The Legend of Pope Gregory

¶ Þerl him graunted his wille, ywis, {f.1r}

Þat þe kniȝt him hadde ytold.

Þe barouns þat were of miche pris

Biforn him þai weren ycald.

Biforn hem alle, ȝong & old,

He made his soster chef & priis,

Þat mani sieȝing for him had sold,

¶ & bitauȝt hir þe kniȝt,

To kepe þat leuedi ariȝt

Wiþ blisse & wiþ euerliche hale.

Þer was ferly sorwe & siȝt

When þai schuld asondri fare;

To noman couþe he telle his care.

¶ Þe kniȝt toke leue & went his way

Wiþ hir þat was briȝt so blosme on brere;

No stint he for no clot in clay

Þer cam a leuedi briȝt so day

Oȝeines him wiþ glad chere

& seyd ‘sir, welcom be þou ay,

Mi trewe lord & ȝour fere.’

Þan sche was of hors aliȝt

& serued hir wiþ glad mode

As he was trewe & gentil kniȝt.

Bi þe riȝt hond his wiif he toke,

& told his wiif & nouȝt forsoke

What treweþe þat he hadde hir pliȝt.

¶ He told his wiif word & oþer

Hou it was falle of þat dede,

We moten hir help at þis nede;

Also þou louest þi rentes riif,

For noþing þat may be,

Ne lete þou no born liif

¶ No man in lond, child no wiif,

Astow art leuedi gent & fre,

Þat ich no here þerof no striif

Of þat þou schalt here & se.’

‘Jesu hir wele vnbinde,

Also he made sonne & mone,

Blosme on brere, lef on linde.

¶ Icham glad of hir coming,

Þurth þe help of heuen-king

We schul ben hir wel kinde.’

.... .... .... .... ....

.... .... .... .... ....

.... .... .... .... ....

Þan þe time ycomen was

Þe leuedi schuld deliuerd be

A sone sche hadde þurth Godes grace,

Þe leuedi seyd as sche was won,

To hir þat was white so blosme on tre,

‘Þou hast’ sche seyd ‘a lefli sone

As ani sinful man may se.’

Was no liues þing in lond

Bot þat leuedi & þat kniȝt.

Þe king of heuen sent his sond,

Þe stori y can rade ariȝt,

Seyn Gregori was born þat niȝt

Þat seþþen was pope in lond.

¶ Þat niȝt þat he was born to man

His moder was in gret þouȝt

Hou dere sche him hadde ybouȝt.

‘Wiþ tong alle on wiþouten man

Wiþ care icham alle þurth-souȝt;

Helpe, leuedi, for y no can,

¶ ȝif þis childe duelle stille here,

Men wil þerof speke & wite.

Þe word schal spring fer & ner

Hou he was born & biȝete.

No schal y neuer ete mete;

In oþer londes þan ben here

Help & socour he may gete.’

¶ Sche bad anon men schuld take

A bot on þe brim make

Þat þe winde it miȝt bere aloft,

Also a cradel, wiþouten wrake, {f.1v}

Þat þe childe were þerin ybrouȝt.

& dreri weren in hir þouȝt.

¶ Þe kniȝt seye sche wold dye,

He seyd hir þat it schuld be so.

A bot þai token bi þe weye,

Þai token wriȝtes of werkes sleye

Al for to grant hir bone

& a cradel þat sche þer seye.

Hir wille þai fonded for to done

Hir child sche held in armes to,

Þe first word þat sche þer spak,

Sche seyd ‘mi gamen is al go.

Now Jesu crist þat sitt in trone

& sende me þi grace sone,

No was me neuer er so wo.’

¶ Þan sche hadde ȝouen him souke

& in þe cradel fast him fest,

Þe croice sche made opon his brest,

Markes four of gold prout

Vnder þe heued sche had yfest,

Ten ma[r]k of siluer þer wiþout

¶ Tables sche toke sone riche

Of yuori layen hir bifore,

Wiþ honden sche wrot & sore gan sike

Hou he was biȝeten & bore.

‘Mi ioie ichaue alle forlore,

No may no tong telle þe care

Þat is me now riȝt bifore.’

