Die Kildare-gedichte; die ältesten mittelenglischen denkmäler in anglo-irischer überlieferung von Dr. W. Heuser ...

Page [185]

Anhang.

§ 1. Noch unbekannte Versionen von den Stoffen der Kildare-Gedichte.

I. Die Zehn Gebote und die Sieben Todsünden.

A. Ms. Laud 463 (früher Laud 70)

Legendenhandschrift aus dem Anfang des 15. Jahrhunderts, Pergament. Horstmann hat aus dieser Handschrift Anglia I, p. 55 ff. die durch ihren Strophenbau bemerkenswerte Legende Celestin abgedruckt und dabei auch einige Bemerkungen über die Schreibung des Ms. gegeben. Die Sieben Todsünden und die Zehn Gebote des Laud Ms. sind ebenso wie die nordengl. Version in kurzen Reimpaaren abgefaßt und gehören zu den interessantesten Erzeugnissen dieser Art, welche schon äußerlich der Kildare-Version verhältnismäßig nahe steht; der Hauptteil des Ms. stellt sich zu dem südenglischen Legendencyklus.

Die Schnörkel an k und g, t und d (k…, g…, t…, d…) sind nicht be|rücksichtigt, da sie sich ähnlich sogar an -e befinden, z. B. þe…, he…, ne….In den Texten ist … am Wortende als es aufgelöst, z. B. tusk… = tuskes, dagegen ist der Strich, der sich gewöhnlich in auslaut. ll findet (ll), nicht berücksichtigt; Striche über m, n, da wo nicht Doppelkonsonanz be|absichtigt sein kann, sind beibehalten (z. B. vpon).

Septem peccata mortalia.

                      
                        Iesu, þat wolde for vs dye [folio 157] 
                      
                        And was boren of mayde Marie,
                      
                        Ȝeue hem alle his blessing
                      
                        Þat wole here þis talking,

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                        To helpe þe sely soule to liuen
                      
                        Þat Iesu Crist vs haþ ȝeuen.
                      
                        Þer beo dedly sinnes seueñ
                      
                        Þat letten men to com to heueñ,
                      
                        Þat alle þat leouen in godes lore,
                      
                        Of twelue winter old or more,
                      
                        Euerichon þei sholde knowe,
                      
                        Bot to lerne þei beon to slowe.
                      
                        Listeþ nouh boþe ȝong and olde,
                      
                        And ȝe shole here smertly hem tolde.

                      
                        At pride first I wile begynne,
                      
                        For it is hed of al oure sinne.
                      
                        Grete lordes wiþ londes and ledes,
                      
                        Þat riden vpon gret stedes,
                      
                        Clad in purpre and in pall,
                      
                        In taffata and in sendall,
                      
                        Castelles, halles and chambres wide —
                      
                        Al þis telleþ god no pride,
                      
                        Þat man may wiþ treuthe winne.
                      
                        To liue wiþ honour þat is no sinne
                      
                        In loue and in gode lyf,
                      
                        Wiþ oute contek, wiþ oute strif.
                      
                        Bot he þat haþ londes wide
                      
                        And maigteneþ ouer gret pride
                      
                        And pileþ his pore men þer fore
                      
                        To paie for pride þat haþ he lore,
                      
                        And falseliche winneþ londes and ledes
                      
                        To mayntene his dedes
                      
                        In liking of worldly winne —
                      
                        Suche pride is dedly sinne.
                      
                        Þis is a foule pride ywis,
                      
                        And an oþer pride þer is
                      
                        Among men of lasse catel,
                      
                        And þat ȝe shole here wel.
                      
                        If a man for enuie
                      
                        Of þat he seoþ wiþ his eye
                      
                        Þat his neigheboure beo
                      
                        Better atired þan he
                      
                        And telleþ of him self so myche
                      
                        And atireþ him richeliche,

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                        Riccher þan his auenant is,
                      
                        And þerto winneþ catel amys
                      
                        Wiþ falsdam and trecherie
                      
                        To meyntene his herte hye —
                      
                        Of suche pride, as þat is,
                      
                        God nis not paied ywis.
                      
                        Bot þei a man after his myht
                      
                        Beo clanliche clothed and dyght
                      
                        Of þat he may wiþ treuthe winne,
                      
                        Suche pride is no sinne.
                      
                        God wile þat eche creature
                      
                        Be his poer his body honoure,
                      
                        Bot þat he despise nothing
                      
                        Him þat is in pore clothing.
                      
                        If he despise any wight
                      
                        Þat is poreliche ydight,
                      
                        Þanne doþ he amys,
                      
                        For þat is sinne and pride ywis.
                      
                        And an oþer poynt þer is
                      
                        In pouert pride ywis.
                      
                        Þei a man haue nought,
                      
                        Ȝet he may beo proud in thouht
                      
                        And wilne to winne þing amis,
                      
                        To make him prodder þan he is,
                      
                        And þoruh thouht and wikke wille
                      
                        Þe sely soule he may spille.
                      
                        Wite eche riche man him þerfro,
                      
                        Pride wirkeþ man ful wo.
                      
                        Be Lucifer a man may wite,
                      
                        Fo[r] pride, þat in him was smyte,
                      
                        Þe mychel ioye of heuen he les
                      
                        And þe pyne of helle he chees.
                      
                        Alto long it were to bide
                      
                        To telle þe wo þat comeþ of pride.

                      
                        Nou haue ȝe herd a partye,
                      
                        Nou shul ȝe here of glotonye.
                      
                        It is no glotony ywis [folio 157b] 
                      
                        To ete and drink, whan tyme is,
                      
                        For god almyhty him self wile
                      
                        Þat man ete ynouh be skile.

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                        Man þat swinkeþ and doþ his dede
                      
                        May ete as ofte, as he haþ nede;
                      
                        And he þat eteþ for coueityse
                      
                        And drink so myche, er he arise,
                      
                        Þat wolnot wone his body wiþ inne —
                      
                        Forsoþe þat is dedly sinne.
                      
                        And a man þat haþ his hele
                      
                        And mete ynouh at a mele,
                      
                        Oþer begged oþer bouht,
                      
                        And is ydel and swinkeþ nought
                      
                        And on fasting day ete twie —
                      
                        Forsothe þat is glotonye.
                      
                        A man þat swat not ne swinkeþ
                      
                        And atte tauerne sit and drinkeþ
                      
                        Before mete and in his wille,
                      
                        Of wyn or ale his body to fille,
                      
                        Forsoþe he ne fasteþ nought,
                      
                        He brekeþ his fast in þat thought.
                      
                        A poynt of glotonye þis is,
                      
                        And ȝet þer beon mo ywis.
                      
                        Who so is alday wel dyght
                      
                        And ete in vntyme be nyght,
                      
                        He shent godes creature
                      
                        Þat sholde liuen in mesure,
                      
                        Þer he liþ in glotonye
                      
                        And doþ þe soule gret vilenye
                      
                        And wasteþ þat oþere myght ete
                      
                        Þat hauen gret defaute of mete.
                      
                        Who so deliteþ him þer inne,
                      
                        Forsoþe it is a dedly sinne.
                      
                        And who so haþ drink and mete
                      
                        And anon after þat mete
                      
                        Atte tauerne so long sit,
                      
                        Til him ginne to wante wit,
                      
                        And wile þanne contek beginne —
                      
                        Forsoþe þat is dedly sinne.
                      
                        An oþer glotonye þer is,
                      
                        Þat alle men knowe not ywis.
                      
                        Atte þe mete, if he beo
                      
                        And he may here and seo

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                        Wiþ his ere and wiþ his eye
                      
                        A pore man for honger crye,
                      
                        Man þat eteþ and drinkeþ his fille
                      
                        And let þe pore man stonde stille
                      
                        And myhte helpe him and nille —
                      
                        Þe holy bok sheweþ it be skille:
                      
                        Þat is glotonye and sinne,
                      
                        Suche lyf who so is inne.

                      
                        Long it were forto dwelle,
                      
                        Alle þe articles forto telle
                      
                        Þat þer comeþ of glotonye,
                      
                        Nou shole ȝe here of lecherye!
                      
                        Þer nis noman so wys in londe
                      
                        Þat may make to vnderstonde
                      
                        Lewed men, what lecherie is,
                      
                        Þei nile not leouen it ywis.
                      
                        Þei seyen often þat men may here
                      
                        Þat sengel man and womman in fere
                      
                        Þat beo togedere and children winne,
                      
                        Þat it is no dedly sinne.
                      
                        And al þat out of wedlok is,
                      
                        It is dedly sinne ywis,
                      
                        Horedam and lecherie,
                      
                        Or ellus mot holy writ lye.
                      
                        Þanne wile somme seye þus
                      
                        And despute aȝein Iesus,
                      
                        Þo þat thinke sinne suete
                      
                        Seie þat god almyghty hete
                      
                        Þat man and womman in compaignye
                      
                        Sholde þe world multeplie,
                      
                        Echon wiþ oþer don his kynde.
                      
                        Bot on point þei leue behinde,
                      
                        And is a gret poynt ywis,
                      
                        Soþeliche wiþ outen les,
                      
                        And if ȝe wilen holde ȝoure pees,
                      
                        On þing ȝe shol witen ywis:
                      
                        Þat a kinde þing it is, where man is lef,
                      
                        Forto ete motoun or beof;
                      
                        Bot on þing þer is, be god:
                      
                        And a man ete it vnsode,

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                        Forsoþe he eteþ his oune deth,
                      
                        And godes creature he sleth.
                      
                        Bot tak and seth it wel afyn,
                      
                        Or in water or in wyn,
                      
                        Þan may man at his wille
                      
                        Eten þer of al his fille.
                      
                        And also I seye þus
                      
                        Þat oure lord suete Iesus
                      
                        Wiþ his oune mouth beheet,
                      
                        Er Adam of þe appel et,
                      
                        Þat he and Eue in companye
                      
                        Sholde þe world multeplie,
                      
                        Bot in spousehod he heet,
                      
                        For him þouhte þe ordre swet.
                      
                        Þerfore as ȝe may here:
                      
                        God spousede hem in fere,
                      
                        Eueryman ensample to ȝiue
                      
                        In clene lyf forto liue,
                      
                        In spousehode out of lecherye,
                      
                        And serue god and seint Marie.
                      
                        For men and wymmen of hot blod
                      
                        Þenke þat lecherye is god,
                      
                        Þat nile no spousing abide,
                      
                        Bot liuen in lecherie and pride.
                      
                        Þerfore is mad shrift of mouthe
                      
                        Est and west, north and southe.
                      
                        And an oþere poynt þer is:
                      
                        When man casteþ his eye amis
                      
                        And seoþ an oþer mannes wif
                      
                        Or a womman of sengle lyf,
                      
                        Þat is of hide and of blee
                      
                        A fairere womman þan haþ he,
                      
                        And thenkeþ, I wolde þou were myn —
                      
                        I seye þe be seint Martyn,
                      
                        In þat þought if he were hent,
                      
                        Þan were þat sely soule shent,
                      
                        Wiþ outen shrift and he dye,
                      
                        Er elles mot holy writ lye.
                      
                        Long it were forsoþe to me
                      
                        Forto telle, so mot I theo,

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                        Alle þe pointes þat toucheþ sinne
                      
                        Of lecherie þat toucheþ sinne.

                      
                        Nou haue ȝe herd a partye,
                      
                        What perile comeþ of lecherie.
                      
                        Nou shole ȝe here of coueitise,
                      
                        Þat is an oþer wise!
                      
