Altenglische legenden.

                                
                                  Oute of þis werld forto fare.
                                
                                  He thankid god full inwardli
                                  Line 385 
                                
                                  Of his grace and his mercie;
                                
                                  Þan he callid to him his knaue
                                
                                  And bad þate he suld ger him haue
                                
                                  Parchemyne and inke bathe:
                                
                                  And he ite broȝt to him full rathe.
                                  Line 390 
                                
                                  Þan his life all þare wrate he,
                                
                                  Þat, when he ware dede, þai mighte se,
                                
                                  Whase sonne he was, & whate he highte;
                                
                                  And all his life he wrate full riȝte:
                                
                                  How he had liued in beggarhede
                                  Line 395 
                                
                                  In mikil missese and in nede
                                
                                  Euenli foure & thritti ȝere,
                                
                                  In mikil pouerte, in stedes sere,
                                
                                  And how he fra his wife wente
                                
                                  And in whate toune he was lente,
                                  Line 400 
                                
                                  And how he gaue his gold ringe
                                
                                  To his wife atte his partinge
                                
                                  And saide ite suld be takeninge
                                
                                  Betwene þaim atte þaire firste metinge.
                                
                                  When he had made all þis writte,
                                  Line 405 
                                
                                  Faste in his hand he loukid ite,
                                
                                  And laide him doune on his bedde:
                                
                                  Wiþ harde sekenes was he stedde.
                                
                                  Þan god of heuene schewid sone
                                
                                  Þe mikil gode þate he had done.
                                  Line 410 
                                
                                  For on þe palme-sonondaie,
                                
                                  When folk in kirk began to praie,
                                
                                  A voyse was in þe mynstir herde —
                                
                                  Þat made all þe folk full ferde;
                                
                                  Þe voice saide: "comes all to me
                                  Line 415 
                                
                                  Þat suffirs pyne and pouerte!
                                
                                  And i sall lethe wiþ-outen faile
                                
                                  Ȝoure lange tene & ȝoure trauaile
                                
                                  And bringe ȝow to heuene blisse,
                                
                                  Þer no pyne ne trauaile is".
                                  Line 420 
                                
                                  Þe folk on knees fell in thrange
                                
                                  And kyrieleyson thries þai sange.
                                
                                  Þe voise effte-sones spak in hye
                                
                                  And bad þaim seke wightlie
                                
                                  Goddes seruaunde "þat es full meke,
                                  Line 425 
                                
                                  For in þis citee lyes he seke".
                                
                                  Þe folk wiste neuer whate ite mente,
                                
                                  Ne ofe whaim þai had na tente.

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About this Item

Title: Altenglische legenden.
Author: Horstmann, Carl, ed. b. 1851.
Canvas: Page 183
Publication: Heilbronn,: Gebr. Henninger,; 1881.
Subject terms: Saints -- Legends; English poetry; Legends

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Collection: Corpus of Middle English Prose and Verse
Link to this Item: https://name.umdl.umich.edu/afw1383.0001.001
Link to this scan: https://quod.lib.umich.edu/c/cme/afw1383.0001.001/321:3

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DPLA Rights Statement: No Copyright - United States

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Manifest: https://quod.lib.umich.edu/cgi/t/text/api/manifest/cme:afw1383.0001.001

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Full citation: "Altenglische legenden." In the digital collection Corpus of Middle English Prose and Verse. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/afw1383.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 17, 2025.

Altenglische legenden.

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