Life of Saint Norbert / by John Capgrave; ed. by C. L. Smetana MED stencil (1440) Capgr.St.Norb. (Hnt HM 55) Capgrave, John Smetana, C. L. 249 kB University of Michigan Library Ann Arbor, Michigan 2023 CME90162

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 Life of Saint Norbert / by John Capgrave; ed. by C. L. Smetana. Capgrave's Life of St. Norbert Oxford Oxford Text Archive 1977

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OTA0162 OTA0162 CME90162 Capgrave's Life of Saint Norbert MED stencil (1440) Capgr.St.Norb. (Hnt HM 55) Oxford Text Archive copy of the edition by C.L. Smetana February, 2023

Apparently derived from an OCR'ed capture of C.L. Smetana's edition (PIMS, 1977), complete with some OCR artifacts, and about 200 lines omitted altogether. MEC has transcribed the missing lines, repaired the most obvious of the OCR errors, added chapter divisions, line numbers, page breaks, and folio references, and converted keyboard kludges to proper characters (þ, Þ, and ȝ, as well as the ampersand entity). Emendations originally printed within angle brackets are here preserved within square brackets.

 THE LIFE OF ST. NORBERT IOye, grace & pees, loue, feith & charite Euyr rest upon ȝour goodly religious breest, To whom þat I with moost humylite Euyr recomende me lowly as ȝoure preest. And þouȝ I be of rymeris now þe leest, ȝet wil I now, obeying ȝoure comaundment, Put me in daungere in þis werk present. Who schal þese dayis make now ony þing But it schal be tosed & pulled as wolle? Summe schul sey alle þis is flateryng; Summe of charite schul preise it at þe fulle. Now lete hem rende, lete hem hale & pulle, Swech maner puple, for I have myn entent, So I plese him þat ȝaue me comaundment To make þis werk of þat noble with, Norbert called, wich with ful hye grace, Made a ordre þat schewith now very lith Of good ensaumple to men in euery place. ȝe noble men, if þat ȝe list to race, Or rende my leuys þat I to ȝou write, ȝe may weel doo it; I schal ȝou neuyr wite. In ȝoure correccioun put I þis matere For I wil sewe & translate þis story, And wele I wote ȝoure hertis be so clere, So ful of charite withouten trechery, ȝe wil not put on me no vyleny But I deserue it, and þat schal I nowt, As I hope, neythir in speche ne þowt. In þis story rith þus I wil procede Of þis same seynt to telle þe lyf real, Both of his diete and eke of his wede. Of his lettirrure alsoo tellen I schal. Lete neuyr his lif fro ȝoure hertis fal, ȝe men of ordre þat be to him named. Alle þat forȝete him iwis þei schal be blamed. I myselue, thou þat I mech ferther be Fro his patronage, ȝet haue I deuocioun Ful special, leueth weel, in his benygnyte, Rith for þis cause and þis conclusion: That he schuld kepe me fro alle illusioun Of myn enmye bodely and goostly eke. Seyntis be ny to hem þat hem seke. The secunde cause eke whi I him loue, For sothe, is for breþerin me þinkith we be, His ordre and oure if ȝe wil it proue, Beholdeth here lyfe, beholde here vnyte Of here professioun, & therby proue may ȝe That of o reule þei and we be alle. Wherefore o kynrod men may us now calle Vndir o fadir & doctoure of oure feith, Floure of doctoris, Austyn is his name; And we his childyr, what euyr ony man seith. The cherch, þe world euyr beretȝ out þis fame. It is no vylony to men of worthi name Whech be endewid witȝ possession temporal, Thouȝ othir pore men to here alyauns fal. Thus endith þis prologe, my goodly fadir dere, Whech I write to ȝou witȝ ful pure entent, Thankyng ȝou euyr of ȝoure hertly chere Whech ȝe make us whan we are oute sent. And if ȝe list þat þis book present May be receyued in ȝoure fraternyte, Onto ȝoure name dedicate þan schal it be. O lord Ihesu, of alle religious men Abbot and maystir, bryng us to vnyte, And ȝeue us grace witȝ þi comaundmentis ten To fulflll þe councell whech were ȝoue be þe, That we may dwelle in parfith charite Whil we be here. & aftir oure endyng day To se þat ioye whech þat lesteth ay. i There was a man sumtyme dwelling here As oure book seith, in þat in þat ilk same tyde That Pascase þe pope, to God lef and dere, The cherch of Rome gouerned fere and wyde. Herry the ȝonger was lord & alsoo gyde Ouyr alle þe empyr þat tyme as seith oure book: The ȝere of Crist veryly, if ȝe wil loovvre A thousand a hundred & flftene thertoo. This mannys name Norbert thoo þei called Of Teutonye nacioun, the story seith rith soo. Whech word made me of stody al apalled; For whethir it is a cyte weel iwalled, Or ellis a cuntre, auctouris touch him nowt. But aftirward whann I was bettir beþowt I supposed þan þis cuntre stant in Germayne, Because þis man of whech we haue now told Was sumtyme dwellinge in þe cite of Colayne With Frederik þe bisschop þat was man ful bold. He was eke longing onto þe grete houshold Of Herry þe emperoure; wherfore suppose now we That þere abouten stant in þat same cuntre. The townes name is touched here alsoo, The place of Seyntis sumtyme called Troye. Thus seith oure story and eke ferthermoo Of his kynrod, with ful mykyl ioye, Telleth he forth a man þat was ful koye, And eke ful trewe. This seyntis fadere is Herdbert, be name; his modir hith Hadwidis. Both of Frensch and of Germayn kynde Was þis man born be swech dyuersite Of matrimony; and ferþermore, as I fynde, Whan in his modir newly conceyued was he, A heuenely vision with a voys had sche Rith in hir sleep, and þus he to hire sayde: "Be mery & glad, woman, & not afrayde; For he þat is now in þi wombe conceyuyd A herchbisschop schal be." Thus seid þe voys certayn; And as he seyd sche was nowt deceyuyd, But bare a childe and þerof was sche fayn. He grew to age, to myth and eke to mayn. Fayre of stature, lene he was and long, Lith of lymys, loth to do ony wrong. Amongis grete men he was ful wel itawt, Amongis þe mene meke of spirith & goost. For as I seide ere, if ȝe forȝete it nawt, With þe emperoure dwellyng in his hoost Was he sumwhile, but in certayn moost With the erchbisschop, of whech we spak ere; Welkome here and welkom was he þere. What for his cunnyng, what for his gentilnesse, Of alle maner men ful grete loue had he. His condiciones proporcioned were, I gesse, Vnto his persone, for ful fayre was he, Mery in word, of hert and hand ful fre, Large for to ȝeue and to take aschamed, Neuyr in no cumpanye for his condicioun blamed. Thus it befell aftir þat up on day With o seruaunt he schul a iornay make With fresch hors and with ful fresch aray In grete hast his viage for to take. But sone he gan oute of his pride awake Whann he was fesed witȝ leuene & þundirblast, Whech made hym and his child agast. Fer fro towne, fer fro busch was he, Ther was no couert. At þat tyme happed soo To cure him fro fere in his aduersite Thus is he falle. His child cryed euyr: "Hoo, Maystir, leue now, lete us no ferther goo; Turne hom agayn." Lich onto Balaam asse, Swech a warnyng me þinkith þat þis wasse. ii He went swech weyis as were displesaunce Onto oure lord, rith þus men may suppose; For he was chosen, of Goddis puruyaunce, Onto heyer lyf. God wold him not lose To saue his soule; þus he fesed his kose. As þouȝ he had be very new Seynt Poule, Thus cryed oure lord pryuyly to his soule: "Norbert, Norbert, tende now onto me. Why pursuest me? Whi art þou inobedient Onto my counceles, witȝ whech I enspired þe? Turne aȝen lest þat þou be schent, And to my seruyse sette more þin entent. Forsake þis vanyte, if þou wilt me plese, Thy ioly lif wil turne the to no ese. Thi body is made for to seruen me. Why wringist þiselue thus fro my seruyse? I wyl þou wite it, ful hard it is to the To wynse or grucch aȝens me in ony wyse. My scharp prik is sette in swech a sise, There may no man scapen my daungere. Turne aȝen, þerfor, fro þi lif seculere! " Whil he lay þus in sownyng on þe ground Ther cam a clap of þundir fro aboue. Grete was þe fyre, hidous was þe sound; Gresse and herbes before him gan he schoue, And in the ground, men myth it aftir proue, Smet it a pitte with ful grete strength, As mech as a man both in brede & length. The sory sauoure of brimston & of fere Fulflllid here hedes and here clothes eke. He lay ful stille, þere was with him no chere, His wittis were ded, his strength for to seke. Thus onto God in hert he gan to speke: "What wil I do, lord?" He answered, witȝouten lees: "Fle euele, do good and seke pees." iii Now riseth he up, astoyned and adrad; He fleth þe pres, þe besinesse he had ere, There he was wone to singe & be ful glad- Now are his corage, his wordes & his chere Turned onto sadnesse. A redy, a good skolere, To holy ordres he hastith now; in al wise His stody is now to lerne dyuyne seruyse. And for þat cause onto an abbey beside Called Sigebergense he takith his viage. There he castith him for a tyme abide, Rith as a bird to hold him in a cage; For now his wil, his stody & his corage Is set to leue þe world withouten more And lerne religion, on whech he stodieth sore. There took he ordre of presthod, as it is seyd, Amongis þoo munkis, & fourty dayes euene Was he with hem, in here obseruauns teyid, In swech weyis [as] leden to heuene. This made þe þundir, þis mad eke þe leuene; Euyr God be þanked of his sondes alle. Thouȝ we turne fro him, aȝen he wil us calle. Onto his cuntre where þat he was bore Turneth he aȝen hastily, a ful grete pase, Where he was norched long tyme before. A noble cherch stant in that same plase Ful of seculere chanonis, men ful of grase. There lyueth he now in deuoute prayere, In habite and seruyse as chanoun seculere. There was a vse in þat cherch þat tyme, If ony straungere cam of worthi degre, The deen went to him sone aftir pryme With his conchanones eythir too or thre. Swech manere proflr to him þann mad he: To synge þe masse conuentual solemply. Of ful grete norture & ful grete curtesy Thus ded þay to Norbert whan he was come The flrst day euene, witȝouten ony more; And he obeyid mekely here custome, Sang þe masse as þouȝ he of houshold wore. Thei song here servyse, as þei had do ȝore, Til þei to þe gospell cam, & whan þat was doo, With ful grete spiritȝ he turned hem ontoo. He seyde a sermoun, ful sad and ful deuoute. Vnware to alle men þat he schuld preche, The holy goost, whech he bare aboute, Stered him to þis holy, þis deuoute speche. What schuld I lenger ony prolonging seche To vttyr my matere? þe most þing he þere spak Was who we schuld throwe boldly at oure bak Alle wordly welth and þe intricacioun Of worldly felicite. This was his sentens: Alle þing þat is here schal fall adown Or we be ware, schal fayle of permanens. Wherfore, concluded he þere in here presens, These wordly plesaunses ar fals & onstable, Schort of tyme, wrecchid in prys, euyr able To turne to corrupcioun, onworthi to loue, Not able to possessioun but fayling ioye. Blynd pryde is þis world, as I seid aboue, Welth is in moment, witnesse of Troye; Sekirnesse is onsikyr, rest is but noye. Swech þingis seyde he þann and many moo That made here hertis ful of care and woo. For al þe ende of his tale turned he to hem Whech he preched onto & for þis entent Seyde he þis sermoun to þo same men: He was fro God as a messagere isent Rith on hem as þei þat tyme ment. He seide, eke, no þing vnpunchid schal be, That is doo onclenly aȝens honeste. iiii Aftir þis not longe tyme as I wene, He sayde a masse in a ful lowe voute, Where felle a caas of stoynyng & of tene Vnto him, eke ful desesy in thoute, But fynaly it harmed hym rith noute. This was þe caas whil he was at masse And sayde his orisones, þe more and þe lasse. Aftir sacry him befel this caas: A ereyn dropped oute euene fro aboue -- The chalis onkewred at þat tyme waas -- In he felle and þere he gan to houe. This man is astoyned with fere & with loue, Feer for venym, love for þe sacrament. But in his feith, swech an hardinesse he hent, That al he soupith þe ereyn and þe blood. He saide oute his masse & made a fayre ende, But sore astoyned and fesed in his mood Is þis man. Now ȝe wote weel, þe ereynis kende, Withouten tryacle take it, wil sone bende To cruell deth, thus supposed this man. Wherfore, with face ful pale and ful wan, He abidith his chaunce what schal befalle. He cryeth onto God to send him counfort, And in his prayere, as he gan to calle, Oure lord with mercy mad to him resort, And as oure book ful notabily can report, Before þe autere where he gan knele, Aboute his nose ȝekyng gan he fele. Wherfore with handis bisily rith anoon Onto þat place to scrat it mad he hast With his fyngeris scharply on þe boon. And in a neȝyng sodeynly þoo he brast. With þat neȝyng alsoo eke he cast The grete ereyn rith oute at his nose; Whech was a miracule ful grete, I suppose. Now wil I ask þis, if euery man be bounde, Whann þat he stant in swech manere chaunce, To receyue onclennesse whech is ifounde On þe autere in only habundaunce? Doctouris of Ytaile and eke þei of Fraunce And Englisch men eke sey -nay' thertoo. Eke þei telle us who that we schal doo. Thei sey alle þis: it schal be taken oute, Leyd on þe patene or on sum othir þing, And aftirward withouten ony doute Put forth in þe lauatory forth in wasching. This seynt at þat tyme of age was ful ȝing And had not lerned alle þing be stodye; Or ellis God ded þis his name to magnifle. Thus lyued he longe in þat ilk same stede, As summe men sey he was þere thre ȝere, Vsing here seruyse as weel as here wede. Eke sumtyme among to þat place wold he stere Whech we spak of now not long ere, Sigebergense Abbey. It stant fro Coleyn Miles thre, alle þese bokes so seyn. There was a monasterye eke þei called Rode, And thedir went Norbert ofter in þe ȝere, For þe persones of lyuyng there were ful gode; Of habite were thei chanonys seculere. Sumtyme eke visited he a ful holy sere, A hermyth, Lydulf was þoo his name, A man of ful grete and ful holy fame. Swech man soutȝ he in þoo dayes To lerne lettirure, to lerne eke prudens. To dyuers men made he dyuers asayes; To vse vertu and to voyde necligens Was ȝoue al his bysi studious eloquens. This was his lyf alle these thre ȝere. Saue sumtyme in preching þe puple wold he lere. v In this same tyme, at a town called Frixlare, Was gadered a gret councell to reformacioun Of holy cherch, & many prelates were þare. But principal of alle and most dominacioun Had a worthi man of þat same nacion, Conone called, special legate fro þe pope; Of certeyn defautes gan he visite & grope. The bisschoppis þat were þere mad deposicioun Of a grete defaute, as þei þoutȝ alle: Thei seide it was a ful grete presumpcioun That swech a lewid man in despite of hem alle Schuld preche in here diosise, Norbert þei him calle. Thus sayde þe prelates onto þe legate, And he consideryng here auctorite and astate Ded somown þis man in alle hasty wise. He is come to councell to ȝeue his answere. These bisschoppis accused him before here iustise As þouȝ he of feith an heretik were. The first poynt þei put aȝens him there Was þat he preched witȝoute auctorite. They put eke on him þat in his sermones had he Many inuectif wordes aȝens here astaat, Whech was to hem grete slaundir þei sayde. Thei saide eke how he had take a new habitȝ laat Of holy religion and not down ilayde The propirtee of wordly good. Al þis þei upbrayde, And whi he þrew awey al precious wede, Whech was not þe custom in þat ilk stede. Aȝens þese obieccionis þis man witȝ meke voys Stood vp to answere, and asked silens. First with his hand he blessed him witȝ þe croys And aftir þat he spak in open audiens Swech maner wordes, and in swech sentens: "If I be accused as of religioun here, What is my religioun now may ȝe here: Very religion, as þe holi apostill seith, Clene and ondefiled before þe fadir of heuene, Is to visite fadirles & wydowis of oure feith In al here tribulacioun, & with þe werkis seuene Hem to amende, & eke his lif ful euene Must be so dressed þat he be euyr clene Fro alle foule werkis whech in þis world are sene. If I for my preching be now for to blame, Wherfore seruyth þat scripture þat seith in þis wyse: Whoso turne his broþir from euele fame, And fro euele lif he getith him a prise, For he is cause þat his broþir schal rise, And saue his soule; he hiditȝ eke þe multitude Of all grete synnes, as scripture can conclude. And for ȝe speke of powere vsurped of me, Whan I took my presthod þe bisschop to me saide: Take þe holy goost witȝ þis new degre, Loke þou be as clene as only mayde, Be not aferd, aschamed, ne afrayde To preche Goddis word, but bere it about Boldly and sadly onto euery rout. ȝet for my clothing ȝe put in me blame. Hereth now Seynt Petir what he of clobis seith: Precious cloþing, before þe hye name Of oure lord God, is not acceptable in feith. Othir mo exsaumples þe gospell forth leith: Who Ion þe baptist was clad al in here Both body and leggis, swech as chameles bere. And eke Seynt Cycile, þat glorious mayde, Wered next hir skyn a hayir ful boystous. Oure God eke, as þe scripture sayde, Mad to Adam & Eue cloþis meruelous Of bestis skynnes; þei were not corious. Wherfor blame ȝe þing þat is onblamed? Swech wordis of slaundir were bettir onnamed." Thus scaped he þis daungere be þe proteccioun Of oure lord God; and Conone, þe legate, Accepted ful goodly his excusacyoun. He made at on þat ere were at debate, And þouȝ þat þis man were no graduate, ȝet ȝaue he him leue to schryue and to preche, As a post of þe cherch & a goostly leche. vi Whan he had take þus þis general licens To preche to þe puple ouyral where he cam, With too deuote felawis ful of innocens, Swech as he was, his iornay sone he nam Ouyr þe feldys, þe marys and þe dam. Went þai rith forth, þei spared no hardnesse; Here hertis were ȝoue only to hardynesse. Barefote þei went both in frost and hayl That it was wondir who þei myth endure. And whan his felawis for feyntness gun fayl He fayled neuyr; so besy on his cure Was þis Norbert; for a hauk to lure Hasteth ful sone, so ded he to encrese Vertue in soules, I sey ȝou doutlese. Thei went in reyn, thei went in þe snow Onto þe kne sumtyme, sumtyme to þe thy. Were þe weye hy or elles were it low, Thei spared rith nowt, a grete cause why: Brennyng charyte made þese folk hardy To doo these dedis to Goddis plesaunce, And eke to here neybouris goostly gouernaunce. His mete was comounly neythir flesch ne flsch, But bred, herbis, frute & swech oþir þing; Saue on þe Sunday had he in his disch Fisch-mete & not often, & in þe euenyng Was his refeccioun and his counfortyng, For he wold faste alle þe day before, As þei bere witnesse þat his felawis wore. His body rested not alle þe long day; His goost was bysy both be day and nyth. What for prayere and prechyng be þe way And stody at eue how þat he schuld fyth Aȝens his goostly enmye as a knyth Swech was his lyf whil he lyued here; Of othir þingis here aftir schul ȝe here. With þese too felawys, as we seyd wel late, Went he forth preching be town and be cyte To Orgliaunce first, & þan forth in his gate, As in his lyf ful pleynly rede may ȝe. Thei coupled to hem a man of anoþir cuntre Or þei to Valens cam, as ȝe schal here. A sodekyn he was & a ful noble skolere. Thei came to Valens rith on Palme Suneue, And on þe Sunday Norbert, þis noble man, Made a sermone of trew and rith byleue. As he þat ful weel and eke ful treuly can, Expleite þe message of Crist þat al þing wan To his subieccioun be his owne blood sched. The puple compelled him to rest & goo to bed And to refresch his wery membris alle. But he nold consent in no manere wise; Therfore oure lord, on whom alle men calle, Whech is protectour to us and eke iustise, Turned his entent alle in othir wise: That he abidith now, wheydir he wil or nawt. Thus hath þe puple al here desire icawt. His felawis, alle thre of whech we spak ere, Are now falle seek; wherfor he mote abyde. Eke happed so, þat whilis he taried þere, A grete bisschop be þat cyte gan ryde. On Wednysday, aftir þat holy Palme tyde, Cam he to towne, & Norbert knew him weel. Thei had ete togedyr many a good meel In þe emperouris of Almayn, as I ere told. But of þis aftir. Lete us now first speke Of his felawis whech were of houshold, And lyn alle thre ful febil and ful seke. Thei deyid alle thre rith in Estern weke. And went onto God for here good lyuyng. Too of hem þat tyme chose here byrying Rith in þe subarbes of þat cyte, Valens, In a cherch to Seynt Petyr dedycate. Rith be þe market is here residens; There layde þai down here carnel astate, And left þis worldly desese and debate. The þird felaw was made a munk þere And lith rith among hem, as ȝe may here. Now wil I telle, as I began wel ere, Off þis bisschop, Brocard was his name, Cameracense his title, whan he was logged þere. This ich Norbert, for werynesse ny lame, Herd men sore speke of þis bisschoppis fame. Streit he goth onto þe bisschoppis in, But ere he myth into þe hostell wyn He fond a clerk stondyng at þe ȝate Longyng to houshold, & mekly he him prayde That to his lord he schal make a gate, And sey a man, ful pore and louly arayde, Wold speke witȝ him fful mekly as a mayde. This clerk his message doth, & in him browt. The bisschop, as ȝet for soth, knew him nowt Til he had told him certeyn toknes trewe, Wherby he knew him, and sodeynly anoon The bisschop on him ful sore gan to rewe. He cryed lowde: "O God, þat art but oon! Who wende sumtyme þat Norbert schuld þus goon In swech aray, ful bare and euele iclad?" This clerk stood by witȝ countenauns ful sad, And at here chere toke he ful grete heed. But he no þing vndirstant of here langage Because he was not