                        Þei man coueite londes and ledes,
                      
                        Castels, boures and heye stedes,
                      
                        Gold, siluer and tresour,
                      
                        To liuen inne wiþ honour
                      
                        And forto marie wiþ his childur,
                      
                        As dide before him his eldur,
                      
                        And of his catel wiþ hem ȝiue
                      
                        To helpe þe world forto liue
                      
                        And helpe pore þat haþ neode,
                      
                        Boþe to cloþe and to feode,
                      
                        Þei he coueite neuere so myche
                      
                        In þis maner sikerliche
                      
                        Þat he may wiþ treuthe winne —
                      
                        Suche coueitise is no sinne.
                      
                        Bot man þat winneþ londes and ledes
                      
                        Wiþ trecherie and false dedes
                      
                        And leiþ tresour in tresorye
                      
                        And let sely pore men die
                      
                        And let it ligge stille þare,
                      
                        Þat noman þe better fare
                      
                        Ne noman mot þer offe winne —
                      
                        Suche coueitise so is sinne.
                      
                        Or marchaund wiþ hise marchandise [folio 158] 
                      
                        To loken in alle kynne wise,
                      
                        Hou myche he may wiþ1 treuthe winne,
                      
                        Þat no trecherie is inne,
                      
                        And in wille if he beo
                      
                        Þat oþer man als wel as he
                      
                        And of suche, as he may gete,
                      
                        Ȝeueþ pore men cloth and mete —
                      
                        In þis maner þei he winne,
                      
                        It is told for no sinne.
                      
                        Bot who so coueite day and nyght,
                      
                        Boþe wiþ wrong and wiþ right,

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                        Catel winne and leye to hepe
                      
                        And lete tresour ligge and slepe [Ms. sleple] 
                      
                        And fareþ him self wel at mele
                      
                        And ȝeueþ pore men litel dele,
                      
                        And whan he shal bye or selle,
                      
                        Is for coueitise in wille,
                      
                        Þat noman sholde after him winne —
                      
                        Suche coueitise is dedly sinne.
                      
                        Or if a man haue for neode
                      
                        Leid to wedde on of his wede
                      
                        Or any of his oþer thing,
                      
                        Pot or panne, broche or ring,
                      
                        And he þat it haþ in wolde
                      
                        Hereþ telle, it mot beo solde,
                      
                        And he wot it wel in thought
                      
                        And byeþ it haluendel fo[r] nought —
                      
                        A foul coueitise þat is
                      
                        And an oker for soþe ywis.

                      
                        Of pride and glotonye,
                      
                        Of coueitise and lecherie
                      
                        Nou haue ȝe herd a partye,
                      
                        Nou shole ȝe here of enuye!
                      
                        Enuye is a foul sinne,
                      
                        And myche peopul liþ þer inne.
                      
                        If a man haue enuie
                      
                        To his neighbores hosbondrie
                      
                        Of tilthe or of oþer thing,
                      
                        Of triste or of housing,
                      
                        And fondeþ boþe nyght and day
                      
                        To make his better, if he may,
                      
                        Þan his neighbores is —
                      
                        Þer offe doþ he not amis.
                      
                        For whi þat he in wille beo,
                      
                        His neighebour fare as wel as he
                      
                        And be for him neuer þe wors
                      
                        On his body ne in his pours,
                      
                        God nis not wroth wiþ þat enuie
                      
                        Þat turneþ to no felonye.
                      
                        Bot if he haue gret enuie

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                        To his neighebores hosbonderye
                      
                        And wolde, his lond were vntyled
                      
                        And his houses vnhiled,
                      
                        For as myche as he wolde beo
                      
                        Holden better hosebond þan he,
                      
                        Or if he wolde for enuie
                      
                        Seon his neighbore sone die
                      
                        Þan were in manhode arise [So im Ms.] 
                      
                        And better auaunced þan hise.
                      
                        Or if he wolde for enuie
                      
                        Putte a man out of baillie,
                      
                        To make him worse, þan he were,
                      
                        And putte an oþer man þere —
                      
                        In suche enuie who so is,
                      
                        It is dedly sinne ywis.

                      
                        Nou haue ȝe herd of enuie,
                      
                        Of coueitise and glotonye,
                      
                        Of pride and of lecherie —
                      
                        Here is a foul compaignye,
                      
                        When alle beon ybrought in fere;
                      
                        Of angur and ire ȝe shol here
                      
                        Þat beoþ sibbe to þese fiue,
                      
                        And alle beon shrewes, so mot I thriue.
                      
                        Angur and ire þat man is inne
                      
                        Is þe fifte dedly synne.
                      
                        Bot þei man beo of heye blod
                      
                        And wole gladly chānge mod
                      
                        And nile his neighebour bot god,
                      
                        Bot þoruh heynesse of blod,
                      
                        And chit his meyne and his childre,
                      
                        Boþe þe ȝonger and þe eldre —
                      
                        Suche angur and ire, as þat is,
                      
                        Nis no dedly synne ywis.
                      
                        Or if a man is feble of wit
                      
                        And wiþ his neighbore chit,
                      
                        Forto abate his heye mod,
                      
                        And nile his neighbore bot god,
                      
                        Þat chyt for his feble brayn

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                        And wole beon at on ful fayn —
                      
                        Suche angur, as þis is,
                      
                        No dedly synne it nis.
                      
                        Or if his neighbore in a cas
                      
                        Haue doñ him any trespas,
                      
                        Þan he thenk nyght and day
                      
                        To haue amendes, if he may,
                      
                        And non oþer harm him nile,
                      
                        Bot haue amendes be right skile,
                      
                        And after is in gode loue —
                      
                        Suche ire shal beo sone forȝeue.
                      
                        Bot who so is in wille pilt
                      
                        To man þat haueþ him agilt,
                      
                        Forto slen him or to bete
                      
                        In þat angur and þat hete,
                      
                        Or if he dar not him selue,
                      
                        Hyreþ ten men or twelue,
                      
                        To brek his legges or his armes
                      
                        Or on his catel do him harmes,
                      
                        To make him leose his worldly winne —
                      
                        Such ire is dedly sinne;
                      
                        Kep iche man him wel þer fro,
                      
                        Suche ire doþ þe soule wo.
                      
                        Nou haue ȝe herd of lecherie,
                      
                        Of pride and of golotonye,
                      
                        Of coueitise and enuie
                      
                        And of ire a partye,
                      
                        Nou shole ȝe here of an oþer:
                      
                        Nithe and onde, þat is here broþer.
                      
                        Many man wile ete and drinke
                      
                        And wiþ an oþer swete and swink
                      
                        And bere him fair companye
                      
                        And thinkeþ al on felonie
                      
                        And peyneþ him faire forto speke
                      
                        And þenkeþ to ben awreke
                      
                        Of trespas þat was doñ ȝore,
                      
                        And al þat is þe fendes lore.
                      
                        A mon forto turne his loue
                      
                        For þing þat ones is forȝeue,
                      
                        Certenly in þat cas

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                        He nis no better þan Iudas,
                      
                        Þo he was to Iesu comen,
                      
                        He kist him and made him nomen.
                      
                        If any man þat liueþ in londe
                      
                        Leueþ in ire and in onde
                      
                        And nile a man his gilt forȝiue,
                      
                        So may not his soule liue.
                      
                        For holy writ sheweþ þus,
                      
                        As þese clerkes tellen vs,
                      
                        Þei a man go barfot euere
                      
                        And were lynnen clothes neuere
                      
                        And eche day faste watur and bred,
                      
                        Þat not elles cōm in his hed,
                      
                        And made a fyr for his sinne
                      
                        And let his body þer inne brenne —
                      
                        In nithe and onde if he were founde, [folio 158b] 
                      
                        Þe soule eode to hell gronde;
                      
                        Wiþ outen loue and charite
                      
                        May no man saued beo.
                      
                        Þerfore eche man stonde
                      
                        And putte fro him nythe and onde;
                      
                        In his herte if it dwelle,
                      
                        It wile drawe him to helle,
                      
                        Doun into þe deppest pit,
                      
                        Er elles lyeþ holy writ.
                      
                        And who so is in helle pilt
                      
                        For his trespas and his gilt,
                      
                        Seint Poul bereþ witnes:
                      
                        May help him no godenesse —
                      
                        And wiþ seint Poul ywis
                      
                        No lesing founde þer is.

                      
                        Nou haue [ȝe] herd of glotonie,
                      
                        Of pride and of lecherie,
                      
                        Of coueitise and enuie
                      
                        And of ire a partye,
                      
                        Of nyþe and onde, þat is here broþer,
                      
                        Nou shul ȝe here of an oþer,
                      
                        Of sleuthe, whiche a shrewe it is,
                      
                        Þat makeþ men to don amis.
                      
                        Sleuthe is in many wise,

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                        God ȝeue vs grace forto rise!
                      
                        If man is hol wiþ outen hārm
                      
                        And liþ in his bed wārm
                      
                        And here to þe messe ringe
                      
                        Or knille to þe sakeringe
                      
                        And liþ stille and nile not rise —
                      
                        Þan he is slouȝ in godes seruise.
                      
                        Or man þat al þe wike long
                      
                        Wirkeþ mete and hyre to fong,
                      
                        Bot he peyne him on sonenday,
                      
                        Also forþ as he may,
                      
                        As erly to go to chirche,
                      
                        As þat day he goþ to wirche,
                      
                        And thankeþ him þat al haþ sent,
                      
                        Forsoþe in sleuth he is hent.
                      
                        Or if a man serue an oþer,
                      
                        A fremde man or his brother,
                      
                        In any maner of swink
                      
                        For hyre, mete or for drink,
                      
                        Beo he lewed, beo he clerk,
                      
                        If he ouȝt forsleuthe his werk,
                      
                        Þat ȝeueþ him mete and seruise —
                      
                        Of þat sleuthe he mot arise,
                      
                        If þat he wile treuly winne
                      
                        Mete and hyre wiþ out sinne;
                      
                        Who so wile god queme,
                      
                        Of such sleuthe he mot him ȝeme.
                      
                        And an oþer sleuthe þer is
                      
                        Þat eileþ man ywis.
                      
                        In lentone, whan men sholde beo shriuen
                      
                        And in clene lyf liuen,
                      
                        Þer beoþ many men and fele
                      
                        Þat tenden to worldes wele,
                      
                        Þat here oþere neodes beo do
                      
                        And seye þat men mot tende þer to,
                      
                        Out of sinne to beon ybound —
                      
                        Forsoþe in sleuthe þei beo founde.
                      
                        God þat wolde fro deþ arise
                      
                        Ȝeue us grace fro sleuþ to rise!
                      
                        Also whan a man is shriue

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                        And thenkeþ in clene lif to liue,
                      
                        To þe preost whan he is com,
                      
                        And he haþ his penance nom
                      
                        And let it out of his þouht
                      
                        And forȝet and doþ hit nought,
                      
                        Þe penance þat is him aioynt,
                      
                        Wit him wel wiþ þat poynt!
                      
                        Bot he do it verrayment,
                      
                        Þere he is in sleuthe hent.
                      
                        Forsoþe it is a foul sinne
                      
                        Any man to liuen inne!
                      
                        Þese beo dedly sinnes seuen
                      
                        Þat letten men to com to heuen.
                      
                        God ȝeue us grace þo to shone
                      
                        Þat we beon worþi forto woñ
                      
                        In þe ioye þat no serwe may greue,
                      
                        Þat god haþ mad to oure beheue.
                      