¶ For no þing sche no lett,

Þat men him schuld to scole him sett

& ȝif him name of Cristenmanne;

ȝif auentour bitide euer more

He com to liue & were a man

Hou he was ȝeten & of wham.

¶ A cloþ of silk sche wond him inne

Þat was of swiþe feir ble,

Þe tables sche leyd vnder his chinne

Þan was he don þe tonne wiþinne -

Þe bot was feir made of tre -

& bar him doun to þe brim,

Bitauȝt him God & þe salt se.

Þer sche lay wel sike in þouȝt

& tolden hou þai hadden done

Of þat hye hadde hem bisouȝt,

Þe bot feir ymade wiþ brome

‘Þe tonne & þe litel grome

Into þe see we han ybrouȝt.’

Þat oþer day on þe morwe

Þan herd sche a reuful red:

& teld hir þat hir broþer was ded;

Þe kniȝtes þat wer to hir swore

Brouȝt hir word & to hir seyd

Þat he was to deþ ydrore

¶ Þo was hir care newe.

Sche tok sikeinges þre

& wax al wan of hir hewe

Þat was wite so blosme on tre.

‘Y wot no gameþ þe no gle

No helpeþ it noþing for to rewe;

As God wil so schal it be.

¶ Þou schalt graiþe þe ful ȝare,

& to þi broþer biriing fare

Are he be in erþe ybrouȝt.

No helpeþ it no þing to care;

Y not no gayneþ it þe nouȝt,

& sle þiself wiþ idel þouȝt.’

¶ Þo sche held hir stille & milde,

Hir sorwe was strong & sterne,

Þe þridde day of hire childe

Nis non in þis worlde(s) so wilde {f.2r}

No be he neuer so stille

Þat he ne mot be milde

& soffre Godes wille.

Þe kniȝt þat couþe of þe roune.

Þe þridde day of hir childing

No lenge hadde sche soioure;

Wel arliche in a morwening,

Wiþ dreri hert & wiþ morning,

Þe leuedi went out of þe toune.

¶ Þan sche com to hir halle

Þer was sikeing & wayleway.

Biforn hir broþer þer he lay.

Þan sche seye him vnder palle

Sche seyd ‘allas’ þat ilke day.

Þe kniȝtes on hir gun calle

Þo he was in erþe ybrouȝt,

& leyd vnder cloudes cold,

Þe leuedi was wiþ sorwe þurth-souȝt.

Hir kniȝtes were stark & bold

Þe kniȝtes þe tale hir told.

Þe leuedi þat dreri was in þouȝt,

Hir tounes wer take in hir hold.

¶ Þo was sche knowen, þat leuedi,

& maiden clene hold of hir bodi,

Þerof þe word sprong wide.

Princes proud þat weren ysene

To hir þai busked hem to ride;

Þat sche þouȝt to his loue abide.

¶ Alle loued hir, wild & tame,

Þat wiþ mouþe herd hir speke.

Sche halpe þe pouer & þe lame

Chirches chapels boþe ysame

Werche sche dede þurth Godes wille.

Þe riche of hir hadde game

Þe pouer loued hir loude & stille.

Of Rome he was, as ȝe may here,

For coueitise of hir lond,

He wald hir wedde & haue to fere.

Þan gan sche sike & sorwe among

‘Ywis’ sche seyd ‘he haþ wrong;

Y loue him nouȝt in hert dere.’

¶ He seye he miȝt no þing spede

No nouȝt wiþ hir his wille do,

Wiþ alle þat miȝt ride & go,

& seyd he wald oway hir lede

ȝif þat he miȝt comen hir to;

Abouten hir he sett his segge

¶ Sche swore sche schuld hir neuer ȝeld,

Bot he wiþ streng[þ]e hir wonne,

Til þat þe child were comen to eld

Þat sche lete fasten in þe tonne.

Þat made boþe mone & sonne,

ȝete he may liue & wele ende

Þat þe douk him haþ bigonne.

Now lete we þis leuedi be

Listeneþ now alle to me.

Y wot it sanke nouȝt to þe grounde.

Al þat God wil haue don þan schal be.

Riȝt as his moder him hadde ywounde,

Swiþe fer in þilke stounde.