born in þat same steed Where þei were bore, but come on pilgrimage Fro Ytaile, men wene. Now alle his corage, And many day before it, set in þis wise: To leue þe world & drawe to Goddis seruyse. The bisschop turned onto þe clerk ful sone. "Seest þou þis man," he seith, þat stant here? He and I were felawis ful long agone In þe emperouris hous, ful leef & ful dere. Now is his cloþing chaunged and his chere. I sey the, ferþermore, he himself myth be Rith as I am and of þe same degre." Alle þese ich wordes noted weel þis clerk, And in his brest bare he hem ful stille. The day was ny don, for it gan to derk. Therfore Norbert be þis bisschoppis wille Taketh now his leue; he hatȝ spoke his fille. Hom he wil certayn, his felawis now ontoo; He kepte hem not longe, but biried hem rith soo As we have discried now a litil aboue. He himselue is now ful seek ifalle. This bisschoppis clerk euyr gan loke & houe, If God fro þis world þis man schuld now calle. Euery day went he fro his lordis halle To loke at þis pore man, for sikir his entent Onto holy lyf for euyrmore now is bent. And schort tale to make, whan he was heil, He mad ful connaunt witȝ him for to wende. "O lord God," seid Norbert, "aftir thi fleil Of tribulacioun ful weel can þou sende Thi schynyng counfor goodly to þi frende. Euyr be þou þanked, lord, of þi sonde, And euyr be we bounde in þi loue bonde." This clerk, whech I spak of, gan take hys leue To go to his cuntre to dispose certeyn þingis Whech þat his kynrod onto him ded leue. Norbert was aferd of swech taryingis: "Brothir," he seith, "if þi message þat þou bringis Be sent be God, it schal neuyr be distroyed Ne with no temptacyoun of þe deuele anoyed." Neuyrþelasse, þe man hatȝ now caut leue, Went hom and cam aȝen ful constauntly; For in his purpos so weel gan he preue, That euyr he folowid his steppis by and by. Thus are þai ioyned in sted fast cumpany; Thus are þai ioyned in stedfast cumpany; For too breþerin with loue ioyned in oon vii Are lich a strong cyte, as seith Salamon. Is he now goo, Gemlacum þei it calle. Euery man is bysy for to goo and ryde To here his sermoun, thus thei seide alle: "We know not of oureself what schal befalle. Lete us turne to God, be þis mannys counsaile; His good doctrine may us mech avayle. He is a bryngere of pees, a distroyer of werre; He is ful of vertu, ful of sobirnesse; Al manere þing that is oute of herre He bryngith to pees and to stedfastnesse." Thus seide þe puple of him, as I gesse. But whann he had prechid, þei leued it weel more; Thei seide he was in erde a heuenely tresore. Now happed þoo dayes, in þat same cuntre, That too princes at grete debate ware. Wherfore of þe puple requyrid þo was he, This same Norbert, þat he schuld not spare, But pleynly and platly bid hem beware. These too princes, þei leue no lengere soo, Because þat mech care and eke mech woo Was wroutȝ in þat cuntre rith for here sake In manslaut and robbery, enuye and debate. This noble man streit gan his iornay take Onto þese men þat were so obstinate. The flrst of hem he gan thus to rate: "Take heed, good man, what þat þou art. Alle þat þou weldist it is Goddis part. Thi ricchesse, þi powere comth fro God aboue, And I am his seruaunt þat bringe þe þis message. Thou schal not obeye me for myn owne loue, But for Goddis loue I bidde þe þat þou swage Alle þi malyce and thi bittyr corage, And drawe onto vnyte, as þou art bounde. Forȝeue þi neybouris here on þis grounde Alle here trespaas whech þei do to þe, If þou wilt þat God ouir þi defautes alle Be propicious, lord of his hie mageste, Whan þou to him for mercy haue nede to calle. This þing þat I ask onto þi profitȝ wil falle, It wil ese þe cuntre, releue þe pore men, Whech debate destroyed, as we weel ken." Whan þat þis lord had herd þis man speke, He beheld his chere, for lich a aungell he schoon: So britȝ he was for alle his penauns, þis freke, This noble prince as stoyned as ony stoon; Alle his entrayles were turbuled ritȝ anoon. Witȝ spirit of pite fulfillid he gan answere: "God þank þou, sere, for þat ȝe list to lere Swech as 1 am both loue and charyte. I wil obeye onto ȝou in alle maner wyse, Rith as ȝe wil, ritȝ so schal it be. I am aferd of þat hye iustyse, That whann he sittith in his grete assyse, He wil elles dampne me but I do sum good." Thus was þis man chaunged of his mood. Whann he hatȝ conquerid þis man, he is now goon To conuerte þe othir, but he sped nowt. The sower of discord, as hard as ony stoon, Had congeled his hert, his wil & his thowt. He considered not who dere Crist had him bowt; Ne entended non charyte no more þan a beste. Wherfore Norbert of his message seste. He sey þe felle eye, þe contenaunce & þe chere, The wordis of þe man & alle þe disposicioun. Therfore him thoutȝ he schuld not as yere The precious stonys of goostly exhortacyoun Throwe onwysely before þe onclene nacyoun Of slutty hoggis; bettir it was, him thoutȝ. To go forth in his weye & throw him rith noutȝ. Saue whan he went fro him þus he sayde Onto his felaw: "Seest þou þis man? I trowe he be frentyk, and in brayn afrayde, For he no reson considre now ne can. There schal com a day whann he schal sore ban That he refused pees, for I telle þe in trewth He schal fall to mischef & þat is grete rewth. He schal be take with enmyes & sore ibounde, Betyn and troden down as a renegate." As þe holy man seid, so was it founde; For anoþir man witȝ whom he kept debate Took him prisonere and made him desolate. This telle we now, þat ȝe may se herby This holy man had spiritȝ of prophesy. viii Fro þens goth he forth onto anoþir town, Thei called it Colroys in here langage. There seide he þann a noble sermoun, In whech he gan trete who men schuld aswage Here yrous desires and angry corage, And drawe onto pees in al manere wyse, For dred of þat hye and rithfull iustyse. Aftyr þe sermoun he seide to hem alle That he wolde reforme alle maner discord Whech was amongis hem; & þei gunne sore calle In name lesu, whech is oure lord, That he schuld brynge to loue & concord To men þere present or he thens went. He was ful glad to serue here entent. And whil þat he laboured on þe o side, The othir man fled, and out of cherch he goth. He took his hors, awey for to ryde, Smet sore with his spores, as he were wroth; For to abyde þat loueday was he ful loth. But oure blessed lord, þat al erde hatȝ fyrid, Ded bettir with him þann he desired. The hors stood stille, he wold no ferþer goo; Thus was þis man constreyned to repentaunce. Into þe cherche he cam with mech care and woo; He told Goddis seruaunt al þis wondir chaunce, Prayid him for charite to ȝeue him penaunce For his defaute, and in obedience Of alle his synnis with him to dispence. This is þe holy messager of God and of pees, The very palme of paradys, þe dowe of innocens, The turtill of perseueraunce þat can neuyr sees To morne for his make whann he wantith presens Of swech þing as he loueth: I mene þe absens Of oure lord God, whech wantitȝ euery nacyoun Tyl þat þei deye & chaunge habitacioun. ix Alle þese þingis, þat we haue teld in ȝour audiens, Are but a fewe of many þat he dede, Ere he gadered his breþerin, men of consciens, To dwelle togidir in þat same stede In whech he dwelt, þe world for to trede Alle vndir fote. But now wil we telle What þat to him in þat ȝere befelle. In þat same ȝere deyid the pope Gelas, Of whech pope had Norbert auctorite To preche and to teche as his vsage was. The cardinalis aftir his deth witȝ gret vnyte Chosen anothir man, Kalixt hith he, Bisschop of Vyenne, a holy man for þe nonys. Chosen was he rith witȝinne þe wonys Of þe abbey of Cloyne, as seith þe story. And aftir he was creat rith sone anoon, With will and hert ful meke & ful holy, He sette a grete counsell for reformacyoun Of holy cherch; rith in the Frensch nacioun At Reymys was it sette. Thedir is Norbert goo For this ich cause and for no moo: To haue new letterys of confirmacioun Of his holy legacye as he had ere, To drawe witȝ preching men to here sauacioun, And þe weyis of heuene hem for to lere. He sped sone his erand whan he cam there. Rith for his fame and his good leuyng, Euery man hatȝ ioye to here his comonyng. Abbotis and priouris were bysi in þat place To have relaxacioun of here obseruaunce; But oure Norbert refused swech maner grace. A man, he seid, mith not do to mech plesaunce To oure lord Crist, whech witȝ a launce Suffered for us þat ich brood wounde. Swech perseueraunce euyr in þis man is founde. The pope in his letteris commended him to a man Thei called Bartholome, bisschop of Laudune, And prayed him be mouth þat he schuld tan Good heed at þis man and him sustene. The same Bartholome had kynrod, as I wene, In þat same cyte & in þe cuntre aboute, Good men of leuyng witȝouten ony doute. And þerfor desired he þat þis ich Norbert Schuld dwelle amongis hem & hem gouerne. The man refused it witȝ wordes ful couert, With reuerens as he myth goodly him werne. He seyde himselue had more nede to lerne Thann be a techere or a ledere ellis Of swech men as in þat cuntre dwellis. Tho cam þe pope onto that same cytee With whom þe bisschop gan comoun his conceyt. He seide he was loth, if it myth othir bee, That þis holy man whech was so weel iteyt Schuld go fro his diosise; he had leuer spend his weyt Of syluyr & gold onto his plesaunce, So weel him plesed his noble gouernaunce. Be þe popes counsell he offered him a place To dwelle in a cherch of Seynt Martyne, In whech dwelled chanonis ful fayre of face, But not seruyng God in seruyse dyuyne So as Norbert wold. He knew hem sumtyme, And noted hem bettir þann þat þei wende. Longe he refused it but ȝit at þe ende, Because he schuld not be inobedient Onto þe pope ne to þe bisschop onkende, Only for here plesaunce he gann consent, So þat þe chanonis here vsage wold amende. He seyde pleynly he wold bryng hem to þat ende, Pat þei schul lyue as þe aposteles ded sumtyme. He was amongis hem at mateyns & at pryme And alle othir owris, but þai myth not acord With his hard preceptis. þei seide þat he Schul not regne ouyr hem ne be here lord Because he was so ful of souereynte, And wold compelle hem in harder lyf to be Thann euyr þei were in ony tyme before. There dwelt he þouȝ a quarter (ȝere) and more. The bisschop norchid him witȝ ful fadirly chere. He profered him mete, he profered drynk eke, To refresch his membris whech at þat tyme were Ful wery and dul & for laboure seke. But swech counfortis myth him not leke. The more he stered him onto sustenauns, The more þis man ȝaue hym to penauns. But for his good chere þat he ȝaue him bodely, This same Norbert made retribucyoun With noble chaunge in counfort gostely, For many a holy word & swete consolacyoun Had þis bisschop of his gest to his sauacyoun. Thus were þei both ful gode and ful kende, Ech of hem þat he had gan othir lende. The bisschop ledde him al aboute þe cuntre To loke where he wold dwelle and abyde. He chase neythir town, ne village, ne cyte, But a desolat place chase he þere beside. Men called it Premonstrat Pat ilk same tyde. This place chase he for to dwelle in, He and his felawis þat wold folow him. Ful rithfully is þe name called Premonstrate, For Premonstrate in oure language he sounditȝ þus: A place schewid before whech was desolate, And aftir schuld be inhabit witȝ folk vertuous. It was schewid be name þan; now is it plenteuous Of schewyng in dede as we se at yȝe. Euyr be it soo thorw Goddis mercyȝe! Rith as þe verytees whech are in owre feith Were schewid be flguris in þe elde testament, Rith so þis ordre whech Norbert forth leith Ful of religioun, ful of holy entent, Took in þis place a very fundament, As in a figure schewyd mystily Amongis busschis & breris hid ful pryuyly. x In this same place made he a solempne avow To dwelle þere witȝ þis condicion: if God wold him sende Felawes good and sad to drawe in þe plow Of holy religioun. For sekir now his mende Was euyr sette only onto þat same ende: That he wil make a college aftir his lyf; Vpon þis conclusion is he inquysityf. For þat cause eke he walketȝ al aboute, He sowith þe seed whech Crist broutȝ fro heuene. To euery puple, to euery parisch and route Preched he the gospell, witȝ ful mylde steuene. His wordes þoo happed for to falle ful euene Into good ground. Whann he to Camerace cam, There turned he to God a noble ȝong man. Thei called him Euermode; he was enspired soo That whan Norbert was gon in þat same place Where as he preched, now is Euermode goo To knele and pray þat God schuld send him grace Owt of his hert þis worldly lust to race. Euene as of Crist was seyde in prophecye: "Thei schul worchep, lord, þi steppis holye." So of þis man may be seyde in dede That his steppes of grace ȝoue swech a prende Onto his foloweris, þat þei ful sone ȝede The same weyis to whech he gan wende. This nobel Euermode now so sore gan bende Onto þe skole of his maystir dere, That he forsaketh al þing þat is here. He was so special aftir to this man, That þere is non but he, if I schuld sey soth, Doth þat plesaunce; ne non eke do can Swech maner dedis of religion as he doth. He had charge of soule and body both; He had in comaundment eke, as I gesse, To bery his body alle the bysynesse. This was þe secund felaw þat was chose. Anothir þere was, whech at a town Niuigelle Dwelled sum while, rith as men suppose; But in sykirnesse this may we wel telle, That þere he had him & led him to his celle. Antony hith he, if ȝe will algate knowe, Of witte studious, of hert he was ful lowe. The thirde he had chosen longe before: He was þe bisschoppis clerk Cameracense. These thre and he were þe very tresore, The very ground of þis ordre in existense, Fulfillid witȝ pite, replete with innocense. Who & whann he gadered his noumbir hertoo, Of special callyng þis book touchitȝ no moo. But thus mech he seith, þat in þat same lente Whech folowid aftir he gat him felawis þirtene; So þat in Passioun weke with hem alle he wente Streit to Premonstrate, þere held þei, as I wene, Here first Estern. Thus was þis couent isene And eke igadered in that holy tyme Ful conueniently, acordyng to oure ryme. For euene as Israel out of Egipt went Toward the holy lond at þe fest of Pase, Rith euene so þese men fro þe world are hent As fro Egipt, & to religioun go a pase As to Ierusalem, where þei gynne to brase Alle Moyses tabernacule, witȝ his instrumentis, Whech tokneth oure cherch, witȝ þe sacramentis. xi Thus upon Cryst, whech is very ground Of alle godnesse, biggid is this place Of whik stones sware and no þing round, Ful of veynys grauen all with grace. The grete werkman aboue he ded race, Alle þis werk goostly in here soule. So techith us þe noble clerk Seynt Poule. Thei made here place, þei made a grete hostel In whech pore men, pilgrymis, and alle nedy Were refreschid fro here hungir fel, Fro here mischeuys; for al þing was þere redy, Of bounteuousnesse þat hous was ful sedy. But þe deuele, enmye to alle goode dedys, Had grete envye with swech maner sedys. He had enuye with hem þat were deuoute, Witȝ hem þat lithly trespas wold forȝeue; The grete fasteres stered he witȝouten doute That þei schuld suppe whan it was late at eue. To Goddis seruauntis he is a wikked reue, For he wil lede hem from þe flok erraunt, And make hem eke of here synne avaunt. In especyal who þat he serued oon Of þat same hous now schal ȝe here. Goddis grace ful plenteuously þoo schoon On þat same man & namely in prayere Wold he stand astoyned in his chere A long tyme sum while, so grete ioye had he In contemplacyon of þe trynyte. And in þis ilk same contemplacyoun The deuele appered to him in þis wyse: "Be glad," he seith, "þou man of þi sauacyoun, For þou schal se veryly er þou ryse For þi deuocyoun and þi good seruyse The blissed trynyte, rith euene in his blis. Lift up þin yȝe and se man where he is." With þat word þe deuele apperd him too, A fayre creature, rith as him thoutȝ, O body stood before his presens þoo With thre hedys ful sotilly iwroutȝ. And þus he seid: "Man, drede þe rith noutȝ. I am þe trynyte, whech þou often callest; To þi desire alle sodeynly þou fallest!" This man beþoutȝ him þoo in þis traunce That inspiracioun whech comth fro aboue Is sette in swech plith and swech gouernaunce, It feseth no man ne maketȝ no grete schoue Of no boystous stormys; but as a spirit of loue It comth ful esily as a pipelyng wynde. Helies avisioun stood in swech a kynde. Thoo took he heed, þis man, & gan to þink, For he herd a stormy, blasty clowde schoue. Eke he felt in sauoure a wel foule stink, Thorw whech ful sone he gan to trete & proue That þis avision cam not fro aboue, But rathere he dempt, in his estimacioun, That it was a foul & fendly temptacioun. He caute a counfort herof in his herte, And gan to speke with ful bold chere: "O þou wrecch onworþi þat maist not asterte The hand of God, þou þat were so dere, For Goddis signacule for soth þou were And witȝ pride þou lost þat faire figure. O þou onkende, þou simulate creature! Who art þou hardy þiselue for to feyne That þou art þe trynyte, God moost of mith, And art now dampned in so horible peyne For þi grete trespaas as it is ful rith? Awey fro me, awey þou enmye of lith, Louere of derknes with þi fraudes alle! In þi temptacyones I hope I schal neuyr falle. He went away fro him as for a while, For he cast him eft to come agayn For to tempte him witȝ anothir wile. And so he ded, to sey þe sothe certayn. This man was vsed to grete fasting, þei sayn, Haunted in prayere, redy to alle obediens. There mytȝ no man fro his grete abstinens Him drawe ne lette, so grete was his corage. Scarse on þe Sunday wold he his fast breke; Wherfore Sathanas witȝ his leonis rage Cast him sikirly on him for to wreke. Comen was lenton, euene þe flrst weke, Whech þat we calle Puluir Wednisday; Than cast he him his maistryis for to assay. Swech a hungir, swech a grete appetite Fel on þis man whan it was late at eue, That sikir, he seide, he must fllle his delite; Of God ne prelate wold he take no leue. And lenten metis whech þei gun him ȝeue Mith him not plese; but he mut nedis certayn Ete buttir and chese to turne him into mayn. Owre fader, Norbert, was not þann present, But forth in preching as was þan his vsage. The conuent seyde: "Brothir, take entent What tyme it is, and of ȝoure appetite swage. Childyr in þe world þat be but ȝong of age Spare swech metes; þann is it to us schame, We þat take upon us so hye a name Of religioun, þat we schal be more large In oure excesse þan þei þat be seculere." Here ammoniciones he sette at no charge, But þus he seide witȝ ful boistous chere: "These metes & drinkis whech þat God mad here Vpon erde, whi schuld we hem not vse? I wil ȝe wite it that I wyl noon refuse." But at þe last his breþerin gote þis of him: That he schal ete euery day to meles. Flesch and white, loke he neuyr so grym, Schal he not ete. Lete him ete eles, Tench or peke, his part now no deles Of ony flesch whech þat he wold haue, Thei wil not ȝeue it him, þouȝ he alday craue. Thei dred þe speche, þe clatering eke of men That so newe a religioun, whech þere was begunne, Schuld so sone be broken, for if þei it ken, They schul clatir it lowde openly in þe sunne. Now are þe dayis of lentoun ny irunne. Pase comth fast, and Norbert is com hom. Alle þis temptacioun, he knew it ritȝ anon. Vnto his felawis he seide be the weye: "It is not weel at hom at oure hous; A grete waioure now treuly dare I leye. There is a dede do there ful perilous." His breþerin of his comyng were desirous; Thei mette with him sothly ere he cam, And teld þe caas whech was falle at ham. "Allas," he seide, "whi wold ȝe do þis dede, To lese þe soule of oure brothir so dere? Where is he now?" and forth he to him ȝede. He fond him fat, bolnyd and rody of chere. With angry look, with yȝne brennyng clere, Behelde he his maistir, astoyned as man wood. He maketh no curtesie, ne avaleth no hood. His blessed maistir vndirstood þis euerydeel, That he was ouyrcome with temptacyoun. He made hem drawe fro him al his meel. "Glotenye," he seith, "hath þis condycioun, Oonly fastyng is his sauacyoun Lete him ete bred and watir al þis weke; Hereaftirward bettir it wil him leke." Whann he had fastid al þat lymyth tyme, He turned deuoute, sad and obediente; Sayde his mateyns, masse and his pryme Witȝ more deuocyoun, with more sad entente. His bodely fatnesse was impedimente To his deuocyoun rith as seith oure book; Thus was he voyded fro þe deueles crook. xii Uoyded fro this man was þus þe fende Be prayere, diligens and merite eke Of oure fader Norbert and alle hatȝ an ende, For pees and rest, whech were to seke In this holy place are turned now to meke, Both men and condicionis, & eke þis Norberd Forth is to preche in Cristis vyneȝerd. The deuel hatȝ aspied ful sone his absens. He bendith his bowe to loke if he may schete, Or wayte for to hurt hem, whech in his presens He durst neythir mech witȝ ne mete. Euene as a theef lith in a strete To wayte his avauntage whom he may wounde, So waytith þis enmy, þis very hellehounde, To slaundyr þis man, if that he may Be ony weye lette him of his good viage. This sawte vsed he many long day, Til at þe last, as in a wood rage, Certeyn persones of wit no þing sage Gun sore to grucch of þe grete hardnesse Whech þat þei suffered vndir habit of holinesse. There was eke so gret duresse in religioun Thei myth not bere esily, as þei saide. Wherfore witȝ venemous tunge, ful of detraccioun, As men witȝ obstinacye alle afrayde, Seid þei had witȝ grete deuocioun assayde This maner religioun: but no man mytȝ it bere, So ful of noye was it and ful of dere. And alle þis slaundir was put on þis man: That he was vndiscrete in the makyng Of swech statutes of whech no man may ne can Bere, ne sustene. For þe grete wakyng Made he hedis all ful of akyng And eke here fastyng wel more hem schent. Thei saide þei had leuyr þe statutes were brent Than þei schuld kepe hem rith for her scharpnesse. Alle þis ilk langage was be þe fend isowyn, In defamyng of þis mannes holinesse, That his good purpos schuld not forth growyn. Oure enmye is wont euyrmore to throwyn His wikkid seed amongis þe good corn; But on good lond it wil not longe be born. And for þe mannes name was þus defamed God ordeyned a remedy to rere it ageyn, With whech mene he was more inamed Than euyr he was before. For as clerkys seyn, The deuele, whech is euyrmore in peyn, Exalteth seyntes with his temptacioun, With whech þat he supposed to brynge al adown. At Nyuygelle dwelt he þat same tyde, For þere was he receyued most specialy. His name was sprongen þoo fer and wyde Thorwoute þe land, in euery cumpany. Thedir cam a man, as seith oure story, Witȝ his ȝong doutyr, of þe deuele obsessed, Vexid a long tyme, laboured and pressed. With wepyng eyne þe fadir of þis childe Prayed oure Norbert for Iesu sake That he wold on þis creature so wilde Haue pite and reuth & to his tuycioun take; Conioure þe deuele so he myth hire forsake. And at þe leest, he prayed him, þat he Wold onys se hire for seyn charyte. Norbert answerd witȝ wordis ful mylde: "Bring hire onto me, and we wil asay." The mayde was a fayre & a ȝong childe, Twelue ȝere of age at that same day. The puple presed fore to se þis aray; And þis Cristis preest ded on his vestiment. Both aube and stole, witȝ ful holy entent. He coniured þe deuele be þe grete vertue Of Cristis passion, þat he schuld obeye And turne to swech place as to him was due. Many longe gospellis ouir hire gan he seye, This maydenes body to clense & to feye. The deuele witȝinne scorned him among: "Swech harp haue I herd," he seid, "and swech song. But neythir for þe, ne for no man here, Schal I forsake now my dwellyng place. For whom schuld I go or for whos prayere? The pileres of þe cherche, endewid witȝ grace, Owt of þis world haue take here pace; And þerfor I dwelle here in grete sikirnesse. No man may voyde me fro þis mayde, I gesse." Norbert þoo sore multiplied his orisones. The deuele answerd: "þou dost al in veyn, Thou chargest nowt me be þe holy bones Ne be þe brith blood whech fro þe veyn Of holy martires went, as ȝoure bokes seyn." And eke forth anoon, witȝouten ony more, The deuel gan speke and no þing rore; But seide oute in Latyn al þat ilk book, Whech we Cantica Canticorum calle. Euery man gan sterten, waytyn and look, For þus þei seide at þat tyme alle, Thei herd neuyr no wondir so sodeynly falle. For first þe maydin in Latyn al þis book spak, And aftir þat a exposicioun, witȝouten ony lak, Rehersed sche þerto; and ȝet aftir this In hir owne langage, in Teutony tunge, Opened sche þese wordes witȝouten mys. This grete merveyle þorw þe town is runge, That swech a mayde of age so ȝonge Whech had not lerned but hire sauter only Schuld haue swech cunnyng of grete study. For alle þis þing þis seynt was not aferd, But euyr in on cryed on this fende He schulde obeye þoo wordis þat he herd. This goddis creature he schuld no lenger rende, But take his viage & to othir place wende, Whereas he was wont for to dwelle. The deuele answered, schort tale to telle: 'If þou wilt algatis," he seith, þat I goo, Lete me entyr þat munk þat stant þere." For at þat tyme sikir it happed soo, A munk amongis þe puple to se and lere Presed fast and ny, but mech care & fere Had he in þe peticioun of þis newe logging. Owre fadir Norbert, whech had ful clere knowyng Of alle þe trantes whech þe deuele vseth Cryed al lowde þat euery man myth here: "ȝe cristes puple, wondir no þing ne museth On þis word þorw whech þe godman here Is now dislaundred be þis fals lyere. Euyr was his vsage to lye and slaundir men; Who trosteth to him þe treuth schal neuyr ken." ȝet hard and sore þis Norbert mad instaunce, That þis spirit þis mayden schuld forsake. To þis entent he ded many a obseruaunce. The spirit witȝ boost gan to crye and crake. Grete thretis eke þoo he gan to make; "If þou wilt," he seyde, "algatis þat I goo, I schal clepe onto me of my felawis moo And crye to hem: O my blake felawis alle, Help now, help now I be not ouyrthrowe; Doth ȝoure laboure þat þis cherch may falle. The grete arches þat stand al be rowe, Lete us make hem for to ly ful lowe! Alle þis wil we do, I sey þe withouten lees, But if þou lat me frely dwelle in pees." This herd þe puple and þei fled anoon. Norbert abydeth and is no þing agast, But he abydith stabyly as a stoon; He seid his orisones & his blessingis fast. The mayde roos up and both hire handis cast Onto þe stole þat hing aboute his nek. Sche held him soo þat he gan to qwek. Summe stert to, to pulle awey hire hand. "Let be," seid Norbert, "I bid ȝou touch hire nowt. If sche hath powere of Crist witȝ þis band To bynde my nek, lete þe dede be wrowt. Crist is my lord, for he hath me bowt; I trost on him sche schal me no þing dere." With þat word, hir hold sche gan leue þere. The day went ȝerne & was wel ny ended. Therfore owre Norbert bad þei schuld in hast Take þis mayde, þat sche schuld be amended. Hand and foot he bad bynde hir fast, Into a vessel of haliwatir þei schuld hire cast. Because eke þat sche had fayre ȝelow here, Alle hire lokkis he comaunded þei schuld schere For þis entent: he supposed þat be occasion Of this beute, þe deuele had more powere Ouyr this creature. But whan þis decaluacion Was performed, þe deuel gan crye and bere: "Thou pilgrime of Fraunce," he seit, "what dost þou here? What haue I do, wherto reuest me my rest? May I not dwelle for þe in myn nest? Alle euel happe and alle wikkyd chaunce Falle upon the for thi vexacyoun That þou dost to me witȝ þin obseruaunce. Thou hast reft me mech domynacioun Onþank haue þou for þin occupacyoun." Thus seide þe deuele, & because þe day was don, He bad hire fadir lede hire hom anon And bryng hire ageyn þe next day to messe. He onclothid him of his vestimentis alle, And whann þe deuele sey him oute of his clothis dresse, With lowde voys he began to lalle : "A fayre happe is now to me falle. Thou has do a þing þat pleseth me ful weel, Thou hast not Þi purpos now neuyr a deel. Now dost þou þing onto my plesaunce, For þu leuyst þis werk for very werynesse, For very ioye now I gynne for to daunce. Oure fadere Norbert, witȝ ful grete heuynesse Onto his hostell gan him sone dresse, For in his mynde hatȝ he mad þis avow That he wil no mete ne no drynk take now, Ne neuyr cast him for soupe ne byte Onto þe tyme þat þis wikkid goost Be voyded, and þat þis mayde be qwyte. Thus was he fastyng al nytȝ with his hoost. The othir day cam, & þis preste of vertu moost Goth forth to cherche his messe for to synge. There is now rennyng; þere is now waytynge; Euery man loketh wheithir þe deuele or he Schal haue þe maystri. He bad þei schuld take This ich mayden & be þe auter ny as it myth be, Hold hire fast because sche gan to qwake. This religious preest seide: "Þou fende, awake. Voyde now þis body." boo seid he gospellis feele Ouyr þis mayden, to hire goostly hele. The deuele answerd, as he had do before, That he had herd swech harpes sownd or now. He sang his masse, wit orisones lesse & more. Til sacry cam, & þan þe deuele sore low, Lowde he cryed: "God, I make a vow. Se, men, þe litil God betwyx þe handis too Of ȝoure Norbert, how he it liftith, loo." Thus deueles are aknowe þat heretikes denye! This man prayed sore witȝ grete deuocyoun That oure lord God, for his grete mercye, Schuld of his grace make a dyuorcyoun. Ful hertily to God made he his mocyoun, So ferforth þat þe deuele felt peyne, And with grete waymenting þoo gan he seyne: I wil go, I wil, lete me now pase. Turment me no more, I am obedient." With þat word his weye sone he tase, With horibile stynk at hire fundement, And stynkyng vryne whech lay on þe pament. Thus seide thei þat in presens were, In ful mechil þoutȝ and mechil fere. Thus wery and seek for very febilnesse, Is þe mayde bore to hire fadere hous, And aftir witȝ kepyng was sche, as I gesse, Heil of body and of soule vertuous. Thus is sche recured be werkys meruelous Of God and Seynt Norbert, whech was hire leche. Euyr to his patronage mote men seche! xiii Now wil we speke what maner gouernaunce He sette in his cherch, Premonstracense. Witȝ special exhortacion he gan hem avaunce, Whann he visitid hem newly witȝ his presense. He sette þere þe reulis of clene consciense; Both morw and eue he vsed hem to fede How þei in all clennesse here lyf schuld lede. Here hye purpos, whech þei had take, He stered hem to kepe it witȝ holy entent. The wordly goodis whech þei had forsake, And eke here hertis were fro hem bent. His steryng was euyr so to hem sent Þat þei schuld not turne aȝen to swech delite Of whech be his ph[isik] þei had a vomyte. He ferd lych a egle schakyng his wyngis, Prouokyng his birdis here coors for to flye; For in his exhortacionis euyr more he myngis These worldly plesaunses to passe forbye And entenden to swech ioyes þat are upon hye. He himselue vsed lo swech manere flith; He ascendid wit orison both day and nyth And rested euene þere where as his mynde Was bore up witȝ contemplatif bysynesse. Summe of his bretheryn eke witȝ þat same wynde Were so irauyschid into holynesse, That fro þat place where þei sat, I gesse, Thei þoutȝ þei flyed euene up to heuene. So had þe gost endewid hem witȝ þe ȝiftis seuene. Specialy þei loued soo þis ilk same man That þere is no reule now, ne no obseruance, Whech ony clerk can hem bryng or tan, That may plese hem, but only þe gouernaunce Of oure Norbert, whech may be to hem plesaunce. But al here lokyng and here goostly desere Is sette his lernyng and doctryne to here. And þat hatȝ þis man considered, by hy discrecioun. He þoutȝ þat þis þing was perilous in charge; Wherfore discretely onto his congregacioun Of grete liberte he graunted þis targe: That þei schul in here eleccion stand at here large To chese hem what reule þat hem likitȝ best; So schall here consciens be most in rest. This was his dreed þat aftir his desees On schuld go þis weye, anothir schuld go þis. Therfor þat þei schuld dwelle in stable pees, And renne þe weye þat turne not amys But ledeth streyte to eterne blys, He wold sette hem in a lif moost conuenient Onto þe apostelis lif, þis was his entent. For sum men counseled hem ankeris for to be, Summe ȝoue hem counsel to dwelle in wildirnesse As hermytes al alone, but þe moost comounte Seyde there is a ordre ful of holynesse; Men clepe it Cistercienses, rith as I gesse. This ordre wil þei haue, many of hem, For þat ordre was ful ryf þoo in þat rem. But neuyrþelasse here alderis desire Hangeth on here fadere and his eleccion. Thei are so bounden witȝ þe strong bond of wire I mene loue -- þat in his discrecioun Put þei now here lyf & alle here disposicioun, Loke what he wil, þei wil stande thertoo. He must do alle that schall there be doo. Whan he had avisid him, þis reson gan he make: "Taketh heed," he seid, "what we haue be or now Indifferently in clothis, þe white & þe blake, Haue we be clad and eke oure avow Hing moost sewirly on þat ich vow Whech is now called Seynt Austenis reule. Aftyr þat, be my reed, schul we us reule." The book was brout forth onto his presens Red lef be lef, witȝouten werynesse. He seyde it was a reule of ful grete sentens, Ful of clerkly lyuyng and ful of holynesse. Wherfor sith on him was set al þis bysynesse: To chese hem a lyf, he seid in wordis plat, He wold non othir reule chese hem but þat. It was ful ny Cristmasse. Þerfor at þat fest, Cast he him þat his bretheryn alle Whech wold abyde, þe more and þe lest, With on asent þe holy goost schuld calle, And mekely to a fraternyte schuld þei falle, Makyng here profession to God & t[o] Seynt Austyn, As very childirn and eyres of his kyn. Thann felle there dowtis in this same matere, For dyuers exposiciones þat on þis reule were. Wherfor here conscienses were not alle clere, And therefore seide þei þat þei wold lere Why þat þei schuld certeyn charges bere Whech were not of custome in othir houses kept. For very fere summe of þis cumpany wept. Summe were aferd, summe felle in ful grete dowt, Sum were slawhere þanne þei were wont to be. This is aspied and openly claterid owt. But whann he herd it, this holy man, he Seyde to hem: "Felawis, drede not þis dyuersite. Alle Goddis weyis are grounded, witȝouten ly, Vpon his treuth and upon his mercy. Alþouȝ þese reules be dyuers in manere, ȝet are þei not contrarie in no wyse; Thouȝ þese customes whech are vsed here, Be othir men be set in othir assyse In othir place as hem lest deuyse, ȝet are þei grounded alle on o charite, Whech is loue of god & neybour here by the. What wil ȝe seke more of parfithnesse, Thann ȝe schal fynde in þis book expressid? Of loue, of laboure, of abstinens, I gesse, Schul ȝe haue here dischis redy dressed: Glotony witȝ fastyng is here al oppressed; Cloþing is mesured, silens is commended; And alle presumpcioun witȝ obediens is amended. Here is alsoo doctryne treuly tawt, Who euery ȝongere schal, witȝ meke entent, Worchep hem whech elde age hatȝ cawt. The very reules of reguleris here are sent As fro heuene, a goostly sauory present, Be Austyn, oure aungell & messager in þis caas. Loke þat no man now refuse his graas. xiiii Now of here clothing, what maner obseruance, Or constitucioun, calle it what ȝe wil, He ordeyned at þat tyme witȝ his puruyaunce Wil we speke, and eke ȝoure eres fll. Oure fader Norbert, be very proued skil, Ordeyned his abite aftir þe holy gospell, As ȝe schal here me aftirward now tell. He to his subiectis seyde, whann þat þei were Gadered togider in consultacyoun, That he in no scripture neuyr coude lere, Ne in no apostelis episteles or exhortacyoun, What maner coloures þei wered or of what facioun Were here garmentis mad, whech þei vsed. Vpon þis matere he seid he had mused. If ony othir man be þere, þat is here That haue red it, ȝet is it no preiudicioun; But þat oure Norbert may witȝ consciens clere, Make swech habite in his institucioun Rith as him likith, lesse þan ony prohibicioun Were founde aȝen it, & þere schal non be founde. As I trowe, þouȝ malice wolde abounde. Be þis auctorite began he hem to clothe. He seide þe aungellis, whech at þe resurreccioun Appered at þe graue, white clothes bothe, Seyth þe gospell, þat þei had vpon. Eke þe cherch vseth withouten ony woon That in wollen men schul here penauns doo. This conclusion drow he of þese too: Be þe gospellis, he seide, grete auctorite And he þe use whech þe cherch vseth ȝit, He wolde his puple schuld conformed be Rith to þis custome & not refuse it. Thus witȝ his malle þe nayle hed he hit: "Mi breþerin for here synnes penauns here schul doo; Therfor in wollen clothis I wil þat þei goo. Mi bretheryn eke schul kepe innocens, And lich aungelis very witnesse bere Of resurreccioun where al indulgens Of alle trespases, withouten ony fere, Schal be schewyd. Þerfor þat þei schuld lere How þei schuld be clene in soule and brytȝ, Here vttyr garment I wil þat it be whitȝ. Both white to laboure and white to holynesse Schul here germentis be aftir myn ordynaunce. Alle my chanones þe more and þe lesse With swech clothyng I wil hem avaunce. Sith ȝe haue put al in my gouernaunce, Thus schul ȝe go, but aftyr we wil declare This ich aray in more open langage & bare." This rithful man lerned not for þis cause These obseruaunces onto his meke couent That he schuld dampne, schortly in a clause, Ony ordynaunce or ony comawndment Of othir seyntis, but oonly his entent Was þat þei whech schuld folow his weye Onto þis doctryne nedis þei must hem teye. xv This same man Norbert was in demyng Streyt and hard, specialy where as synne Schuld be punched. Þe holy goostis techyng Made him swech þat he coude not blynne, But euyr soules to heuene wold he wynne. Ful many men cam to him for grace, And ere þei fro his presens onys myth pace Here proude spirit was turned to mekenesse. Thus was þis man a very instrument Of goostly solaas, sothly as I gesse. Thei þat were with synne al torent, And eke þei þat were ful sore ibrent In fleschly lustis, he took þe blak cole Of synne fro hem & made hem alle hole. His occupacyoun was of no wordly þing, But euyr goostly as to rede or wryte Holy Scripture and his mysty expownyng. Sumtyme among letteris wold he endyte To dyuers states to turne hem onto ryte. Thei myth not fayle, þei þat folowid his lore, But encresed in vertu euyr more and more. The mynde of hem was at þat tyme so sette, Thei loued bettyr wrecchid clothis bare And clutte þan hole or ony othir new iette; For gay clothing þei had no grete care. Summe of hem took peces of eldere ware And sowed hem on here newe garmentis fast. So were here hertis to pouertee al icast, Thei were aschamed rith, as seith oure book, Of newe clothis, because þei had forsake All maner vanyte; wherfore þei wold not look Ne loue neythir þese fresch clothis blake, Ne precious whites wold þei noon take. There was no werk to wrecchid to hem þei þoutȝ. Obediens was of hem so swetely soutȝ. What þing was bode hem þei were redy to doo, That if a houene had be hoot brennyng Thei schuld rathere arunne in thertoo, Than aȝen obediens made ony grucchyng. Thei dred more here maystiris offendyng Than ony deth or ony bodely harm, Brennyng charyte had mad hem so warm. Silens was dew in euery tyme and place, For þei þat folowid him in his weye preching, Were so endewyd with þis noble grace, That notwithstandyng þei were euyr walkyng Amonges þe puple and herd mech clateryng, There schulde no man, in ernest ne in borde, Of here mouthes ones here a worde. And if hem happed in ony defaute to falle, Anon þei schuld go down on here kne, With hande and mouth mekely for to calle On here maystir þat, for his grete pite, He schuld forȝeue hem in alle maner degre Here defautes, both in dede and thoutȝ, And for þe puple ne schame spared þei noutȝ. He ordeyned eke þat his breþerin schuld fast Euery day, and ete but o mele. The hard religioun, whech was kept ful fast And ful streit, is now larged sum dele, Because þat men are not disposed so wele As þei were sumtyme, treuly þus I leue. He wold not ȝeue his bretherin eke no leue To ryde on hors; but on asses to ryde alwey It myth not be kept for many causes grete. On is this, ȝe wote and se at ey Thouȝ ȝe þe asse spore or ellis bete, His slaw paas can he not forȝete. Eke in þis cuntre þere may no man hem haue. Who schuld þese men þese impossibles saue Withouten dispensyng, whech 1 wote ful weel, That þei haue purchased as wise men schuld doo? He wold eke þat in euery tyme and seel His goostly childir witȝ swech clothis schuld goo Whech hide oure schame, it nedeth to sey no moo. Swech reules ȝaue he þat mannys myty mynde Schuld not be effeminate in no kynde. And of here clothis, as we seid before, He sette swech reules as are grete plesaunce Onto oure God and ȝet, ferþermore, Ful profltable to bodely gouernaunce. The flesch schuld growe ful of myschaunce, Ne were he chastised witȝ bridil of areest. That knewe þis seynt treuly witȝ þe best. For notwithstandyng þat he himself wered Nexte his skyn a scharp hayre alwey, ȝet was his hert witȝ swech pite stered, Than on his bretherin lesse wite wold he ley. Both lynen and wollen, schortly for to sey, Bad he his felawis þat þei schuld were, Wollen next here skyn he wold þei schuld bere, Wollen eke to laboure, owtward schul þei use, Rith as þe pope, Innocent called be name, Hath confermed -- no man may it refuse -- In his bulle þat is of ful grete fame, In whech bulle reherseth he the same That þis noble, holy, discreet religioun Hath used white clothis fro here institucioun. But for because þat þere is dyuersite In oppiniones of þese clothis partyng Now lynen now wollen, to make a vnyte Of this matere and who I the wrytyng Vndirstand, I will witȝ ony lettyng Telle ȝou now, vndir þis protestacioun, That I take upon me here no diuinacyoun As for to determyn who þis men schul hem clothe. Wollen clothis these men vsen schal In penaunce doyng and in laboure bothe. And if thei do not, þei haue a grete fal Fro here reules, for þis sentens al Spryngith oute of Norbertis swete doctryne, And goth onto heuene rith as ony lyne. Wollen schul þei haue to laboure & eke to penaunce Lynand, for clennesse, wold he þei schuld were At þe autere þere þei doo here obseruaunce. And at alle places, schortly for to here, Where as þei serue God þis abite schul þei bere, Of lynand cloth oonly for clennesse, In othir places þei are not bounde, I gesse. If men wil algate of here deuocyoun Were lynend alwey I wil it not dispraue. Lete euery man aftyr his discrecioun His obseruaunces in his monastery haue; But þis wold I, þe vnyte for to saue, That alle schuld go lich to kepe honeste Euene as alle cleyme of o religioun to be. Thre þingis, seide this man to his breþerin there, Were neccessarie and profltable to euery congregacioun. Eke he wold þat þei schuld hem lere, For þere is no hous, he seid, in no nacioun, That euyr schal falle in ony grete tribulacioun, Whech haunteth þese þingis: þe flrst of hem here Is clennesse in cherch, & aboute þe autere. The secund is, in þe chapetir, very