                        Amen, amen, par charite,
                      
                        If þat his blessed wille beo.
                      Expliciunt VIItem peccata mortalia. Incipiunt decem precepta.

Incipiunt decem precepta.

                      
                        Alle þat thenke to beo shriuen
                      
                        And out of dedly sinne to liuen,
                      
                        Boþe men and wymmen,
                      
                        Herkeneþ godes hestes ten!
                      
                        Þat alle þat haue ȝeres twelle,
                      
                        As god comaunded him selue,
                      
                        Þe ten hestes þei sholde holde,
                      
                        Alle þat were ten wintur olde,
                      
                        Boþe heye and eke lowe
                      
                        Þe ten hestes sholde knowe.
                      
                        Vnderstond wel þis:
                      
                        A lesse lord þan god is
                      
                        Þat comaunded his men to do
                      
                        A thing þat his herte fel to

Page 198

                      
                        And behette hem auauncement
                      
                        To holden his comaundement —
                      
                        Which man is it þat nolde
                      
                        Gladliche his hestes holde,
                      
                        Wiþ oute hous and wiþ inne,
                      
                        His auauncement to winne?
                      
                        And non auauncement þer nis
                      
                        Aȝein þe blisse of heueñ ywis
                      
                        Þat god haþ granted alle men
                      
                        Þat holden his hestes ten.
                      
                        Wel aughte boþe ȝong and olde
                      
                        His comaundementz to holde!
                      
                        Herkeneþ nou, ȝe lewede men,
                      
                        Whiche beon þe hestes ten,
                      
                        As it is founde in holy writ
                      
                        Among þese clerkes deope in wit.

                      
                        Þe forme comaundement ywis
                      
                        And þe hyest, þat is þis.
                      
                        We shole honoure ouer alle thing
                      
                        Suete Iesu, heuene king,
                      
                        Eche morw, whan we rise,
                      
                        Begynne first in his seruise.
                      
                        For beo he lewed man or clerk
                      
                        Þat begynneþ any werk,
                      
                        Er he serue þe king of myght,
                      
                        He halt not þat heste aryght.
                      
                        For who so gynne any thing,
                      
                        Er he serue oure heuen king,
                      
                        What man euere it beo ywis,
                      
                        A gret tokenyng it is,
                      
                        Þat he loueþ þat werk more,
                      
                        Þan he doþ godes lore.
                      
                        Þerfore eche man þat may
                      
                        Serue god formest a day,
                      
                        Er he do any oþer thing,
                      
                        Þis is oure forme begynnyng.
                      
                        Of godes hestes hered mot he worþe [folio 159] 
                      
                        Þat he lette us here in eorþe!
                      
                        Oure euen cristen we shold loue,
                      
                        As god hette þat sit aboue.

Page 199

                      
                        God nile not þat we ȝeue
                      
                        Þat we sholde oure self bi liue;
                      
                        Bot if we may ought spare
                      
                        And oure self wel fare,
                      
                        God wile þat we ȝiue
                      
                        To helpe oure euene cristeñ to liue.
                      
                        And if we may ȝeue hem nought,
                      
                        Wilne we hem goed in oure thought;
                      
                        And bot wee doon verrayment,
                      
                        We breke godes comaundement.

                      
                        Þat oþer comaundement is þis
                      
                        Þat god, þat almyghty is,
                      
                        King of heuen þat al do may,
                      
                        Comanded vs holde oure haliday,
                      
                        Boþe lewede men and clerkes,
                      
                        And not only of eorþly werkes,
                      
                        Bot holde vs out of dedly sinne,
                      
                        Þat we falle not þer inne,
                      
                        And helpe þe pore wiþ al oure myght —
                      
                        Þan holde we oure haliday right.
                      
                        Þus sholde echeman on liue
                      
                        On haliday kepe his wittes fiue,
                      
                        Forto mende dede and thought,
                      
                        Þat al þe wike is yuele wrought.

                      
                        Þe thridde comaundement ywis,
                      
                        Þat god comaunded, so is þis,
                      
                        Þat echeman be his myght
                      
                        Honoure fader and moder aright.
                      
                        Wel aughte eche man in eorþe,
                      
                        Were þei neuere so litel worþe,
                      
                        To honoure fader and moder here,
                      
                        And resoun were, as ȝe may here.
                      
                        Suete Iesu, ful of myght,
                      
                        Cam into erþe fro heuene light
                      
                        And fette hise into heuene;
                      
                        Blessede beo his names seueñ
                      
                        Þat com his moder to honoure,
                      
                        Wel aughte we to menske oure!
                      
                        And who so wile not beo war
                      
                        To honoure þe moder þat him bar

Page 200

                      
                        And þe fader þat him gat,
                      
                        Beo him wel war of þat:
                      
                        Bot he helpe hem at nede,
                      
                        Shert lyf shal ben his mede
                      
                        And luþer ending ywis,
                      
                        Or holy writ spekeþ amis.
                      
                        And who so honoureþ aright
                      
                        Fader and moder be al his myght,
                      
                        He shal haue atte gynnyng
                      
                        Long lyf and goed endyng.

                      
                        Nou shole ȝe here of þe ferthe
                      
                        Þat god haþ comanded in erþe,
                      
                        Þat in ernest and in game
                      
                        In ydel nempne not his name.
                      
                        If a man sek or wroth
                      
                        Swereþ any gret oth
                      
                        And nempneþ godes name þer inne,
                      
                        Forsoþe þere he doþ dedly sinne.
                      
                        Whan he any oth swereþ,
                      
                        Godes limes he totereþ,
                      
                        Or in gamen or in chest,
                      
                        Þer he brekeþ godes hest,
                      
                        Þat nempneþ his name in any stede,
                      
                        Bot it beo in holy bede.

                      
                        Þe fifte comaundement is þis,
                      
                        Þat holy writ telleþ vs:
                      
                        After man haþ wit nomen
                      
                        And is out of fonston comen,
                      
                        Shal lete misbeleue gon
                      
                        And leoue in no god bot on.
                      
                        Who so leoueþ on fals sermoun
                      
                        Oþer on coniuresoun,
                      
                        He is out of right beleoue
                      
                        And is about god to greoue.
                      
                        Suche beleoue were goed laft,
                      
                        It is not bot þe deoueles craft.

                      
                        Þ e sixte comaundement of tene
                      
                        Of godes sone wiþ out wene:
                      
                        Vpon bok swere no fals oth,
                      
                        Noþer for leof ne for loth!

Page 201

                      
                        First whan he wile begynne
                      
                        To swere fals for worldes winne,
                      
                        He forsakeþ his cristendam,
                      
                        Atte fonston þat he nam,
                      
                        And bind him in an oþer bond,
                      
                        On bok whan he leiþ his hond;
                      
                        Beo he lewed, beo he clerk,
                      
                        He forsakeþ al þe werk,
                      
                        Alle þe werkes of godenesse
                      
                        Þat euere he dide more and lesse,
                      
                        In al his liue þat he haþ wrought,
                      
                        Of þat oth if he ought.
                      
                        And whan he kissed þe bok,
                      
                        His gode dedes all he forsok;
                      
                        He forsakeþ his godes bedes
                      
                        Þat he haþ seid in gode stedes,
                      
                        Þat he haþ beden al his lyf,
                      
                        Sithe þat he was boren of wif.

                      
                        Þe seueneþ hest þat god het,
                      
                        In paradys þo he Adam let,
                      
                        Þat for mede ne for destresse
                      
                        No man bere fals wittenesse
                      
                        Of thing þat falsnesse is inne,
                      
                        For no mede ne for no winne.
                      
                        Of falsnes comeþ myche wo,
                      
                        Wite eche man wel him þer fro!
                      
                        Bere no fals witnes in lond
                      
                        Aȝein him þat haþ right on honde!

                      
                        Þ e eighteþ hest, as ȝe shal here:
                      
                        Þat god þat bought vs alle deore
                      
                        Comaundeþ alle þat beon him leof,
                      
                        Þat no man shal be no theof;
                      
                        For who so is nomen þer inne,
                      
                        Theofte is a foul sinne.
                      
                        Man þat haþ not þat him is leof
                      
                        And þer fore becomeþ a theof
                      
                        And steleþ trewe mennes goed,
                      
                        To meyntenc his hie blod —
                      
                        Þerfore þese fendes mette,
                      
                        Thefte and coueitise togedere sette.

Page 202

                      
                        An oþer sinne beginneþ to wake,
                      
                        Whan mannes catel doþ aslake
                      
                        And steleþ goed his pouert to hide,
                      
                        Þer he is fallen in pride.
                      
                        Or if it is a pore man
                      
                        Þat no mester ne can,
                      
                        Or is feble and may not swinke
                      
                        To winne him noþer mete ne drinke,
                      
                        Or is not strong mon to gete
                      
                        And wondeþ [Ms. wondeþ deutl.]  for pride to gete his mete
                      
                        And liueþ wiþ theft and mycherie —
                      
                        Pride is in his companye,
                      
                        Þoruh þe fendes quointyse.
                      
                        Nou is theft and coueitise
                      
                        And pride, þe thre, mette infere,
                      
                        Of þe ferþe nou shol ȝe here.
                      
                        If a man haue not mete ryf,
                      
                        Bot simpeliche to holde his lyf,
                      
                        And is pilt in a wille
                      
                        To stele his body forto fille,
                      
                        Þer he falleþ in glotonie.
                      
                        Nou beon foure in companye:
                      
                        Theofte, coueitise, pride þerto [folio 159b] 
                      
                        And glotonie, a shrewe also.
                      
                        Þe fifte shrewe þer is it
                      
                        And ful neigh his felawe sit.
                      
                        A man þat may swete and swinke
                      
                        And winne clothes, mete and drinke
                      
                        And steleþ to liue in esy lif,
                      
                        Be it man, mayde or wif,
                      
                        Forsoþe in sleuthe he is founde
                      
                        And in þe fifte sinne ybounde.
                      
                        Ȝet þer is þe sixte shrewe,
                      
                        Þer of taken ȝeme ful fewe.
                      
                        Whan a man becomeþ a theof,
                      
                        He doþ god an oþer gref.
                      
                        He supposeþ: þe feond is
                      
                        More of poer, þan god is,

Page 203

                      
                        Forto take to him hede
                      
                        To fynde him þat he haþ neode,
                      
                        And in his hert he is adrad
                      
                        Þat god þat on þe Rode was sprad
                      
                        Nile him not eche day ȝiue
                      
                        Þat he myht bi liue.
                      
                        Þer he is in wanhope falle,
                      
                        Þat is þe worste sinne of alle.
                      
                        In wanhope who so is nome,
                      
                        He shal neuere in heueñ come.

                      
                        Þe nithe comaundement þer is,
                      
                        Þat no man þat cristened is
                      
                        Shal wiþ tong ne wiþ honde
                      
                        Sle no man in no londe.
                      
                        A man may, as ȝe may here,
                      
                        Slen a man in two manere:
                      
                        Wiþ mannes honde is þat on,
                      
                        So is slayn manyon;
                      
                        And wiþ tong þat oþer is,
                      
                        Þat is worse þan þat ywis.
                      
                        If a man procureþ an oþer ought
                      
                        And is in wille thought
                      
                        Þat he leose his honour
                      
                        Or his worldes tresour,
                      
                        In al þat in him is,
                      
                        He sleþ him in þat wille ywis.
                      