¶ To fischers weren out ysent

Þat breþeren were boþe, y wene,

Out of an abbay þai weren ysent

To lache fische to þat couent;

Þe monkes þai þouȝt to queme.

Þat day was hem no grace ylent

For stormes þat were so breme.

Er liȝt com of þe day

Þai seye a bot cum waiueing

Wiþ þe child þat in þe cradel lay

To liue God him wald bring – {f.2v}

Þe fischers miri gun sing

& þider þai tok þe riȝt way.

¶ Þe tonne anon to hem þai nome

Þat was swiþe wele ywrouȝt.

Þat þe tonn þider brouȝt.

To rist riȝt as ȝede þe mone

Þer risen stormes gret aloft,

To lache fische hadde þai no tome,

¶ Fast þai drowen to þe lond

Wiþ ores gode ymade of tre,

For stormes wald þai noþing wond,

Drenched wende þai wele to be.

Þe fischers ȝif he miȝt se;

Also God sent his sond

Þat child schuld ysaued be.

¶ Þe abot was þider sent,

Þeron were his eyȝen ylent.

Anon seyd þat abot fre,

‘Whare haue ȝe þis tonne yhent

& what may þerin be?

In fischers bot in þe se.’

Þe fischers answerd boþe yliche,

To þe abot þai speken anon,

‘Bi þe king of heuenriche,

Þat child þan bigan to scriche

Wiþ steuen as it were agrome.

Þe fischers were adrad of wreche,

Þai nist what þai miȝt done.

Vndo þe tonne þat he þer say.

Þe fischers were radi anouȝ

To don his wille þat ich day.

A cloþ of silk þabot vp drouȝ

Þo lai þat litel child & louȝ

Opon þabot wiþ eyȝen gray.

¶ Þabot held vp boþe his hond

Wiþ hert gode to Crist ywent

Þat þou me hast ȝouen & lent.’

Of yuori tables long

Þabot fond þer in pressent;

Þerto he gan sone fong

¶ Þabot bad þe fischers boþe

Ten mark & þe cradel take,

& bad þai schuld nouȝt be wroþ

For þat litel childes sake.

Þe tresore to hem þai gun take,

Anon þai were alle biknowe

Hou þai fond þat litel knape.

¶ Þat o fischer was riche of wele

Þat oþer was pouer & had children fele,

Gold no siluer hadde he non.

Þabot toke wiþ him to bere

Ten marke.......

& bad him telle for non auȝt

In what maner he was ycome.

¶ Bot sigge his douhter þat ich nauȝt

To bere þat child for God aboue

Cristen him for Godes loue.

He tok þat child wiþouten hete

& bar it hom wiþouten wrake.

A wiman had he sone ygete

¶ When þe fischer y-eten hadde

No wold he no lenger late.

To þabot sone he ladde

& fond him redi atte gate.

It no was him no þing loþ

Þe fischer þan þe child forþ drouȝ

Wiþ salt & wiþ þe crisme cloþ.

¶ ‘Mi douhter sent ȝou þis child

Þabot louȝ, þat was milde,

& wiþ hem to chirche he goþ.

Þabot was cleped Gregorij, {f.3r}

Þer þe child his name he toke.

Wiþ tapers, liȝt & holy boke

¶ & þe child feir & sleye

He cristned in þe salt flod

& seþþen baren it vp an heyȝe,

Þabot dede so he schold.

Þe cloþ he tok wele to hold

... ... ... four mark of gold

& þe tables þat ich of told

In cloþe fast þai gun him fold

..... ...... .... & God

Þe child he tok wele to hold.

.... .... men to ȝares fiue

.... ... ... þat it gan þriue

He nam & sett it to boke

...... him lere fast & swiþe.

Y schal þe finde anouȝ, ywis.

Wordes he may heren of blis.

What helpeþ it long for to drawe?

Gregorii couþe wele his pars

& wele rad & song in lawe

... went he on a day to plawe

As children don atte bars.

.... toke wiþ his felawe

Ac Gregorij þe stronger was.

To him fast sone he lepe

.... ... as of vnmild mod

For hert tene sore he wepe.

... .... to his moder sone

.... .... wiþe anon

Hou Gregorij him hadde ybede.

