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The Prologe of the Prioresses Tale.
Domine, dominus noster.
O LORD our lord, thy name how merveillous | |
| Is in this large worlde y-sprad—quod she:— | |
| For noght only thy laude precious | |
| Parfourned is by men of dignitee, | |
| But by the mouth of children thy bountee | 5 |
| Parfourned is, for on the brest soukinge | |
| Som tyme shewen they thyn heryinge. | |
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| Wherfor in laude, as I best can or may, | |
| Of thee, and of the whyte lily flour | |
| Which that thee bar, and is a mayde alway, | 10 |
| To telle a storie I wol do my labour; | |
| Not that I may encresen hir honour; | |
| For she hir-self is honour, and the rote | |
| Of bountee, next hir sone, and soules bote.— | |
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| O moder mayde! o mayde moder free! | 15 |
| O bush unbrent, brenninge in Moyses sighte, | |
| That ravisedest doun fro the deitee, | |
| Thurgh thyn humblesse, the goost that in thalighte, | |
| Of whos vertu, whan he thyn herte lighte, | |
| Conceived was the fadres sapience, | 20 |
| Help me to telle it in thy reverence! | |
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| Lady! thy bountee, thy magnificence, | |
| Thy vertu, and thy grete humilitee | |
| Ther may no tonge expresse in no science; | |
| For som-tyme, lady, er men praye to thee, | 25 |
| Thou goost biforn of thy benignitee, | |
| And getest us the light, thurgh thy preyere, | |
| To gyden us un-to thy sone so dere. | |
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| My conning is so wayk, o blisful quene, | |
| For to declare thy grete worthinesse, | 30 |
| That I ne may the weighte nat sustene, | |
| But as a child of twelf monthe old, or lesse, | |
| That can unnethes any word expresse, | |
| Right so fare I, and therfor I yow preye, | |
Gydeth my song that I shal of yow seye.
Explicit.
Here biginneth the Prioresses Tale. | 35 |
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| Ther was in Asie, in a greet citee, | |
| Amonges cristen folk, a Iewerye, | |
| Sustened by a lord of that contree | |
| For foule usure and lucre of vilanye, | |
| Hateful to Crist and to his companye; | 40 |
| And thurgh the strete men mighte ryde or wende, | |
| For it was free, and open at either ende. | |
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| A litel scole of cristen folk ther stood | |
| Doun at the ferther ende, in which ther were | |
| Children an heep, y-comen of cristen blood, | 45 |
| That lerned in that scole yeer by yere | |
| Swich maner doctrine as men used there, | |
| This is to seyn, to singen and to rede, | |
| As smale children doon in hir childhede. | |
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| Among thise children was a widwes sone, | 50 |
| A litel clergeon, seven yeer of age, | |
| That day by day to scole was his wone, | |
| And eek also, wher-as he saugh thimage | |
| Of Cristes moder, hadde he in usage, | |
| As him was taught, to knele adoun and seye | 55 |
| His Ave Marie, as he goth by the weye. | |
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| Thus hath this widwe hir litel sone y-taught | |
| Our blisful lady, Cristes moder dere, | |
| To worshipe ay, and he forgat it naught, | |
| For sely child wol alday sone lere; | 60 |
| But ay, whan I remembre on this matere, | |
| Seint Nicholas stant ever in my presence, | |
| For he so yong to Crist did reverence. | |
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| This litel child, his litel book lerninge, | |
| As he sat in the scole at his prymer, | 65 |
| He Alma redemptoris herde singe, | |
| As children lerned hir antiphoner; | |
| And, as he dorste, he drough him ner and ner, | |
| And herkned ay the wordes and the note, | |
| Til he the firste vers coude al by rote. | 70 |
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| Noght wiste he what this Latin was to seye, | |
| For he so yong and tendre was of age; | |
| But on a day his felaw gan he preye | |
| Texpounden him this song in his langage, | |
| Or telle him why this song was in usage; | 75 |
| This preyde he him to construe and declare | |
| Ful ofte tyme upon his knowes bare. | |
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| His felaw, which that elder was than he, | |