                        And in a quest if he beo,
                      
                        Þat a man shal dampned beo
                      
                        Falseliche wiþ oute gilt,
                      
                        In þat quest who so is pilt,
                      
                        And he take þer offe hede
                      
                        Þat man wile dampne him for mede
                      
                        And he beo at þat assent
                      
                        At þe day of Iugement,
                      
                        Þat point shal on him beo pilt
                      
                        Of his deth to bere þe gilt.
                      
                        An oþer maner slauht þer is:
                      
                        If a pore man fareþ amis
                      
                        For hongur or for misese
                      
                        And þou myht him ought ese

Page 204

                      
                        And holde þi lyf and his,
                      
                        If þou suffre him fare amis,
                      
                        In þat point and þou dye
                      
                        And þou it wiþ þin eye [Sinn? Entstellt!]  —
                      
                        Be þe hed þat I bere,
                      
                        Of his deth þou shalt answere.

                      
                        Þe laste comaundement of ten
                      
                        Þat god comaunded alle men:
                      
                        Coueite non oþer mannes wif
                      
                        Forto apeire here beiþer lif.
                      
                        Coueite not his wif alone
                      
                        Ne his oþere godes none
                      
                        Ne no wif, oþeres spouse,
                      
                        Ne no goed þat falleþ to house.
                      
                        Nou haue ȝe herd, wymmen and men,
                      
                        God almyhties hestes ten.
                      
                        I haue told ȝou no falsnesse,
                      
                        Bot þat þe bok bereþ witnesse.
                      
                        Bot þer nis nouþer ȝong ne old
                      
                        Þat of articles þat I haue told
                      
                        Þat may wite him wiþ hem alle,
                      
                        Þat he ne shal in somme falle.
                      
                        We beo so feble sikerliche,
                      
                        We mote sinnen nedeliche.
                      
                        Bot godes mercy is so myche,
                      
                        Þat, þei we sinne dedliche,
                      
                        Est and west, norþ and souht,
                      
                        God haþ ordeined shrift of mouþ.
                      
                        Þei man falle, he shal arise
                      
                        And turne aȝein to his seruise.
                      
                        Þer nis man so holy non
                      
                        Mad of flessh and of bon,
                      
                        Þat so wel loke him may,
                      
                        Þat he ne falleþ seuen siþe a day.
                      
                        God lene vs sone rise
                      
                        And ende in his suete seruise. Amen.

Page 205

B. Ms. Harl. 1706 (Papier, 15. saec.).

Auf die Zehn Gebote und Sieben Todsünden folgen noch: Septem virtutes, 7 opera charitatis etc. etc.; zuletzt 4 virtutes cardinales, 8 beatitudines. Die Decem Mandata finden sich in gleicher Fassung auch in Ms. Harl. 5396.

Decem Mandata.

                      
                        Thou schalte haue on god and no moo
                      
                        And ouer alle þinge loue him also.
                      
                        Goddys name in ydel take þou nouȝte,
                      
                        Ne swere by noþinge þat god haþ wrouȝte.
                      
                        Haue mynde to halowe þi holyday
                      
                        Wiþ alle þi mayn, man and maye.
                      
                        Þi faþer and modyr worschipe boþ
                      
                        Wiþ counselle, comforte, meete and clooþ.
                      
                        Þou schalt not slee lowde ne stylle
                      
                        Wiþ tonge ne knyfe ne wycked wylle.
                      
                        Lechery schalt þou noon doo
                      
                        In wylle ne worde ne dede also.
                      
                        Þou schalt not stele þi neyȝbores þinge,
                      
                        By gyle ne raueyn ne wronge wiþholdynge.
                      
                        Þou schalte not speke no false wytnessynge,
                      
                        In worde ne dede make no lesynge.
                      
                        Þi neyȝbores þinge coueyte þou noon,
                      
                        Ne vnmeuable þinge, feld ne towne.
                      
                        Þi neyȝbores wyfe desyre þou nouȝte,
                      
                        Seruant ne mayden ne oþer auȝt.
                      
                        Þese ben þe hestes tenne
                      
                        Þat god comaundeþ to alle men.

Sieben Todsünden.

                      
                        Pryde ys hede of alle kynne synne
                      
                        Þat makeþ mannes soule fro god to twyne.
                      
                        To wicked hyȝnes he wolde ay
                      
                        And loueþ to myche ys owne noblye;
                      
                        Hym self he preyseþ in hys þouȝte,
                      
                        And oþer men he setteþ at nouȝte.

Page 206

                      
                        Enuye foloweÞ pryde comenlye. [Inuidia] 
                      
                        Whan men faren welle, he is sorye;
                      
                        Whan men faren yuel, he ioyeþ wiþ ynne;
                      
                        He laweþ neu[e]r, but at synne.
                      
                        Wraþe vn to þise two ys knytte; [Ira] 
                      
                        To take vengeaunce ys alle hys wytte,
                      
                        To slee, to smyȝte, to procure woo,
                      
                        To wary folke, to sclaunder also.
                      
                        The couetouse man knoweþ no skylle, [Auaricia] 
                      
                        Alle þis world maye not hym fylle;
                      
                        The worldes welþe he wylleþ ay
                      
                        Wiþ ryȝte or wronge gete, wheþer he may.
                      
                        Glotenye haþ grete appetyte [Gula] 
                      
                        To eete erly and late hys delyȝte.
                      
                        He loueþ no mesure of etynge,
                      
                        And aye he wold be drynkynge.
                      
                        The sixte synne ys lecherye, [folio 306]  [Luxuria] 
                      
                        To many a soule yt worcheþ noye.
                      
                        But men yt leue and hem amende,
                      
                        In fyre of helle þ[e]i schulle be breende.
                      
                        Slownesse ys a cursed þinge, [Accidia] 
                      
                        For yt ys ay wery of wylle doynge.
                      
                        Good werke hym loþeþ to bygynne,
                      
                        And lytyl þere of wolle he blynne.
                      
                        Þese ben þe synnes seuene
                      
                        Þat reuen a man þe blysse of heuene.

C. Ms. Arundel 20 (Papier, 15. saec.).

Die Zehn Gebote finden sich auf fol. 43-56 b, die Sieben Todsünden von fol. 57-70 b; beides sind lang ausgeführte und mit Narrationes durchsetzte Traktate. Als Probe möge die erste Strophe von beiden genügen.

                      
                        The fyrst commandment off all þe lawe
                      
                        Ys: þou xalt haue no mo goddes but on,
                      
                        Hym only to worshypp, loue and awe
                      
                        With hart and thouȝt, as sure as stone,
                      
                        The maker off man — other god ys þer non —
                      
                        In whom 3 persones be closyd and knytt,
                      
                        Gyffyng to man all wysdom and wytt.

Page 207

                      
                        Sacrylege in Englyssh ys, as I can conceyff,
                      
                        A thyng þat a man fro þe chyrch withholde,
                      
                        Or with ouȝt licens any thyng fro þem veyff,
                      
                        Be yt any jewell or syluer or off golde,
                      
                        Or þe lest thyng, þat can be thouȝt or tolde,
                      
                        Þat ys with In þe holy chyrches pryvylage —
                      
                        All such thyng ys callyd sacrylege.

D. Ms. Laud 416 (Papier, 15. saec.).

Hierunter eine Probe der Sieben Todsünden; für die Zehn Gebote vgl. Rel. Ant. II, 27.

Here begynnyth a tretyce of the VII dedly synnys. [folio 35]

                      
                        Of the VII dedly synnys now will I telle.
                      
                        The maister of hem and gouernaunce is callid pride, [Superbia.] 
                      
                        Which is cheif rewler and prynce of hell.
                      
                        Fro the blisse of hevyn he was made doune slide,
                      
                        And in the lowyst place he is in er(th)e [Ms.?, undeutlich!]  to abide,
                      
                        For euer mor wyth pardon and redempcioun
                      
                        For his grete pride and high presumpcioun.

                      
                        His purpose was to haue gouernid all hevyn,
                      
                        To be cheif hym self and haue þe dominacioun,
                      
                        And to sytte above all the sprytes VII.
                      
                        Thus this Lucyfer by fals vsurp[a]cioun
                      
                        Wold haue be lyke to hym that ys lord of eueri nacioun,
                      
                        Wherfor he was cast downe and made lowest of all,
                      
                        Becawse he wold to his souerayne in estate be egall.

II. Christ on the cross.

A. Ms. New Coll. Oxford LXXXVIII. (Pergament, Anfang des XIV. Jh.)

Dieses in einen lat. Text eingeschobene Stück, das ich erst im letzten Augenblicke gefunden habe, steht dem 1. Teile der Kildare-Version sehr nahe und beweist, daß derartige Gedichte um 1300 gäng und gäbe waren. Die Anklänge sind

Page 208

z. T. wörtlich (cf. Turn mi bodi abuten, oueral þu findest blod), der hier zu Grunde liegende lat. Text (nach Augustinus) ist fast derselbe wie in der Kildare-Verson, ja er entspricht der englischen Übertragung wenigstens bei den Schlußworten viel genauer als dort. Die Hs. würde nach dem Katalog etwa gleichzeitig sein, der englische Text ist aber viel altertümlicher als in der Kildare-Version, wie das Relativfürwort þe beweist. Hier wie dort finden sich Reimpaare, doch ist der Vers noch unregelmäßiger gebaut als in der Kildare-Version und nicht geeignet uns über diesen größere Klarheit zu verschaffen; die Alliteration ist nur ganz schwach ausgeprägt. Daß der 1. Teil der Kildare-Version eine originale Dichtung darstellt, ist nunmehr ausgeschlossen; auch der lat. Text dieses Teiles muß eine viel|benutzte Stelle aus Augustin gewesen sein, während die übrigen lat. Sätze die weitere Ausführung des Dichters darstellen mögen.

Respice in faciem Christi tui et uidebis eum dorso flagellato, [folio 179] latere sauciato, capite puncto uepribus, manibus perforatis, pedibus confossis; uolue et reuolue illud dominicum corpus a latere usque ad latus, a summo usque deorsum, ubique inuenies dolorem que vndique terrorem.

                      
                        Man and wyman, loket to me,
                      
                        U muchel pine ich þolede for þe!
                      
                        Loke up one mi rig, u sore ich was ibiten,
                      
                        Loke to mi side, wat blod ich haue ileten!
                      
                        Mine uet an mine honden nailed beth to þe rode,
                      
                        Of þe þornes prikiing mine hiued urnth ablode.
                      
                        Fram side to side, fro hiued to þe fot,
                      
                        Turn mi bodi abuten, oueral þu findest blod.
                      
                        Man, þin hurte, þin hurte þu turne to me,
                      
                        For þe vif wndes, þe ich tholede for þe!

Auf der folgenden Seite (fol. 179b) stehen noch folgende englische Verse:

                      
                        Louerd, þu clepedest me,
                      
                        An ich naȝt ne ansuarede þe,
                      
                        Bute wordes scloe and sclepie
                      
                        "Þole, þet [= ȝet]  þole a litel", bute "þiet [= ȝiet]  and þiet" was endelis,
                      
                        And "þole a litel" a long wexis.

Page 209

Vgl. für die letzten schwer verständlichen Zeilen den darüber stehenden lat. Text: [....nisi uerba lenta et sompnolenta modo ecce modo siue paululum, sed modo et modo non habebant modum, et inde [Ms. In] paululum in longum ibat.]

