Piers Plowman: Passus 18
Wolleward and weetshoed wente I forþ after
As a recchelees renk þat [reccheþ of no wo],
And yede forþ lik a lorel al my lif tyme,
Til I weex wery of þe world and wilned eft to slepe,
And lened me to a lenten, and longe tyme I slepte;
| Reste me þere and rutte faste til Ramis palmarum.
Of gerlis and of Gloria laus gretly me dremed,
And how Osanna by Organye olde folk songen,
And of cristes passion and penaunce, þe peple þat ofrauȝte. |
Oon semblable to þe Samaritan and somdeel to Piers þe Plow[man]
Barefoot on an Asse bak bootles cam prikye,
Wiþouten spores oþer spere; spakliche he lokede,
As is þe kynde of a knyght þat comeþ to be dubbed,
To geten hym gilte spores [and] galoches ycouped.
Thanne was feiþ in a fenestre, and cryde “a! fili dauid!’
As dooþ an heraud of armes whan Auentrous comeþ to Iustes.
Olde Iewes of Ierusalem for ioye þei songen,
Benedictus qui venit in nomine domini.
Thanne I frayned at Feiþ what al þat fare bymente,
And who sholde Iuste in Ierusalem. “Iesus,’ he seide,
“And fecche þat þe fend claymeþ, Piers fruyt þe Plowman.’
“Is Piers in þis place?’ quod I, and he preynte on me.
“This Iesus of his gentries wol Iuste in Piers armes,
In his helm and in his haubergeon, humana natura;
That crist be noȝt [y]knowe here for consummatus deus,
In Piers paltok þe Plowman þis prikiere shal ryde;
For no dynt shal hym dere as in deitate patris.’
“Who shal Iuste with Iesus?’ quod I, “Iewes or Scrybes?’ |
“Nay,’ quod [feiþ, ’but] þe fend and fals doom [to deye].
Deeþ seiþ he shal fordo and adoun brynge
Al þat lyueþ or lokeþ in londe [or] in watre.
Lif seiþ þat he lieþ, and leieþ his lif to wedde
That, for al þat deeþ kan do, wiþInne þre daies to walke
And fecche fro þe fend Piers fruyt þe Plowman,
And legge it þer hym likeþ, and Lucifer bynde,
And forbete and adoun brynge bale deeþ for euere:
O Mors ero mors tua!’
Thanne cam Pilatus with muche peple, sedens pro tribunali,
To se how doghtiliche deeþ sholde do and deme hir boþeres right.
The Iewes and þe Iustice ayeins Iesu þei weere,
And al þe court on hym cryde “crucifige!’ sharpe.
Tho putte hym forþ a p[e]lour bifore Pilat and seide,
“This Iesus of oure Iewes temple Iaped and despised,
To fordoon it on o day, and in þre dayes after
Edifie it eft newe—here he stant þat seide it—
And ȝit maken it as muche in alle manere poyntes
Boþe as long and as large bi lofte and by grounde.’
“Crucifige!’ quod a Cachepol, “[he kan of wicchecraft]!’
“Tolle, tolle!’ quod anoþer, and took of kene þornes,
And bigan of [grene] þorn a garland to make,
And sette it sore on his heed and seide in enuye,
“Aue, rabyt’ quod þat rybaud and þrew reedes at hym.
Nailed hym with thre nailes naked on [a] roode;
And poison on a poole þei putte up to hise lippes,
And beden hym drynken his deeþ [to lette and] hise daies [lengþe],
And [seide], ’if þat þow sotil be [þiselue] now [þow help].
If þow be crist and kynges sone com down of þe roode; |
Thanne shul we leue þat lif þee loueþ and wol noȝt lete þee deye.’
“Consummatum est,’ quod crist, and comsede for to swoune.
Pitousliche and pale, as a prison þat deieþ;
The lord of lif and of light þo leide hise eighen togideres.
The day for drede wiþdrouȝ and derk bicam þe sonne.
þe wal waggede and cleef, and al þe world quaued.
Dede men for þat dene come out of depe graues
And tolde why þat tempeste so longe tyme durede;
“For a bitter bataille,’ þe dede body seide;
“Lif and deeþ, in þis derknesse hir oon fordooþ hir ooþer.
Shal no wight wite witterly who shal haue þe maistrie
Er sonday aboute sonne risyng’; and sank wiþ þat til erþe.
Some seide þat he was Goddes sone, þat so faire deyde:
Vere filius Dei erat iste.
And some seide he was a wicche; ’good is þat we assaye
Wher he be deed or noȝt deed, doun er he be taken.’
Two þeues [þat tyme] also þoled deeþ [also]
Vpon a croos bisides crist; so was þe comune lawe.
A Cachepol cam forþ and craked boþe hir legges
And [hir] armes after of eiþer of þo þeues.
Ac was no bo[y] so boold goddes body to touche;
For he was knyȝt and kynges sone kynde foryaf þat [þrowe]
That noon harlot were so hardy to leyen hond vpon hym.
