THE miniftre and the norice unto vices,
Which that men clepe in English Ideineffe,
That porter at the gate is of Delices,

To efchuen, and by hire contrary hire oppreffe,
That is to fain, by leful befineffe.

Wel oughte we to don al our entente.
Left that the fend thurgh idelnesse us hente.
For he that with his thousand cordes flie
Continuelly us waiteth to be clappe,
Whan he may man in idelneffe efpie,
He can fo lightly cacche him in his trappe,
Til that a man be hent right by the lappe
He n'is not ware the fend hath him in hond:
Wel ought us werche and idelneffe with stond.
And though men dradden never for to die,
Yet fee men wel by refon douteles
That idelneffe is rote of flogardie,

Of which ther never cometh no good encrees,
And fee that flouth holdeth hem in a lees,
Only to flepe and for to ete and drinke,
And to devouren all that other fwinke.
And for to put us from fwiche idelneffe,
That caufe is of gret confufion,
I have here don my feithful befineffe,
After the legende, in translation
Right of thy glorious lif and paffion,

Thou with thy gerlond wrought of rofe and lilie,
Thee mene I, maid and martir, Seinte Cecilie,

And thou, that arte floure of virgines all, Of whom that Bernard lift fo wel to write, To thee at my beginning firft I call, Thou comfort of us wretches, do me endite Thy maidens deth, that wan thurgh hire merite The eternal lif, and over the fend victorie, As man may after reden in hire storie.

Thou maide and mother, doughter of thy son, Thou wel of mercy, finful foules cure, In whom that God of bountee chees to won; Thou humble and high over every creature, Thou nobledeft fo fer forth our nature, That no difdaine the maker had of kinde His fon in blood and flesh to clothe and winde. Within the cloystre blisful of thy fides Toke mannes fhape the eternal Love and Pees,

The life and death of Saint Cecily. Sp.

That of the trine compas Lord and guide is,
Whom erthe, and fee, and heven, out of rellees
Ay herien; and thou virgine wemmeles
Bare of thy body (and dweltest maiden pure)
The Creatour of every creature.

Affembled in thee magnificence
With mercy goodneffe, and with fwiche pitce,
That thou that art the fonne of excellence,
Not only helpeft hem that praien thee,
But oftentime of thy benignitee

Ful freely, or that men thin helpe befeche,
Thou goeft beforne and art hir lives leche.

Now helpe, thou meke and blisful faire maide,
Me flamed wretch, in this defert of galle;
Thinke on the woman Cananee, that faide
That whelpes eten fom of the cromes alle
That from hir lordes table been yfalie ;
And though that I, unworthy fone of Eve,
Be finful, yet accepteth my beleve.

And for that feith is ded withouten werkes,
So for to werken yeve me wit and space
That I be quit from thennes that most derke is!
O thou! that art fo faire and ful of grace,
Be thou min advocat in that high place,
Ther as withouten ende is fonge Ofanne,
Thou Criftes mother, doughter dere of Anne.
And of thy light my foule in prifon light,
That troubled is by the contagion
Of my body, and alfo by the wight
Of erthly luft and false affection :
O haven of refute o falvation

Of hem that ben in forwe and in distresse!
Now help, for to my werk 1 wol me dresse.

Yet pray I you that reden that I write
Foryeve me that I do no diligence
This ilke ftorie fubtilly to endite;
For both have I the wordes and sentence
Of him that at the feintes reverence
The storie wrote, and folowed hire legende,
And pray you that ye wol my werk amende.
First wol I you the name of Seinte Cecilie
Expoune, as men may in hire ftorie fee;
It is to fayn in English, Hevens lilie,
For pure chaftneffe of virginitee,
Or for the whitneffe had of honeftee,
And grene of confcience, and of good fame
The fwote favour, Lilie was hire name.