B. Ms. Bodl. 42 und Eccl. Dun. A III 12.

Dasselbe geht hervor aus den beiden folgenden anfangs von mir übersehenen Gedichten, welche auf demselben lat. Texte beruhen. Cf. Furnivall, E.E.T.S. 15 p. 214 (neue Auflage p. 243): Part of a Meditation of St. Augustine. Ich gebe das Stück des Durham-Ms. nach Furnivall, das der Hs. Bodl. 42 nach dem Original, zumal dieses von Furnivall nur zur Hälfte abgedruckt ist.

Ms. Bodl. 42, fol. 250.

                      
                        Wit was his nakede brest and red of blod his side,
                      
                        Blod[i] was his faire neb, his wnden depe an uide, [Ms. rude?] 
                      
                        Starke waren his armes, hispred op on þe rode;
                      
                        In fif steden an [Fur. in]  his bodi stremes hurne of blode.

Das Folgende fehlt bei Furnivall.

Respice in faciem Christi et uidebis dorso flagellato, latere sauciato, capite puncto uepribus, manibus perforatis, pedibus confossis, volue et reuolue illud dominicum corpus a latere usque ad latus, a summo usque deorsum et circumquamque inuenies dolorem et cruorem; et hoc potest anglice sic exponi.

                      
                        Loke, man, to Iesucrist, hineiled an þo rode,
                      
                        And hipicz(!) his nakede bodi, red himaked mid blode;
                      
                        His reg mid scurge isuunge, his heued þornes prikede,
                      
                        Þo nailes in him stikede.
                      
                        Þuend and trend þi lordes bodi, þurch wam þu art iboruhe,
                      
                        Þer þu mit hi-uinde blode an sorue.

Ms. Eccl. Dun. A III 12.

                      
                        Wyth was his halude brest and red of blod his syde,
                      
                        Bleye was his fair handled, [= andwlit]  his wund [lies wnd]  dop ant wide,
                      
                        And his arms ystreith hey up-hon þe rode;
                      
                        On fif studes on his body þe stremes ran o blode.

Page 210

C. Ms. Arundel 507.

14. Jahrhundert; zusammengewürfelte Handschrift von Papier und Pergament. Inhalt lat. und afrz., nur wenige engl. Verse hier und da eingesprengt.

                      
                        Synful man, loke vp and see, [folio 10] 
                      
                        How reufulli I hyng on rode,
                      
                        And of my penaunce haue pitee
                      
                        With sorughful herte and drery mode.
                      
                        Alle þis, man, I sufferd for þe,
                      
                        My flesh bee ryuen, forbled my blode.
                      
                        Lift vp þi herte, þou calle on me,
                      
                        Forsake þi synne, haue mercy gode!

D. Ms. Add. 31042 (Br. Mus.)

Pergamenths. des 15. Jhs.

Das lange Gedicht enthält 15 Strophen, von denen hier die beiden ersten als Probe gegeben werden.

                      
                        Man, to refourme thyn exile and thi losse [folio 94b] 
                      
                        Frome paradyse, place of moste plesance,
                      
                        The to restore I hange appone this crosse
                      
                        Corouned with the thorne, woundede with the launce
                      
                        Handes and feete to encrese my greuance,
                      
                        With scharpe nayles my blode made ryne doune —
                      
                        When euer thou felis any perturbance,
                      
                        Looke one my woundes, thynke one my passioun!

                      
                        Thynke and remembre apon my blody fface,
                      
                        The reede, the sponge, aysele mengyde with galle,
                      
                        Full fele rebukes, O man, for thi trispace,
                      
                        With hatefull spittynge þat one my vesage dide falle.
                      
                        Kyng of Iewes in scōrne þay dide me calle,
                      
                        Blyndfelde, bobbyde by false derysioun —
                      
                        O man, for thi comforthe, amonge thi troubles alle,
                      
                        Looke one my woundes, thynke one my passioun!

Page 211

III. Lullay.

Ms. Harl. 7358.

Nach dem Katalog "Codex chartaceus, saeculi forte decimi tertii". Der Sprache und dem Äußeren nach zu urteilen ist die Hs. eher in das 14. Jahrhundert zu setzen. Form, Inhalt und Zusammenhang des Gedichtes machen Schwierigkeiten.

                      
                        Lollay, lollay, þu lytel chyld,
                      
                        Wy wepys þou [Ms. þu, so stets ausser 1, 1; daher auch þou in die Anfänge ein|gesetzt.]  so sore?
                      
                        Þou þat were so sterne and wyld,
                      
                        Þou art bycome meck [so im Ms.]  and myld,
                      
                        Wyþ þe, Marye, þat wente wiþ chyld
                      
                        To sauy þat was forlore.

                      
                        Lollay, lollay, þou lytel chyld,
                      
                        Wy wepys þou so sore?
                      
                        Ych wot ywys, for þer hyt ys,
                      
                        Þat god ys sone suffred þis.
                      
                        Mercy, lord, y haue do mys!
                      
                        Ywys, ich nel no more.

                      
                        Lollay, lollay, þou lytel chyld,
                      
                        Wy wepys þou so sore?
                      
                        Ich tock [so im Ms.]  anappel of þat tre,
                      
                        Þat my fader forbyd hyt me,
                      
                        Warfore ydampned schal y be,
                      
                        Yff my wepyng nere.

                      
                        Lollay, lollay, þou lytel chyld,
                      
                        Wy wepys þou so sore?
                      
                        An appel wyt a rewfoul res
                      
                        Aȝens my fader wylle y ches
                      
                        Werfore myn hertage y lys,
                      
                        For al my wepyng so sore.

Lollay, lollay, þou lytel chyld, Wy wepys þou so sore?

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                        Lollay for wo, þou lytyl þyng,
                      
                        Þou lytel barun, þou lytel kyng,
                      
                        Mankynde ys cause of þy wepyng,
                      
                        Þou þat hast ylyued so ȝore.

                      
                        Lollay, lollay, þou lytel chyld,
                      
                        Wy wepys þou so sore?
                      
                        Ȝet þou schalt suffry paynys mo
                      
                        In herte, in fot, in hondes to —
                      
                        Ich wot ywys þat ys al so,
                      
                        To sauy þat were forlore. [Im Ms. steht hinter Strophe 1, 2, 3, 5 eine Klammer und L oder LL, wodurch anscheinend die Worte Lollay, Lollay, þou litel chyld . . . . sore zum Refrain gemacht werden; hinter Str. 4 und 6 fehlt die Klammer, wohl weil sie aus Platzmangel hintereinander geschrieben sind. Ich habe mir erlaubt, die Worte Lollay etc. nicht als Refrain zu geben, sondern an den Anfang der Strophe zu stellen, wie es in Str. 1 im Ms. der Fall ist und wie es der Reim und Bau der Strophe zu verlangen scheinen. Ich nehme an, daß ein Abschreiber die Anfänge der Strophen fälschlich als Refrain zum Vorhergehenden gehörig auffaßte und dann Klammern und Abkürzungen gebrauchte, wie es für Refrains üblich war. —]

IV. Earth.

Ms. Cambr. Univ. Libr. Ii IV 9. Papierhandschrift des 15. Jhs.

Diese Version fiel mir leider erst sehr spät in die Hände. Vor allen anderen Hss. der jüngeren Version zeichnet sie sich dadurch aus, dafs sie wörtliche Anklänge an die Kildare-Version enthält und damit einen weiteren und sicheren Beweis für direkten Zusammenhang liefert. Dahin gehören Stellen wie:

7, 4. þe rof of his hows xal ly on his chyn (Kild. 2, 6).

13, 1-4 zeigt starke Anklänge an Kild. 2, 1-4 und hat fast die gleichen Reimwörter.

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20, 1-2 . . . .blayke is his bours (Kild. 6, 4-5).

6, 1-2 cf. weye: . . . . palfreye scheint aus Kild. 5, 1-2 entstellt zu sein, vielleicht auch 5, 1-4 aus Kild. Str. 1.

Übrigens ist die Version schlecht überliefert und viele Strophen sind unvollständig. —

                      
                        Erthe vpon erth is waxin and wrought, [folio 67] 
                      
                        Erthe takys on erth a nobylay of nought;
                      
                        Now erthe vpon erthe layes all his þought,
                      
                        How erthe vpon erthe settys [Ms. sattys]  all at noght.

                      
                        Erthe vpon erth has hallys and towres,
                      
                        Erthe says to erth: this is alle owres;
                      
                        But quan erth vpon erth has byggyd his bowres,
                      
                        Than xal erth for the erth haue scharpe schowres.

Erthe vpon erth wolde be a kyng, But how erth xal to erth, thynkyth he no thyng.

                      
                        And of the same erthe mad god man,
                      
                        And sethe he made that erth and callyd it Adam,
                      
                        For loue of erthe, the wych was woman,
                      
                        That erth in this erthe fyrst began.

                      
                        Erthe goos on erth and tyllys with hys plowe,
                      
                        Erthe ageyn erth holdys it full toght,
                      
                        Erthe vpon [erth] stelis hym a flogh,
                      
                        Erthe on this erth thynkys, he has neuer jnowe.

                      
                        Erth vpon erthe gos in the weye,
                      
                        Prykys and prankys on a palfreye.
                      
                        When erth has gotyn erth alle that he maye,
                      
                        He schal haue but seven fote at his last daye.

                      
                        Than xal not be lykyng vnto hym,
                      
                        Bu(t) [Ms. Bu (t radiert oder weggewischt).]  an olde sely cloth to wynde erthe jn.
                      
                        When erthe is in erth for wormys wyn,
                      
                        The rof of his hows xal ly on his chyn.

When erthe says to erth: my rent þou me bryng, [folio 67b] Then has erth fro erthe a dolfull partyng.

Page 214

                      
                        How erthe louys erth, wondyr me thynke,
                      
                        How erth for erth wyll swete and swynke.
                      
                        When erth is in erthe broght with in the brynke,
                      
                        What as herth than of erth but a fowle stynke?

                      
                        Erthe wrotys in erth as molys don in molde,
                      
                        Erth vpon erth glydys as golde,
                      
                        As erth leve in erthe euer more schulde.

Erthe vpon erth, mynd euer more þou make How erthe xal to erth, when deth wyll hym take.

                      
                        Be ware, erth, for erthe for sake of thi sowle;
                      
                        Erthe may of erth at þe last take a fowle,
                      
                        When erthe is in erthe here so long in his slogh.

                      
                        For erth gos in erth walkand in vede,
                      
                        And erthe rydys on erth on a fayr stede;
                      
                        When he was [lies has]  gotyn in erth erth to his mede,
                      
                        Than is erth layde in erthe wormys to fede.
                      
                        Whylke ar the wormys the flesch brede?
                      
                        Gode wote the wormys for to ryght rede.

                      
                        Erthe ageyn erthe I holde it onkynde,
                      
                        Erthe is as sone wroth as is the wynde,
                      
                        Swyche fowle erth mekyl may we fynde,
                      
                        That wyl speke fayre before vs and falsly behynde.

                      
                        When erth vpon erth begynnys to be wroth,
                      
                        Erth vpon erth swerys many a gret othe,
                      
                        Erth berys pride in herte and in cloth;
                      
                        When erth is layde in erth, þan xal it be loth.

                      
                        Erthly coveytous makyth erth to be schent,
                      
                        Erth for this erth yeldes a gret rent.
                      
                        If erth in thys erth levyd in good entent,
                      
                        Than dare erth nevyr recke, where that he went.

                      
                        Erth vpon erth is stronge as a mast,
                      
                        And erth wyth is erth fyghtys ful fast;
                      
                        There is non so stowte that in erth may hym cast,
                      
                        And alle xal we be erth at the last.

