime, and fro his folk echone | |
The fals feith, to trowe in God allone. |
Cecile cam whan it was woxen nyght, | |
380 | With preestes that hem cristned alle yfeere, |
And afterward, whan day was woxen light, | |
Cecile hem seyde, with a ful stedefast cheere, | |
"Now Cristes owene knyghtes, leeve and deere, | |
Cast alle awey the werkes of derknesse | |
385 | And armeth yow in armure of brightnesse. |
Ye han for sothe ydoon a greet bataille, | |
Youre cours is doon, youre feith han ye conserved, | |
Gooth to the corone of lyf that may nat faille. | |
The rightful juge which that ye han served | |
390 | Shal yeve it yow as ye han it deserved." |
And whan this thyng was seyd as I devyse, | |
Men ledde hem forth to doon the sacrifise. |
But whan they weren to the place broght, | |
To tellen shortly the conclusioun, | |
395 | They nolde encense ne sacrifise right noght, |
But on hir knees they setten hem adoun | |
With humble herte and sad devocioun, | |
And losten bothe hir hevedes in the place. | |
Hir soules wenten to the kyng of grace. |
400 | This Maximus that saugh this thyng bityde, |
With pitous teeris tolde it anon-right, | |
That he hir soules saugh to hevene glyde | |
With aungels ful of cleernesse and of light; | |
And with this word converted many a wight; | |
405 | For which Almachius dide hym so bete |
With whippe of leed, til he the lyf gan lete. |
Cecile hym took, and buryed hym anon | |
By Tiburce and Valerian softely, | |
Withinne hir buriyng place, under the stoon, | |
410 | And after this Almachius hastily |
Bad his ministres fecchen openly | |
Cecile, so that she myghte in his presence | |
Doon sacrifice, and Juppiter encense. |
But they, converted at hir wise loore, | |
415 | Wepten ful soore, and yaven ful credence |
Unto hire word, and cryden moore and moore, | |
"Crist, Goddes sone, withouten difference, | |
Is verray God - this is al oure sentence - | |
That hath so good a servant hym to serve. | |
420 | This with o voys we trowen, thogh we sterve." |
Almachius, that herde of this doynge, | |
Bad fecchen Cecile, that he myghte hir see, | |
And alderfirst, lo, this was his axynge: | |
"What maner womman artow?" tho quod he. | |
425 | "I am a gentil womman born," quod she. |
"I axe thee," quod he, "though it thee greeve, | |
Of thy religioun and of thy bileeve." |
"Ye han bigonne youre question folily," | |
Quod she, "that wolden two answeres conclude | |
430 | In o demande; ye axed lewedly." |
Almache answerde unto that similitude, | |
"Of whennes comth thyn answeryng so rude?' | |
"Of whennes?" quod she, whan that she was freyned, | |
"Of conscience and of good feith unfeyned." |
435 | Almachius seyde, "Ne takestow noon heede |
Of my power?" And she answerde hym this: | |
"Youre myght," quod she, "ful litel is to dreede, | |
For every mortal mannes power nys | |
But lyke a bladdre ful of wynd, ywys; | |
440 | For with a nedles poynt, whan it is blowe, |
May al the boost of it be leyd ful lowe." |
"Ful wrongfully bigonne thow," quod he, | |
"And yet in wrong is thy perseveraunce; | |
Wostow nat how oure myghty princes free | |
445 | Han thus comanded and maad ordinaunce |
That every cristen wight shal han penaunce, | |
But if that he his cristendom withseye- | |
And goon al quit, if he wole it reneye?" |
"Youre princes erren, as youre nobleye dooth," | |
450 | Quod tho Cecile, "and with a wood sentence |
Ye make us gilty, and it is nat sooth, | |
For ye, that knowen wel oure innocence, | |
For as muche as we doon a reverence | |
To Crist, and for we bere a cristen name, | |
455 | Ye putte on us a cryme, and eek a blame. |
But we that knowen thilke name so | |
For vertuous, we may it nat withseye." | |
Almache answerde, "Chees oon of thise two, | |
Do sacrifise, or cristendom reneye, | |
460 | That thou mowe now escapen by that weye." |
At which the hooly blisful faire mayde | |
Gan for to laughe, and to the juge sayde, |
"O Juge, confus in thy nycetee, | |
Woltow that I reneye innocence, | |
465 | To make me a wikked wight," quod shee; |
"Lo, he dissymuleth heere in audience, | |