confessioun Of alle here defautes þat euery brothir hatȝ doo. The thirde is of worldly goodis dispensacioun To þe pore men, þat be þe cuntre goo. These thre þingis, if thei kepe hem soo, Ony hous of religioun, þei schul neuyr fayle, Ne neuyr schul for ony myschef wayle. Thus be word and ded he h[e]m schewyd No othir þing to know but oure lord lesu For us crucifled, and to lerned and lewid He prechid þis doctrine with laboure ful dew. It made many a man him for to sew, Folowyng his lyf with steppes of perseueraunce, His exaumple was to hem swech plesaunce. xvi It happed on a day þat he fro Reymys went With certeyn of his felawis & too nouyces eke, Whech he newly fro þe world had hent, And taute hem here elde customes for to breke. As þei went be þe weye cheke be cheke, And kept here silens þinkyng on heuene, A voys fro þe sky sowndyd ful euene. He cryed in here eres on the o side: "This is þe felawchep of Norbert owre frende." Thei gunne for to list in that same tide, Than herd þei anothir voys in þe othir side wende: "It is not his felawchep." Þis was þe ende Of þis heuenely warnyng. He ment þat oon of þese too Was not in hert as he pretended, loo. Alle herd þis voys, and alle astoyned were, But non wist what it signified or ment. Wherfore oure Norbert, with devoute prayere, Day be day now his orysones hath isent Vnto almyty God omnipotent, That he schuld wisse him þe tokenyng of þis cry, Whech þat he herd comyng fro þe sky. Tho felle in his hert a gelous suspecioun Of þese too newe chosen & of here gouernaunce. With ful sad and avised consideracyoun, He took gret heed who in his obseruaunce Oon of hem was ful nys in his cuntenaunce, Slaw in comyng to seruyse, vnbuxum to obediens, Vnstable in maneris and large of consciens, The good fadere took him oside & þus to him saide: "Brothir, what is þat þow berest in thi hert? Telle me now boldly and be not afraide. For this is ful sikir, þere may no þing astert, Thouȝ þing be neuyr so pryuy hid vndir schert, It may not be hid fro goddis brith yȝe- Wherfore brothir make now no lyȝe. If þou be stable in þing þat is begunne, ȝeue thank to God and bettir it more & more: If þou be wery of goodnes new iwonne, And be alle this ordre settist no store, Open now þin hert that þis goostly tresore May entre to þi soule, for I the ensure Treuth and falshed may not togidir endure." The feyned man answerd as he ment: "What heileth þe, fadere, wenyst þow I wold stele Ony of thi tresore, eythir book or vestiment? Be not aferd her of neuyr a dele. I wil no þing fro þe of myn hert concele. Thou art so pore þere may no man þe robbe, We lese not in this house a heryng cobbe! He þat hat rith nowt, as þe gospel seith, Thing þat he semeth haue men schul fro him rende And to him þat is rich and of grete heith Men schul ȝeue ȝiftis and godis him lende." As þis man seid, so felle it at the hende. For þere was a new brothir com to hem late, Whech had seld his patrimony, or ellis late He had take therof a good qwantyte And leyd it in a bagge behynde þe autere Where as þei sunge. Þis man with grete sotilte, And grete awaytyng, þis feyned scolere, Hath stole þis mony rith fro the qwere, Whilys þat his bretherin rested in here sleep, And as a theef awey thus he leep. He left hem not a peny, in al here hous, To bye witȝ al þing whech þei had nede. This dede to the theef was ful perilous, And to þe good men it was ful grete mede. God wold hem þe weyis of perfeccioun lede, And lerne hem be smale þingis who þei schuld do in grete. Therfor with temperal duresse he wold hem bete. xvii Now of þis ich place, called Premonstracense, When God had ordenyd þese men in to dwelle, Wil I to ȝow rith in schort sentens Alle þe descripcioun of this place telle. Many men at þat tyme to þat felauchip felle, Forsook al þe world, & come to þat place, Oonly in pouerte good lyf to purchace. And for because þere was grete gaderyng Of mech puple to that religioun, In here wittis was huge disputyng Of here edyfles and of here mansioun. For þe place was onable to ony habitacioun. Vntild and row, ful of brusch and brere, Rith nowt in þe pleyn but marys and mere. A sory place and vnable, many men þoutȝ Ony congregacioun to dwelle in ony while. For whan alle here comoditees were isoutȝ Of studious men whech were ordeyned to bile, There was no good watyr witȝin a myle But a litil pitte whech fro þe hillis cam And party was it fillid witȝ a wosy dam. Of þe same marys. Þere stood eke a chapell, Ful old and ruynous, ny at downgate, There was alsoo, as the stories telle, A fayre appelȝerd; but neythir hegge ne gate Had it to spere owt, or owt men to late. In this same place restid this good man With swech meny & vitaile as thedyr cam, Hopyng in God þat he schuld hem sende Lyuelood inow of his merciful puruyaunce. Othir religious men, þat þedir ded wende, Whan þei had considered alle þe gouernaunce Of þis holy lyuyng, & eke þe longe distaunce Of ony good soyle, þei seid it was impossibilite That in þat place ony good dwelling schuld be. Thei seide, ferþermore, þis religioun mytȝ not stande For streyt obseruaunce, & for þe onliklynesse Of þe sory ground, þei seide, in tyme comande Men schuld renne awey for werynesse. Oure fadere Norbert had hardid, as I gesse, His stabil face aȝens swech impediment. There myth noon aduersite make him repent. Ȝet þat he schulde þe hertis of hem alle Comfortyn more kendly þat were of his flok, And eke for þe slaundir whech was befalle, Of þe euele tungis whech can neuyr but knok And clater in euele tyme — wold God þei had a lok To schet with here tunge! — For þese causes tweyne This good man, schortly for to seyne, Goth aboute þe place himselue al alone, Waytyng & consideryng how he schal bild his hous. The wisest of his bretherin eke he had gone And take good heed who þis place perilous Mith be craft & cost be made more gracyous Than men seyde it was. Thus þei ded in dede And prayed onto God þat he schuld hem spede. But specialy he comawnded to his breþerin alle That þei schuld, with good entent & meke prayere, Onto oure lord God inwardly calle, That he schuld ȝeue hem councell as in þis matere. For here deuoute prayeris God cam hem nere, And schewid be avysiones who þei schuld doo In bildyng of here kirk and place þertoo. On of hem sone aftir had þis reuelacioun: He þoute he say rith in the same place Where as þe cherche schuld be in his avysioun A blessed sith swete and ful of grace. He loked upward with his goostly face And sey, as him þoutȝ, in þe eyir aboue Euene as he was crucified for oure loue, Owre lord Iesu Crist, & seuene bemes brith Sey he at þat tyme come fro þe sky Whech to þe crosse sent forth here lyth. He sey alsoo pilgrimys in ful grete hy Knelyng on þe gorund crying mercy. Summe, as him þoutȝ, come from þe eest, Summe fro north & south, summe fro þe west. Euene as þe foure dorys of þe cherch now Are made in dede, so þei come he thoutȝ With stauys and hattis & berdis ful row, Of here aray þei but litil routȝ, Thei set hem on here kne & deuoutly soutȝ The mercy of oure lord. Al þis sey þis man, And whann he wook his weye hatȝ he tan Streyt to þis Norbert to telle him þe cas. He þankid oure lord God and þus he sayde: "Euyr be þou worcheped for þi hye graas, And neuyr be þin honoure fro mannis hert layde, For whann alle frenschipis haue be asayde, Thann is þin best. Þou ȝeuest, lord, counfort Of þing þat is passed, & eke, if we resort Onto þi proteccioun for ony comyng nede, Þan ȝeuest þou us knowlech of þin hye grace." Whann he had seid þus he put awey drede, And seide to his felawis witȝ ful myry face: Be low alle glad ȝe dwelleris in þis place, Arme ȝou and make ȝou redy to al temptacioun For þe sotil Sathanas witȝ al his nacioun Schal make asaute to wynne us if he can. For this avision, I sey ȝou treuly, Whech þat appered now to this man, As it semeth to me it is a prophecy, That to oure hous schul come be weye & be sty Very pilgrymys for þei schul forsake Alle worldly lust, and a new lyf take Of clennesse and pouerte & make her professioun. Thus expowne þis mannys dremyng." And euene as he sey in his avisioun, So was it fulflllid at þe endyng. Both cherch, cruciflxe, dores and þe ryng Alle was imade rith as he deuysed; Euene as he bad, so was it desised. xviii Thus aftir he had ordeyned his ediflcacioun In spirituale houses, mennys soules I mene, It was ful neccessarie his material mansioun Schuld be now reysid and set on þe grene. At þe groundes takyng were, as I wene, Ful many worthi men, of whech þe principal Was þe noble bisschop, whech men ded cal Bartholome of Laudune, for þere was his se. He halowid þe stones þat went to þe ground. He stood be þe werkmen with grete solempnite, And ȝaue hem to þe werk ful many a pound Of frankis and ducatis þat were ful round. There was in presens eke a noble lord, Whos name was as þese bokes record Thomas, þe lord of þe realtee of Coty. He dred þis Norbert & loued him alsoo. He counseled þe werkmen hastyly to hye, That þis cherch schuld sone be doo. And at þat tyme it happed soo, He broutȝ þidir witȝ him his son ful ȝong; Thei called him Ingeramne in here tong. Many othir worthi men at þat tyme were þere Of spiritualte and temporalte, & alle þei saide: "What man is þis þat hatȝ now no fere, Ne for alle þese perelis is not dismaide? Who schuld þis ground þat was neuyr asayde Bere swech a werk of so huge a witȝ? Thei haue put in of ston ten ton tyth Into the ground and it takith no tak." Thus seyde þei þann, iangeleris in þe route. Thei put in þe werk a ful grete lak, But for al þis oure Norbert hatȝ no doute, But þoutȝ þat þe werk, whech þei were aboute, Because it was plantyng of God aboue, Owt of his stabilnes it schuld not lithly moue. Than felle þere betwix werkmen a strif, For sum of hem were of Teutony nacyoun, Sum Frensch were & had be alle here lyf. But when þei were come in congregacioun, Eche of hem to othir had indignacioun. Therefore to swage envye & al male entent To hem swech gouernaunce þis man hath lent, That the o nacyoun on the o side, The othir on þe othir side schal werk & rere. Thus roos þe werk, ful longe & ful wyde; For non of þoo werkmen þat were þere Feynted ony tyme to laboure or to bere, For þat þei wold here felauchep ouyrlede, Alle þei erned ful weel here mede. Thus in nyne monthes þe werk had a ende, And halowid it was of þe same holy man, Bischop Bartholomew, whech was ful kende, And bysi to doo and pay þat he can. For he was þe flrst þat þe werk began, And he was þe last, God doo him mede! Alle þe werkmen went in his wede. But þe onstable fortune þat medeleth alwey Hir bittir happes witȝ hire swete chaunce Turned here ioye so sodeynly þat thei Had no cause to trippe ne to daunce. Of puple was there so grete habundaunce That ilk day, þat þe cherch was consecrate, That þere was mech prees & mech debate. And þorw boistous presing of þe puple there The grete autere þat stood in the qweer Was meued fro his place, so sore gun þei bere. Than is þere a statute, if ȝe wil heer, That whech tyme witȝ violens ony auteer Whech was halowid, as þe lawys seyn, Be meued fro his place, it must be blessed ageyn. So was þis, for in Seyn Martines octaue Was it new consecrate & anoynted eke. And for he schuld þe elde custome saue, He ordeyned, þerfor, þat same day and weke Schuld euyr more of his breþerin meke Be kepte holy as a dedicacyoun, In memory and witnes of þat innouacyoun. Lete þis now suffise of þis material descripcyoun Of þis real place, for now wil we turne To telle ȝou treuly his occupacyoun; Noutȝ only his, but also we schul returne Alle þe condicioun of hem þat þere soiorne, So as here actes rith were do in dede, Folowyng non ordre, for it is no nede. xix This man went oute to sowe his noble sedis ... xix . Of holy preching as he was wone to doo. He left at hom, as ful grete nede is, His place weel bylid, he left ferþermoo Discrete gouernoures our hem euene too: On ouyr þe prestis was made president, Anothir preferred was ouyr þe lewid couent. He seid onto hem, whan he fro hem went, That þei schuld kepe pees ouyr al þing Betwix hemselue; for he seid no couent May stand at debat, þou þere be medelyng, Where þat here prelates kepe of charite þe ring. Wherfor to þese too he comaunded holy loue, That þei schuld kepe it for reuerens of God aboue. Thus fro þe folde parted with loue and pees Is þis schepherde, and forth now is igoo, Holy lyuyng with preching to encrees. Oure enmy, þe deuele, is glad now & no moo Of þis departing, for mechil care and woo Wrout he to hem in þe absens of þis man. His sotill sautys to rere þoo he began. Lich a wolf þat comth to a folde, First he feseth þe scheep with his chere, And aftir ful slyly wil he now beholde Who he may þrote hem both there and here; Aftir with teeth wil he neyh hem nere. Thus farith þis enmye in his sautes alle; Who may avoide him, a victoure men him calle. To þese men þat in this perfeccioun Were falle al newly þus appered Sathan: To sum of hem made he open apparicioun. For he cam sumtyme lich a armed man; Sumtyme wold he þe likenesse of many tan, With scheld and swerd, arayed as here enmyes were Whech pei had in þe world or þei come there. There were so fesed þann rith as hem þoutȝ Here enmyes come to hem rith to here celle. So ny vpon hem with cruelnesse þe soutȝ, That þei were fayn, schortly for to telle, Defende hem with book, clothis or belle, Or what cam next to hand witȝ good speed, So were here hertis þoo fulfillid witȝ dreed. Thei þat were not temptid with this þing, Ne sey no swech visiones, as thei sey, Runne onto hem with ful grete snybbyng. Thei asked why and for what cause now þey Broke here silence & exalte here voys so hey, Hurled so aboutȝ with stones & staues eke? Thei answerd aȝen, witȝ wordes no þing meke: "Se ȝe not here," þei sei, "what puple is come With swerd and spere to gore us if þei may, And eke with many sundry dyuers lome Vpon us haue þei made assay? We haue now fowtyn here al þis long day, And no man helpeth us of his charite Of alle þat dwelle in this fraternyte." The sadder men, þat bettyr avised were, Seide onto hem it was illusioun. For non of hem, but þei þat fel in fere, Sey no þing of this temptacyoun. Wherfor ful hastily witȝ exorȝiȝacyoun Thei mad haliwatir & fast þrew aboute. Thus voyded þei þese illusionis & put hem oute. Thei crouched hem, and fast þe fantasy fled. The oþir men þat temptid were before Begunne to bold & were no more adred, But witȝ huge voys gunne to crye and rore: "Awey, ȝe fendis, and assayleth no more Goddis puple þat cast to leue in pees." Thus was þis batayle ended doutlees. Whann þei þat were deceyued witȝ þis chaunce Had þus aspied þe deueles sotiltee, Thei were more redy in parfitȝ sustenaunce To suffir temptacioun & aspye þis vanytee. ȝet sum of hem had aftir no pouste To perseuere in here innocent lyf, But to þe world aȝen þei went ful ryf. And þouȝ þe fend expulsed were fro hem As for a while, ȝet cam he sone ageyn. For þouȝ he swalowid hatȝ alle þe strem Of þe grete se, ȝet his appetitȝ, as þei seyn, Is not saciate but if þat he may dreyn The flood of Iordan into his þrote only, Be whech flgure derk and al mysty I vndirstand þat, þouȝ þe deuele hatȝ wunne Alle worldly men onto his domynacion, It is to litil to his open munne And not fulflllid is his temptacioun But if he may wynne with his vexacioun Religious men whech schuld be more clene. This is þe vndirstanding herof, I wene. Now were receyued into þis holi place Alle maner puple and of al manere degre; There was non refused þat called on þis grace. Aftir þe gospell seith rith soo ded he, Oure fader Norbert. "Alle þat come to me," Seid Crist oure lord, "I schal wel receyue; No man fro myn handis schal hem weyue." But amongis alle þese þe deceyuable spiritȝ Took grete heed þat ydiotes summe were. He knew his vesselis, þerfor he gan hem ditȝ, And eke araye hem venym for to bere. He made hem soo to stody and to lere, That þei þat vnnethe coude on book rede Within a while, witȝouten ony drede, Now can þei rede, now can þei vndirstande Dyuers materis and derk bokes olde. They dare now boldly take upon hande To teche and preche; þei wex now so bolde, That notwitȝstandyng þei be but of þe folde, ȝet dare þei preche in here prelates presens, And he ȝaue to hem ful meke audiens. On of hem boldly took on hande Danyeles profecies to expowne & teche. Of þe ten hornes he gan vndirstande Wondir doctrine and ful wondir speche. Here and þere himselue he gan to seche, With lesinggis among, as his maistir him tawt; ȝet wondir termes to him hatȝ he rawt. Whann all þe breþerin in chapetre gadered were Than seid he þingis hem þoutȝ ful meruelous. Oure fadere Norbert onto a eldeman þere, Saddest & wisest aftir him of þat hous, Asked him wheythir it were out perilous To suffir þis man swech misty þingis to speke. The othir man answered witȝ soft wordis & meke: Suffir now, maystir, þis þing for a while. It schal be wist ful weel and openly Wheithir it comth fro þe fendis gile Or elles it comth be reuelacioun fro hy." Sone aftyr þis man felle seek sodeynly, He þat þese profecies þus gan expowne, And whan he was in bed leyde adowne Thann sette he his speche al onto þe heuene. They cam aboute him sum to his counfort, Of his breþerin be sex and be seuene, Summe of hem come for to report What he wold sey of þat grete sort. Of himselue he seyde flrst of alle Grete þingis & many whech aftir schuld falle. Of othir felawis he spak meruelously alsoo: "This man," he seid, "þat stant here be my bed I say on lede him the hye blis ontoo, And ther was he with mech ioye ifed. This oþir man þat stant here was eke led To þat same ioye, ful his rithfulnesse. And þat þird man is he now, as I gesse, That God hath ordeyned a bischop to be, And þat man eke schal gouerne puple fele. This man schal dwelle and deye in charite; That man schal falle fro his goostly hele." Whann he had made al þis long apele, He turned awey as þouȝ þat he wold ȝelde His pore soule oute of þis worldly felde. He lay stille as deed, þei sey, euene þe space Of an houre alle hool, & þan þei gun rynge Euenesong belle. He left up his face And alle his body. He roos withoute helpynge, Went to þe qweer and sore gan to synge Rith as þei dede whech his felawis were. Ech of hem þat was astoyned with fere Scorned hemselue of here illusioun, Beleuand þe wers al here lyf more Ony swech troyloure with his ymaginacioun. ȝet was þere anothir felaw leyd in his hore Into þe holy Apocalipse hard and sore Summe of hem sayd, "Behold who God aboue Hatȝ visitid us neuly witȝ a touch of loue. Lete us now lere these new reuelaciones; Let us stody bysily þat we may knowe The dragonis laboure and circulaciones, Who þat he wayteth bysily be rowe." Othir wisere men þat were þere, I trowe, Seyde þei wold not admitte no new prechoure Til he was auctorized of Norbert here foundoure. Than sey þe deuele he myth not þus avayle, And cast new witte new slaundir to make. For euyr is he bysy in his assayle, In his temptacyoun euyr wil he wake. He hath a new sotilte now to him take: To breke paciens and charite to confunde, Whech schuld most habundauntly in religious habunde. For þese same too men hatȝ so set astaunce That ich of hem is bisi othir to kille Both in here wordes and in here contenaunce. There is not elles but they wil fulfille Here desirous appetite, be it neuyr so ille. So are þei sette in hertis crueltee, But þat þei were lettid of grete charitee Be bysi awaytyng of here breþerin aboute. Wheythir þei were mad at on aftir þis tyme Mi book tellet not withouten doute, Ne I myselue list not for to ryme Neythir of here vertues ne of here cryme But if I fond therfore sum auctoryte. Me þinkith resoun þat it so schuld be. xx This forseid enmye þat is so importune In his awaytyng, and euyr schowith on hepe Euele upon euele as is his elde custume, On of þis houshold he gan to his powere repe; So wood he was þat he gan stert and lepe. Thei were astoyned because Norbert was oute, Therfore to put al þing oute of doute Thei bonde him fast & schet him in a hous, Til þei had councell who þat þei wil werk. This ilk spirit was holde so perylous, There myth no man, vnneth ony clerk, Avayle aȝens him. So whann it was derk, And late at eue, þe prioure, as þei seyn, With certeyn felawis eythir thre or tweyn, Is com to þe hous; but er he fully cam þere, The deule witȝinne cried al aloude, With huge voys sore he gan to blere: "Now schal he come, þe cursed prest & proude. He schal now entre and sore on me croude, This daffid fool with his barred cote. Cursed be he and hanged be þe throte! Spere þe dore, men, & barre it sore and fast." Thus cryed þe deuele, whan it was ful derk: "That grete tre ouyrtwert I wil ȝe cast, That he entre not to do here his werk; For he schal faile ful mekil of his merk, Thouȝ he brynge þe crosse and eke þe belle." This good man, soothly for to telle, Was not astoyned, but entred in grete hast, And to þe deuele he spak rith in þis wise: "What wordes are þese þat þou spekist in wast?" The deuele answerd to him in þis gise: "What þing askest þou, loke þou the avise Wheythir askest þou now what þing it is That I speke, or ellis what he is That speketh on to þe. Chese þis or þat, For þis I telle þe now, in wordes fewe: There is no man þat werith hood or hat Schal wete eythir of me, I sey bewe. Not þou þiselue, dotard, balled schrewe, Art þou a maystir? What hast þou to doo Witȝ þis man or me? Go þi weye, goo! Go betymes & loke þat þou be ware That I venge me not sodeynly on the With bittyr woundys & soris newe & bare." This man hath aspied now þe sotilte, And knew be toknes þat a wikkid spirit was he. Wherfore witȝ bold hert & myty deuocyoun He mad onto him swech exorȝacioun: "I coniure the," he seith, "be þe strong vertu Of Iesu Criste, Goddis son aboue, Whech on þe crosse witȝ woundis fresch & new Ouyrcam þi powere, & fro þe þo gan schoue His owne childyrn & broutȝ hem to his loue. Be þis powere I bid þe þat þou not hide What þou art, but telle me in þis tide." The deuel seyde: "Mayst þou congen me, Be what vertu fayn wold I now knowe?" The old man answered, witȝ myty charite: "This Goddis vessel wold I ful fayn fowe, But for me schal þou not bowe so lowe. For Cristis name I wil þou do þis dede. Euery creature to serue him is bownde of nede. He schal cunge þe þat sumtyme on þe crosse Ouyrcam þi powere, whech þou ful falsly Vsurped to the, & he restored þat losse." The deuele began to make a sory cry. Thus he cried ful lowde: "Ey my, ey my! What schal I do? I must now telle my name. I am þat deuele, I am rith þat same Whech dwelt symtyme in þat fayre ȝong mayde At Nyuygelle, whech mayde þo was browt Before ȝoure Norbert where he his charmes sayde; He lessed my powere and set me al at nowt. If I had powere it schuld ful dere be bowt. Cursed be þat oure þat ȝoure Norbert was bore; He and hise, þei contrary me euyrmore." Thus is þis man certified in dede; It was a deuele þat was witȝin þis man. Therfore he þoutȝ that it was grete nede That he more help & counsell now schuld han To avoyde þis wikked cursed Sathan. He calleth þe couent and asketh what is best, Thei seid alle: "Þis deuele hatȝ take his nest, And is so bold he wil not for us owt, Lesse þann we fast, pray and do penaunce. Wherfor to put al þing oute of dowt, Lete us now vse þe same ordynaunce Whech Crist oure lord with holy obseruaunce Bad his apostoles that thei schuld vse, And neuyr þis councell for no þing refuse. 