Or Cecile is to fayn, The way to blinde,
For the enfample was by good teching,
Or elles Cecilie, as I writen finde,
bjoiced by a maner conjoining

Of heven and Lia, and here in figuring
The heven is fet for thought of holineffe,
And Lia for hire lafting befineffe.

Cecilie may eke be fayd in this manere,
Wanting of blindneffe, for hire grete light
Offapience, and for hire thewes clere ;
Or elles to this maidens name bright

Of beven and Lees cometh, for which by right
Men might hire wel the heven of peple calle,
Infample of good and wife werkes alle.

For Leas peple in English is to fay:
And right as men may in the heven fee
The fonne and move, and fterres, every way,
Right fo men goftly, in this maiden free
Sawen of faith the magnanimitee,
And eke the clerenesse hole of fapience,
And fondry werkes bright of excellence.

And right fo as thife pholofophres write,
That heven is fwift and round, and eke brenning,
Right fo was faire Cecilie the white
Ffwift and befy in every good werking,
And round an hole in good perfevering,
And brenning ever in charitiee ful bright.
Now have I you delcared what the hight.
This maiden bright Cecile, as hire life faith,
Was come of Romaines and noble kind,
And from hire cradle foftred in the faith
Of Crift, and bare his gospel in hire mind:
She never cefed, as I writen find,

Of hire prayere, and God to love and drede,
Beeching him to kepe hire maidenhede.

And whan this maiden fhuld until a man
Ywedded be that was ful yonge of age,
Which that ycleped was Valerian,
And day was comen of hire marriage,

She ful devout and humble in hire corage,

Under hire robe of gold, that fat ful faire

Had next hire fleth yclad hire in an haire.
And while that the organs maden melodie
To God alone thus in hire hert song she;
O Lord! my foule and eke my bodie gie
Unwemmed, left that I confounded be.
And for his love that died upon the tree
Every fecond or thridde day fhe faft,
Ay bidding in hire orifons ful fast.

The night came, and to bed must she gon
With hire hufbond, as it is the manere,
And prively the faid to him anon;
O fwete and wel beloved fpoufe dere!
Ther is a confeil, and ye wol it here,
Which that right fayn I wold unto you faie,
So that ye fwere ye wol it not bewraie.

Valerian gan faft unto hire swere
That for no cas ne thing that mighte be
He fhalde never to non bewraien here;
And than at erft thus to him saide the ;

I have an angel which that loveth me,

That with gret love wher so I wake or flepe bredy ay my body for to kepe:

And if that he may felen out of drede That ye me touch or love in vilanie,

3

He right anon wol flcen you with the dede,
And in your youthe thus ye fhulden die ;
And if that ye in clene love me gie,
He wol you love as me for your cleneneffe,
And fhew to you his joye and his brightnesse.
This Valerian, corrected as God wold,
Answered again; If I fhal truften thee
Let me that angel seen and him behold,
And if that it a veray angel be,

Than wol I don as thou haft prayed me;
And if thou love another man, forfothe
Right with this swerd then wol I flee you bothe.
Cecile anfwerd anon right in this wife:
If that you lift the angel fhul you fet,
So that ye trowe on Crift, and you baptife:
Go forth to Via Apia, (quod fhe)
That fro this toun ne ftant but miles three,
And to the poure folkes that ther dwellen
Say hem right thus as that I fhal you tellen..
Tell hem that I Cecile you to hem fent
To fhewen you the good Urban the old,
For fecree nedes and for good entent;
And whan that ye Seint Urban han behold,
Tell him the wordes whiche I to you told :
And whan that he hath purged you fro sinne
Than fhal ye feen that angel ere ye twinne.
Valerian is to the place gon,

And right as he was taught by hire lering
He fond this holy old Urban anon
Among the feintes buriels louting;
And he anon withouten tarying
Did his meflage, and whan that he it tolde
Urban for joye his hondes gan upholde.

