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Jesu Cryst, crowne of maydenes alle, A mayde bare Thee, a mayde gave Thee soke; Amongis the lilies that may not fade ne falle Thou ledyst these folk, ryth so seyth oure boke. With all her hert evyr on Thee thei loke; Her love, her plesauns, so sore is on Thee sette To sewe Thee, Lord, and folow thei can nott lette. Ryth thus be ordyr we wene Thou ledyst the daunce; 1 Thi modir folowyth Thee next, as reson is, And aftir othir, thei goo rith as her chaunce Is schap to hem of joye that may not mys. But next that Lady above alle othir in blys Folowyth this mayde weche we clepe Kateryne. Thus wene we, Lord, because that Thou and Thyne Have gove to hir of grace so grete plenté That alle the privileges weche be in othir found Ar sett in hir as in sovereyne hye degré, For in alle these rychely doth she habound. Loke alle these seyntis that on this world so round Levyd here sumtyme, and in sum spyce or kynde, Her vertues shal we in this same mayde fynde: Thou gave to Jon, Lord, the grete evangelyst, Thin owne presens whan he hens shuld wende; That same presens, rithe evene as Thou lyste, Thou gave this mayde at hir lyvys ende. A welle of oyle eke Thou wold hir sende Out of hir grave, as had Seynt Nycholas; And for hir clennesse Thou graunted hir that gras Weche Seynt Poule had - mylke ryth at his throte Ran out with bloode, men sey, in tokenyngis That martyrdam and maydenhod ryth in o cote Were medelede togydyr. Thou, doutir onto the kyngis, So had thou fully as these holy thingis. To araye thi grave His aungellys eke Godd sent, Ryth as He dyd sumtyme for Seynt Clement. And as Seynt Margarete had hir petycyoun At hir last ende graunted of Godd allmyth - What maner man or woman that with devocyoun Askyth a bone of hir, he hath it ryth As he wyl have, if he ask but ryth, For ellis fayleth he, it is not to his behove - 2 The same grace hast thow of Godd, thi love, Purchasyd, lady, onto thi loveris alle. Therfor wyl I thee serve so as I can And make thi lyffe, that more openly it schalle Be know abowte of woman and of man. Ther was a preste, of flesch he was ful wan, For grete labour he had in his lyve To seke thi liffe yerys thyrtene and fyve. 3 Yet at the last he found it, to his gret joye, Fer up in Grece i-beryed in the grownde. Was nevyr no knyth in Rome ne eke in Troye Mor glad of swerde or basnett bryght and rownde Than was this preeste whan he had it fownde: He blyssed thee ofte, and seyd all his laboure Was turned to solace, to joye and socowr. He mad thi lyff in Englysch tunge ful well, But yet he deyed or he had fully doo. Thy passyon, lady, and all that scharp whele He left behynd-it is yet for to doo; And that he mad it is ful hard ther-too, Ryth for straungenesse of his derk langage. He is now ded, thu hast gove him his wage. Now wyl I, lady, more openly make thi lyffe Oute of his werk, if thu wylt help ther-too; It schall be know of man, mayde, and of wyffe, What thu hast suffrede and eke what thu hast doo. Pray Godd, oure Lorde, He wyll the dore on-doo, Enspire oure wyttys with His pryvy grace To preyse Him and thee that we may have space. Thys preeste of whom I spake not longe ere In his prologe telleth all his desyre, How that he travayled many a londe to lere The byrth, the cuntré, the langage, of this martyre, Who was hir modyr and eke who was hir syre; Aboute this mater he laboured yerys eytene With prayere, fastyng, cold and mekyll tene. So at the last had he a revelacyoun All mysty and derk, hyd all undyr clowde. He thowte he sey thoo in his avysyoun A persone honest, clothed in precyous schrowde, Whech evyr cryed upon the preest ful lowde: "Beholde," he seyth, "thu man, what that I am, What thyng I schew, and eke why I cam." For in his hand he held a boke ful elde, With bredys rotyn, levys dusty and rent; And evyr he cryed upon the preest, "Behelde! Here is thi labour, here is all thin entente. I wote ful welle what thu hast sowte and ment; Ope thi mouth, this book muste thu ete; But if thu doo, thi wyll schall thu not gete." "A, mercy, lorde!" seyd this preeste to him. "Spare me now! Who schulde I this book ete? The roten bredys, these levys derk and dyme, I may in noo wyse into my mouth hem gete: My mouth is small and eke thei be so grete, Thei wyll brek my chaules and my throte - This mete to