.... .... is a wonder þing.

No can sche nouȝt hir wordes lete

Sche gan Gregori to þrete.

¶ & seyd ‘þou treytour fondling,

Whi hastow mi sone ybete?

In þis world is [no] man liuiing

Gregorij stod stille so ston,

Wiþ dreri hert hom he nome;

A word spac he þer non

Til he to þabot come.

Þan seyd þabot ‘leue sone

[Whi] artow comen so dreri hom?

Who haþ þe (seyd) don ouȝt bot loue?’

[Se]yd þe child ‘wiþouten lesing,

.... ed me traitour fondling

& seyd y ne am nouȝt of þi kende.’

.... .... þabot ‘be stille.

Swiche þouȝt lete þou be

Þerfore þis hous is graunted þe

.... .... schal fulfille

Wiþ alle þe monkes [þat] herin be.

When God of me haþ don his wille

¶ ‘Nay, for soþe’ quaþ he sone,

‘Þi þouȝt is now fro min riȝt,

Ac ȝif þou wilt ouȝt for me don

ȝif me order to be kniȝt;

Helme to bere & brini briȝt.

Oþer mister wil y non

Þerwhiles icham so ȝong & liȝt.

¶ Bi him þat made þe water

Til ich wite who be mi fader

No schal y neuer bliþe be;

& who me ȝaf cloþ & hater

Til þat y mi moder se

Fro þis schame y wil now fle.’

¶ Þabot no miȝt þat child lett

For no bode of pans rounde;

Þe cloþ of silke he þer fet

His nedes feir he þer bett {f.3v}

& made him kniȝt in þat stounde.

His tables in his hond he sett

& bad him rede þat he þer founde.

Þe tables þer held an hond,

Bitven hem wiþouten sweyn

He radde alle þat he þer fond.

‘ȝif it be soþe þe letters seyn,

Of a ȝong child, a douȝti sweyn,

Of what lond he is no telleþ he nouȝt.’

¶ Þan he hadde þe letters rad

Þat in þe tables were yw[rete],

Þat in þe tonne was ylete?

& whider þe water haþ him lad?

Telle me ȝif þat ȝe wite.’

Þabot biheld þe child & bad

He told him wel sone anon

In what maner he was yfounde.

‘Þe cloþ of silk þou hast opon

Þat þou were in ȝong ywounde,

Lo! hem here hole & sounde,

& þine tables of yuori bon

Þat feir ben & eke rounde.’

¶ ‘Now is þe time comen to þende,

Þat y nam nouȝt of þi kende

Bot yhold for a fondling.

Now Jesu leue me grace to wende

Þer mi schame may be hed,

Þat ich was of comen & bred.’

¶ Þabot present him a schip

Þer þat mani stode arouwe.

Þe child was hende & þerin lip,

Þe ropes wer fast yknett,

To þe se þai gun drawe.

Þe winde on her seyl was sett

& hard he gan for to blowe,

Þat was in his moder hond.

Gregorij com wiþ michel pride

As kniȝt of vncouþe lond.

Mani man wendeþ fer & wide,

Atte last him schal bitide

His auentour be it neuer so strong.

¶ Þan Gregorij cam out of þe bargge;

He hadde a wel gode stede,

Kniȝt he semed gode at nede.

Þis felle in þe time of Marche

Þat ich of sing & rede.

He tok his in as kniȝt large,

Þe portreue seyȝe þat he was hende

& wel feir him vnderstode;

Him þouȝt he was of gode kende

& eke a milde man of mode,

Als-so þai saten atte bord,

His ost seyd ‘wider wiltow wende?’

& Gregori no spac no word.

¶ Ac bleþeliche wite he wold

Oþer ani man þat dorst hold

A kniȝt vncouþe þat wer strong?’

His ost wel sone him told

What wer was hem among.

Our tounes brent al wiþ wrong.’

Gregorij seyd ‘what ayleþ þat?

Whi ne drawe ȝe to acord & loue?’

His ost seyd ‘sone, for what?

Þurth a maiden hende of pris

Is þis werre al ycome,

& þurth a douk þat vnhende is

Þat wold hir haue to wiue ynome.