He stareth, and woodeth in his advertence." | |
To whom Almachius, "Unsely wrecche, | |
Ne woostow nat how far my myght may strecche? |
470 | Han noght oure myghty princes to me yeven |
Ye, bothe power and auctoritee | |
To maken folk to dyen or to lyven? | |
Why spekestow so proudly thanne to me?" | |
"I speke noght but stedfastly," quod she, | |
475 | "Nat proudly, for I speke as for my syde, |
We haten deedly thilke vice of pryde. |
And if thou drede nat a sooth to heere, | |
Thanne wol I shewe al openly by right | |
That thou hast maad a ful grete lesyng heere, | |
480 | Thou seyst, thy princes han thee yeven myght |
Bothe for to sleen, and for to quyken a wight. | |
Thou that ne mayst but oonly lyf bireve, | |
Thou hast noon oother power, ne no leve! |
But thou mayst seyn thy princes han thee maked | |
485 | Ministre of deeth, for if thou speke of mo, |
Thou lyest, for thy power is ful naked." | |
"Do wey thy booldnesse," seyde Almachius tho, | |
"And sacrifise to oure goddes er thou go. | |
I recche nat what wrong that thou me profre, | |
490 | For I can suffre it as a philosophre. |
But thilke wronges may I nat endure | |
That thou spekest of oure goddes heere," quod he. | |
Cecile answerde, "O nyce creature, | |
Thou seydest no word, syn thou spak to me, | |
495 | That I ne knew therwith thy nycetee, |
And that thou were in every maner wise | |
A lewed officer and a veyn justise. |
Ther lakketh no thyng to thyne outter yen | |
That thou nart blynd, for thyng that we seen alle | |
500 | That it is stoon - that men may wel espyen - |
That ilke stoon a god thow wolt it calle. | |
I rede thee lat thyn hand upon it falle, | |
And taste it wel, and stoon thou shalt it fynde, | |
Syn that thou seest nat with thyne eyen blynde. |
505 | It is a shame that the peple shal |
So scorne thee, and laughe at thy folye; | |
For communly men woot it wel overal | |
That myghty God is in hise hevenes hye, | |
And thise ymages, wel thou mayst espye, | |
510 | To thee ne to hemself mowen noght profite, |
For in effect they been nat worth a myte." |
Thise wordes and swiche othere seyde she, | |
And he weex wrooth, and bad men sholde hir lede | |
Hom til hir hous, and "in hire hous," quod he, | |
515 | "Brenne hire right in a bath of flambes rede." |
And as he bad, right so was doon in dede, | |
For in a bath they gonne hire faste shetten, | |
And nyght and day greet fyre they underbetten. |
The longe nyght and eek a day also | |
520 | For al the fyr and eek the bathes heete |
She sat al coold, and feelede no wo; | |
It made hire nat a drope for to sweete. | |
But in that bath hir lyf she moste lete, | |
For he Almachius, with a ful wikke entente, | |
525 | To sleen hir in the bath his sonde sente. |
Thre strokes in the nekke he smoot hir tho, | |
The tormentour, but for no maner chaunce | |
He myghte noght smyte al hir nekke atwo. | |
And for ther was that tyme an ordinaunce | |
530 | That no man sholde doon men swich penaunce |
The ferthe strook to smyten, softe or soore, | |
This tormentour ne dorste do namoore. |
But half deed, with hir nekke ycorven there, | |
He lefte hir lye, and on his wey is went. | |
535 | The Cristen folk, which that aboute hir were, |
With sheetes han the blood ful faire yhent. | |
Thre dayes lyved she in this torment, | |
And nevere cessed hem the feith to teche; | |
That she hadde fostred, hem she gan to preche. |
540 | And hem she yaf hir moebles, and hir thyng, |
And to the Pope Urban bitook hem tho, | |
And seyde, "I axed this at hevene kyng | |
To han respit thre dayes, and namo, | |
To recomende to yow er that I go | |
545 | Thise soules, lo, and that I myghte do werche |
Heere of myn hous perpetuelly a chirche." |
Seint Urban with hise deknes prively | |
This body fette, and buryed it by nyghte, | |
Among hise othere seintes, honestly. | |
550 | Hir hous the chirche of Seinte Cecilie highte; |
Seint Urban halwed it, as he wel myghte, | |
In which, into this day, in noble wyse | |
Men doon to Crist and to his seinte servyse. |
Heere is ended the Seconde Nonnes Tale | © Librarius All rights reserved. |