| Answerde him thus: ‘this song, I have herd seye, | |
| Was maked of our blisful lady free, | 80 |
| Hir to salue, and eek hir for to preye | |
| To been our help and socour whan we deye. | |
| I can no more expounde in this matere; | |
| I lerne song, I can but smal grammere.’ | |
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| ‘And is this song maked in reverence | 85 |
| Of Cristes moder?’ seyde this innocent; | |
| ‘Now certes, I wol do my diligence | |
| To conne it al, er Cristemasse is went; | |
| Though that I for my prymer shal be shent, | |
| And shal be beten thryës in an houre, | 90 |
| I wol it conne, our lady for to honoure.’ | |
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| His felaw taughte him homward prively, | |
| Fro day to day, til he coude it by rote, | |
| And than he song it wel and boldely | |
| Fro word to word, acording with the note; | 95 |
| Twyës a day it passed thurgh his throte, | |
| To scoleward and homward whan he wente; | |
| On Cristes moder set was his entente. | |
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| As I have seyd, thurgh-out the Iewerye | |
| This litel child, as he cam to and fro, | 100 |
| Ful merily than wolde he singe, and crye | |
| O Alma redemptoris ever-mo. | |
| The swetnes hath his herte perced so | |
| Of Cristes moder, that, to hir to preye, | |
| He can nat stinte of singing by the weye. | 105 |
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| Our firste fo, the serpent Sathanas, | |
| That hath in Iewes herte his waspes nest, | |
| Up swal, and seide, ‘o Hebraik peple, allas! | |
| Is this to yow a thing that is honest, | |
| That swich a boy shal walken as him lest | 110 |
| In your despyt, and singe of swich sentence, | |
| Which is agayn your lawes reverence?’ | |
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| Fro thennes forth the Iewes han conspyred | |
| This innocent out of this world to chace; | |
| An homicyde ther-to han they hyred, | 115 |
| That in an aley hadde a privee place; | |
| And as the child gan for-by for to pace, | |
| This cursed Iew him hente and heeld him faste, | |
| And kitte his throte, and in a pit him caste. | |
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| I seye that in a wardrobe they him threwe | 120 |
| Wher-as these Iewes purgen hir entraille. | |
| O cursed folk of Herodes al newe, | |
| What may your yvel entente yow availle? | |
| Mordre wol out, certein, it wol nat faille, | |
| And namely ther thonour of god shal sprede, | 125 |
| The blood out cryeth on your cursed dede. | |
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| ‘O martir, souded to virginitee, | |
| Now maystou singen, folwing ever in oon | |
| The whyte lamb celestial,’ quod she, | |
| ‘Of which the grete evangelist, seint Iohn, | 130 |
| In Pathmos wroot, which seith that they that goon | |
| Biforn this lamb, and singe a song al newe, | |
| That never, fleshly, wommen they ne knewe.’ | |
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| This povre widwe awaiteth al that night | |
| After hir litel child, but he cam noght; | 135 |
| For which, as sone as it was dayes light, | |
| With face pale of drede and bisy thoght, | |
| She hath at scole and elles-wher him soght, | |
| Til finally she gan so fer espye | |
| That he last seyn was in the Iewerye. | 140 |
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| With modres pitee in hir brest enclosed, | |
| She gooth, as she were half out of hir minde, | |
| To every place wher she hath supposed | |
| By lyklihede hir litel child to finde; | |
| And ever on Cristes moder meke and kinde | 145 |
| She cryde, and atte laste thus she wroghte, | |
| Among the cursed Iewes she him soghte. | |
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| She frayneth and she preyeth pitously | |
| To every Iew that dwelte in thilke place, | |
| To telle hir, if hir child wente oght for-by. | 150 |
| They seyde, ‘nay’; but Iesu, of his grace, | |
| Yaf in hir thought, inwith a litel space, | |
| That in that place after hir sone she cryde, | |
| Wher he was casten in a pit bisyde. | |
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| O grete god, that parfournest thy laude | 155 |
| By mouth of innocents, lo heer thy might! | |
| This gemme of chastitee, this emeraude, | |
| And eek of martirdom the ruby bright, | |
| Ther he with throte y-corven lay upright, | |
| He ‘Alma redemptoris’ gan to singe | 160 |
| So loude, that al the place gan to ringe. | |
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| The Cristen folk, that thurgh the strete wente, | |
| In coomen, for to wondre up-on this thing, | |
| And hastily they for the provost sente; | |
| He cam anon with-outen tarying, | 165 |
| And herieth Crist that is of heven king, | |
| And eek his moder, honour of mankinde, | |
| And after that, the Iewes leet he binde. | |
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| This child with pitous lamentacioun | |
| Up-taken was, singing his song alway; | 170 |
| And with honour of greet processioun | |
| They carien him un-to the nexte abbay. | |
| His moder swowning by the bere lay; | |
| Unnethe might the peple that was there | |
| This newe Rachel bringe fro his bere. | 175 |
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| With torment and with shamful deth echon | |
| This provost dooth thise Iewes for to sterve | |
| That of this mordre wiste, and that anon; | |
| He nolde no swich cursednesse observe. | |
| Yvel shal have, that yvel wol deserve. | 180 |
| Therfor with wilde hors he dide hem drawe, | |
| And after that he heng hem by the lawe. | |
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| Up-on his bere ay lyth this innocent | |
| Biforn the chief auter, whyl masse laste, | |
| And after that, the abbot with his covent | 185 |
| Han sped hem for to burien him ful faste; | |
| And whan they holy water on him caste, | |
| Yet spak this child, whan spreynd was holy water, | |
| And song—‘O Alma redemptoris mater!’ | |
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| This abbot, which that was an holy man | 190 |
| As monkes been, or elles oghten be, | |
| This yonge child to coniure he bigan, | |
| And seyde, ‘o dere child, I halse thee, | |
| In vertu of the holy Trinitee, | |
| Tel me what is thy cause for to singe, | 195 |
| Sith that thy throte is cut, to my seminge?’ | |
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| ‘My throte is cut un-to my nekke-boon,’ | |
| Seyde this child, ‘and, as by wey of kinde, | |
| I sholde have deyed, ye, longe tyme agoon, | |
| But Iesu Crist, as ye in bokes finde, | 200 |
| Wil that his glorie laste and be in minde, | |
| And, for the worship of his moder dere, | |
| Yet may I singe “O Alma” loude and clere. | |
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| This welle of mercy, Cristes moder swete, | |
| I lovede alwey, as after my conninge; | 205 |
| And whan that I my lyf sholde forlete, | |
| To me she cam, and bad me for to singe | |
| This antem verraily in my deyinge, | |
| As ye han herd, and, whan that I had songe, | |
| Me thoughte, she leyde a greyn up-on my tonge. | 210 |
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| Wherfor I singe, and singe I moot certeyn | |
| In honour of that blisful mayden free, | |
| Til fro my tonge of-taken is the greyn; | |
| And afterward thus seyde she to me, | |
| “My litel child, now wol I fecche thee | 215 |
| Whan that the greyn is fro thy tonge y-take; | |
| Be nat agast, I wol thee nat forsake.”’ | |
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| This holy monk, this abbot, him mene I, | |
| His tonge out-caughte, and took a-wey the greyn, | |
| And he yaf up the goost ful softely. | 220 |
| And whan this abbot had this wonder seyn, | |
| His salte teres trikled doun as reyn, | |
| And gruf he fil al plat up-on the grounde, | |
| And stille he lay as he had been y-bounde. | |
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| The covent eek lay on the pavement | 225 |
| Weping, and herien Cristes moder dere, | |
| And after that they ryse, and forth ben went, | |
| And toke awey this martir fro his bere, | |
| And in a tombe of marbul-stones clere | |
| Enclosen they his litel body swete; | 230 |
| Ther he is now, god leve us for to mete. | |
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| O yonge Hugh of Lincoln, slayn also | |
| With cursed Iewes, as it is notable, | |
| For it nis but a litel whyle ago; | |
| Preye eek for us, we sinful folk unstable, | 235 |
| That, of his mercy, god so merciable | |
| On us his grete mercy multiplye, | |
For reverence of his moder Marye. Amen.
Here is ended the Prioresses Tale. | |
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