Of bodi so feir & so fre,

Tomorwe sone when it is day

Þe leuedi þou schalt at chirche se.

To hir steward wil y gon {f.4r}

Reseyued bestow sone anon

ȝif þou wilt serue & wiþ hir be.’

¶ Gregori was feir wiþalle,

O bodi for to bihold;

When day com þat he go schold,

‘Ariseþ’ he seyd ‘ȝif ȝe be ȝare.

Redy icham, to chirche y wold.’

His ost spac & ȝaf answare,

¶ When he was to chirche ycome

To se þe leuedi hende & gode,

Wel gentil was þat feir gome

& gret his moder þer sche stode.

Þer sche lay bifor þe rode,

Þe cloþ of silk sche knewe aboue

Þat sche him ȝaf into þe se flode.

¶ Þe comely leuedy feir of hewe

Bot noþing sche him knewe

So long he hadde ben hir fro.

Hir eyȝen on him fast sche þrewe

& seyȝe wele sche loued him þo;

Þat sche him ȝaf, þan hir was wo.

¶ Þe leuedi sone anoþer þouȝt

Þat o cloþ was oþer yliche.

Sche loked on him þat ous bouȝt,

Þe steward þer sche ȝaf þe dome

Vnderfong him queyntliche.

Þo hadde þe strong douke of Rome

Al bisett hir castel diche.

His tentes sprad ful wide,

Baners vp sett & gomfeynoun

About þe castel wiþ pride.

Þe kniȝtes þat loked þe toun

To wite conseyl & resoun

ȝif þai schuld þe douk abide.

¶ Gregori was feir of teyle,

Strong & stef in eueri liþ,

For to libbe in sorwe & siþ.

Arme we ous & take bateyle,

& ich meself schal wende ȝou wiþ.

Þe doukes ost we schal aseyle

¶ Þe kniȝt alle in feir schroude

Him gan arme swiþe wel,

At a postern þai wenten out

Wiþ scharpe speres & swerdes of stiel.

Þai schoten out of þe castel.

Gregori was of hert proude,

Þe doukes ost he biheld eueridel.

¶ Ich wot a stede he bistrode,

Þer þe doukes ost him rode.

Þe erþe dined & þe grounde,

As he þe stori wrot me seyd;

He was þer worþ an hundred pounde -

Adoun al þat he þer founde.

¶ Þe folk out of þe castel cam

Wiþ launces heye & gomfeynoun.

Þe douk was wele ywar of ham,

A litel wiȝt after þe none

Þer was ycraked mani a croun,

Mani a kniȝt þer died sone,

Er þan þe sonne ȝede adoun.

Þe folk þat þer was yslawe;

Also þou sest þe water of welle,

Þe blod of þe hille gan doun drawe.

Y wot y schold long duelle

So men may here speke & spelle

Þer no was no childes playe.

¶ After þe douke souȝt Gregorij,

Þurth his ost & þurth his here,

‘A launce ichil to þe bere.’

Þe douk was proude, wiþouten feyle, {f.4v}

To him he dresced anoþer spere.

He bar þe douk over his hors teyl

¶ Þo was þe douke wiþ strengþe ytake

& brouȝt to þe conteise sone.

Sche bad men schuld him kepe & wake,

For him þat made sonne & mone,

His bondes for no mannes bone,

Bot ȝif he wald hir peys make

Of þat he hadde hir misdone.

¶ Þei he war proude & prince beld,

Wiþ grim eyȝen sche him biheld

& dede him swere opon a boke

To pay þe ransoun at þe time

Wiþouten ani kines striif,

Oþer he schuld lese his liif.

¶ Þo was þer pays wel gode in lond

& þer no was no more striif;

Þai þonked alle Godes sond

Fram hir went þe douke þo

To his lond & to his hous,

Bateyls no loued he no mo

For he was þer al confous.

Bot he was wonderliche pouer;

Into oþer londe he wald founde

Grace more for to couer,

To win wele & pans rounde.

When he þouȝt on þe hard stounde

Hou he was biȝeten & bore.

¶ He seyd he wold oway fare

More of armes for to do.

& seyd ‘sir, schal ȝe nouȝt go.’

