Sammlung altenglischer legenden, grösstentheils zum ersten male hrsg. von C. Horstmann.

9. A disputisoun bytwene a cristenemon and
a Jew.

(Sir Water's wunderbarer Sieg über einen Juden).

aus Ms. Vernon, fol. 301.

Alle bliþe mote þei be Þat folyes bleþeliche wole fle. How hit bitidde biȝonde séé, Þe soþe I wol ȝow say. In þe toun of Parys, Line 5 Þat is a citéé of prys, Twey men mette þat weore wys, And wente bi þe way. Þei weore clerkes of diuinite, Crafti men in heore degre. Line 10 Eiþer maister wolde be, Fondeþ ȝif þei may. Þus þei desputed so faste While þe day mihte laste, Nouþer oþer couþe caste, Line 15 Beo rihtwys lay.

Þe ton was of Engelonde, A cristene mon, Ich vnderstonde; He hedde Isouht ouer þe sonde Wondres to se: Line 20 He hedde Ilernd of clergys, As men doþ þat beoþ wys: Þe mon þat most is of prys Maister moste be. Þe toþer was a jeuȝ riht, Line 25 A mon muchel of his miht; To his trouþe hedde he tiht Trewe as þe tre: Þat wol I apertly preue: Þulke lay þat he on leeue, Line 30 For no gold þat (me) mihte him ȝeue Chaunge wolde not he.

Þe cristene mon seide, as he þouȝt: "Lo ȝonde vr god, þat vs bouȝt! Oþer trouwe þou hit nouȝt, Line 35 Bi daye nor bi niht? Certeynliche, ȝonde is he Þat for vs diȝede on þe tre And also bouwed him to be In a buyrde briht, Line 40 As heo wemles was, Seþþe cler as þe glas; Bitwene oxe and an as Ibore was þat kniht At þe ȝol ful ȝare, Line 45 Al for vr welfare. Woldest þou leeue on my lare, Þi lykyng were liht".

Þe jeuȝ sone seide þare: "Ar we forþere fare — Line 50 Þer is o god, and no mare, Heiȝly in holde, And, as I trowe, in þe trone, He schop þe sonne and þe moone; But he hedde neuer no sone Line 55 For synful was solde. Þe grete god calle we — Þat is semely to se: Oþer may þer non be, Ȝonger ne olde. Line 60 Wharto makestou þi mone? I trouwe, þi wit beo þe wone; Al mis artou gone Heer on þis wolde".

Þe cristen mon stondeþ stille, Line 65 And seþþen he talkeþ him tille And seiþ þat "þi wikked wille Schal worche þe ful wo. Þou leuest not in þe mes, Þat euer god þer in is: Line 70 Forþi lyking is þe les And loren artou so, And al þi careful kynde Þat euer bicom of his strende. Men schal in baret þe bynde Line 75 And bete þe ful blo. Whon þou schalt of þis world wende, Þou schalt be tauȝt to þe fende And euermore wiþouten ende In to þe pyne go". Line 80

Þe jeuȝ bigon him to greue: "Þat wol I apertly preue, Boþe of Adam and of Eue Of hem we weore alle Iwrouht. And I dar wage wiþ þe Line 85 Tonnes of wyn þre Þat I schal lete þe him se, Þou seist þat þe bouht, Boþe þe vuel and þe gode: Hou he was don on þe roode; Line 90 And alle þat bi him stoode Whon he to deþe was brouht. So const þou not do For al þi clergye; þerto, As haue I reste oþer ro, Line 95 Þi reson is nouȝt".

Þe cristen mon mildely gon malt: "I telle þe, truwaunt fortalt: Men schal in prison þe palt And putte þe to pyne, Line 100 But ȝif þou lete me him se Þat for vs dyede on þe tre. Seþþe þe maystrie ȝeue I þe, To þe and alle þyne. Loke þow holde þat we say! Line 105 To morwe, set we þat day, We schal wende on vr way To winne vs þe wyne. Þe mon þat fayles of his fare, Al loren is his lare; Line 110 He may droupe and dare Þat schal his trouþe tyne".

Þus þei woke al þe niht, Til on þe morwen at day-liht Þe cristene mon ros riht, Line 115 And radly gon say His matyns in þe mornyng; Seþþe his masse gon he syng, He þonked vr lord in alle þing As he þat most may. Line 120 Soone þei metten, as þei miht. "Haue I don", he seide, "artou diht For to holde þat þou hiht? Þis is vr day. Oþer a nay, or a ȝa? Line 125 Soone tel þou me swa!" Him grauntes forto ga, And went on heore way.

Þe cristen mon seide son, Whon his masse was don: Line 130 "I wol take god me vppon

And bere him wiþ me: Boþe in lond and in leode Al þe lasse is my drede: Þe mon þat to him takeþ hede Line 135 Þe better he may be. Þer nis non enemy in helle Non so fers ne so felle, And he here of vre lord telle, Þat on is in þre: Line 140 For al þe gold in þe grounde He wolde not byde him a stounde Þat he nolde freschly founde And awey fle".

Forþ heo wenten on þe feld Line 145 To an hul þei biheold. Þe eorþe cleuet as a scheld On þe grounde grene. Sone fond þei a stih: Þei went þer-on radly; Line 150 Þe cristene mon hedde ferly What hit mihte mene. After þat stiȝ lay a strete, Clene Ipauet wiþ grete. Þei fond a maner þat was meete Line 155 Wiþ murþes ful schene, Wel coruen and wrouht, Wiþ halles heiȝe vppon loft. To a place weore þei brouht As paradys þe clene. Line 160

Þer was foulene song, Muche murþes among — Hose lenge wolde long, Ful luitel him þouht. On vche a syde of þe halle Line 165 Pourpul, pelure and palle; Wyndouwes I þe walle, Was wonderli Iwrouht. Þer was dosers on þe dees Hose þe cheef wolde ches, Line 170 Þat neuere ricchere wes In no sale souht. Boþe þe mot and þe molde Schon al on red golde. Þe cristen mon hedde ferli on þat folde Line 175 Þat þider was brouȝt.