Page 215

                      
                        Erthe bygyth hallys and erth bygith towres;
                      
                        When erth is layd in erth, blayke is his bours;
                      
                        If erth haue welth, he dwellyth in flowres;
                      
                        And if erth haue mysdon, he getyth scharpe shours.

                      
                        If erth wyste in erth, quat that erth is,
                      
                        Ther wolde neuer erth in erth do amys.
                      
                        God mad erth of erth and namyd it for his,
                      
                        Adam of erth in erthly paradys.

                      
                        God walkyd in erth, as longe as he wolde.
                      
                        He had not in this erth but honger and colde,
                      
                        And in this erth also his body was solde,
                      
                        Here in this erth, whan þat he was XXXti ȝere olde.

                      
                        God lytyd in erth, blyssed be that stounde! [folio 68b] 
                      
                        He sauyd hys herth with many a scharpe wounde;
                      
                        For to sawe erth owght of hell grounde,
                      
                        He deyd in erth vpon þe rode with many a blody vounde.

                      
                        And god ros ovght of the est this erth forto spede
                      
                        And went into hell, as was gret nede,
                      
                        And toke erth from sorowe, þus [? Ms. y̛ = þus oder þis?]  erth forto spede —
                      
                        The ryght wey to heuen blys Iesus Cryst vs lede! Amen. [Darunter gute buntfarbige Zeichnung: Ein blühender Junker in reichem Gewande und blonden Locken steht auf einem grünen Grashügel, in welchem gerade unter ihm ein Gerippe liegt. Um das Ganze schlingen sich Bänder mit den Inschriften: 1. ffestina tempus et memento finis; 2. In omni opere memorare nouissima et in eternum non peccabis.]

§ 2.

Noch nicht benutzte anglo-irische Handschriften.

Sichere und rein anglo-irische Hss. kann ich aus der Bibliothek des Lambeth-Palace in London in je einer neuen Version von Conquest of Ireland und Secreta Secretorum nach|weisen. Eine dritte spätere Lambeth-Hs. aus dem 16. Jahr|hundert, obwohl unrein und von der Schriftsprache stärker

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beeinflußt, ist sicher in Irland geschrieben, wie schon aus der Zusammensetzung dieser irischen Materialsammlung, aber auch aus den sprachlichen Eigentümlichkeiten hervorgeht. Das einzelne Pergamentblatt aus der Hs. Laud 526 der Bodl. ist sicher anglo-irisch, wenn auch in ziemlich verwilderter Sprache überliefert. Zweifelhaft könnte dagegen das Urteil über ein Oxforder Ms. von Piers the Plowman erscheinen, da hier keinerlei äußere Gründe auf Irland weisen (? Tutivillus). Auch die Sprache ist nicht rein, da der Einfluß der Vorlage sich sehr stark bemerkbar macht. Trotzdem scheint mir der Schreiber ein Anglo-ire zu sein, wie konsequentes þrogh (= through) und scho (= she), häufiges þai, har, ham (neben dem aus der Vorlage stammenden þey, her, hem), leyn(gh)th und streynth, vor allem aber auch Verstummen des auslaut. -e bei südlichen Formen (regelm. hit) und Doppelschreibung von Konsonanten in tholled, brekkeþ, berre etc. beweist. Die anglo-irischen Eigentümlichkeiten prägen sich in der Sprache dieses Denk|mals viel schärfer aus, als in den Gedichten gegen die Friars (cf. S. 75), die vielleicht besser weggeblieben wären. Ich werde daher auch von diesem Denkmal, das Skeat unter den C-texten seiner Ausgabe erwähnt, Proben mitteilen, um es wenigstens notdürftig zugängig zu machen.

I. Ms. Lambeth 598 (Pergament, 15. Jahrhundert).

Enthält auf fol. 1-30 die bereits nach anderen Hss. ver|öffentlichte Eroberung von Irland. Der Text scheint den beiden Hss. der E.E.T.S. gleichwertig zu sein. Am Schlusse (fol. 30b) ist in anderer Schrift hinzugefügt: secundum Thomam Bray.

Cf. Conquest of Ireland, E.E.T.S. 107, p. 73 (Rawl. Ms.).

Cap. 30. Undyr this, as the land of Irland was yn good [folio 14b] pees vndir ham that weryne left the lond forto kepe, byfell on a day that a certeyn place to a parlement was sette betwen Hughe de Lacy, to whom the kyng hade yewe Deulyne to kepe with trust, and the kyng of Mythe. On a nyght, whan the parlement shold bene a morowe, a knyght, that was Morych Fiz Geraudes eme and Robert Gryffyn by name, thoght in his sleppe that he sawe a miche flotte of wyld swyne yernyng vppon Hughe and Moryche and a bor among ham myche and

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grymly ouer al othir come to [to ham] and with his tuskes wold haue smytten and ham slayn, yef he boldly ne hade come betwen and slayn the bore and holpid ham both. On the morowe thay went vnto the place, ther the parlement was, at a [folio 15] place that sithin ys callid O Roykes hyll. [Rorike-is hille] Frust thay heldyn thar parlement from fer by messagres goyng betwen; ther aftyr thay tokc [Ms. tok] surte and othis swar and comyne togaddyr aftirward. Natheles fewe and ylyk many on euery syd, and thay vnweppned, but the one ther swerdes, the othir thar sparys, [sparthes] and her felawchippe on euery syde fro tham. [fere fro ham] Gryffyn, that with Moryce come to the parlement, was ful thoghtfull of the vysycion [Ms. vysyc̄ōn] that he sawe; he name to hym VII knyghtis of his owyne kyne, tham that he most trust to har bolnys, and drowyn ham on the one halff of the hylle, as ney as thay myght leppyn vppene thar stedes with cheldes about har nekkes and speres yn hand, and for oon purposse pleydyn and prykkiden yn the felld ayeyne othir, so that yn what syde the parlement turneden, throgh encheyson of suche play thay myght be fondyne redy. Roryk and Hugh kepte thar parlement of many thynges, but yn no thyng thay myght acord and begone to depart as yn wreth. The traytour Roryk hade yn his thoght the treysone that he hade purueyd. He made semblant and hym [drow hym] besydes as forto pyssen and made tokyn to his men that thay hastely shold come vnto hym. Whan he this hade doone, he turnyd ayene with his spar [sparth] an hey, his face al blak with ful snell goyng. Moryche was warnyd of his eme by the vysycion that he sawe, stode and beheld al this; he tok out his swerd and cryed vppon Hughe and mynd [mynyd] hym and dyde hyme selff agayn the traytour forto defend hym. The traytour rane agayne Hughe hym for to smyte; har latymer yede betwen hym and the strok, and he smote of hym the oon arme of, fast by the shuldir. Moryce stod and camplyd with his swerde ayeyne the spar and loude cryed to har men. And har Hugh myght be in anny state hym selff forto defend, throgh gret hastyng he fell doune [doune fehlt] twies a bac [&] [& übergeschrieben im Ms.?] vnneth throght helpe of Moryce that hym defendid thus escapyd with

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his lyff. The whyll that this was, Rorykes men ful many come to his callyng out of dalis and woddes, about rynnyng to ham with speres and sparrys, [sparthes] forto berewe Hughe and Moryce the lyff. Than Gryffyn and his felawis come rynnynge vppon har hors styffly to ham; the traytour sawe ham commyng and lepe to hors that hym was broght and wold do hym to flyght, and as he lepe vppe, come Gryffyn and with his sper smote hyme and his hors throgh out and slaye tham. Withe [über withe ist etwas übergeschrieben] hym wer slayne thay that yn so myche pereyll the hors hym broght, and his hede smytten of, and ynto England theraftyr to the kynge hit send, and al his men into al þe felddis dide [dide fehlt] discomfyd and slayne [Ms. slaye.] ful many. Rolff Robertes sone Fiz Steuuyn was the othir boldist þat day yn the feld. —

II. Ms. Lambeth 633 (Pergament, 15. saec.).

84 Blätter, sehr schön geschrieben, echt anglo - irische Schreibung, Text dem in E.E.T.S. veröffentlichten gleichwertig.

cf. Secreta Secretorum E.E.T.S. Extra Series 74, p. 189.

This moch haue I said of this vertu Temporans for this [folio 45] tym. Now her I write old storiens [stories] in commendacioun of the sam vertu. Capitulum XXX^m quintum.

Aristotle, prince of Philosofers, saith that to the vertu of temporance two thinges appartenyth, that is to witte: Abstinence of met and drink and chastite of body. And [folio 45b] therfor old wertius men this two thinges thay kepeden. This apperith by this story. Alexander, the conquerour, so mych he myght endure abstinence that oft tymys, whan he was in trawayll, he asked non othir met but bred only. A gret clerk Vegece vs tellith in his bok of cheualri, that hit appartenyth not to a gode knyght to lowe es [ayse] no delittes of body. Als moch is abstinence auenaunt to a knyȝt and messure, as to a monk. Valeri tellith that wemen of Rom in old tym dranke

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no whyn, ffor throghe glottonny and dronkenys men fallith ofte tymys in luchury which ys contrari to chastite and to chevalri. And therfor, as Waleri tellith, that Cornelius Scipion, whan he was send by the Romannus into Spayn to mak hit subiette [subiecte] to Rom, anon he comaunddit that no brothell wher found in har companny, and therfor thowo [ebenfalls thowo] thousand wemen weren drywin away from the oste. Well wiste the vies prince that loue of wemen and branding fylthed of lechuri nesshith a man is hert and hym makith lik a woman, so that he lesseth his strei[n]th and hardinis and manhod and chewalri. Mor acordith to a lechurer a stef staf than a swerd, and an hechill than on sheld [an chelde] othir a bukelere. And therfor saith poetes in fabill that the well of Salynace maketh men, that ther in ham bathith, chaunge in to wemen, In singnificaunce and token that tho men which ham bathith in the well of lechuri lessith wertu and walure and becomyth feint and cowardis and febill, as wemen ben. The sam clerk Valeri vs tellith of a nobill yong man that was calit Spurius, that was so ffair of face, of body and fetares, [ebenfalls fetares] that all wemen were meuet and temptid of his gret beaute. This yong man [folio 46] that well parcewid, but he had no talent of foly. And therfor, als moch as he wold not be suspecte of foly ne yew occasioun ne cheissoun of ille and syn, he woundit all his face and many woūnddes ther in maked, wherfor the beaute away went and the syn seissit. The lossit clerk Vegesce of kyng Alexander tellith that after a gret battaill ydon and gret pray taken a nobill damsell off gret beaute was pre|senttid to the kyng. But he that al was yevin to chiualry, he nad no cure of lechury. And therfor he endeynet not ons hyr to reward, but send hir to the sam prince that she affor was spoussed to. Whan this prince and his men saue this, thay praysid moch the wertu and the gret leaute of Alexander, and ther thay hym recevid as kyng and lord. Such anothir tall vs telith Walery and saith that at that tym, whan Scipion had won and conquerit Cortage, as is in this bok aforvrittin, among all othir ostages a fair maid of gret Porache [Paroge] to hym was presentid. And whan this conquerour had vndirstand that

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a Ientilman of the contre had hir trouthid, he maked bring afor hym hir fadir and hir moder and the Ientilman that hir trouthid. And to ham saide he: [Ms. saidene] "This gold that ye haue broght to me for this damsell is ransoun, I hit yew and graunt in free mariage to hir and to this Ientillman that hir has trouthid." Of this grette Ientrie all men mervelith and this nobill lord mor gladly for ay servid. By this vertu Temporancia a man gouernyth hym self, and with the vertu of Iustice othir men. But rathir and more providabill ys to [folio 46b] a man to gouern hym self than othir mene.