To hir steward spac sche þare

‘What may we ȝeuen him er he go?

He no may nouȝt wende o way so bare;

¶ Þe steward hir answerd þare,

‘Swiche kniȝt no wot y non.

Y wot þou dost þiselue care

ȝif þou le[te]st him fro þe gon

Strong & stef in ich a bon;

Mani man he haþ don bale,

On him þou miȝt þi loue wele don.’

¶ Þe conseyl was ȝeuen & sone don;

To chirche þai went swiþe sone;

Tvay barouns þe leuedi ledde.

Alle þat men schuld to spouseing don,

Þe prest song, þe clerk redde,

& holden hir to bord & bedde.

Þo was he erl of gret anour,

Yknowen in alle Aquiteyne,

Boþe of castel & of tour,

O[f] alle þe gode men of þat lond

Manred he toke, þat is to seyn,

To be boxsom to his hond,

Boþe kniȝt & eke sweyn.

Of þat sorwe was in his hold;

On his tables was al his þouȝt

Þer þai were in toun ifold.

Þider he went & sone souȝt

Markes of gold wele ywrouȝt

He ȝaf þe portreue redi told.

After þat he went wel sone

As prince proude in pride

& wher he miȝt his tables hide.

To a chaunber he ȝede alon

Þat dern was in somers tide

& leyd hem vnder a ston,

¶ Þerafter wel oft it was his wone

Into þat chaunber for to wende.

Þerin most noman come

No of his sorwe wite non ende.

When he held his tables long;

Þerfore wel oft it was his won

His bodi for to pine strong.

¶ Þer nis non so dern dede

Þider in wald he nouȝt lede

For soþe, noiþer king no quene.

A wiman þerof toke hede

Þat it was þe lawe ogeyn

Wiþouten kniȝt oþor sweyn.

¶ On hunting on a day he fore

Wiþin a dale in a forest

Wiþ houndes þat were liȝt on more

Þe leuedi at hom so briȝt so flour

Alone left, wiþouten chest,

Þan was hir told a tiding stour,

Þerof sche hadde wonder mest.

A wiman told hir þe tale -

Into þe chaunber was won to gone,

Wiþouten felawe gret & smale.

‘Þerin he makeþ reweli mone,

Þe hewe þat he haþ þan opon

It is boþe wan & pale.’

¶ Þe leuedi wonder hadde þo,

For diol sche wald dye

Me to sorwe & to treye?’

Sche bad hir maidens þerout go

A stounde for to pleye,

& þai deden also;

¶ Þan alon sche left þerinne;

Non wist what sche ment.

Þe cuntasse nold neuer blinne,

Þe chaunber dore of hokes sche hent.

Þe tables þat wiþ hir sone sche sent

& knewe it was hir owhen child

Þat in his armes aniȝt sche went.

Þo þe leuedi hadde þe latters radde

Sone sche bicom al mad

& wex boþe pale & grene.

Sche fel aswon on hir bed

& loude bigan for to reme.

Sone he cam hir to queme.

¶ Sche bad anon men schuld hir fett

Hir lord þerl hir bifore

& þat noman schuld him lett,

A kniȝt on o palfrey him sett,

Þe lord he fond vnder a tre

& teld hou þe leuedi gret,

& non wist whi it miȝt be.

At þe wode he lete his houndes alle,

Þe stede he smot bi þe side

Til he com to his owhen halle.

Þurth chaumbers boþe heyȝe & wide

On bed he fel hir bisid -

Ysprad it was wiþ grene palle.

¶ Þe leuedi briȝt so blosme on bouȝ

Hir sone sche kist swiþe sone;

Sche crid to God þat sitt in trone.

Oft sche hadde ioie anouȝ

Bitvene þe prime & þe none;

Anoþer þing to sorwe hir drouȝ,

¶ When sche waked of þat res

Hir sone sche seye hir bifore.

Sche bad him telle wiþouten les

In what lond he was ybore.

& lete swiche wordes be forlore;

For loue, leuedi, þou me ches,

Icham þine & to þe swore.’

¶ Þe tables riche of yuori

‘Of whom’ sche seyd ‘is þis stori?

Telle me, ȝif y may þe leue.