'This spirit,' he seide to hem, 'wil not oute But with prayere and deuoute fastyng." This holy couent cast hem for to loute To Cristis ordynaunce. Þerfor both eld and ȝing Thei take here disciplines, deuoutly praying That God schal spede hem in þis forseid dede, And to þe hous anon streith þei ȝede. They made haliwattir with grete deuocyoun, A vessel ful ordeyned for that cause. Alle þe couent went on processioun Syngyng and seying many a holy clause. Whan þei cam þedir þe deuele no lenger wold pause, But cryed with dene aloude into the sky : "Arise felawes, aryse and that in hy! We be more in noumbir þan þei, it is no dowte. Lete us laboure and breke þis men as smal As kyrnelis are with þe turnyng abowte Of þe mylle, whann thei are ones in fal. Go to, breke þese men, on ȝow I cal. Arise, felawes, arise owt of ȝoure den, And help þat I were wroken of ȝon men." The prioure answerd to þis grete thretyng; "So schal þou doo, if þou haue powere, And ellis schal þou not for al þi bostyng Ones be hardy for to touche us here." Thoo began þe deuele as wood as fere The clothis whech he had vpon to rende. He ferde as þouȝ he wold make an ende Of þat same man, whech he had obcessed Thus he seid onto that olde chanoun: "Wenest þou þi maystirchep ouyr us be dressed? Wenest þou oure powere now to put adown?" A childe stood there with a benetis crown, And held þe crosse as was þan þe vsage. The deuele seyde openly with ful wood rage: For him I leue þat þis child holdith, Him I drede, he is my tormentoure." Lo, who þis deuele oure lord God now dredith, Confessith him as for oure sauyoure. Fals Iewys despise him in here boure, And eke so do þese fals cristen men. This prioure comaunded his felawis nyne or ten To lose þe bondes of þis ich caytyf, And for to bryng him a litil more ny That þei may bathe him in þis bath of lif, In holy water whech stood þere fast by. A ful ȝong clerk of that cumpany Sayde to þe prioure: "I dare take on hande Alle alone with outen help or bande To brynge him and lede where he schal be, If ȝe wil bid me be holy obediens; For þat schal make me strong inow, parde, Aȝens þe deuele to make resistens." The prioure considered þe mannis sapiens And eke his feith. He bad him do his dede; For his good wil he was worthi mede. No man halpe him with hand ne witȝ tonge, But he broutȝ him alone lich a childe Þat is led witȝ norce whil he is ful ȝunge. This man þat was before tyme so wilde, Now is he made in maner meke and milde. The deuele qwook is þis mannes presens, Whech was so hardy to fulfille obediens. Now is þe man put rith in the watyr. Thei seide here orisones and here coniuraciones. The deuele began to iape and to clatyr; But þe couent whech was of dyuers nacyoun With on asent made now here prostracioun, Wepyng, waylyng, praying witȝ good entent To Iesu oure lord God omnipotent. So at þe last aftir many iapis þis fende On þe tunge of þis man him sette; Blak and smal was that sory prende, Lich a letuse seed, þei sey, was his mette. He brente eke so sore þat he hette Alle þe mouth, & made it lich flawmand fere. The tunge was oute; al men myth se him þere. He spak boldly in open audiens: "Now am 1 here, what wil ȝe witȝ me now? There is no man now in þis presens Schal make me soo onto him bow To forsake my dwelling, whech is scharp & row." The prioure answerd: "Euyr hast þou be A strong liere, for ȝet þou liest, parde. Lete no man leue þe, for þou schal, magre þi heed, Voyde þis persone, elles we passe not hens. Alle þe powere vndir my fote trede. 1 bid the now, here in this presens, As þou owist to Criste obediens, That þou obeye to me for Iesu name here." Alle þei felle down devoutly in here prayere. Whan þis was seid, with stynk and mekil cry He voyded þe body and fley to his place Whereas he for trespas is ful worthi To dwelle for euyr. God lord of his grace, To do sum penauns graunt us here sum space, That þe deuele, whan we schal hens wende, No powere ouyr us haue at oure ende! xxi This samr spirit, whan he say non avayle In his temptyng amongis þis holy flok Othirwise, he cast him newly to assayle; For fro þe braunches he goth now to þe stok. Euene as þe wynde lifteth up a wullock For very lithnesse, rith soo þese spiritis flye Fro place to place, and þat ful hastilye. Rith soo fro þis place þis same spirith is goo Streyt to Traiect þere owre Norbert was. A certeyn bayli was in þat cuntre thoo, That had þe charge both of corn and gras, And of alle a cuntre, both of hye and basse, Whech longed onto a ful worthi prince þere. Into þis man, as wood as ony bere This deuele is entred rith for þis entent, That he þat myth not amoungis þe childirn spede Of þis ich Norbert, now sewirly hatȝ he ment On þe heed to venge him now in þis dede. It is his tecch bataile euyr to bede. Now was it haliday in that same cytee, Whan þat þis man witȝ a huge menee. Is brout to cherch where as Norbert was Synging his masse with grete deuocyoun. Alle þe puple, the more and eke þe lasse, With grete sobirnesse on kne felle adown, Praying oure fadyr Norbert, alle witȝ o sown, That he schuld haue reuth on þis same caytyf, And fro hym þis wikkid spiritȝ dryf The puple gadered sore on ilk a syde To se þe conflict betwix þese parties too: Wheythir þe deuele þat is prince of pride Schuld haue þe maystry, or ellis he schuld goo Fro þis same man; þe preste schuld charge him soo. Euene as he was in vestiment com fro his messe, Onto his werk Norbert gan him dresse. Summe þat stood aboute counceled him to spare His laboure as now tyl anothir day. Thei seide for very labour he was wery and bare; Therfor þei counceled him he schuld make delay. "Go refresch ȝou þis nyth, & tomorow assay, For þis day is ny ended and idoo." Oure fadere Norbert turned hem ontoo. He spak in þis wise: Be þe deueles envye Deth entred into erde, & þere et abideth. Wherfor, if ȝe wil loke and dewly aspye, ȝe schul weel wete his powere ȝet glideth In þe same malice, þouȝ he sumtyme him hideth; For he may neuyr haue wil of repentaunce. So malicious was his synful greuaunce. Lete us lette him þat we may; it is grete nede. For I sey ȝow sewirly þe cause þat he is here Is for to lette me of my meritory dede. His entente is, if þat ȝe wil lere, The hertis of þe puple wit slaundir to fere. That þei schuld not þe word of God receyue, But fro her hertis lithly it weyue. Haue ȝe not herd the wordes of treuth That on this wise of this Sathan seith He pulleth awey þe seed, & þat is grete reuth, Fro þe hertis of hem þat are in oure feith?" Alle þis auctorite before hem he leith, And forth to his exorcismes he hastith anoon. He comaunded þe seke man schuld be leyd on a stoon Euene be the autere. Tho made he there New haliwatir with alle þe circumstaunce That longeth þerto, salt and the othir gere, Rith aftir þe elde cherches ordynaunce. Whann he had doo alle þis obseruaunce, He took salt in his hand a good quantite And to þis mannys mouth with fyngeris thre He put alle þis salt. But anoon this goost Whech was withinne spat into his face With angry wordes & witȝ ful grete boost: "God ȝeue þe," he seith, "a ful euele grace. Thi councell is now to lede me apace Onto ȝon tubbe to my tormentrye, Onto ȝon aliwatir. ȝet schal thow lye, ȝet schal þou faile, for no hurt I fele Of al þi scorgyng, þi thretis not drede; Thi grete bondes greue me not a dele; To wasch me now sikir it is no nede." Tho ded he þe wodman a litil ferþer lede That he schuld not here what here councell was. Alle þei consented, þe more and þe lasse, That he schuld be brout to þis holy funt And waschid therin a longe while. The deuele began sore for to grunt; He cast him to lette hem with a fals gile Alle þoo men þat dwelt witȝin þat myle. He slaundred ful cursedly of here synnes olde, Specialy of swech synnes þat were not tolde To þe preest be hem in confessioun. Euery man fled awey for very schame. The deuele slaundird hem so þorw þe town. "This man," he seith, "lay be his dame And þis ilk man for al his good name Hatȝ be a brothell alle þis twenty ȝere." There abode no man his defautes to here, But for it was eue and come was þe nyth, Men counseled Norbert to go to his rest And performe his dede at morow whan it is lith. He himself þoutȝ þe counsele was best. Whan he was set at his smal feest, There cam folk to him & seide: "Sere, þis man Whech was late wood, now ful sobirly began To wayle þe wordes whech þat he seyd ere. He repenteth him sore for his mysdede, Praying alle men þat aboute him were That with a pater noster and eke a crede Thei schul pray to God he schuld bettir spede." Thus ferd he al þat nyth & þe next day; Wherfore with þankyng men gun to God say: Gramercy, lord," þei seide, þat þou can hele And smyte alsoo rith as þou þiselue Listist, þi fredom on to us now dele. Euyr mote þou in oure hertes delue Thi swete deuocioun þat we may be ten or twelue Serue þe lord." Thus seyde thei alle. Now was þat nyth in þat cyte falle A new distaunce and a cruell debate Betwix þe cyteceynes, I knowe not þe cause. But Norbert schortly spared non astate, Ne for no werinesse lenger wold he pause, But told hem alle schortly in a clause, The deuele had broken here vnyte. In this wise onto pees reformed he þis citee. Than com þere men onto oure fadere ageyn. They seyde: "Sere, þis man þat was amendid Is now tormentid witȝ þat spiritȝ certeyn That sekirly, but if þat he be tendid, Alle ȝoure laboure in wast as now is spendid." Norbert seyde: "Suffid as for a while. I telle ȝou treuly þis was þe fendis wile. For whil he was bisy in þis dissencioun, Whech was betwix þe men þat dwelle here, This othir man had no vexacioun, But fro his torment rested þann ful clere. Lete him vexe him a day or too in fere; For to þis laboure the man is ful worthi. If ȝe wil wete the cause I telle ȝou whi: He was a bayly and many extorcionis dede In his office, as many of hem are wone. Wherfor þe deuele onto oure lord God ȝede As asked leue to doo as he had done, That is to sey both at morow and none To vexe his neybouris sumtyme witouten cause. And now I telle ȝou schortly in a clause: Withinne schort while he schal be cured ful weel." So was he sewirly, for as oure story seith, He was thre dayis witȝouten rest or meel. And þann oure Norbert, witȝ his deuoute feith, The holy gospell ouyr þis man now leith, He is mad hool of maledye for euyr more. Thus can oure lord recuren euery sore. xxii Now hath Norbert receuyed auctorite Of oure fadere þe pope and confirmacioun Of alle his ordre. Þerfor now is he Come ageyn onto his mansioun. Thei telle him now alle here tribulacioun Whech þei haue suffiered in his absens, And he ful faderly counforted here consciens. He had made a monastery ere þat he þens went At Laudune, in þe subarbes it stant þei seye. Pore men were þei aftir his entent, Notwithstandyng he made it a abbeye. It stant ful fayre upon þe grete weye Whech goth to town. Þere planted he swech braunches That þorw þe world ȝet his plantyng launches. The trees he sette Pere swech frute þoo forth browt, That ȝet it lestith, and euyr mote it lest. O noble frute Pou may not to dere be bowt; For of alle frutes me þinkith þou are best! Owt of þe tree of lif þou took þi nest. Euyr mote þou sprede in sweche schadowid space That þou mote lede us to the welle of grace! Oure fadire Norbert made þere eke fast by Anothir cherch; þei calle it Viuariense. There made he an abbotte to kepe ful streytly The holy religioun with grete prouydense. He bad he schuld neuyr with hem dispense, But thei were seek. Þanne suffered he That þei schuld menge here rigoure with charite. But ȝet þis fende whech had to hem envye, He folowid euyr in what weye he went. He pursewid eke vpon his cumpanye At here entering, whann þei to Vyuary were sent, As scripture seith: Assur with hem euyr went. This is to seye, whidir þat goodmen goo The wikkid spiritis folow hem euyrmoo. For as I seide, þis same wikkid spirith Entred in on of that same cumpanye, Whech man neythir be day ne nyth Mith haue no rest but euyr began to crye. And who he caute this wikkid maledye I wil ȝou telle now in wordes fewe. This same man was go owte to hewe Into þe feld or elles to swech maner werk As plowmen vse. And what with grete hete Of his laboure for he stood in his serk What for þe sunne sore he gan to swete And for he thristid his lippis for to wete, He ran to a welle þat stood þere beside Tyme of þe day was euene þe nontyde. The welle was clere, wide & eke ful cold. Whan he cam thedir his heed witȝ grete hast He put in þertoo. He loked and gan behold A wondir schadow, derk of schap, alle wast. He sey therin þan durst he no þing tast For very fere, but gan to renne and fle. Euene in his weye a wondir persone met he, Orible and derk, & þus he spak to him: "Whos man art þou? What dost þou here?" Anon þis man þoutȝ þis person grym; He durst not þerfore ȝeue him no answere, But fel down wood sodeynly anon ritȝ þere. Thus seith þe story: þe deuel had in him place; Anon he gan to rende himselue and race. Othir men þat stered there aboute Fownde þis man himselue þus rendyng. They felle upon him þere a ful grete route. And of oure tale to make a schort endyng, Thei led him to towne rith in þe euenyng. Thei broutȝ him to Norbert, to loke what he wil seye. Anoon as he sette upon hym eye: "Beholdetȝ," he seith, "oure enmye, þe cursed feend, Who he is bysy euyr to slaundir oure name. For in euery place where þat we schuld wende, Before us he is euyr, haue he blame! Alle þis doth he to appeyre owre fame, That men schuld wene þis ilk vexacioun Schuld folow euyr owre predicacyoun. But oure lord God schal ȝeue us swech speed, He schal not availe witȝ alle his þousand snaris." Tho gan he conioure þe spirith as it was need, That he schuld leue al his bysy fares And fille þis man no lenger witȝ swech cares. He prayed oure lady deuoutly eke on his kne, Of whom þe cherch was, þat for pe grete pite Whech grew in hire whann hir son ded blede, Sche schuld haue mercy & graunt bis man grace. Whan he had prayed, þe puple gan take hede At þis wood man, specialy at his face. He loked al sobir & gan no lengere race With his handis as he had doo ere. Thei felle on kne & þankid God rith there. Thus þei seide onto þis noble man: "Now may ȝe rest of ȝoure grete laboure, For blessed be God þat þis ilk Sathan Hath now no lengere powere to deuoure." But oure Norbert, whech had a goostly sauoure In such knowyng more þan þe puple had, Spak onto hem aȝen witȝ wordes sad. But specialy, whan he had felt þe grete stynk Whech went oute at þe mannes nose, He bad þei schuld not on þat maner þink: "He is not goo ȝit, 1 wil ȝou not glose. The deuele doth þus for þis cause, I suppose, He resteth awhile, þat we foles schuld wene That he were go, but þe reuers schal be sene." Euene as he seid, soo it felle in dede; For in his absens þe man was vexed newe, And so tormentid þat of very nede With bondis grete, myty, many & trewe Thei haue him bownde: his ioyntis are al blewe. Thus lay he stille alle þat long nyth. The next day, whan comen was þe lith, Norbert is goo to expulse þis fende, He goth to cherch & seith his messe betyme. Aftyr his messe streith ded he sende For þis man, & ere þat it was pryme He holid him both fro langour & fro cryme. God be euyr þankid in his seyntis alle, And on here helpyng mote we calle! xxiii Anothir þing þere is þat we schul not forȝete, That fel at Premonstrate in here owne place. It was his vsage morow & eue to trete Of holy lyf to hem and eke of grace. So on a nyth it happed him to pace The tyme whech depute was to exhortacioun, For he weryed not of swech occupacioun. Thei sette so longe þat it was ferre in þe nyth Summe of hem eke thristid wondir sore. He comaunded hem to take with hem lith; And, for þei had of othir drynk no store, To a pitte witȝouten ony more, Whech stood beside, he bad þei schuld goo And fette hem watir to slake here þrist soo. Thei came aȝen whan here pot was ful, But or þei entred here maistir lowde gan crye: "What haue ȝe doon, iwis, be ful dul. That watir þat ȝe brynge, telle ȝou treulye, It is not clene. What nede me to lye?" Thei seide alle þei waschid it or þei went; There was no clennere vessell hens to Kent. "We took þe watyr eke with good avyis. What nedith ȝou to sey it is not clene? In ȝon watir are neythir rattis ne myis, Ne no venym for soth, as we wene." Thus seide þese messageris þan al bedene. "Weel, pore owte," seith he, "in a cup and look." On of hem a fayre white cup forth took, He pored in watyr, he sey therin rith nowt. The goodman cryed: "Cast þat watyr awey! " Thei were ful loth for to offende him owt. Wherfor, as men þat mut nedys obey, Owte at þe dore forth rith in the cley They threw þe watir and fllt anoþir ageyn. ȝet eftsones: "Þrowe it owt," he gan seyn, "Lete no man drynk of þis watyr as now! I forbede ȝou, for perel þat may falle. For if ȝe drynk boldly, I tell it ȝow That þere is noon here of ȝou alle But he schal repent or he passe þis halle." And ȝet eftsones he bad hem fille þe cup The potte was tome & in þe liftyng up Thei pored a tode, an orible in length & brede, Into þe cuppe. Sum come nyhere with lith; Thei stert abak than for very drede, So were þei agast whann þei sey þis sith. The wondyr was grete, & gretter, I ȝou hith, Than men be ware, for it was wynter tyde; Whech tyme þis vermyn are wont hem to hide. They were astoyned, alle þat stood aboute, Of þis merveyle, who þat it myth bee. Norbert seyde: "Take and þrowe him oute; It is oure enmye þat werkith þis sotilte. His fraude is more þan his strength, leue me. A thousand craftis hath he us to deceuyue, But fro his snaris oure good lord schal us weyue." xxiiii Anothir tyme bretherin of this hous Went to the feld trees for to hewe, Summe of hem whech were solaciows Walked aboute in the fayre swete dewe. As þei walked þei founde there a schrewe, A wolf þei founde whech had caute his pray, A litil goot, and gan to bere it away For to deuoure him, rith soo is his kynde. Thei stert onto him & caute awey þe beest. On of hem, þe mytiest, at his bak behynde, Threw þis goot; he þoutȝ to haue a feest Whan he cam hom; oside he gan him wreest, In a pryvy cornere he hing him be þe feet. There was he droppyng in his blood al weet. The wolf folowid þe steppis of þe blood. He þoutȝ he had wrong þat he schuld so lese Swech pray as he had caute to his food. He stood at þe ȝate; he myth not chese. With his feet he gan clawe and brese The erde vndir þe ȝate, as he wold com in. Thei of þe hous herd a maner dyn, Thei loked oute þann and sey þe beest. Thei cryed owt upon him þat he schuld fle, But he lay stille and kept his areest. As a tame dogge doth, rith soo ded he. They ronne to here maystir too or thre And teld him þe caas what was befalle. Anoon he bad þei schuld be called alle. They þat were gilty and had do þe dede, Thei confessed hemselue who þei had doo, And who þat þei onto þe feldis ȝede, Founde hem medelyng þese same bestis too, And who þei took þe litil goot him froo. "Ow," seith oure Norbert, "þe beest is ful trewe; For ȝe ded him wrong, he wold not ellis ȝou sewe." Thei asked mercy for that litil trespas, As þou pei had doo a grete synne; Swech was Pe vsage of þat ilk plas. Norbert bad hem: "Fet þe carkeys inne, Bere it to þe wolf, þe more and þe mynne, The body, be skyn lete him haue alle. We wil not pat anothir tyme he pleyne schalle That Norbert his meny toke awey his mete; Thus schuld we be noted of extorcyoun. Take him þat is his euene in the strete, Make not of þese to no dyuorcyoun. Whan þis wolf had thus his porcyoun