The teres from his eyen let he falle;
Almighty Lord, o Jefu Crift! quod he,
Sower of chaft confeil, hierde of us alle,
The fruit of thilk feede of chastitee
That thou haft fow in Cecile take to thee:
Lo, like a befy bee withouten gile
Thee ferveth ay thin owen thral Cecile.

For thilk fpoufe that the toke but newe,
Ful like a fiers leon, fhe fendeth here
As meke as ever was any lamb or ewe.
And with that word anon ther gan apere
An old man clad in white clothes clere,
That had a book with letters of gold in hond,
And gan beforne Valerian to ftond.

Valerian as ded fell doun for drede
Whan he him faw, and he up hent him tho,
And on his book right thus he gan to rede:
On Lord, on faith, on God withouten mo,
On Cristendom, and fader of all also
Aboven all, and over all every wher.
Thife wordes all with gold ywriten were.

Whan this was red, than faid this olde man,
Leveft thou this thing or no? fay ye or nay.
I leve all this thing, quod Valerian,
For fother thing than this I dare wel fay
Under the heven no wight thinken may.
Tho vanished the olde man he n'ifte wher,
And Pope Urban him cristened right ther.
Valerian goth home, and fint Cecilie
Within his chambre with an angel ftonde:
This angel had of rofes and of lilie
Corones two, the which he bare in honde,
And first to Cecile, as I underftonde,

He yaf that on, and after gan he take
That other to Valerian hire make,.

With body clene and with unwemmed thought
Kepeth ay wel thife corones two, quod he,
From Paradis to you I have hem brought,
Ne never mo ne fhul they roten be,
Ne lefe hir fwete favour, trusteth me,

Ne never wight fhal feen hem with his eye,
But he be chaite and hate vilanie.

And thou, Valerian, for thou fo fone
Affentedeft to good confeil, alfo

Say what thee lift and thou shalt han thy bone.
I have a brother, quod Valerian tho,
That in this world I love no man fo,

I pray you that my brother may have grace
To know the trouth, as I do in this place.

The angel fayd, God liketh thy request,
And bothe with the palme of martirdome
Ye fhullen come unto this blissful reft;

And with that word Tiburce his brother come.
And whan that he the favour undernome,
Which that the rofes and the lilies caft,
Within his herte he gan to wonder fast,

And faid; I wonder this time of the yere
Whenes that fwete favour cometh fo
Of rofes and lilies that I fmelle here,
For though I had hem min hondes two
The favour might in me no deper go:
The fwete fmel that in min herte I find
Hath changed me all in another kind.

Valerian faid, Two corones han we
Snow-white and rofe-red, that fhinen clere,
Which that thin eyen han no might to fee,
And as thou fmelleft hem thurgh my praiere,
So fhalt thou feen hem, leve brother dere,
If it fo be thou wolt withouten flouthe
Beleve aright, and know the veray trouthe.
Tiburce answered; Saieft thou this to me
In fothneffe, or in dreme herken I this?
In dremes, quod Valerian, han we be
Unto this time, brother min, ywis;
But now at erft in trouthe our dwelling is.
How woft thou this, quod Tiburce, in what wise?
Quod Valerian, That shal I thee devife.

The angel of God hath me the trouth ytaught, Which thou shalt feen, if that thou wilt reney The idoles, and be clene, and elles naught. And of the miracle of thife corones twey Seint Ambrofe in his preface lift to fey; Solempnely this noble doctour dere Commendeth it, and faith in this manere:

The palme of martirdome for to receive
Seint Cecilie, fulfilled of Goddes yeft,

The world and eke hire chambre gan fhe weive,
Witneffe Tiburces and Ceciles fhrift,
To which God of his bountee wolde shift
Corones two, of floures wel fmelling,
And made his angel hem the corones bring.

The maid hath brought thife men to bliffe

above;

The world hath wift what it is worth certain,
Devotion of chaftitee to love.