Whenne noman stont þe bi, {f.5v}

In chaunber þou letest al þine hewe;

Þine sorwes ben euer aliche newe.’

He answerd at þat sawe

Wiþ hert cheld so ani ston

& seyd ‘icham wele biknowe

Biȝeten ich was oȝaines þe lawe -

To God & to þe y sigge -

& out of ioie icham yblawe,

Mi soule is brouȝt lowe to ligge.

So sinful no was neuer no oþer.

Now icham wedded to mi sone

Þat on me biȝat mi broþer.

Lord Jesu þat sitt aboue,

Þi michel merci & þi loue

Þat sinful man may help & frouer.’

¶ Þo seyd þerl ‘y se & finde

Þat ich long haue ysouȝt,

Ywis, no likeþ it me nouȝt.’

He þat was bifore schal be bihinde

Þat haþ ous in sorwe brouȝt

& careful he schal oway winde

¶ ‘Sone what schal me to rede?

Y sike for our boþer sake;

Mi blisse schal ben euer gnede,

Mi strong sorwe schal neuer slake.’

Penaunce al for to take,

‘To heuen-blis it wil þe lede

& of þi soule a gode seynt make.

¶ Moder, now we schul part atvinne

He haþ ous cleped & cald of sinne,

Þe holy gost & persones þre.

Bifor þe dom of alle mankin,

Bifor Godes face, so schal it be;

Our soules to maken fre.’

¶ Robes riche hadde he þan,

As prince þat was miche of miȝt,

He toke cloþes of pouer manne;

At his moder leue he nam

Ar þe day was vp briȝt,

Out of his lond þan he cam,

A penaunt he semed pouer, apliȝt.

So palmer þat walkeþ wide.

Þe þridde niȝt to a fischer

He cam bi þe se side.

Gregorij wold duelle stille

& ȝif it war his wille

Til day þat he most abide.

¶ Þe fischer answerd wiþ wordes vnmilde

‘Me þenk’ he seyd, þou art a spie.

Þis liif mauȝtow nouȝt long dreye.

ȝif þou al niȝt wer me hende,

Þou wost do me vilainie.

Bi him þat schal ous all amende,

Gregori couþe nouȝt preye,

No lenger he nold biseche,

Bot ȝede forþ alle in his way

Barfot his sinnes for to leche.

For him bigan to wepe;

For him þan sche wald dye

Bot he miȝt in hir hous slepe.

¶ Þe fischer seye his wiif þouȝt,

Þat niȝt he was to rest ybrouȝt

Out of þe winde & þe reyn.

Þe wiif him bedded wel soft

In a chaunber þer he schould leyn.

Þat miȝtful is of miȝt & main.

¶ Þo it was time for to soupe

Þe cloþ was leyd, þe bord ysett.

Þe winde blewe schille & loude,

Þe wiif wel ȝern was about {f.6r}

Þat Gregorij were þer fet.

Þe housbond was stern & stout

Þe penaunt hadde hard gret.

In he com wiþ resoun.

He wesche his honden as it was lawe

& bi þe fer sett him adoun.

A cloþ biforn him was drawe

Bred wel white of what yslawe,

Þe best þat was in alle þe toun.

¶ Þe penaunt seyd ‘mi leuedi schene,

Mi bodi askeþ no swich mete,

ȝif ich it miȝt finde & gete.’

Þe fischer seyd ‘þou þeues fere,

Þou makest ous of þe to speke,

Þis gret fische tofor me here,

¶ ȝif þou bi þiselue were,

Anouȝ þou wost ete & drink;

No mete þe to dere no were,

& þou no semest nouȝt to swinke.

To þe water he ginneþ blenke.

Þou schost haue ben ermite or frere

In wode oþer in roche brinke.’

¶ ‘ȝa, quaþ he ‘þerafter ich haue souȝt;

To swiche a stede ich wald be brouȝt

Þat y miȝt liuen in a stounde.’

‘ȝis’ quaþ þe fischer ‘drade þe nouȝt,

Y knowe a roche al ridi rounde;

Wel depe at þe se grounde.’