III. Ms. Lambeth 623 (Pergament, Sammelhs. des 16. saec.).

Von den mannigfachen, hier zusammengebundenen Stücken des 2. Teiles (177 Blätter), sind als wichtigste zu nennen (nach dem Katalog):

An old book of the Conquest of Ireland fol. 6-60, daraus die mitgeteilte Probe, vorher geht fol. 1-5 Description of Ireland etc.

Sir John Plunket's Book relating to Ireland (fol. 60-101), (z. T. annalenmäßig nach Jahreszahlen geordnet).

Walter Hussey's Book relating to Ireland (who died in 1554) fol. 108-121.

Der Rest (fol. 102-108 und 120-177) wird im Katalog sehr mit Recht als: confused collection relating to Ireland bezeichnet; erwähnenswert ist daraus: A fragment of the History of Ireland fol. 149-151.

Cf. Conquest of Ireland, E.E.T.S. 107, p. 130 (geringfügige Abweichungen im Text).

Aboute that tym befell a wondere adwenture [Ms. wonders adwenturs?] in a [folio 47] wodde in Mythe off a prest þat went by the way, and as he came throgh þat wodde, ther came a man agaynste him and bad him for gode sacke and lowe that he shuld turne with him, for to shriue his wiffe that laye seke ther. The prest

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torned with him, and when he came somwhat neye, he hard groninge and waylinge, as thogh hit wer off a woman; and when he cam right ther, then was hit a wolff that laye ther groninge. The prist saw that and was well sore afrayed and turned him awaye. The man and the wolff bothe spacke vnto him and bade him that he shuld not be afrayed and that he shulde turne to her to hire confecion. Þe prist toke hart to him and blessyd him and went and satt besydes her, and the wolff spacke to him and confessyd her to the prist; and when they had þat done, the prist remembrit him sylff that such a evel shapen thinge shuld haw swche grace for to specke. But yet throgh gode will he moght haw suche grace sheved vnto him and insyght off othere thinge. He satt doune and asked þe wolff off the outcommen men callid þe Inglishe men þat in to þe land wer commen, how hit shold behape off them. Þe wolff ansuered and sayd þat for þe sine off þe peopell off þe land almighty god was angre with them and sent þat [folio 47b] peopell for to bringe them in to thraldome, and so they shuld contynue, vntyll þe same peopell had repentyd ther synnis, and then they shuld haw pouere for to be delywered off ther thraldome and wreched lyffe.

IV. Ms. Laud 526.

Ein einzelnes Pergamentblatt, das letzte im Ms. Der Text und die Schreibung sind ziemlich verwahrlost. Dasselbe Zeichen dient für konsonant. y und þ, vokal. und konsonant. y unter|scheiden sich durch einen Schnörkel; doch ist auch ȝ vor|handen, z. T. selbst für þ gebraucht (cf. 4mal oȝis).

Cf. Conquest of Ireland, E.E.T.S. 107, p. 134.

It̛ þe titil þat þe kyng of Ingelonde hath to Irland.

[W]han [W abgeschnitten.] þe kynges son had rayede all þyng þat vas for honour to cum into Irland, he cam ynto Mylforth, and þer he toke scippyn; he landit at Waterford on þe morrowe. þer cam with hym .CCC. knyȝtys and dyuerse sauyouers. [Ms. sauyou's] He aryvyt

Page 222

þe ȝere of his fadyre ys held .XXII., Of his fadire is comyng yn to Irland .XIII., Of the Erle [Ms. Erld?] is comyng .XIV., Of Robert Stevuenyson is comyng .XV., The yere of our lord is incarna|cioun .MCLXXXV. Robert Stevuenysson vas forman to þe erle and oppynet þe vay, þe Erle to [lies com (= cō)] to the kyng, The kyng to his son. And mych hit is to prayse hym þat fyrste cam into Irland so boldly þat all þing fulle endit and þe lordeschepe wan before all oþer. Men may vell vndirestond þat Englisch men hayth vary ryȝgthe onto Irland. And all þe princes of the land yald ham selffe onto þe kyng wit hare own gode vill, to be euermore sugetes to hym and to all his. Opon all þis þe pope of Rome þat is hed of all cristyndom, he [and that hath] hayth a speciale ryght to all Iles as vyde as þe worle. And [he yaf plenerly and] con|firmyt to þe kyng þe lordschepe of þe said land, as is tofor told. And of eldyre ryght we fyndith wrytt þat þe kynges of Englon hayth to Irland of Dermovnd [D Germon, R Gormon] Belynes son, kyng of Birtayn, þat is nov callit Englon, he cam yn to Irland and wane þe land and many yer bare hym truage, And oþeris after hym in to Byrtayn. þer after þe kyng Arture had tryvage [Ms. tryvag] oute of Irland, and Gylmory þe kyng þat was with oþer kynges of þe Ilandes was with hym at þe grett feste þat he held at Carllyovn. On oþer halfe þe folke of Irland cam formost oute of Bastiles and oute of Bayovne þat longyth nowe (to) [(to), im Ms. Klecks] Gas|quyne, Were of kynges of Englon ben lordis. And þis men may vndirestand, þat goyth [both] by olde ryght and by neve, þe kynges of Englon oȝt to hawe þe lordscheppe off Irland, and also þai ȝalde ham selfe to kyng Harry fiȝt emperis and by grett oȝis and ostagisse. And þe pope acursit þo þat were aganys the kyng. And þeȝe þay þroghe kynd [? Ms. kyne] falssenes and vnstabillnyse þat yn ham is þat [þat fehlt] lityll tell of oȝis and of worscheppe. And þai stand acurssit of þe pope fore the brekyn of hare fayth and hare oȝis. Thay ware nevire assolitt ne vnbownd of hare oȝis. Man may bynd hym selffe with such þynges, bot not so lyghtly hym selffe vnbyn. Et cetera. [so im Ms.]

Page 223

V. Ms. Douce 104, Bodleiana (Pergament, 15. saec.).

ed. Rel. Ant. I, 257.

                      
                        Tutiuillus, þe deuyl of hell', [folio 112b] 
                      
                        He wryteþ har names, soþe to tel,
                      
                        admissa [extrahantes].
                      
                        Better wer be at tome for ay
                      
                        Þan her to serue þe deuil to pay,
                      
                        sit vana [famulantes].
                      
                        Þos [þoS unter Klecks.]  women þat sitteþ þe church about,
                      
                        Þai beþ al of þe deuelis rowte,
                      
                        diuina [inpotentes].
                      
                        But þai be stil, he wil ham quell,
                      
                        Wiþ kene crokes draw hem to hell,
                      
                        ad pacienciam flentes.
                      
                        For hys loue þat ȝou der boȝth,
                      
                        Hold ȝou stil and Iangel noȝth,
                      
                        sord[em aperte deprecantes]!
                      
                        Þe blis of heuen þan may ȝe wyn,
                      
                        God bryng vs al to his In,
                      
                        amen [semper] dicentes!
                      
                        Vnde Beda:
                      
                        Qui osculetur meretricem, pulsat campanam inferni.

Die lateinischen Stellen finden sich auf beschmutzter Stelle im Ms. und sind zum großen Teil wenig leserlich; ich folge darin Wright, bin aber vielfach zweifelhaft (vgl. die Klammern).

Cf. E. E. T. S. 54, p. 46.

                      
                        Nesciat dextera, quid faciat sinistra. [So im Ms.!]  [folio 12a] 
                      
                        Let noȝt þi lyft hand: our lord techeþ,
                      
                        Wit what delyst: wiþ þi riȝth syde.
                      
                        Ȝit mede þe meyre: mildely besoȝth—
                      
                        Boþ schereues and sariauntes: and such as kepeþ þe law,
                      
                        To punchen [Sk. punyshen]  oppon pilories: and oppon pynnyng stokes, [Sk. pynyng-stoles] 
                      
                        As bakers and brewers: bouchers and kokes—

Page 224

                      
                        For þos men doþ most harme: to þe mene pepil,
                      
                        Ryȝth þroȝth regratry: rentes ham byggiþ,
                      
                        Wiþ þat þe pore pepil: schuld put in har wombe.
                      
                        For tok þei euer trewly: þai tymbrid noȝth so hey,
                      
                        Ne boȝth noȝth burgages: be ȝe ful certayn.
                      
                        Ne þai haue no pite on þe pepil: þat parcelmel most byg;
                      
                        And þoȝth þei tak hem vntydi þyng: no treysoun þei ne holt hit;
                      
                        And þoȝth þai sil [Sk. fulle]  noȝth ful: þat for law is seled,
                      
                        He grypiþ þer for a grot: as for grayþ trowþe. [Sk. grete treuthe] 
                      
                        Many sondry sorowes: in cytees falleþ ofte,
                      
                        Boþ þroȝth fire and þroȝth flode: and þroȝþ fals pepil,
                      
                        Þat begiliþ gode men: and greueþ hem wrongly.
                      
                        Þe woch þat cried on her knees: þat Crist hem avenge
                      
                        Her on þis erþe: or ellys in hell',
                      
                        Þat so begiliþ hem of her gode: þat god hem sende [folio 12b] 
                      
                        Feuer oþer foul euel: oþer fire on her houses,
                      
                        Moreyn or oþer myschef: and many tymes hit falleþ,
                      
                        Þat Innocens is herd: In heuen among seyntes
                      
                        Þat loude cried for hem: to our lorde and to our lady boþ,
                      
                        Graunt [Sk. To graunten]  to gylours on erþe: grace to amend.
                      
                        And haue her penans on pur erþe: and noȝth in peyn [Sk. þe pyne]  of hel'.
                      
                        And þan falleþ þe fire: on fals menus [Ms. men̛]  howses,
                      
                        And gode mennus for her gylt: gloueþ [Sk. gloweþ]  on fire after.
                      
                        All þis haue we seen: þat sum tyme þroȝth a brewer
                      
                        Many burgages haþ be brant: and bodyes þer In,
                      
                        And þroȝth a candel clemyng [Sk. clomyng] : in a corsed place
                      
                        Fel adoun and forbrent: forþ al a rew. [Sk. þe rewe] 
                      
                        For þi meyres þat makeþ fremen: me þynk þat ȝo [Sk. þei]  oȝth
                      
                        For to sper and aspy: for ony spech of siluer,
                      
                        What maner mester: or marchondis he vseþ,
                      
                        Or he wer vndirfong fre: and felew in ȝour rollys.
                      
                        Hit is noȝth semely for soþe: in cyte and in burgh toun
                      
                        Þat vsurreris and regraters: for ony kyn ȝiftes
                      
                        Be franchesed for a fre man: and haue a fals name.
                      
                        Ac Mede þe maide: þe maire ho besoȝth
                      
                        Of al such [Ms. suth; ch und th, ct und tt sind oft nicht zu unter|scheiden.]  sillers: siluer to take

Page 225

                      
                        Or presentes wiþ out pans: and oþer priue ȝiftis,
                      
                        Haue rewþe of regratours: þat haue riche handis.
                      
                        In quorum manibus iniquitates sunt.
                      
                        "Loue ham for my loue": quod þis lady Mede,
                      
                        "And suffer ham sum tyme: to syll aȝenes þe law".
                      