Though fhewed him Cecile all open and plain
That all idoles n'is but a thing in vain,

For they ben dombe, and therto they ben deve, And charged him his idoles for to leve.

Who fo that troweth not this, a best he is, Quod this Tiburce, if that I fhal not lie. And the gan kiffe his breft whan the herd this, And was ful glad he coude trouthe espie: This day I take thee for min allie, Saide this blifsful faire maiden dere; And after that she said as ye may here:

Lo, right fo as the love of Crift (quod fhe) Made me thy brothers wif, right in that wife Anon for min allie here take I thee,

Sithen that thou wolt thin idoles defpife.
Goth with thy brother now and thee baptife,
And make thee clene, fo that thou maist behold
The angels face of which thy brother told.

Tiburce answered, and faide, Brother dere,
Firft tell me whither I fhal, and to what man.
To whom, quod he, Come for with goode chere,
I wol thee lede unto the Pope Urban.
To Urban? brother min, Valerian,
Qued tho Tiburce, wilt thou me thider lede?
Me thinketh that it were a wonder dede.

Ne meneft thou not Urban (quod he tho)
That is so often damned to be ded,
And woneth in halkes alway to and fro,
And dare not ones putten forth his hed?
Men fhold him brennen in a fire fo red
If he were found, or that men might him spie,
And we also, to bere him compagnie.

And while we feken thilke divinitee
That is yhid in heven prively,
Algate ybrent in this world fhuld we be.
To whom Cecile anfwered boldel;;
Men mighten dreden wel and skilfully
This lif to lefe, min owen dere brother!
If this were living only and non other.

But ther is better lif in other place
That never fbal be loft, ne drede thee nought,
Which Goddes fone us tolde thurgh his grace,
That fadres fone which alle thinges wrought;
And all that wrought is with a skilful thought,
The goft that from the fader gan procede
Hath fouled hem withouten any drede

By word and by miracle he Goddes fone,
Whan he, was in this world, declared here
That ther is other lif ther men may wone.
To whom anfwerd Tiburce; O fufter dere!
Ne faideft thou right now in this manere,
Ther n'is but o God Lord in fothfaftnesse,
And now of three how mayft thou bere witneffe?
That fhal I tell, quod fhe, or that I go.
Right as a man hath fapiences three,
Memorie, engine, and intellect alfo,
So in o being of divinitee

Three perfones mowen ther righte wel be.
Tho fhe him ful befily to preche
Of Criftes fonde, and of his peines teche,

gan

And many pointes of his paffion, How Goddes fone in this world was withhold To don mankinde pleine remiffion, That was ybound in finne and kares cold. All this thing the unto Tiburce told,

And after this Tiburce in good entent
With Valerian to Pope Urban he went,
That thanked God, and with glad herte and
light

He criftened him, and made him in that place
Parfite in his lerning, and Goddes knight:
And after this Tiburce gat fwiche grace
That every day he saw in time and space
The angel of God and every maner bone
That he God axed it was fped ful fone.

It were ful hard by ordre for to fain
How many wonders Jefus for hem wrought:
But at the laft, to tellen fhort and plain,
The fergeaunts of the toun of Rome hem fought,
And hem before Almache the Prefect brought,
Which hem appofed, and knew all hir entent,
And to the image of Jupiter hem fent.

And faid, Who fo wol nought do facrifice
Swap of his hed; this is my fentence here.
Anon thise martyrs that I you devife
On Maximus, that was an officere
Of the Prefectes, and his Corniculere

Hem hent, and whan he forth the feintes lad
Himfelf he wept for pitee that he had.

Whan Maximus had herd the feintes lore
He gate him of the turmentoures leve,
And lad hem to his hous withouten more;
And with hir preching or that it were eve
They gonnen fro the turmentours to reve,
And fro Maxime, and fro his folk eche on,
The falfe faith, to trowe in God alone.