Þer was erbes growen grene, Spices springynge bitwene — "Such hedde I non sene, Forsoþe, as I say". Line 180 Þe þrestel song ful schille, He newed notes at his wille; Feire floures to fille. Feire in þat fey. And al þe Rounde table good Line 185 Hou Arthur in eorþe ȝod, Sum sat and sum stod O þe grounde grey — Hit was a wonderful siht: As þei weore quik men diht, Line 190 To seo hou þey play.

Þe jewȝ sone in þat tyde He spak þer a word of pryde — Hose wol lenge and abyde May lusten and lere. Line 195 Til a nonnerie þei came — But I knowe not þe name: Þer was mony a derworþe dame In dyapre dere. Squiȝers in vch a syde Line 200 In þe wones so wyde. "Heer schul we lenge and abyde, Auntres to heere". Þenne swiþe spekeþ he Til a ladi so fre Line 205 And biddeþ: þat he welcome be, "Sire Water, my feere".

Þer was bordes Icloþed clene Wiþ schire cloþes and schene. Seþþe a wasschen, I weene, Line 210 And wente to þe sete. Riche metes was forþ brouht To alle men, þat good þouht — Þe cristen mon wolde nouht Drynke nor ete. Line 215

Line 215 Þer was wyn ful clere In mony a feir maseere, And oþer drynkes þat weore dere In coupes ful gret. Siþþe was schewed hem bi Line 220 Murþe and munstralsy, And preyed hem do gladly Wiþ rial rehet.

By þe bordes vp þei stode. Or þei forþere ȝode, Line 225 So weore þei war of a rode Ful raþe, as I rede, And a bodi þer-vppon Þat woundes hedde mony on; Bi him stod Marie and Jon, Line 230 Wepynde good spede, Oþur apostles of prys, Poul and Peter þe wys And seint Jon þe Baptys, Was douhti of dede. Line 235 Whon he was schewed to þe siht, Boþe of leom and of liht Þe mon þat most was of miht, His woundes gon blede.

Þe jeuȝ sone seide he: Line 240 "Holden is þat I hihte þe". Þe toþer seide: "þat schal I se, Certeynly, ful sone". Þe cristen mon hedde a derworþ þinge, On his bodi he gon hit brynge: Line 245 Þat a prest schulde wiþ synge Whon masse schulde be don. "Ȝif þou be god so fre Þat for me diȝed on þe tre, Here þi sone mai þou se" Line 250 And heold him abouen. Whon he was schewed to þe siht, He barst þe buyldynge so briht. Boþe was derk as þe niht Heore sonne and heore mone. Line 255

Al þe gere þat was gay Was þenne Iwasted away. Þe cristene mon gon say: "Beon þeos þi godes here?" Þe jeuh onswerde him wiþ nay Line 260 And ofte merci gon him pray: "I wol leue my lay And on þi lore lere. Sore I doute me of dred. I haue ilost my wed: Line 265 Þo þat are forþ fled Was fendes in feere, Non good, but al ille". No more he tented hem tille. Heo þo stoden ope hulle Line 270 Þer þey furst were.

Þus he ȝeldes him ȝare, Al for his welfare. He seide: "of blisse I haue be bare Seþþen I was furst born. Line 275 Now knowe I wel þat hit mai be Þat ofold god is in þre: Whuch þat þou brouȝt wiþ þe Þis day at morn. He is vre heuene kyng, Line 280 Makere of alle þyng, And schop þe fruit for to spryng, Boþe curnel and corn". Þus he rapes of his res, To vre God he him ches, Line 285 Let al his luþernes, Was poynt to be lorn.

Seþþe þei wente to þe cite, Acordet, as þei scholde be. Who was payed bote he, Line 290 And eiþer of oþer! He þonked god his swete sonde Þat he hedde brouȝt out of bonde, Wel Iwonne to his honde, Bliþely his broþer. Line 295 Mete and drynke þei hedde at wille, Wiþouten grucchyng or grille In trouþe tente þei þer tille, And lafte al þat oþer. Þe mon þat haþ synne Iwrouȝt Line 300

Line 300 And siþen repentes him ouȝt, God is apayed, þat vs bouȝt. Leeue we non oþer.

What was þe monnes nome Ilyk But Sir Water of Berewyk? Line 305 He was wonynge I þe ryk, At Roome was called. Þe pope ȝaf him pouste — Þat mony mon mihte se — Penitauncer for to be Line 310 Of ȝonge and of olde, Seþþe to soyle and to schriue Boþe to mon and to wyue, Eke to mende heore lyue And to þe trouþe holde. Line 3 Þenne tok þei þe jeuȝ Anon cristend hym neuȝ; Þus to vre god he hym kneuȝ And ȝeply him ȝolde.

Notes

• 3 Strophen dieses Gedichts, V. 145-192, sind abgedruckt in Warton's Hist. of Engl. Litt. (ed. Hazlitt III, 181-3). Es ist im Dialekte und wahrscheinlich vom Dichter der Susanna.
• me fehlt vor mihte.
• Ms. wolde st. molde?
• is st. es.
• nach forþi fehlt þi?
• I = In, wie 306.
• þat ist zu tilgen?
• Im Ms. fehlt hier ein Vers.
• rehet = cheer, afrz. rehaiter.
• Ms. two st. to.