He went streyt to wood; þei sei him no more. Thei herd him no lenger neydir berk ne rore. Anothir of here breþerin eke kept scheep in pe feld, And anopir mannis schepperd asked him pis: "lf ony beest come now. þou hast no spere ne scheld. What wold pou doo pan, so haue pou blys, If þat þou sey a wolf or ony of his Take ony of þi scheep and bere it awey?" This ilk innocent to him Poo gan sey: For soth I wold bidde him in my maistirs name That he schuld ley down my scheep ageyn. Me thinkith but he obeyed he were to blame." Than aftir þis not longe, soth for to seyn, This ich questioun was not spent in veyn, But fulfillid in dede; for oute of þe wood Cam a grete wolf rennyng, as he were wood. He cawt a scheep in his mouth & went Forth to wood ageyn in ful grete haast. He þat kept hem thoutȝ þat he brent. So grete care had he for þat ilk waast. Lowde he gan crye with a grete gaast: "Whedir gost þou, beest, whedir wilt þou goo? Ley down that scheep, and do it now no woo! In my maystiris name, bid þe ley it down. That þing þat þow beres, parde. it is not þin. Do it no harme neythir in throte ne crown, For if þou do it, it wil turne the to pyin. Ley dow(n) þat scheep, I sey, for it is myn. Mi maystir took it me this same day to kepe." The wolf witȝoute more leyd down þe schepe. Anothir of hem was eke sent to kepe The flook of scheep, & for he myth not weel, Thei were so many, reule alle his schepe, A ful long tyme, or it was vnderne seel, There cam a wolf and at his feet gan kneel. He ran aboute and kept þe scheep alday. A soleyn kepere for scheep and eke a gay! Thus lay he stille, þe wolf rith be þe flok. There durst no scheep al þat day so long Go fro his felawis for perel of a knok. Thus kepte he hem, ȝet slept he among. Whan euene was come, & silens bell rong, These to keperis broutȝ hom here scheep, Ful sadly and sobirly; non of hem leep. Whan alle were in dryuyn at the gate, The ȝate was sperd and þe wolf witȝoute. With his feet knokked he sore þereate, As þouȝ he wold entre witȝouten doute, He þoutȝ grete wrong þat had go aboute Al þat long day, & had not for his trauayle Neithir mete ne hire to turne him to avayle. Oure Norbert herd ful weel þat knokkyng. "Lete in þat man," he seith, "þere is a gest." Thei runne to þe ate both of elde and ȝyng, Many of hem, and fond þe wolf þere rest. Thei cried upon him to fese him fro his nest, But he nolde fle for no voys ne cry, But be the ate ful stille gan he ly. Norbert sey þis and asked his breþerin alle What þis myth be. Thei were alle in dowte. Anon he ded þat othir brothir calle, Whech here scheep at morow had led owte. Whan he cam in, ful lowe gan he lowte; "Wil ȝe wite," he seith, "whi this wolf is here? He did þis day that he ded neuyr ere. Whann was wery for very laboure & feynt, He cam to help me and, treuly as wene, 1 schal no lesyng before ȝoure persone peynt. I sey no dog ne man þese ȝeris fiftene Kepe his scheep togidir alle bedene As ded þis wolf. He halp to dryue hem hom, And neuyr sith from us wold he gon." "Now," seith Norbert, " knowe his menyng. There was no man wold qwite him his labour. Wherfor rithfully math he tarying To receyue of us now sum socoure. Throwe him mete, lete him no lenger soioure." Thei threw him mete, he caut it & went awey. Anothir tyme þe same wolf, as þei sey, Cam to a childe kepte calueryn in the feld, Ded na harm but took breed of his hand. O myty God þat al þing hast at weld, Who þou makest merveyles in oure land; These wilde beestis obeyin onto þe band Of holy obediens, and man is þerto rebelle. Ful weel can scripture of swech vnbuxumnesse telle: That þei þat wil not obeye to goddis lawe Alle þing schal to hem euyr onbuxum be. And specialy whann here soules are drawe Owt of here body, and witȝ deueles too or thre Be broute before the grete mageste Of oure lord God, alle creatures þan schul fith Aȝen swech men as it is ful rith! xxv With many craftis, as we seide before, Were þei assayed þat dwelt þoo in þat place. The wikkid spirit wil euyrmore perse and bore, With sundry assayes and with sundry cace, To loke who he may renden men and race, And brynge hem oute of þe trew rith weye, That in his snaris he myth hem bynde & teye. He was so bysi in his temptacyoun. With orible sitys hem to fere and fese, There durst no man to no occupacyoun Go oute o nyte to do himselue no ese, So besy was he to brynge hem in dishese. O sleythi Sathan, thi whilis schal not availe Ouyr þoo men þat here synnes cun wayle! Of special fesyng ȝe may here, if ȝe list. There was a man myth neuyr go alone Into no place but anoon a mist Schuld be afore him & many of his fone. At þe last he happed into þe ȝerd to gone Late at eue to voyde swech neccessarye As we witȝ diligens into oure bely carye. Anon he sey on stand before his face, Blak and huge, with eyne clere as glasse, Whech was ful bysi in his armes to brace This ich man, and he astoyned wasse. It semed onto him a body al of brasse. Saue lich a man he was off stature, But mech largere than ony creature. This man had often be vexid witȝ swech þingis, And rolled his mynde if his feith were stronge. He seide to himself: "Alle þese dissimulingis, If I were hardy þei schuld not vexe me longe. Mi sith is deceyued, I trowe I loke al wronge, Now, Iesu Criste, thi mercy lord I calle, For I schal on him what euyr so befalle." This man pursued; þe spirith fled awey. He ran after boldly more and more, He caute a counfort newly in his fey. For be þis deuele he gan to set no store. The man ran lithly as doth a wilde bore, He wend ha caut him, but he caut a tree. He helde it fast, ȝet at þe last he Loked wisely ad sey it was an asch. He turned aȝen hom to his celle. Euyr aftir þat tyme he coude fro him wasch Alle swech illusiones, were þei neuyr so felle. Thus ouyrcam þis man þe powere of helle. There was anoþir eke in þat same occupacioun, Whech was ivexed with swech a temptacioun. He sat in swech a hous & þe deuele eke Euene aȝens owris moo than thre. He durst neythir stere no ones speke, So aferd of this sith was he. At þe last he þoutȝ : "Þis is but frelete; If I durst rise, I trowe he wold goo." With þat ich thoutȝ he crouched him þoo Euene in the forhed, & up he roos þan. The deuele stood in þe dore, as he thoutȝ. Whan he with grete feith to þe dore cam, He groped fast, but he fonde noutȝ. Neuyr aftir þat day he of swech þing routȝ. Alle a mateyns tyme þei se he was þere, Wrestyng and wrastillyng in swech maner fere. xxvi It is no wondyr þouȝ þe hed of hem alle Sey swech illusioun whan his childirn smale Were vexed witȝ þe same. Þerfor now I schalle Telle ȝou of him a ful wondyr tale. He waked ny al þe nyth; þat mad him ful pale. He had swech desire to wake and to pray, So it happed on a festful day. He had be occupied in seruyse and þe full, With singing and preching, as was his vsage. ȝet whan nyth cam, þouȝ his spiritis were dull, Lef he alle mirthes, he held hem but dotage. He went into cherch witȝ ful sad visage, Set him on his kne, witȝouten ony lith; For his purpos was to dwelle þere al nyth. As he turned him and loked behind his bak, He say þe deuele, standyng lich a bere. With his teth he made a wondyr crak. He streyned his clawis as þouȝ he wold tere And rende in peces alle þat stood there. The man was fesed of that grisely sith, Specialy alone and also in þe derk nyth. What schuld he do he nyst not weel for fere. He loked forth and sey the dore was sperd. With his fyngeris he crouched him rith there. He avised him weel þat he was sum deel lerd Of swech fantasies þat he schuld not be ferd. With myty voys al lowde be gan to crye: "Thi wittis avayle not, Sathan, þouȝ þei be slye. What abides þou, what wilt þou, cruel beest? Thi hokes, þi teeth haue now no powere To sette on me no daungere ne areest. It is but vanyte þat þou schewis me here. Thi rolled skyn, whech is no þing clere, Is but fantasie as þouȝ it were a rynde. Thi fyry throte I counte it but a wynde. Alle these vanytees whech þou schewis to men, Alle are þei fals; schadowis be thei alle. Go þi wey! Ful weel þis mech I ken, Ful weel knowe I þat þei schal sone falle, Whann Goddis mercy wil schyne upon us alle, Or elles whan we calle onto his gras. Allas, þou Sathan, weel may þou seye allas.' Thou þat were þe merke of God aboue; Thou þat were swech an aungell bryth! And for þou fleddist fro þat goodly loue Whech þou had, þe loue of God almyth, Now art þou dampned sekirly, as it is rith, To dwelle in þerknesse, as þou apperist here. Awey þou Sathan, awey þou raggid brere! Thou dampned brond þat art euyr brent in helle, Betwix lith & derknesse is no comparisoun; Falshed with treuth may not iustly melle. Go þi wey, and ley thi boost adown. Thou may not noye neythir in feld ne town But þou be suffirid be oure lord aboue. Thi crafty skole here it may not proue." Thus voyded þis fend oute of his presens, He myth not bere þe wordis to him sayde. Falsheed to treuth may make no resistens No longe tyme; treuth may be affirayed, But it schal neuyr be so fully alayed With no falshed þat he schal fle his ground. In Goddis seruyse euyr his loueris be found. xxvii Now wil we telle of þe wondir auenture That fel to him whan that he was chose To be a bisschop and for to bere þat cure. ȝe wil like it ful weel, as I suppose. A wondir þing it is who God can dispose To worchep a man, þat semeth ful onlikly As to oure doom, and eke ful onweldy. There was a erle at þat tyme in Fraunce, He hith Theobald, whech had a mariage Procured be Norbert to his grete avaunce. The day was set, as þann was the vsage, Where þei schuld mete with ful grete costage At a cyte, I not what is the name, Ne þouȝ I knowe not, I am not mech to blame, Because myn auctour touchith no swech specialtee, But renneth at large as him lest to doo. Ȝet þis supposyng haue I as for me, That þis mayde and hyr kyn alsoo Were longing to Germayn where Norbert cam fro. Whann þei to þe cyte were com alle in fere The mayde ne hir frendis were not ȝet þere. Ne no man coude sey wheythir þei come or nowt. The erle was sory; he dempt þere was sum gile. Mech cost was doo, and mech þing was bowt. Many a place ded he for hire byle. He had rydyn eke for hire many a myle With alle his men, þis was no litil cost. And because Norbert was in þis matere a post And principal werkere, þerfor is he now sent To wite what cause is that this tarying Is þus maad and frustrat his etent; Theobald wil of alle this haue knowyng. The soth was þis: þe mayde was but ȝing And what for trauayle, what for tendir age, Sche took sekenesse in hire cariage. Sche lay euene stille & myth no ferther goo. But of þis matere schul we sese as now. Myn auctoure telleth of it not o word moo, Because it longeth not to þe lyneal bow Of Norbertes lyf, but rennyth þerfro al row. He þoutȝ it was but a matere occasionate Whech broute þis Norbert to his grete astate. Now rydith Norbert hastyly in his iornay, Town be town, tyl he to Epire cam. He þoutȝ to him it schuld be euyr and ay Very vilony but if he this worthy man Mith knyt in mariage rith as he began. Wherfore, þat he schuld spede þe bettir his cause, He sent his bretheryn, chortly in a clause, That were at Premonstrate to fede with pore men Eyte mark of sylyur. He bad þei schuld fede Beside þoo fifty he left whan he went þen, A hundred & twenty þei schuld þe bettir spede. Vitaile was dere, & þei had ful grete drede That þei schuld fayle, wherfor þei were loth To fede so many, because þat for hem both Thei boute here mete; herfor was Norbert wroth He wrote onto hem þei schuld þis noubyr take, For were þei weel apayde or ellis were þei loth, His noble precept may þei not forsake. Now lete hem cast here hedis togidir and wake; This hundred men be his eleccyoun Must haue here mete of þe comoun refeccyoun. Thirtene of hem schul be in þe hospital hous, Twelue of hem eke in þe freytoure schul be. He thoutȝ here offens, whech was so perilous, Mith not be amendid but with hospitalite. For medycyne is swech forsoth, leue now me, Contrarye with contrarie is often tyme releued, As in phisik it is ful weel appreued. Thus lefte he hem and forth to a cyte he is goo. Epyre it is called; it stood rith in his weye. There fonde he þe Saxones & with hem many moo Before Lothary þe emperoure, soth for to seye. The clerkis of Parthenopole, not on ne tweye, But a grete noumbyr eke fonde he there, Rith for þis cause: before þe emperour þei were To chese a bisschop, for here elde was ded. There was a cardinale eke come fro Rome. Many causes gunne þei bete and tred, But þe first of alle & why þei þidir come Was for to chese, aftir þe elde custome, A holy man whech myth gouerne þat plas. President of þis eleccioun a holy bisschop was; Thei called him Albon, bisschop of Metense. Before his presens þese clerkes named thre Of whech Norbert of Goddis presciense Onknowyng him, onknowyng his mene, Was chose for on. Þis bisschop, þat was so fre, Made a tokne to þe cheseris ful pryuyly That þei schuld chese þis Norbert solemply, What for þe auctorite of þis worthi man, What for þe goodnesse and þe hye fame Of þis ilk Norbert -- for no man reporte can Of him ne of his ony spot of blame -- Therfor, as 1 seide, for his good name These clerkis stert to him & leyd on him hand. For it happed Norbert that tyme to stand Amongis othir folk to se þe chaunce. Thus seide þe clerkis alle þat cheseris were: "This is oure wil, þis is oure ordinaunce, That oure fadere Norbert, whech standith here, Schal take upon him rith at oure prayere To be oure bisschop and gouerne us alle. Or þis day seuenyth we wil him stalle At oure owne cost, for he is but pore. He pleseth us þe bettir, we telle ȝou treuly. We wil not lich othir men oure bisschopis rore." This ich Norbert stood ful sobirly. He had no tyme to pleyne him ne to cry, Ne make non excuse, but to Lothary þe kyng Was he led forth with outen tariing. Whan þe kyng herd þat Norbert was chose, He comendid heyly þe cheseris alle. He seide sewirly þei coude weel dispose For here owne cherch; þei had weel ifalle Into þis vnite swech a man to calle That dred God and was of good lyf His conuersacioun was iknowe ful ryf. Wherfore to þe legate was he led anon; There was he confermed with outen ony more. Thei went with him þe cheseris euerychon; Thei sungyn and cryed ful lowde and sore. Te deum laudamus, as is the lore And eke þe custom of euery eleccioun, Was sunge þere in his institucyoun. Thus in þe myddis of a froward nacyoun Was þis man sette to proue his paciens. To no ese of himselue but to vexacyoun Toke he þat lordchep and that residens; To swech chaunce as God sent he ȝaue obediens. For þe puple he dwelt among of very propirtee Are hard of beleue and sturdy, leue me. Sclaues and Saxones are þei called be name; The on of hem is named ful of scharpnesse, The othir hath a vocable of heuy fame. For Saxone betokneth þe grete hardnesse That is in a ston. Here hertis, as I gesse, Were ful hard to goodnesse to brynge. The othir meny, the Sclauys, in expownyng Meneth as mech as scharpnesse of a nayl. Thus leuyth he þe eesy lyf of contemplacyoun, And to actyf lyf he turnyth his sayl. He hath now left the swete occupacyoun Of Racheles scole & of all hire nacyoun. He may not chese: Lya must be plesed, Because þat with childir sche is so icesed. He had cast him first in his conuercyoun For to go to þe heþen, þe feith hem to preche. And for he lefte þis heuenly disposicioun. Therfor oure lord God wold he schuld teche To þis sturdy nacioun to loke if he myth reche To bryng hem to þe ȝok of holy buxumnesse; This was his occupacyoun euyr, as 1 gesse. xxviii Whech tyme he was confermed, thei hem led Hom to his cite where he schuld be stalled. Euery man was steryng, þere was no man in bed; The day of his entre þei nede not to be called. Whan he cam þedir it semt he was walled Alle with men in euery side, so þik þei went þere, Grete men and smalle alle ȝede in fere. The grete of þe cuntre were glad for þis cause, For þei had a man whech was of grete name, The smale men were mery, schortly in a clause, And of this eleccion made ful grete game, Because þe pore men þat were blynd & lame Schuld be refreschid be þis mannis comyng. For it was reported he loued swech þing Barfote went he in a ful pore wede, A mantyl had he ouyrest white & þreedbare Amongis alle þe puple ful lowly he ȝede; He took no more upon him þan þouȝ he ware On of þe lowhest þat went among hem þare. Thei entred into þe cyte & forth to þe paleys; At þe grete ȝate stood porteris with baleys Whech knew not here lord, he was so pore. On of hem stert to him & þus he seyd þan: "Beggeris inowe are in at this dore. Therfor go bak, withdrawe þe, good man. Thou schewist ful weel þat litil good þou can, Make space for my lord, he comth ritȝ anoon. But þou go rummere. I swere be Seynt lon I schal make þe goo." The puple cryed lowde: "What dost þou, losell, wotest not what he is? That same man, þouȝ pore be his schrowde, He is þe bisschop of this see iwis." The porter was aferd whann he herd þis, He fled ful fast and wold a go awey, But Norbert ded him calle & þus to him gan sey: Be not aferd, myn owne brothire dere, Ne fle not for my sake, what euyr þou sayde, For I sey the treuly, þere is no man here Hey ne lowe, woman ne no mayde, Þouȝ þei avisement in here langage layde, Coude a gessed þe treuth so weel as ded þou. Thyn eyne be more clere, 1 telle the rit now, That callest me a begger þan her eyne were That chose me to worchep or to degree. Hide not thiselue, ne fle not for fere. Trost me sikirly, þou hast thank of me. So art þou worthi, þou flaterist not, parde." O noble meknesse þat hast mad þi nest In Norbertis herte and þere hast þi rest! Euyr art þou stabil in þat same place, And euyr wilt þou dwelle to his lyuys ende. Thus was þis man stuffid al with grace; Thus began he in his exaltacioun to bende His lyf al to mekenesse. Crist mot us sende Euyr swech condiciones to rest in oure breest Whech were ifounde in this noble preest. Whan he was entred to his possessioun, He had mende of þe apostle þat seith on þis wise: To a bisschop, he seith, is gret perfeccyoun Ouyr his owne hous to be a iustise; That he sette þe gouernaunce in swech asise, So þat it plese God aboue alle þing, And to his neybouris it be a fortheryng. Thoo called he þe officeres þat longed to his hous To wite what expens þertoo were dew. To here her acounte was he desirous, Because þat þis lordchep to him was new. His officeres com, alle þat were ful trew; Thei ȝoue þer acounte of þe receytis alle, But whan þei had doo to serue his halle, Thei myth not suffise for half a ȝere, Alle þe rentis & profitis þat longid to him. Thoo seide he anoon to a grete officere That stood beside, a sere he was ful grym: "This ich acounte is to me ful dym. Was þis cherch neuyr bettir in his expense?" This othir man, whech had long experiense Off alle þese rentis, answerd in þis wise: "It was sumtyme endewid ful weel And ful plenteuously in al maner asise; That is to seye both in clothing and meel, But now is it wasted ny euery deel. For summe þat were bisschopis here in þis place, Thei ȝoue awey þe londes with sory grace To here bretherin & nevys, rith as hem lest. Whech possessiones are kept now ful strong, And þoo are not þe werst but rather þe best. It schuld be ful hard to redresse þis wrong, Grete cause whifor þei haue had hem long. The men be grete eke þat hem now holde, Stuffid with lenage, of corage ful bolde." And is it thus," seide þis noble prelate, "It must be redressed in al goodly hast. I wil not in this matere drede non astate, For swech maner dreed comth not fro þe gast Whech enspirith al þing with his swete tast. I wil," he seith, "send oute in al hasty wyse To euery man þat they may hem avyse. Thei falle not in þat sentens whech I wil proclame! That whosoeuyr hath ony possessioun Longyng to my cherch in Goddis name I wil now charge hem, and on my benysoun, That þei resyne hem withouten condicioun, And lete þe cherch haue his rith ageyn." His messageris are sent, soth for to seyn, Thorwoute þe diosise and proclamed þis þing. Thei þat were gilty grucchid ful sore; Thei þat were clere seid it was a good beginnyng. Thei sette be his maundment ful grete store; The othir part seide he had leyd his ore Ferther in the watyr þann he myth rowe. But neuyrþelasse whan þei gunne knowe The lif of þis man þei were sumwhat aferd. Thei were brideled be reson but ȝet wold not þei Want here possession neythir feld ne ȝerd, Pasture ne graunge, corn, chaf ne hey. Than was he compelled upon hem to ley The bittir swerd of curs with auctorite. Than were thei aferd, be too and be thre, Because þat if a man stande acursed a ȝere He is oute of the lawe, as þe cyuyle seith, Ne in no corte schal he plete ne apere. This grete perel before hem he leith. Eke in as mech as þei were of oure feith, Thei thoutȝ grete synne here fadir to offende, Wherfor þei sent to him þat þei wold amende Alle her defautes, & eke restore him his good. Who is glad but he, for now are þei frendis As on his side. But here bittir mood Is not staunched, fro slaundir þei sey þat he schendis Alle gentilmen aboute him, for fro hem he rendis Here temperal lyuyng; in euele tyme cam he þere. 3065 Thus gunne þei his name aboute þe cuntre bere. But þe man had take so sikir & pleyn a weye Of treuth & rithwisnesse þat it avaylith nowt Alle þe langage þat þei can clater and seye. For he was clene þe lesse þerof he rowt. There was no cherch ne parsch but it was sowt And visitid both be him