me is lykly to do noo note." "Yys," seyd he, "thu mote nede ete this book - Thu schalt ellys repente. Ope thi mowth wyde, Receyve it boldly - it hath no clospe ne hook. Let it goo down and in thi wombe it hyde; It schal not greve thee neyther in bak ne syde; In thi mowth bytter, in thi wombe it wyll be swete, So was it sumetyme to Ezechyell the prophete." The preeste tho toke it into his mowth anon; It semed swete, ryth as it hony were. The other man is passed and i-gon; The preest is stoyned as thow he turned were. New joye, new thowte, had he than there. He awoke and was ful glad and blythe; Of this dreme he blyssyd God ofte sythe. Aftyr this not long, depe in a felde, I-clad wyth flowres and herbys grete and smale, He dalf and fond this boke whych he behelde Before in slepe, ryght as I told my tale. There had he salve to all his byttyr bale. It was leyd there be a knyte that men calle Amylion fytz Amarak, of Cristen knytes alle Most devoute as onto this mayde. He fond it among old tresoure in Cipire-londe. In Kyng Petris tyme, as the cronycle sayde, Of that same Cipre where he this boke fond And in Pope Urban tyme, as I undyrstond, The fyfte of Rome, fell all this matere Wheche ye have herd and yet ye schall more clere. There was a clerk with this same Kateryne Whos name we clepe in Latyne Athanas; He tawte hir the reules, as he cowde dyvyne, Of God of hevyn, of joye, and of grace, And sche him also, for be hir he was I-turnyd onto Crist and to oure feythe; He was hir leder, as the story seythe. He wrote the lyfe eke of this same mayde; He was with hir at hir last ende, He say hir martyryd, as himselve sayde. He mote nede have hir lyfe in mynde - He was a servaunt onto hir ryth kynde. What schuld I lenger in his preysyng tary? He was hir chauncelere and hir secretary. He gate hir maisterys thorowowte the partes Of all grete Grece, hir fadyres empyre, To lerne hir be rowe all the sevene artes; This same man payd hem all her hire, He was as in that courte fully lord and syre. He knew hir kynne and hir counsell also, Hir fadyr, hir modyr, and all the line therto; Hir holy life he knew, hir conversacioun, All hir holy customys wyll sche levyd here. He stode be hir in hir grete passioun. He say the aungelis, how thei hir body bere Fer up into Synay and leyde it down there; He saw the venjauns, eke, how it was take On many a thousand eke for hir deth sake; He sey eke Maxense, how he was slayn, Dropped from a bregge down in a revere, Deyd so ful sodeynly in ful byttyr payne, Forthe was he draw into hell-feere - Aungellys bare hir, the develys bare hys beere. Behold the sundry reward of vertu and of syne: On is in hevene, the other is hell withinne. Long aftyr the deth of this Maxencyus, Byschop in Alysaunder, Katerynes cité, Was this sam man, this Athanasius, In whech he suffred ful mech adversyté. I wot not veryly yef it were he That made the psalme whech we clepe the crede, Whech we at pryme oft-tyme syng and rede. He deyd evyn there an holy confessoure, And aftyr his deth myth unneth be knowe The lyvyng, the lernyng, of this swete flowre And martyr Kateryne, of hy ne of lowe Tyl on Arrek dyd it new i-sowe, For owt of Grew he hath it fyrst runge, This holy lyff, into Latyne tunge. This clerk herd speke oft-tyme of this mayde, Bothe of hir lyffe and also of hir heende, How sche for lofe hir lyffe hath thus layde Of oure Lorde Cryste, oure gostly spouse kende. This made him sekere into that londe to wende, To know of this bothe the spryng and the welle, If any man coude it any pleynere telle. Twelve yere in that londe he dwelt and more, To know her langage, what it myght mene, Tyl he of her usages had fully the lore With ful mech stody, tary, and tene. Ful longe it was or he myght it sene, The lyff that Athanas made of this mayde; But at the last he cam, as it is sayde, Ther as he fonde it from mynde all i-ded, For heretykys that were thoo in that londe Had brent the bokys, bothe the leffe and the brede, As many as thei soute and that tyme fonde; But, blyssyd be Godd of His hye sonde, This boke founde thei not in no manere wyse - Godd wolde not that the nobyll servyse Of His owne mayde schulde be thus forgete. A hundred yere aftyr it was and more That this Arrek this new werk had gete Fro the tyme of Athanas, for so mech before Was he hens pased, i-ded and forlore