Altenglische legenden.

                                
                                  And Alexis þare he fande
                                
                                  Still, callde, dede liggande.
                                
                                  And swilk a smell als he þare smellid
                                
                                  Neuer nane before he fellid —
                                  Line 520 
                                
                                  For all þe spice þate es in Spaine,
                                
                                  And all þe floures in grete Almaine
                                
                                  Gaue neuer sauoure halfe so swete
                                
                                  Als was ofe him, fra toppe to fete.
                                
                                  In haire and brinie was he cledde,
                                  Line 525 
                                
                                  Ofe smale stanes was his bedde,
                                
                                  Vndir his heuede laie a stane —
                                
                                  Soffter þinge þan was þare nane.
                                
                                  In his hand was a boke,
                                
                                  Bote whate ite was, mighte na-man loke.
                                  Line 530 
                                
                                  Þan ȝode Eufemiane in hye
                                
                                  Vnto þe pape & his clergie
                                
                                  And talde þe pape als he fand,
                                
                                  And of þe boke in his hand.
                                
                                  When þe pape herd þis ferlie,
                                  Line 535 
                                
                                  Wiþ him he toke all his clergie,
                                
                                  And come full sone to þate bodie
                                
                                  And stode and askid ite mercie:
                                
                                  "Lorde, he saide, þou schew me
                                
                                  Þe mikil vertue þat es in þe,
                                  Line 540 
                                
                                  Þat we mai loue god ofe heuene
                                
                                  Þat wissid vs to þe þorghe his steuene
                                
                                  And schewe vs here þis ilk lettire,
                                
                                  Þat we maie all be þe better
                                
                                  And to knawe þi halines
                                  Line 545 
                                
                                  And þe vertue þate in þe es".
                                
                                  When he had made his orisoune,
                                
                                  Wiþ drede ofe herte he stoupid doune:
                                
                                  And toke þe lettire oute of his hande,
                                
                                  & grete ferlie þare-in he fande.
                                  Line 550 
                                
                                  He gaue ite a clerke, þat stode him nere,
                                
                                  And bad him rede, þate all miȝt here.
                                
                                  Þe clerk began ite for-to rede,
                                
                                  And Eufemiane began to wede
                                
                                  When he þate lettir vndirstode;
                                  Line 555 
                                
                                  For sorow all-moste he wex wode,
                                
                                  For he beganne to grete & crie
                                
                                  & fell apon þate dede bodie.
                                
                                  Þe mikil sorow & þe care
                                
                                  Þat Eufemiane makid þare
                                  Line 560 
                                
                                  May naman tell be þe haluendele,

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About this Item

Title: Altenglische legenden.
Author: Horstmann, Carl, ed. b. 1851.
Canvas: Page 186
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/afw1383.0001.001/324:3

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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 21, 2025.

Altenglische legenden.

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