and his officeris, And alle to amending & norching of good maneris. The prestis stered here puple for to teche Who þei schuld leue onto Goddis plesaunce. To religious men he was a very leche; He made here houses with ful grete puruyaunce. And ouyr mysdoeris he set swech gouernaunce, That þei were punchid hardily at þe fulle; Thei were not excused be lettir ne be no bulle. Officiales and denes þat had gouernaunce Ouyr þe puple he charged in Cristis name, That þei schuld punch alle þe myschaunce Whech regned in presthood, specialy þat defame Of onclene lecchery whech defouled here name. He seide þer schuld no preste lyue about him But he were chaast, loked he neuyr so grym. The vicious men took this ful heuyly; Othir were wroth eke; he took here good hem froo Whech þei fro þe cherch had occupied wrongfully. This was þe cause þat þei and many moo Spoke of him euele. Þei seide mech care & woo Was com to þe cuntre sith that comelyng Was þus entred for to be here kyng. But he kept his constaunce at alle tyme, He wold not chaunge neythir for euele ne good, For seide þei weel or seyde ony cryme, Were þei sobre or ellis wer þei wood, He chaunged neuyr his gouernaunce ne his mood. Thus was he strengthid be Goddis grace aboue, That he dred neythir here hatred ne loue. xxix Before þe paleys, not fro it but litil space, There stood a cherch onto oure lady dedicate. Thedir made he ful ofte tyme his pace, Whech tyme þat he list to be desolate. He was þar sumtyme ful erly and ful late In his contemplacioun, in prayere al alone, Betwix God and him makyng his mone. In this same cherch of chanones seculere Was þan a college of twenty persones & no moo. 31 10 Thei kept here obseruaunce in cloystir & in qwere Mech þe bettir Pat he cam too and froo So often as he ded. But he desired þoo, Because it was ny him, his breþerin schuld be þere. He seide he himself wold al þe costes bere Both to the pope and eke onto þe kyng. He profered hem eke a bettir place þan þat. This peticioun was not to here lykyng, For þe chanonis of þe gret cherch seid him ful plat, There schuld no man witȝ hood ne witȝ hat Take awey fro hem here possessioun; For if he ded he schuld haue þe malysoun Of Iesu Criste and owre fader the pope Whech had confermed it be many a bulle. Thus was oure Norbert frustrate of his hope; But ȝet at the last his hert gan he up pulle, And took vpon him auctorite at þe fulle, That sith he was hed and souereyn of hem alle, Nedys to his entent þey must bowe and falle, Rather þan he to hem. Þis was the ende! At þe last thei consented to his entent; To his obediens mekely gun þei bende. So are þese twenty chanones to anoþir place sent Forth with alle here cariage gladly þei went Because þe place þei go to is more solacious, More plenteuous of mete, & more spacious. His breþerin are entred eke to here possessioun. He loued þei schul not fer fro him dwelle. He was þere with hem in ful grete deuocyoun, Both day and nyth, schortly to telle. He loued ful euel witȝ worldly þing to melle, But þat he must nede of very offise. Religioun, he seide, was very paradise. xxx The noumbre of his breþerin grew fast and sore Both in Sueue and Saxone cuntres ful wyde. In Sueue had neuyr be no religioun before; In Saxone had þere be, but it gan sore slyde. Here meknesse was distroyid witȝ sory pryde Whech þei had caute of possessioun temporal; For of euery religioun plente is the fal. The cuntre al aboute gan grucch sore & seye: "These ich newe comelyngis wil us ouyrgrowe." Vpon Norbert eke euele langage þei leye. Thei seid he was com thidir here cuntre for to sowe With swech maner doggis as longed to his bowe; Thus woluys þe scheep gun hurt both & bith. But þese good men were endewid with þe lith Of very innocens whech hem defended. But for alle here clennesse bityn thei were, With ful bittir tungis whech were neuyr amendid, But labbyng and roryng as doth ony bere. For þei þat dwelt witȝ him in houshold rith þere Vndir his sidis, his sidis ful sore bytyn Ful pryuyly with malice, & if ȝe wil wytyn Euene as þe sautere seith of þe wikkid tungis: Nedderis venym is vndir swech tungis alle, For thei laboure to destroye þe lungis That are in a man & his entrayles alle. Very serpentis me thinkith þat I may hem calle. The seide of þis man þe kyngdames he schuld lese Both of Saxon and Sueue, Teutonie and Frese. They seyd fals þerof, for he cam hem to lede To þe kyngdam of heuene to þat blissid lif Thus are schrewis wont to qwite a man his mede Whan a man is bysy and eke inquysityf Alle vicious lyuyng fro hem for to dryf! But of special persecucioun wil we now telle, Whech þat to Norbert at þat tyme felle. The holy tyme is come in whech nien are clene, Lenten I calle it, when men of here synne Go onto cherch as þei are taute bedene To þrowe awey þe filth whe(ch) þei are inne. Norbert for he loued soules to wynne Sat al þat tyme ful besily in his place To reconcile men fro synne onto grace. The Lent went fast; Maunde Þursday is come, Whann of that sacrament a commemoracioun We maken ful deuly as is the custome, Nowt only we, but euery cristen nacyoun, For þann is tyme to make purificacyoun Of alle here synnes þei þat Cristen be. Alle þis holy tyme ful dewly sat he, This same Norbert, bysy to reconcyle Synful soulis and brynge to charite. Thei cam onto him fer fro many a myle; But among othir at þe dore where he Sat and schroof, with ful grete sotilte There cam a man in a mantell al ihid Whech with alle þat euyr he myth preye or bid Laboured to the porter þat he mytȝ come in. Anon þe portere to his maystyr þis told: "There is a man withoute, sere, Pat of his syn, If ȝe wold schryue him he seith he were behold Onto ȝow whil þat his lyf myth hold." "Lete him stande," seith Norbert, "stille withowte." So stood he stille til alle þat were abowte Were serued and igo, but euyr he presed fast To entre to þis hous; but euene anoon, As Norbert sey him, he seid to him in hast: "Stand stille þere þou standist in name of Seint loon. Come me no nyhere, meue not þi toon!" The seruauntis come in, & he bad þei schuld take This ich man & owt of his clothis him schake. Whann þat his mantell was itake awey Thann sey þei a knyf whech hing be his side, Ful scharp igrownde: what neditȝ more to sey? It was ordeyned to make woundis wyde; Malice had made him a ful special gyde, To bringe in veniaunce, but oure blessed Iesu Wold not suffir his seruaunt þat was so trew To falle in perell ne in no myschaunce. But whann þis man was caut þus openly In his treson he list no thing to daunce, But was sore aferd. Þoo þei asked him why That he cam in with wepun þus priuyly. He teld hem pleynly in ful schort manere That certeyn men, both prestis & seculere, Had hered him þat tyme to þis entent, That he schuld sle þe bisschop in þis manere. They freyned & he told hem or he went What maner men & who many þat þere were Whech him counceled þis treson for to rere. Whann it was wist, grete merueyle alle þei hadde That men þat were of wittis wondir sadde And eke of councell witȝ þe bisschop þanne Schuld be so wikkid for to þink or doo Swech a tresoun. Euery man gan banne; But oure Norbert is not gouerned soo. With mery chere and wordis according Pertoo, Thus seyde he þann to hem þat stood beside: "Wondir not mech þouȝ now at þis tyde Owre cruell enmies haue entised þis man To do this dede; for þis is þat same day As þe gospell ful nobilly witnesse can, In whech þe lewis, witȝ ful grete aray, Sowt oure lord to bryng him to abay. Weel were he alowid þat in ony houre Of this day with myscheef or laboure Mith suffre deth. Þerfor lete us now doo As oure lord dede: foreue alle trespas. So myth we sekyrly scapen fro alle woo, And sonnere falle onto þat goodly graas Whech men schul haue before þe glorious faas Of oure lord God, for þus counceled he: Do weel to hem þat hate ȝou, whateuyr þei be. ȝet for al þis, this retour is put in hold, For nowt elles but for he schuld hem fese That for to sende him of treson were so bold. He had not þere þouȝ no grete desese. Thus alle men þat wil oure lord plese Schul scape daungeris, þouȝ þat þei be grete. For of þis matere we wil no lenger trete. xxxi Thus lyuyd þis bisschop in ful holy lyf. Witȝ clennesse and stody was his moost laboure The mouled ydilnesse fro his soul to dryf; To Goddis seruyse ȝede he euery houre. This was to þe world a ful swete sauoure; His good ensaumple was to sum men þere Very lyf as ȝe ful weel may lere In þe apostel; to summe eke it was Deth and harm, to hem þat loued it nowt. ȝete schul ȝe here, if ȝe wil list a cas, That with grete malys upon him was sowt. But of swech tresoun he ful litil rowt, So was his trust sette in God aboue, Whom he serued both with fere and loue. His vsage was þoo, as we seyde wel late, To kepe þe seruyse both be nyth and day. Onto þe chauncell mad he many a gate With his chapeleynis, in ful prestly aray. There was a clerk whech was þoo ful gay, Coragous and strong, malicious eke þertoo; Aȝens his ordre mech þing had he doo; Wherfore Norbert wold alday him snybbe. This same clerk was hired, as 1 wene, Of certeyn men þat were onto him sibbe As of malice, of angir and of tene. "This sory bisschop," þei seid, "þat is so lene, Schal neuyr be in pees, but grucchin alle his lyfe. Go forth, þou man, take in þin hand a knyf, Wayte vpon him whan he to mateyns goth. Take and serue him, þan schul we be in pees. He is euyr chidyng, euyr angry and wrooth." This ich clerk, withouten ony sees, Hath leyd him pryuyly rith where þe prees Of clerkis schul com, whan þei to mateyns went; Ful sikyrly wend he haue had his entent. Thei came too and too as was þe vsage, Clerkes ȝeden soo, and þe bisschop last. This cruell man whech had take þis wage In his hert hatȝ determyned and cast: "The hinderest man, go he neuyr so fast, He schal haue þe wownde ere þat he pase." But it happed þat nyth, of oure lordis grase, Norbert in þe myddis of hem at þat tyde Went forth, ful mekely takyng no gret heed At swech dominacyoun whech sounditȝ into pryde Ful often tyme. Thus forth he ȝeed. This clerk roos up with ful grete speed, On him þat last went he leyd on ful sore, And þat ich man began to crye and rore: "What are þou," he seid, "in vertu of God aboue, That smytist me so and I greue þe nowt? This maner brothirhod is not groundid in loue!" "O," seyde þis theef, "almys haue 1 wrowt; That ilk man, whech þat I haue sowt, He is skaped and goo or þat I wist." And with þat word fro hem is he twist. Thei folowed after, but Norbe(r)t cryed: "Hoo! Pursewe him nowt, lete him go his way. Do him no harm, lete him scape and goo. Goddis will must be fulflllid ay. If he haue powere to sle me, welkom þat day. Thei slepe not alle, þei þat hedir him sent, Thei wil not leue til þei haue here entent." xxxii The innocent flok whech oure fadere left At Premonstrate, þei gunne to falle in dwere, Because here heed was þus fro hem reft. For now are runne the dayis of too ȝere, Sith þat Norbert to hem, both leef and dere, Cam not there. Wherfore sum men seyde That ilk reule to whech thei were teyde Mith not lest withoute a gouernoure. Summe seyde þis: þat he schuld come ageyn. "Who schul þe scheep doo in storm and stoure, Who schul þei doo in wyndis and in reyn But if here schepperd he witȝ hem?" Þus þei seyn. Summe seid it was best for to chese anothir. Thus is þere differens betwix brothir & brothir. Whan þat Norbert herd of þis affray, He was aferd lest þan þat trauayle Whech he had planted schul now drye away. Therfor with gouernaunce he will hem now rayle. Withouten ledere þer may no man saile, This wist he weel. Therfor he dede calle Off þis religio(un) þe saddest and wisest alle. Whan þei were come, he asked hem in fere What was here councell, & who þat þei schuld doo? Summe of hem þat stood be him there Seyde þei wold dwelle witȝ him euyrmoo, For fro here maistir þei seide þei coude not goo. Summe seyde þei wolde chese anothir place, And leue þere as God wold send hem grace. But alle consented vndir a prelate to dwelle That myth hem sette in stedfast gouernaunce. Whan he herd þis, a schort processe to telle, He took þis matere into contynuaunce. He bad hem go hoom & kepe her obseruaunce, Saue a fewe whech he held there stille. He seide onto hem þat þis was his wille: Thei schuld avise hem sadly euerychon Whom þei wold chese & he schuld on his side Examine here meritis. Þere schuld no fauour gon But witȝ mekenesse, wiȝouten ony pryde, And with charite bis matere wold he gide. Thus seide he to hem & aftir a grete while His messageris sent he many a myle. Men of credens, þei went to euery hous Of bis ordre assignyng hem here day, Whan þat þei schal. in tyme moost gracious, Haue here eleccyon onto Cristes pay. As þei were assigned, so ded þei wiȝouten nay. Thei chose a man aftir his owne entent, And of here choys letteris haue þei sent. Thann happed it soo: þat man whech was chose Was dwelling þere, but Norbert kept it cloos. For grete causes sewirly. as 1 suppose, Of þis eleccioun wold he make no roos Onto þe tyme þat he knewe his foos, If ony were there. For euyr was his vsage To bere a matere with ful sad visage A long tyme or he wold speke it owte. He wold first proue euery mannys entent, And ransake þe hertis of hem al abowte. Thann wold he performe his appoyntment, And sey, "Seres, 1 suppose ȝe be bent Alle with on hert to swech conclusioun. Were it ordinaunce, were it eleccyoun." This same man eke, whech was chose þus newe, Thouȝ it were kept ful priuyly in counsaile, Alle þis councell ful pleynly þoo he knewe Be reuelacioun, he knew it witȝouten faile. Whil he lay praying & gan sore to wayle, Oure lord appered to him, as he thoutȝ. Norbert, his fader, to þat presens him broutȝ. Oure lord put oute his rith hand ful hertly, And receyued þis ilk same man þat tyde. "Behold, lord," seid Norbert, "þis same is he þat I Haue chose vndir me for to be þi gide Ouyr alle þoo men whech þat wil abide In þat holy lyf of very religioun, Whech haue made to þe here professioun." Aftir þis reuelacioun mad upon þis wise Onto þis man, Norbert ded him calle. Whann Norbert was set amongis hem as iustise, And his breþerin were gadered aboute him alle, He seid þus to hem: "My conceyt open schalle Al pleynly to ȝou my breþerin þat be here. This ich man þat sittitȝ amongis us in fere Is chosen be God and eke be al þe hous Of Premonstrate to be abbot there. Thouȝ þe occupacioun be ful perilous, ȝet wil 1 bidde þe & pray þe both in fere That þou take it, broþir, and haue no dwere. God he schal help þe, whech hath þe chose." This othir man answered, as 1 suppose, Rith on þis wise, þat sothly his entent Hath euyr be, sith he to þat relygioun Was flrst receyued, to be obedient Onto his souereynes & what þei bad him don. "Vnto my powere," he seide, "I fulfillid it son; Therfor 1 wil not refuse now þis charge. 1 am not fre, 1 stand not at my large. I wil go onto hem & with al my myth I wil asay if ony profith may I doo. If þat I do it, þan wil , as it is rith, ȝeue grace and þank to God & no moo; If I spede not, fro hem wil goo, And come aȝen, fadere, for vndir the, And vndir thi comaundment euyr wil I be." Aȝen onto him Norbert spak ful sone: "Go forth, good sone, and be not aferd. Goddis hand in alle þat is to done Schal euyr be with þe. It is his vynyȝerd Where þou schal werk, parde; þou art lerd Who þou schal doo. Go now on my blessing." This ilk man þe nexte morownyng Taketh his leue, & forth he went apase, With too felawes, sad men for the nones. He himself was abbot of that place Whech we call of Premonstrat þe wones, A ful fayre place of tymbir & of stones; On of þe othir was abbot of Antwerpense, A grete place endewid with grete expense; The þirde of hem was mad gouernoure Of Florifiense, where dwelt þe noble clerk, Petir icalled, whech with grete laboure Drowe on þe sautere a ful noble werk. I wot ful weel I set not amys my merk For I say þis book withinne fewe dayes. This same werk I proued at assayes. Anothir abbot was made eke at Laudune, Anothir at Vyuary, þe þirde at a place Whech þat þei calle rith of elde custume Good Hope. Thus with very grace Began þis ordre his braunches to brace, And spryng in erde; for first were þei sex, And aftir to grettir noumbir gun þei wex, That al þe world is ful of hem now. God ȝeue hem grace to kepe here ordre weel, And to drawe so depe in þat holy plow, That þei turne not bak at no tyme ne ceel. If þei do þus, mercy schal be here meel In heuene blesse where þei schal dwelle. Of othir þingis now I wil ȝou telle. xxxiii His aduersaries considerying his paciens. What sorow and angir þat he had bore ful longe, Consideryng eke his lif and innocens Who he had suffered many a sory pronge Of here venym, þei slaked sumwhat þe tonge, Araying hem to saluen aȝen swech wounde Whech þei had mad and lay ȝet al onbounde. Fourty mark þei seni him amongis hem alle To amende with here formere greuaunce, With whech þei had fro here lordchep falle. Thei asked foȝefte of alle here gouernaunce And made to him a ful grete repentaunce Of alle defautes whech þat þei had doo. The castell ȝates opened þei alsoo, Whech þei had sperd long tyme before: For sith he cam, he myth no entre haue. Thei sette be him þan so litil store, That non of his, swiere, ȝeman, ne knaue, But if þei wold here lyues as þan laue, Mith make no maystryes þere in no wise. Here hertis are now sette in othir sise. Thei lete him in to alle his strengthis there. With mech worchep & with ful grete prees. Praising God with gladness & with fere, Thay prayed oure lord þat he schuld encrees This mannes goodnes þat it schuld neuer sees. Thus seid þei alle, and þat he worthi was To be a bisschop of a bettir plas. For God, þei seide, had ful merveilously Wrout for him, þe se it well inow. Fro perel of deth whech ful sotilly Was ordeyned for him, God fro him it drow. Thus are (þ)e tecches, whech were ful row, Falle onto meknesse. Blessed be swech a lord That þus can turne, þat þus can reule þe world. ;- Thus hath mekenesse ouyrcome here cruelte With gidyng of grace. God seid, so I wene, That whosoeuyr haue humylite He schal be heyued and þat schal be sene: Hestir for meknesse was made a qwene; Norbert a bisschop was mad for þe same. The world vseth not ofte swech maner game! The þirde ȝere felle al þis good chaunce Aftir he was chose, & sithin fully fyue ȝere Ful nobilly helde he in gouernaunce Alle his puple whech was gadered þere. Fro day to day he gan hem euyr to lere. Alle religioun and alle maner honeste Worchep to God aboue al thyng set he. Onto oure feith he was euyr a tutoure. He loued therof so weel the vnytee, That with his myth and al his laboure Heresye and scisme ful greuously punchid he. To desolate folk a fadere wold he be, Faderless & widowys he susteyned witȝ his myth. Religious men eke both day and nyth He visited ful weel, bylyng not only here wones, But teching hem þe forme of religioun. He took more heed at soules þan at stones. His besynesse was al set to sauacyoun Of his subiectes, whech fro dampnacyoun He drow euyr more, and euyr mot þe fame Of his good dedis lest & eke þe name. xxxiiii In þis same tyme, as elde cronicles seyn, Fel a scisme of whech is dool to here; But neuyrþelasse I must telle ȝou al pleyn Swech maner þing as I fynde wrytin here. Too popes regne(d) at ones þat same ȝere As now þei doo, God amende þe caas! The o pope thus he named was Innocent þe secunde whech be dew eleccioun Was made pope. Þe othir eke hith þus, As þis story seith, Petir þe Leoun; But othir bokes sey he hith Anacletus Whatsoeuer he hitȝ, contrarye to Iesus, Whech is prince of pees, was he euyr founde. The cause þat he was þus susteyned in þat grounde Was his grete kynrod, for þei were strong And meyntened him with al here hool myth, Notwithstandyng þei ded ful grete wrong; For þis ich Innocent had only þe rith. Be trew processe was he eke elith; But þe othir with seculere hand kept þe cyte, Made lawes and ordinaunces of whech is pite To speke and here, but þat it must be doo. The statutes of holy faderes before, This ich Petre took no heed thertoo. Thorw ȝates & walles ded he þrille and bore, Alle þoo strengthes rent were and tore That stood aȝens him; and þoo þat were his Are bylid up with mech cost iwys. This lnnocent was fayn for to come awey And saue his lyf with hise for a while. Onto the emperoure Lothary, as þei sey, Came he down fro Rome many a myle, Pleynyng to him of his wrong exile, Praying him of help and þat in hast; But if he help alle will turne to wast. Thus seide þis pope onto this emperoure: "Princes are gadered now on euery side To susteyne þe rith, þe fredom, þe hounour Of holy church." To Rome wil þei now ryde. Prelatis reden witȝ hem þe treuth to gide, Amongis whech Norbert was chose for on. Thus ryde þei forth in cumpany euerychon. Schort processe to make, þei are com to Rome Witȝ grete prees & mech folk rydyng in fere. The pope Innocent is set þere in his trone Be þe strength of Lothary as ȝe may here. And þe same emperoure, witȝouten ony dwere, Was crowned þere be þe popis hand, A noble prince, þat durst wel tak on hand A ful grete daungere for Cristes sake. A worthi man in armes euere was he holde. The elde cronicles witnes, I vndirtake, That he was in bataile ful hardy & bolde, Wyse of councell eke, for neuer wold he folde Ne falle fro þe treuth in no manere wise. His manhod was proued at best deuyse In many cuntrees, specialy in Cycile, In Saxone, in Almayne & ouyr al aboute. The realte of Rome be many a myle