¶ Gregorij seyd ‘for loue of on

Þat dyed on þe rode tre,

Bring me to þat roche of ston

Þe fischer seyd ‘bi seyn Jon,

When y liȝt of day may se

Feters ichil cast þe opon

& to þat roche bring y þe.’

Bot þouȝt on God þat sitt in trone

Þat he him sende gode hap

His penaunce wele for to done.

His tables he þer forȝat

& when þat he was war of þat

Ywis, him was swiþe wo.

¶ Þanne he was to þe roche ycome,

Yfetred & fast ybounde,

& cast into þe se grounde.

Gregorij bisouȝt Crist

Þat þe keye schuld neuer be founde

Til for soþe þat he wist

¶ Þerin was his woniing

To seuenten winter weren agon;

Wiþ penaunce & gret fasting

To God of heuen he made his mone,

Bot dewe þat fel on þe marbel ston.

Þe stori seyt wiþouten lesing,

Oþer liif no ladde he non.

¶ Now schal we lete Gregorij,

Herkeneþ alle þat beþ hendi

Of þe pope þat dyed þan.

His frendes were for him sori

Þo his liif dayes wer don.

His soule went to heuen son.

Þe bischopes þat were of þat lond,

& of grete autorite,

To Rome were comen þurth Godes sond

A cardinal spac þer among,

& seyd schortliche att wordes þre,

‘Wite ȝe wele it may nouȝt long

Cristendom vnloked be.’

Þat wele couþe a resoun telle,

& bad þat men schuld nim hede

Þat cristendom nouȝt doun felle.

‘Tvelue apostles in erþe ȝede, {f.6v}

Þe pope is in stede at nede,

Þe cardinals be þe apostles tvelue.

¶ Bot now of him is don þe dede,

Lowe he liþ loken in ston.

Now pope in Rome haue we non?

Biseche we God wele to spede,

Our eleccioun wele to don,

Also þe warld haþ alle nede,

¶ Þe cardinals al togider come -

Ensembled þai were alle þo -

& bisouȝt God þat made mone

An holi man to vnderfo

Her leccioun wele to do,

Þat to þe world toke ȝeme

& holi chirche loke to.

¶ Þai layen alle in affliccioun,

Þe bischopes alle of þe toun

Wiþ hem weren ygon.

An angel cam fram heuen adoun,

Briȝter þan þe rouwel bon,

Þe king of heuen haþ chosen ȝou on.

¶ Ich bid ȝou seche anon.

It comeþ ȝou to miche frame.

In þe world is swiche non

He woneþ in a roche of ston,

Gregorij, it is his name.

Þe salt seis about him gon,

Wiþ penaunce he is waschen clane.’

Of þe angel þat is so briȝt,

Anon þai þonked God of heuen

Of alle his michel holy miȝt,

Messangers þai senten seuen.

To þe toun þai ȝede wel euen

Þer Gregorij was herberd aniȝt.

Þurth þe grace of Jesu Crist,

Þat sent vertu in ston & gras,

Þe[r] Gregori herberwed was,

Þai asked him herberwe sone.

Spending þai hadde anouȝ, apliȝt;

Þerfore him þouȝt it was to done

¶ Þe fischer hadde alday ybe

In þe se wiþ nettes strong

& þer he toke fisches þre

Þat were boþe gret & long.

Wat fische þai wold fond;

Wel feir it schuld ydiȝt be

& y-opened to her hond.

¶ Þer þe fisches alle lay,

& bad men schuld hem seþe & play

& boile hem in water þo.

Þe fischer fond þerin a keye

When þe wombe was vndo,

& þerfore him was ful wo.

Þan þai hadde soped euerichon

& were glad of þat niȝt,

Þe fischer asked hem anon

Þai seyden ‘long haue we gon,

After a penaunt ysouȝt riȝt

Þat woneþ in a roche of ston,

We not where he is aliȝt.

Loue of God on him is liȝt,

We schuld wiþ ous bring him hom

ȝif we miȝt of him haue siȝt.’

Þe fischer swore ‘bi seyn Jon,

Y brouȝt him to þat roche of ston,

Oliue no wot ich him no wiȝt.

¶ Þer ich him feterd fast & bond;

He me suffred & stille lay

Into þe se y cast oway...