Cecilie came, whan it was waxen night,
With preeftes that hem cristened all yfere;
And afterward whan day was waxen light
Cecilie hem faid with a ful ftedfaft chere,
Now, Criftes owen knightes leve and derc,
Caffe all away the werkes of derkeneffe,
And armeth you in armes of brightneffe.

Ye han forfoth ydon a gret bataille; Your coure is don; your faith hath you conferved; Goth to the croune of lif that may not faille; The rightful juge, which that ye han ferved, Shal yeve it you, as ye han it deserved. And whan this thing was faid as I devife Men ledde hem forth to don the facrifice. But whan they weren to the place ybrought, To tellen fhortly the conclufioun, They n'olde encenfe ne facrifice right nought, Bat on hir knees they fetten hem adoun, With humble herte and fad devotioun, And loften both hir hedes in the place: Hir foules wenten to the King of grace. This Maximus, that faw this thing betide, With pitous teres told it anon right That he hit foules faw to heven glide With angels, ful of clereneffe and of light, And with his word converted many a wight, For which Almachius did him to-bete With whip of led til he his lif gan lete.

Cecile him toke and buried him anen

By Tiburce and Valerian foftely,

Within hir burying place, under the fton;
And after this Almachius haftily

Bad his ministres fetchen openly

VOL. I.

Cecile, fo that she might in his presence
Don facrifice, and Jupiter encense.

But they, converted at hire wife lore,
Wepten ful fore, and yaven ful credence
Unto hire word, and crieden more and more
Crift, Goddes fone, withouten difference,
Is veray God, this is all our fentence,
That hath fo good a servant him to serve :
Thus with o vois we trowen though we sterve.
Almachius, that herd of this doing,
Bad fetchen Cecile, that he might hire fee :
And alderfirst, lo, this was his axing;
What maner woman art thou? quod he.
I am a gentilwoman borne, quod fhe.

I axe thee, quod he, though it thee greve,
Of thy religion and of thy beleve.

Why than began your question folily, Quod fhe, that woldeft two answers conclude In o demand? Ye axen lewedly.

Almache answered to that fimilitude,

Of whennes cometh thin anfwering fo rude?
Of whennes? (quod she, whan that she was friened)
Of confcience, and of good faith unfeined.

Almachius faid; Ne takeft thou non hede
Of my power? And the him anfwerd this;
Your might (quod fhe) ful litel is to drede,
For every mortal mannes power n'is
But like a bladder ful of wind ywis,
For with a nedles point whan it is blow
May all the boft of it be laid ful low.

Ful wrongfully begonneft thou, (quod he)
And yet in wrong is all thy perfeverance :
Woft thou not how our mighty princes free
Have thus commanded and made ordinance
That every Criften wight fhal han penance
But if that he his Crittendome withfeye,
And gon al quite if he wol it reneye?

Your princes erren, as your nobley doth,
Quod tho Cecile, and with a wood fentence
Ye make us gilty, and it is not foth;
For ye, that knowen wel our innocence,
For as moche as we don ay reverence
To Crift, and for we bere a Cristen name,
Ye put on us a crime and cke a blame.

two

But we, that knowen thilke name fo
For vertuous, we may it not withfeye.
Almache answered; Chefe on of thife
Do facrifice, or Criftendom reneye,
That thou mow now cfcapen by that wey.
At which this holy blisful fayre maid
Gan for to laughe, and to the juge said;
O juge! confufe in thy nicetce,
Woldeft thou that I reneye innocence?
To maken me a wicked wight (quod fhe)
Lo, he diffimuleth here in audience,

He ftareth and wodeth in his advertence.
To whom Almachius faid, Unfely wretch!
Ne woft thou not how far my might may stretch?
Han not our mighty princes to me yeven

Ya bothe power and eke auctoritee
To maken folk to dein or to liven?
Why fpekeft thou fo proudly than to me?
I ne fpeke nought but ftedfastly, quod she

L