Was augmented be him witȝouten doute. Of þis mannis praysing I wil no more oute, But schortly conclude þat þis same emp(er)oure Loued Norbert soo þat vnneth no houre Mith he be fro him: his lyuyng was so clene, His doctrine so good, his ensaumple so swete. But so mech trauayle had he, I wene, This same bisschop, what witȝ cold & hete, In mystemperure, in drye and in wete, That he took seknesse whech wold not awey, But in schort tyme, sothly to sey, It broute him to a ende; for aftir he was com hom To Parthenople, his seknesse com ful fast, That foure monthis as stille as ony ston Down in his bed ful lowe is he cast. The lif þat we haue here may not euyr last, Neithir in him ne in no othir with. Thus tooke he leue of þis erdely lith. He went to þe othir þat is mech more clere. He myth not euele deye, as Seynt Austyn seith, For he lyued weel whil he was here Both in gouernaunce and in his feith. Thus is he rauyschid onto þat goodly heith Where Goddis presens is schewid euyrmore. There hatȝ he his guerdon for his trewe lore. Eyte ȝere, as we seyd, gouerned he His bisschoprik with ful bysy holynesse. The ȝere of oure lord, as wryten fynde we, A thousand a hundred foure & thirty, as I gesse, Is þe date of his deth & his last sekenesse, The Wednysday euene in Pentecost feest, The eyte ydus of luny, as seith oure geest. xxxv Whan he was ded þere felle a grete staunce Betwix þe hed cherch in þe same stede And Seynt Mary cherch whech be his gouernaunce, And be his prouydens, as ȝe ful wel may rede Befor in þis book, it is no drede He ordeyned there a hous of religioun Of his owne bretheryn & of his fu(n)dacioun. And translate þens þe chanonys seculere. This cherch made cleym in this wyse: Thei seide because he was here bisschop þere, And was in manere here lord and iustyse, It was grete reson, as þei gun deuyse, That he schuld be byryid in þe heed plas, Because þat heed of þat diocise he was. The othir men made grete resonis why That þei schuld haue him in possession. Here grete argumentis in swech kende þei ly: Thei seide he wan hem with exhortacioun, And broute hem owt of here owne nacioun To serue God þere, wherfor sith þat he Here fadere was, it semeth reson, parde, That he schuld logge among his childir dere. Ferþermore, anothir resoun thei broutȝ That or he deyid out of þis world here, With weel avised speche & parfth thoutȝ. He comaundid his body þat it schuld be broutȝ Onto his bretheryn, for þat was his will. Who do þe reuers, þei þink he doth ill. Vpon þis stryf onto þe emp(er)oure þei sende. For sekirly, þei sey only his iugement Wil thei obeye, and non othir ende Schal þei pursewe. Þe messageris are sent Rith fro both sidis, and þei þat went Taryed eyte dayes or þei come ageyn. In alle þis tyme, schortly for to seyn, Is þe body bore fro place onto place, Fro cherch onto cherch where þei sing & rede Diriges and masses onto Goddis grace. Alle prestes aboute to þat seruyse ȝede; The lewid puple þei seide here crede. Thus was he kept alle þoo eyt dayes, For so long þe messageris mad here delayes. And notwithstandyng þe wedir was so drye That þe grasse in þe feldis was al tobrent, And alle þing was, if 1 schuld not lye, ȝet be myth of God omnipotent Whech wol not suffre his seruantis to be schent, Norbertis body ȝaue neuyr no stynk In al þis long tyme. Lord, whann I think Of þe incoruptibilnesse þat sum folk haue Aftir here deth, it is a demonstracioun Onto my reson, þat þei whech schul be saue And led onto heuene aftir þe resurreccioun, Schul bere here bodies with hem to þat mansioun. For sith þe body may be clene þus alone It schal be mech clenner whan he schal gone Forth in the felauchip onto þe blisse With his soule þat schal schine ful brith. Whereof al solace þei schal neuyr mysse As þese elde clerkis in here bokes writh. Alle þis is iseide for þis noble with, Norbert I mene, þat lay so longe on grounde, And in his flesch was no sauoure founde Of no onclennesse in no manere wise. The messageris þat were sent to þe emp(er)oure To be in þis matere a rithful iustise, Are now com hom with grete laboure. Be mery, ȝe men, for the day is ȝoure. ȝe Premonstratis euyr, mot God ȝou saue, ȝoure hool entent in þis matere schul ȝe haue. The body is bore to Seynt Mary cherch Where his breþerin dwelle. Þe emperour wil soo; Aftir his comaundment men mut nedis werch. Thus is he byryed and al þe offise doo. Who sang þe masse or seid þe sermoun þoo, ȝe gete not of me; myn auctour telletȝ nowt But þat his bodi solemply was browt Onto þe erde & leyde before þe autere, Halowid of þe crosse, sothly þus he seith. Aftyr was he rered & leide in þe qwere In a fayre tombe of a grettere heith. Thei þoutȝ it was encresing to here feith And eke enhaunsyng to here religioun Euery day of his graue to haue a visioun. Thus lith he stille ful fayre in þe qwere Abydyng in hope on Cristis mercy Whann he schal risyn, as we seid weel ere, And apperen to þe dom with seyntis in þe sky. Thei þat ful lowe now in þe ground ly Schul rysyn þann into euyrlastyng rest; There schal not hold hem cophre ne chest. xxxvi Grete argumentis are þere, many and fele, That þis ilk man for his werkis vertuous. And for þe penaunce he ded in his hele Schuld be, be liklynesse, dwelling in þat hous Whech as scripture seith is so solacious. For reuelacionis were had in this matere Of certeyn persones, as ȝe may here. The same day and oure þat he on deyid. Whan þat his soule out of his body went, There was a broþir of his þat long had he teyid To streyt lyuyng with al his entent. This same brothir in a traunce was hent Alle sodeynly where he sey his maystir goo A ful fayre persone and white clothis alsoo. This sey he þann, & in his hand he held A braunch of olyue ful fayre & ful grene. Swech maner braunches had he seyn but seld, But neuyrþelasse þis man as I wene With dredful hert asked him bedene Certeyn demaundes of whech þis was on: "Maistir," he seith, "whidir wilt þou goon?" His maystir answerd & seid to him thoo: "I come now fro paradise with þis olyue, And streyth to Premonstrate now schal I goo To plante þis braunche þere þat it may thryue. There is no man now dwelling on lyue That hatȝ swech anoþir, þis dare I say." Thus went he forth. he þoutȝ, in his way. The man told his breþerin þis auysioun. Thei noted þe day in whech he it sey. For ferre fro Premonstrate stood her mansioun. But within certeyn dayes men þat be þe wey Rydyn, and went onto hem gun sey That here maystir was ded; þan knew þei weel Who þat he deyid at þat same seel. Anothir reuelacyon was had in þis wise; There was a brothere, a preest he was, þei sey. He þoutȝ his fadere, as he coude deuyse, Appered onto him with stature fayre & hey, Walkyng before him in a ful grene wey, But sodeynly, er þe mountenauns of an oure, As he þoutȝ, he was turned to a floure. And þis same floure aungellis hent anoon; Thei bare it up forth into the sky. This same man wook & þoutȝ his drem vpon, And dempt ful euene as it was hardyly That þis same avisioun whech was so mysty Ment not elles but þat his fadyr was goo Fro þis world, his dreem ment rith soo. Onto his prioure he ran in hasty wise, Praying him to graunt him now þis bone: That he þat day myth to þat hye iustise Comende þat soule as he was bounde to done Of his fadere. The prioure answerd sone: "What tokne hast þou þat þis man is past?" He told hi(s) drem onto him in grete hast. The day was noted and founde ful stedfastly That it was soo; blessed be God almyth That for to schewe us is now so redy Who þat his seyntis are ledde onto þe lith. There was amongis hem eke anothir whith Þat was witȝ Norbert long tyme conuersaunt. Aftir his deth he prayed God he schuld graunt To sende sum tokne and eke sum answere Wheythir his maistir were in blesse or nowt; Ful fayn wold he in þis matere lere; With mech prayere bysily hath he sowt. Oure blessed lord, þat hatȝ us so dere ibowt, Wold not leue him alone þus desolaat But ȝaue him answere, þouȝ it were rith laat, A grete reuelacioun and a ful fayre sith Of his noble maystir whech was fro him goo. As he lay in rest upon a holy nyth, He þoutȝ he was rauyschid into a hous þoo So fayre and so brith had he seyn no moo. It passed þe sunne, þe brithnesse þat was þere. Amongis othir felauchip þat togidyr were He beheld his maystir on whom his desire Was ful sore sette, & whan he him sey With brennyng loue, as man þat was on fyre, Before his feet al plat he gan him ley; His wittis for ioye were ny awey. "O maystir," he seyde, "for Goddis hye myth, Telle me of þin astaat, and if al þis lith Be to þin counfort and þi consolacioun." His maystir cam ny & lift him fro þe ground. "Rise up," he seith, "fro þi prostracioun, Myn obediensere, and weel be þou found, In þis same ioye þat is eterne and round. Thou wold fayn wite if I endewid were. Thouȝ þi demaund be hard, ȝet schal þou lere; For who þat knokkitȝ bisili sumtyme schal in. Come nyhere to me, & lete us sit adown. I do þe to wite clensed of alle syn Am I with mercy, whech is to me bown." This ma[n] seye a sete as brith as ony crown, Where Norbert was set in ful grete rest. Swech wordes he seyd: "I am passed þe werst. For it is seyde to me 'come, m sistir dere, Come sit in þi place aftir þi trauayle.' For to þe I telle my brothir þat art here Þere may no desese aȝens me avayle. I am in al qwyete saue in maner I wayle, As aungellis doo, for fere of the doom." Whan þis was seyd þe man awook soon Hugely counforted be this avisioun. ȝet or he went fro him to his fadir he seyde: 'Fadir, I pray the of thy benysoun, I pray þe eke, for loue of Mary þe mayde, Telle me in treuth if þou were euel apayde That I cam not to the whan þou were seek?" Norbert him answerd witȝ wordis ful meek: "Thou schal come," and witȝ þis word anoon The avision is goo, and counforted is þe man. In swech maner wise þat his breþerin ilkon Sey him neuyr so myry as he was þan. Of þese avisiones no more telle I can. For þei be de(r)k, and so must thei be. The apostill seith soo, leuyth now me: That al þat euyr we se here of þe oþir lif, We se it as in a myrowre or in a glas. Therfor in þis mater to be inquysitif Grete perel it is, and euyrmore was. We schal pray God to spare oure trespas, And bryng us to blesse þer Norbert is inne. And specialy ȝe men, þat be of his kynne And cleyme his fadirhood, loke þat ȝe hope If þat ȝe folow þe steppis of his holy lif, ȝe schul come sumtyme to þat blessed cope That witȝ largenesse of charite may fortȝ drif Alle debate and desese whech þat caytif, The deuel of helle, acloyith men withal. To þis entent down wil we fal On both oure knees, praying oure lord To lede us and spede us in þis lif present, That we may kepe loue and concord. And eke for to purchase very amendment, So þat oure synnes may here be brent Witȝ penaunce doying, þat we may haue grace, In heuene blesse before Goddis face. xxxvii These wordis folowand are drawyn ful schortly Owt of a book þat lith at Capenbregense. Here foundouris lif is wrytin þere seriously; But þei hemselue þus in schorter sentense Brigged it thus onto the complacense Of here breþerin whech desired þis lif, And of here desire were rith inquysitif. In Westphale parties sprang a ful clere lith, A post of þe cherch, a heuenely messagere, Norbert called, so grete with God of myth, That ful of grace he was and of powere Of ful grete continens, of eloquens a good skolere, Formere and norchere of holy religioun, Whech was eke causere of grete fundacioun Off many houses þorw out dyuers londes. A prechoure of penauns was he witȝ þe best. A trewe berere of Cristes owne sondes Was he hold be est and eke be west. Thus cryed he to hem þat lay þat tyme in rest And knew not God arayetȝ; he seith þe weye Of oure lord and alle his styes ȝe feye. Spirith of prophecye, and þat in wondir wise, Had þis man; and, if ȝe list to here, A speciall prophecye þis epistel doth deuyse: Who þat in Westphale, aȝens a ful dere ȝere, He told hem alle þat were gadered in fere, His breþerin, I mene, of hungir þat was comyng, Whech schuld, he seid, come for here chastisyng. And as he seide, so it cam in dede. Grete hungir þere was of al maner vytayle, So sodeyn derth men to deth þoo ȝede, That sodeyn pestilens gan hem soo assayle. And in þis hungir, witȝouten ony fayle, He bad his breþerin þat þei schuld not spare, But ȝeue to pore þouȝ þat þei were bare. As he comaunded so ded þei til at þe last Vpon a tyme þei ȝoue so mech away That whan þei came onto here owne repast Thei had rith nowt. Þann gun þei alle to say: "Where is oure maistir? Lete him now assay His grete maystries." But he ful mekely: "Breþerin," he seyde, "affray ȝou not forthi, For it is writyn openly in Scripture -- If ȝe wil stody, ȝe may it pleynly rede -- 'The rithful man whech God hatȝ in cure Schal not be suffered, withouten ony drede, To dey for hu(n)gyr'." These men forth þei ȝede, Thei fonde mete rith as here fadere seyde. Whann othir men for hungir abouten deyde, Alle that tyme thei had good plente. Blessed be swech a steward in a plaas! Anothir þing felle eke in that cuntre: Amongis his breþerin on seek þere waas. He lay in þe fevyris, abidyng Goddis graas; The man was spedful onto þe houses nede. Norbert streith onto his bed þoo ȝede. "Rise up," he seyth, I bidde in Goddis name, Go do þis erand, for þou can do best." This man þoutȝ he had be mech to blame, But he obeyid his fadere, as it was best. He roos up redyly fro his sekly nest; He felt him hool, and hool was many a day As fro þat seknesse. Blessed be God for ay! Anothir þing is touched here alsoo In þis epistil: who þat be inward counsaile Of þe holy goost, he and his breþerin þertoo Chose hem a reule of whech þei myth not faile. For there fynde þei al þing þat wil avayle Onto good lyuyng and onto religioun. This ich reule at þe frst fundacyoun Of his clerkis þe noble Austyn mad. But þis same reule more streytly for to kepe Norbert hatȝ ment his breþerin eke be glad Of þat streytnesse. Þei wil delue more depe In here perfeccioun, morne, wayle and wepe, As men þat pleyne of þis worldly woo. The streyt poyntis þat þei addid þertoo Was harder habite and eke hardere mete, Wollen cloþis next hem for to were; Neythir fatte ne flesch wold þei not ete. This was þe wil of hem þat dwelt þere. Ion þe Baptiste, þei seid, he schuld hem lere Who þei schuld wynne heuene witȝ abstinense. Thus was this ordre grounded in excellense. The epistel seith eke þat Norber on a tyme Sat in chapetir amongis his breþerin alle. Whan euery man had accused his cryme, Into othir daliauns goostly gan þei falle. Norbert seyd þan: "Breþerin, to ȝou I schalle Telle a tale whech þat I wil ȝe knowe. I knewe a man witȝin a litil throwe That lay in stody and in his orisoun A ful long tyme, þat God of his grace Schuld sende to him sum reuelacioun What reule he myth to his flok purchace. And as he lay rith before his face Appered Seynt Austen, whech had þoo in hand A reule of gold, as I vndyrstand. Whech reule took he onto þat same with Whom he appered to and þus sayd to him: "Sone, He þat þou seest, if þou be hold al rith, He is Austen, bisschop sumtyme of Ypone. Now hast þin askyng, now hast þou þi bone: A reule vndir whech if thi childir hem cure, Thei schul not drede aftir here sepulture The ferful doom, but sekyrly þereto stande Before þat iustise and fauoure schul þei haue. This dare I sauely on me take on hande, If þei kepe þis, that þei schal be saue, And go to blesse at that grete octaue." This same tale þat Norbert to hem told Was of himselue sekyr, be ȝe bold. It is þe manere of seyntes to do soo: So ded lon þe grete euangelist, So ded Seynt Poule whan he wrote alsoo Who oute of þe world sodeynly he was twist Vp onto heuene, & he himselue nyst Wheithir his body was þere or nowt. Of þis matere þe ende as now is sowt. Anothir miracule schal I now specyfye Of þis same man, and þat a wondyr þing. He sang a masse ones at Florefye, And sodeynly before his vsyng He sey a drope of blood where it hyng Rith on þe patene. His dekne stood by. He hith Rudolf, and he called him more ny. "Seest þou, brothir," he seith, "þat I now se?" The othir seyde: "Maystir, weel inow." Both were þei gode, it schuld not elles be That swech a visioun gracious to hem drow. Norbert was ny fallen into a swow, But of deuocyoun sore he gan to wepe, And aftir þat with his lippes to swepe The blood away fro þe fayre patene. He wasched it weel whann masse was idoo. This same religioun of custome, as I wene, Wascheth here patenes of vse euyrmoo, Whech custom grew ful long tyme agoo. Of þis same dede, sothly as I suppose, This same epistel writith þus in prose. At Traiect eke is a wondir sith. A pees of silk with aungellis þidir was broutȝ; The puple sey it, who with bemys bryth Out of heuene down to þe cherch þei soutȝ, And leyd þat silk, ful merueylously iwroutȝ, Vpon þe toumbe where Seynt Seruase lay, Whech was deed newly þat same day. This same silk Norbert. whan he was þere, Desired to see. Þe prestis answered sone That here elderes up þei ded it spere In a hucch whech þei durst not ondone. There was no man þat dwelt vndir þe mone That in þat hucch was hardy onys to look, So grete dreed of it þoo þei took. But his peticioun was graunted at þe last. The hucch is opened, and ful sodeynly The silk fley out and to þe roof in hast He mowntith up; alle þe puple it sy. There hing it still ful merueylously; Summe were astoyned, summe were aferd Lest þe grace of God were now isperd. Fro here cherch þei dempt it wold awey, But it hing stille lich a bird flikyryng. Norbert ful sadly onto hem þus gan sey: "We schal sone se what is þe signifying. Go we to masse in hast & make no tarying." He made him redy, & whan he was at messe, Oute of þe roof þe silk þo gan it dresse, And cam ful esely down on to þe qwere. He leyd him euene upon þe armes too Of oure Norbert that stood at þe autere. He took it to him with grete deuocioun þoo, Falt it togidir witȝouten ony moo, And leyde it there where it was before. Here may ȝe proue be very open lore That in þis bisschop Seruase þus inamed Was ful grete vertu schewid be God of myth; And in oure fadere Norbert euyr onblamed Was ful grete feith both be day and nyth; For his prayere was so clere and bryth, He myth not want þing þat he wold haue. Thorw his prayere þe sunnere God us saue! There was a man eke I vndyrstand Whech was ful cruell and ful couetous. He dwelt be a place whech þei clepe Boneland. He kept fro hem here londys and here hous, ȝet dede he þing þat was more perilous: For certeyn rentis held he to his bane, That longed to þe cherch of Partenopolitane. And notwitȝstandyng þere durst no man for dreed Speke onto him a word of þis matere: ȝet oure Norbert boldly onto hem ȝeed. He teld him þe perel and eke þe grete daungere Whech he offendid God with his powere. The man answerd ful sone to him agayn: "I haue no land fro ȝou, soth to sayn; This þat I haue, it is myn herytage, Whech ȝe schal not, no, non of ȝou alle, Haue fro me. I haue be at grete costage; I haue made þeron both houses & eke walle. Lete be ȝoure laboure, clepe no more ne calle. ȝe gete here ryth nowt, þere is no more to seyn; ȝe haue ȝoure part, turne now hom ageyn! Norbert answerd: Man, þou schal rew ful sore Alle þis extorsioun, and alle þis couetise." He turned his bak, he seid to him no more. But his thretyng be þe hey iustise Was executed, and þat in wondyr wyse. For þat same ȝere of enmyes was he slayn; And þann þe cherch entred þe londys agayn. Anothir tyme in þe emperoures hoost Whilis þat he was, þis noble Norbert I mene, He happed to come onto a noble coost Onto a cyte Augusta, as I wene So it hith. There was his prophecye sene, Whech him was graunted of oure lord Iesu To haue in brest, prophecye good and trew. It was his vse whan he to cherch schuld goo To knele down threis & þus þan wold he say: "Pees to þis hous, pees be here euyrmoo, Pees rest upon ȝou withouten ony nay." Thus sayde he there þat ilk same day And aftir aspied he þat pees dwelt not þere Amongis þe puple þat aboute him were. Onto his dekne seyde he þan specialy: "I haue desired, my broþir, a ful long tyde, That pees schuld dwelle here in þis cumpany. It wil not be; he is oppressid witȝ pryde. Lete us go hens, lete us walk more wyde; Here is no rest and þat schal sone be sene." As he seyde þann, so it felle bedene. For þe emperoure, þat was ful iuste & ful trewe. For certeyn trespaas þat þe puple had doo, Of þat cyte here hedis of he hewe. This knew þis man long or it felle soo. Swech merveyles ded he and ȝet many moo, But in þis epistil is no more now told. For matere fayleth, I am no lenger bold Onto ȝoure reuerens of þis man to wryte. Mi noble fadere, norischere of us alle And specialy of me, wolde God I coude endyte Sum goodly þing witȝ whech 1 mytȝ now calle Onto ȝoure grace, and in ȝoure seruyse falle. But now conclude I, as ȝe ȝoue comaundment Be ȝoure messagere þat ȝe to me sent. Go litil book to hem þat wil þe rede. Sey þou were made to þe abbot of Derham; Fast be Stoke it stant wvtȝouten drede. It is to lordes and gentilys alle in sam And eke to pore men a very Iulianes ham. The abbotes name was called at þat tyde The good lon Wygnale, þat neuer wold him hide For no gestis but rather he wold hem seke. The freris name þat translate þis story Thei called Ion Capgraue, whech in Assumpcion weke Made a ende of alle his rymyng cry, The ȝere of Crist oure lord, witȝouten ly, A thousand foure hundred & fourty euene. Aftyr þis lyf, I pray God send us heuene! Feliciter