                        Salamon þe sage, a sermond he made,
                      
                        In amendement of mayres: and oþer stiwardes,
                      
                        And wittenesse, [Sk. witnessyth]  what worþ of hem: þat wol tak med.

V b.

Cf. E. E. T. S. 54, p. 52.

                      
                        Sunt infelices, qui[a] matres sunt meretrices. [folio 13b] 
                      
                        Þere scho is weld [Sk. wel]  wiþ ony kyng: wo is þe reme,
                      
                        For scho is fauorable to þe fals: þe woch defouleþ trowþe.
                      
                        By Iesus wiþ hir Iuweles: þe Iustice scho scheueþ;
                      
                        Scho lyeþ aȝenes þe law: and letteþ hym þe gate,
                      
                        Þat faiþe may [Sk. may not haue hus forþ: hure florines ...]  haue no forþ: for florens goþ so þyck;
                      
                        And ledeþ þe law as hir lust: þat lewte myȝt wyn, [Sk. abweichend, = 2 Verse.] 
                      
                        Ȝe mase [Sk. The mase]  for a mene man: þeȝth he mote euer.
                      
                        Law is so lordely: and loȝth to mak an ende,
                      
                        Wiþ out presentes oþer pans: he pleseþ ful few. [folio 14] 
                      
                        Trew burgeis and bond: to noȝt scho bryngeþ oft,
                      
                        And al þe comune in care: and in couetys;
                      
                        Religioun scho al torent and out of rule to libbe.
                      
                        Þere is [Sk. nys]  cyte vnder sone: ne non so riche reume,
                      
                        Þere scho is lowed or let by: þat last schal ony whyle,
                      
                        Wiþ outen wer oþer wo: oþer wyked lawes
                      
                        And costomes of couetys: þe comune to distrw.
                      
                        Vnsittyng sufferans: hir suster, and hir sylf
                      
                        Han al most mad: but Mary þe help,
                      
                        Þat þe lond ne loueþ þe: and ȝit lest þyn ouen.
                      
                        For clerkes and couetys: mede haþ knet togyders,
                      
                        Þat al þe wit of þe world: is waxen to gyle.
                      
                        Þus ledeþ þis lady þi lond: now, lord, ȝif hir sorow!

Page 226

                      
                        For pore men dar noȝth pleyn: ne non pleynt schew,
                      
                        Such a maister is mede: among men of gode!
                      
                        Þan mourned scho and mened hir to þe kyng,
                      
                        To haue space to spek: sped ȝif scho myȝth.
                      
                        Þe kyng graunt hir grace: wiþ a god will.
                      
                        "Excuse þe, ȝif þou canst: I can no mor sig;
                      
                        For consciens accusceþ þe: to conge þe for euer."
                      
                        "Nay lord", quod þat lady: "leue hym þe wors,
                      
                        Whan ye wote witterly: in whom þe wrang lygeþ.
                      
                        Þere þat myschef is gret: mede may help.
                      
                        And þat þou knowest, consciens: I can noȝt chide,
                      
                        Ne depraue þi persone: wiþ a proud hert.
                      
                        Wel þou wost whi: but þou wilt gab,
                      
                        Þou hast hanget at my half: [Sk. hals]  eleuen tymes,
                      
                        And al so gryp [Sk. grypen of]  my gold: and gyuen it, wer þe likeþ.
                      
                        Why þou wreþest þe now: wondir me þynkeþ,
                      
                        Ȝit y may, as y myȝth: menske þe wiþ ȝiftis
                      
                        And mayntene þi manhod: mor þan þou knowest.
                      
                        Ac þou hast famed me foule: byfor þe kyng here.
                      
                        For kylde I neuer no kyng: ne consail [Sk. consailed]  so to don,
                      
                        Ac y haue saued my sylf: sexty [Sk. and sexty]  þousand lyues,
                      
                        Boþ here and ellys where: In al kyn londes.
                      
                        Ac þou þi sylf sothely: who so hit sig durst, [folio 14b] 
                      
                        Hast hartyd [Sk. arwed]  many hardy man: þat had wil to fyȝth,
                      
                        To brent and to bowen: [Sk. To brennen and to bruten]  to beten doun streynghes. [Sk. strengthes] 
                      
                        In contrees þer þe kyng come: consciens hem [Sk. hym]  let,
                      
                        Þat he fell [Sk. felde]  noȝth his foes: þo fortune hit wold,
                      
                        And as his wardys wer ordeyned: at þe wil of our lord.
                      
                        Kaytifly þou, consciens: consayled [Sk. consailedist]  þe kyng to lett
                      
                        In his enemys handis: his eritage of Fraunce.
                      
                        Vnkyndely is þat, consciens: a kyngdom to syll,
                      
                        For þat [Sk. þat yse]  conquerit þroȝth a commune help: a kyngdom or a duchery.
                      
                        Hit may noȝt be sold so liȝthely so many part [Sk. here part]  axeþ
                      
                        At [Sk. Of, Ms. ac]  folk þat feȝth þere for: and folowt þe kynges wyl.
                      
                        Þe lest lad þat longeþ wiþ hym: [Sk. to hym]  be þe lond won,

Page 227

                      
                        Lokeþ aftyr lordchip: or ellis large mede,
                      
                        Wher by he may as a man for euer more liue after.
                      
                        And þat is þe kynd of a kyng: þat conquereþ on [Sk. of]  his enemys,
                      
                        To help ylich [Sk. heyeliche]  al his ost: or ellis graunt
                      
                        Þat al his men may [Sk. mowen]  wyn: do þere wiþ har best.
                      
                        For þi I consaile no kyng: ony consail aske
                      
                        At consciens þat couetiþ: [Sk. yf he c.]  to conquer a reume.
                      
                        For schuld neuer consciens be my consaile: "wer I kyng", quod mede, [etwas geändert, Sk. hat 2 Reihen.] 
                      
                        "Ne be marechal ouer my men: þer y most fiȝth.
                      
                        Ac had y, mede, be his marachal: ouer his men in Fraunce,
                      
                        I durst haue leid my lif: and no las wed,
                      
                        He schold haue Ibe lorde of þat londe: of leyngþ and of brede etc.

Cf. E. E. T. S. 54, p. 139.

                      
                        Quod [Quod ausgeschrieben]  Perkyn þe ploughman: "be seint Peter of Rome, [folio 35a] 
                      
                        I haue an half acre to ere: by þe hey wey.
                      
                        Had I erred þis half acre: and sowed affter,
                      
                        I wold wend wiþ ȝou: and þe hey way tech."
                      
                        "Þat were a long lettyng": quod a lady in a schare, [Sk. skleire] 
                      
                        What schuld we women: worch in þe whiles?"
                      
                        "I pray ȝou for ȝour profite": quod Peres to þe ladyes,
                      
                        "Þat sum sow þe sake: ffor schedyng of þe whete;
                      
                        And þe [Sk. ȝe]  worthy women: wiþ ȝour long fyngers
                      
                        Þat ȝe on silk an [so Ms.]  on sendel: sew, whan tyme is,
                      
                        Chesebles for chapelens: churches to honour.
                      
                        Wyffes and wodowes: wol and flex spynnen;
                      
                        Consciens consaileþ ȝou: cloþe for to make,
                      
                        For profite of þe pore: and plesaunce of ȝour silfen.
                      
                        For y schal lene hem liflod: but þe lond faile,
                      
                        As long as I lyue: for þe lordis loue of heuene.
                      
                        And al maner men: þat by þe mold susteyneþ,
                      
                        Helpeþ hem to worch witterly: þat wynnen ȝour fode." [folio 35b] 
                      
                        "By Cryst", quod a kneȝth þo: "he kenneþ vs þe beste,

Page 228

                      
                        Ac a[l] þat tyme trewly: taugh [Sk. on þe teeme trewely: tauht]  was I neuer.
                      
                        I wold, y couþe", said þe kneȝth: "by Crist and his modir,
                      
                        I wold assay sum tyme: for solas as hit were."
                      
                        "Sikirly, sir kneȝth": said Peres þan,
                      
                        "I schald [Sk. shal]  swynke and swete: and sow for vs boþ
                      
                        And labour for þo þat þou louest: al my [Sk. for þe while þou lyuest al þy . .]  liue tyme,
                      
                        In couenante þat þou kep: holy kyrke and my silfe
                      
                        For wastours and fro wicked men: þat þis world strueþ.
                      
                        And go hunte hardely: to hares and to foxes,
                      
                        To berres [Sk. bores]  and to buckes: þat br[e]kkeþ [Ms. bkkeþ (Sk. brekeþ)]  adoun my hegges,
                      
                        And affaite þi facouns: to kyl þe wyle [Sk. wylde]  fowles,
                      
                        For þei comeþ to my croft: my corne to defoule." etc.

Cf. E. E. T. S. 54, p. 264.

                      
                        Omnis sanctus in tempore oportuno. [folio 67a] 
                      
                        Þan consciens comford vs: boþ clerge and scriptour
                      
                        And seide "Cor contritum et humiliatum: deus, non despicies".
                      
                        Paciens was wel apaide: of þis propir seruice,
                      
                        And mad myry wiþ þis mette: ac I mourned euer,
                      
                        For a doctour at þe hey dees: drank wyne faste —
                      
                        Ve vobis qui potentes estis: ad bibendum vinum —
                      
                        And ete many sondry mettes: morturus [Sk. mortrews]  and podynges,
                      
                        Braune and blod of gees: bacoun and colopus.
                      
                        Þan said I to my silf: so paciens hit herde:
                      
                        "Hit is noȝth þre dayes don: þis doctour þat he preched
                      
                        At Poules byfor þe pepil: what penance þei suffered, [folio 67b] 
                      
                        All þat couete to come: to any kyn Ioy,
                      
                        And how Poule þe appostil: what penance he þolled
                      
                        For our lordis loue, as holy letter telliþ:
                      
                        "In fame and frig[ore]"
                      
                        Ac me wondereþ in my witte: why þat þei ne precheþ,
                      
                        As Poul þe appostil: preched to þe pepill ofte
                      
                        "Periculum est in falsis fratribus!"
                      
                        Holy writte biddiþ men be war: and wysely hem kepe,

Page 229

                      
                        Þat no fals frere: þrogh flateryng hem begyle.
                      
                        Ac me þynkeþ loþe þoȝth: þoȝ I latyn knew, to lac any sect,
                      
                        For al be we bretheren: þoȝth we be diuerse cloþed.
                      
                        Ac I wist neuer freke, þat frere is Icalled:
                      
                        Of þe four mendinauntz [Sk. Of þe fyue mendynauns . and made eny sarmon] 
                      
                        Þat tok hit for his teme: and told hit wiþ out glose.
                      
                        Þei precheþ þat penaunce: is profitable to þe soule,
                      
                        And what mychef and male ese: Crist for man þolled.
                      
                        Ac þis doctour and diuinour, quod I, and decretister of canoun [Sk. canon, Ms. canom] 
                      
                        And also a gredy glotoun: wiþ two grete chekes,
                      
                        Haþ no pite of vs pore: he perfowromeþ euel.
                      
                        "Þat he precheþ, he proueþ noȝth:" paciens I tolde
                      
                        And wissed [Sk. wisshede]  witterly: wiþ wil ful egre,
                      
                        Þat in þe maw of þat mayster: al þo mettes were,
                      
                        Boþ dissches and dublers: wiþ al þe dentees after.

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Anhang.

§ 1. Noch unbekannte Versionen von den Stoffen der Kildare-Gedichte.

I. Die Zehn Gebote und die Sieben Todsünden.

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