Altenglische legenden.

                                
                                  I comaunde þe, þat þou on þy wombe glyde,
                                
                                  And al þe harm bi þi syde; [A. be.] 
                                  Line 310 
                                
                                  Of þe schule men beo sore afert. [A. aferd.] 
                                
                                  Þen schal þer come into middel-ert
                                
                                  A virgyne I-boren also blyue,
                                
                                  Þat þi pouwer schal al to-dryue". —
                                
                                  Adam wonede in eorþe heere [A. on st. in.] 
                                  Line 315 
                                
                                  Folle niȝene hondred ȝere [A. fulle.] 
                                
                                  And two and þritti, as I ow telle.
                                
                                  Whon he was ded, he wente to helle.
                                
                                  Foure þousend winter & seuen hondred & more
                                
                                  Adam was in helle þore
                                  Line 320 
                                
                                  Þreo ȝeer and tydes seuene,
                                
                                  Til þe mihti kyng of heuene
                                
                                  Kud he was of mihtes most [V A And, al. Kyde.] 
                                
                                  And sende adoun þe holygost,
                                
                                  Was I-boren of þe virgyne Marie
                                  Line 325 
                                
                                  Wiþ-oute wem of hire bodye. [A. wiþouten.] 
                                
                                  Þritti winter and þridde half ȝeer
                                
                                  God wonede on eorþe heer.
                                
                                  Fourti dawes for vs he faste.
                                
                                  Þe Jewes token him atte laste [A. him token.] 
                                  Line 330 
                                
                                  And duden godes sone on þe rode;
                                
                                  Þer he diȝede, for vre goode.
                                
                                  Whon he was ded, he wente to helle,
                                
                                  Þe fendes pouste forto quelle, [A. forte.] 
                                
                                  And fette out Adam and Eue,
                                  Line 335 
                                
                                  And oþer mo þat weren him leue:
                                
                                  Moyses, Dauid, and Abraham;
                                
                                  Alle þe goode wiþ him he nam
                                
                                  And ladde hem in-to paradis,
                                
                                  Þer Joye & blisse euere is.
                                  Line 340 
                                
                                  And siþen aftur his vp-rysing
                                
                                  He steiȝ to heuene, þer he is kyng;
                                
                                  On his fader riȝt hond he set him þon,
                                
                                  Þer he is studefast god & mon.
                                
                                  Þat ilke god omnipotent
                                  Line 345 
                                
                                  Wol come to þe day of Jugement
                                
                                  And demen men after heore dede —
                                
                                  He is not wys þat hit nul drede —
                                
                                  Þe goode to Joye, þe wikked to pyne.
                                
                                  Þe godnes of Joye may nomon fyne;
                                  Line 350 
                                
                                  Joye þei schulen han to heore seruyse [A. schul.] 
                                
                                  Þat seruen god in alle wyse."
                                
                                  Þe Emperour seide: "bi heuene kyng!
                                
                                  Child, þis was a feir endyng.
                                
                                  And also þis I leeue wel [A. leeue I.] 
                                  Line 355 
                                
                                  Þat þis is soþ, eueridel.
                                
                                  But tel me, child, ȝif þat þou con,
                                
                                  Wherwiþ þe fend most tempteþ mon, [A. a mon.] 
                                
                                  And hou feole synnes, þow me telle,
                                
                                  Bringeþ monnes soule to helle?"
                                  Line 360 
                                
                                  Þe child seide: "sunnes fyue [A. synnes.] 
                                
                                  Beoþ among monkuynde ful ryue:
                                
                                  Wikked þouȝt in monnes herte,
                                
                                  Whil þat he is hol and qwerte;
                                
                                  Mon-slauȝt is anoþer schame,
                                  Line 365 
                                
                                  Bringeþ monnes soule in wikked fame;
                                
                                  Pruide, forsoþe, is anoþer;
                                
                                  Glotenye is þe þridde broþer; [A. glotonye.] 
                                
                                  Lecherye is þe feorþe,
                                
                                  On þe worste abouen eorþe.
                                  Line 370 
                                
                                  Couetyse, as I ow telle,
                                
                                  Bringeþ monnes soule to helle.
                                
                                  Seint Poul witnesseþ in his storie:
                                
                                  Peyne for couetyse is purgatorie;
                                
                                  Bi hem-seluen hit is diht
                                  Line 375 
                                
                                  A welle of bras, brennynge briȝt,
                                
                                  As ful of hokes abouen and vnder:
                                
                                  Whon hit goþ, hit rot as þonder; [A. rut.] 
                                
                                  As ful of soules hit is hongynge
                                
                                  As on may bi oþer hynge.
                                  Line 380 
                                
                                  Couetyse endeþ neuer a del,
                                
                                  For hit is liknet to a whel. [for st. forþi.] 
                                
                                  Ȝit þe pruide, þat is so bold, [A. is st. þe, in 384 fehlt is.] 
                                
                                  Is worse bi an hondred fold:
                                
                                  For angles, þat weren in heuene liht,
                                  Line 385 
                                
                                  Þat weoren so feire and so briht, [A. feir.] 
                                
                                  For pruide god wreche on hem dude take:
                                
                                  And summe bicome fendes blake
                                
                                  And fulle from heuene, as I ow telle, [A. fullen.] 
                                
                                  In-to þe neoþemaste put of helle.
                                  Line 390 
                                
                                  Summe ben her among monkunne
                                
                                  And tyse men al day to sunne. [A. tyseþ al day men.] 
                                
                                  Forþi, mon, schrif þe of þi pride!

About this Item

Title: Altenglische legenden.
Author: Horstmann, Carl, ed. b. 1851.
Canvas: Page 345
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/afw1383.0001.001/516:4

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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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