As from every tunge, bothe his boke and he, Of every man and woman in that cuntré. And be this preste was it onto Englischmen I-soute and founde and broute unto londe, Hyd in all counseyll among nyne or ten. It cam but seldom onto any mannes honde; Eke whan it cam it was noght undyrstonde Because, as I seyd, ryght for the derk langage. Thus was thi lyffe, lady, kept all in cage. 4 Nevyrthelasse he dyd mych thyng ther-too, This noble preste, this very good man: He hath led us the wey and the doore on-doo, That mech the bettyr we may and we can Folow his steppes. For thow he sore rane We may him ovyrtake, with help and with grace Whech that this lady schall us purchass. He is now ded, this goodeman, this preste; He deyd at Lynne many yere agoo; He is ny from mynde with more and with leeste; Yet in his deying and in his grett woo This lady, as thei sey, appered him unto: Sche bad him be gladde in most goodely wyse; Sche wolde reward him, sche sayd, his servyse. Of the west cuntré it semeth that he was Be his maner spech and be his style; He was sumtyme parsone of Sent Pancras In the cité of London a full grete whyle. He is now above us ful many a myle; He be a mene to Kateryne for us, And sche for us alle onto oure Lorde Jhesus. Aftyr him nexte I take upon me To translate this story and set it more pleyne, Trostyng on other men that her charyté Schall help me in this caas to wryght and to seyne. Godd send me part of that hevynly reyne That Apollo bare abowte, and eke Sent Poule; It maketh vertu to growe in mannes soule. If ye wyll wete what that I am, My cuntré is Northfolke, of the town of Lynne; Owt of the world to my profyte I cam Onto the brotherhode whech I am inne. Godd geve me grace nevyr for to blynne To folow the steppes of my faderes before, Whech to the rewle of Austen were swore. Thus endyth the prologe of this holy mayde. Ye that rede it pray for hem alle That to this werk eythere travayled or payde, That from her synnes with grace thei may falle To be redy to Godd whan He wyll calle With Him in hevyn to drynke and to dyne, Thorow the prayere of this mayde Kateryne. |
bore; suckled you i.e., the saints lead; exactly; book Exactly; by; know; dance; (see note) their share given; them; fail i.e., the Virgin Mary call suppose given; her (see note) her abound Consider; saints Lived; formerly; manner Their presence; go just; wished her oil also purity; grace identical (in one person) mixed; daughter also almighty favor; truly correctly Obtained very pale Far knight; nor also helmet bright you often relief very well died before; finished (see note) what he wrote is very hard to read obscure language; (see note) given; reward more clearly write done undo the door Inspire; special praise; capacity traveled [through]; learn country; martyr father eighteen years great hardship (see note) thought; saw; then; vision respectable; fine vestments loudly reveal nbsp; old covers; pages; torn know; sought and intended Open unless How covers; pages way; them jaws food; good must otherwise (see note) harm; back As; formerly then; at once as if it were honey astonished; though; demented ideas often since (many times) plants dug suffering laid; knight son of; (see note) Cyprus Cyprus i.e., Urban V; happened call; Athanasius as he could understand them by her saw must certainly true nature spend more time praising him got; teachers teach her in order; (see note) them; their salaries family; advisers habits while by; (see note) saw; how Far; Mount Sinai vengeance, also saw bridge; river fire bore; bier different One Alexandria; city; (see note) much know; if call read right there might hardly i.e., of any class Until a certain man Arrek sowed it anew Greek; i.e., translated i.e., the priest end (death) our dear heavenly spouse determined; travel fully understood much; time; hardship before; might see Athanasius i.e., out of circulation heretics; then burned; pages and covers sought through His high decree way (see note) Athanasius; so long ago dead and forgotten country Known only by nine or ten people obscure accomplished much though he ran hard nearly forgotten by everyone as he was dying i.e., Katherine manner manner of speech formerly intermediary write it more clearly (see note) Apollo bore wish to know who cease Augustinian Rule read either worked on or paid for |