Ac þer cam forþ a knyȝt with a kene spere ygrounde,
Highte Longeus, as þe lettre telleþ, and longe hadde lore his sight.
Bifore Pilat and ooþer peple in þe place he houed.
Maugree his manye teeþ he was maad þat tyme
To [Iusten with Iesus, þis blynde Iew Longeus].
For alle þei were vnhardy, þat houed [per] or stode,
To touchen hym or to tasten hym or taken hym doun of roode, |
But þis blynde bacheler baar hym þoruȝ þe herte.
The blood sprong doun by þe spere and vnspered [his] eiȝen.
Thanne fil þe knyȝt vpon knees and cryde [Iesu] mercy:
“Ayein my wille it was, lord, to wownde yow so soore.’
He sighed and seide, “soore it me aþynkeþ!
For þe dede þat I haue doon I do me in youre grace.
Haue on me ruþe, riȝtful Iesu!;’ and riȝt wiþ þat he wepte.
Thanne gan Feiþ felly þe false Iewes despise;
Callede hem caytyues acorsed for euere.
“For þis foule vileynye vengeaunce to yow falle!
To do þe blynde bete [pe dede], it was a boyes counseille.
Cursede cayt[yues]! knyghthood was it neuere
To [bete a body ybounde wiþ abt briȝt wepene].
The gree ȝit haþ he geten for al his grete wounde,
For youre champion chiualer, chief knyȝt of yow alle,
ȝilt hym recreaunt re[m]yng, right at Iesus wilk.
For be þis derknesse ydo, deeþ worþ [yvenquisshed];
And ye, lurdaynes, han ylost for lif shal haue þe maistrye;
And youre fraunchise þat fre was fallen is in þraldom;
And ye, cherles, and youre children cheue shulle [ye] neuere,
[Ne] haue lordshipe in londe ne no lond tilye,
But [as] barayne be and [by] vsurie [libben],
Which is lif þat oure lord in alle lawes acurseþ.
Now youre goode dayes arn doon as daniel prophecied;
Whan crist cam hir kyngdom þe crowne sholde [lese]:
Cum veniat sanctus sanctorum cessabit unxio vestra.’
What for feere of þis ferly and of þe false Iewes,
I drow me in þat derknesse to descendit ad inferna,
And þere I sauȝ sooþly, secundum scripturas,
[Where] out of þe west coste a wenche as me þouȝte |
Cam walkynge in þe wey; to helleward she loked.
Mercy highte þat mayde, a meke þyng wiþ alle,
A ful benigne burde, and Buxom of speche.
Hir suster, as it semed, cam so[fte]ly walkynge
Euene out of þe Est and westward she lokede,
A ful comely creature [and a clene]; truþe she highte.
For þe vertue þat hire folwede afered was she neuere.
Whan þise maydenes mette, mercy and truþe,
Eiþer asked ooþer of þis grete wonder,
Of þe dyn and þe derknesse and how þe day rowed,
And which a light and a leme lay bifore helle.
“Ich haue ferly of þis fare, in feiþ’, seide truþe,
“And am wendynge to wite what þis wonder meneþ.’
“Haue no merueille’, quod mercy, “murþe it bitokneþ.
A maiden þat highte Marie, and moder wiþouten felyng
Of any kynne creature, conceyued þoruȝ speche
And grace of þe holy goost; weex greet wiþ childe;
Wiþouten [wommene] wem into þis world she broȝte hym.
And þat my tale be trewe I take god to witnesse.
Siþ þis barn was ybore ben xxx“ wynter passed
Which deide and deeth þoled þis day aboute mydday,
And þat is cause of þis clips þat closeþ now þe sonne,
In menynge þat man shal fro merknesse be drawe
The while þis light and þis leme shal Lucifer ablende.
For patriarkes and prophetes han preched herof ofte
That man shal man saue þoruȝ a maydenes helpe,
And þat was tynt þoruȝ tree, tree shal it wynne.
And þat deeþ adown brouȝte, deeþ shal releue.’
“That þow tellest’, quod Truþe, “is but a tale of waltrot! |
For Adam and Eue and Abraham wiþ oþere
Patriarkes and prophetes þat in peyne liggen,
Leue þow neuere þat yon light hem alofte brynge
Ne haue hem out of helle; hold þi tonge, mercy!
It is but trufle þat þow tellest; I, truþe, woot þe soþe,
For þat is ones in helle, out comeþ [it] neuere;
Iob þe [parfit] patriark repreueþ þi sawes:
Quia in Inferno nulla est redempcio.’
Thanne Mercy ful myldely mouþed þise wordes,
“Thoruȝ experience,’ quod [heo], “I hope þei shul be saued;
For venym fordooþ venym, [þer fecche I euydence
That Adam and Eue haue shul bote].
For of alle venymes foulest is þe scorpion;
May no medicyne [amende] þe place þer he styngeþ,
Til he be deed and do þerto; þe yuel he destruyeþ,
The firste venymouste, þoruȝ [vertu] of hymselue.
So shal þis deeþ fordo. I dar my lif legge,
Al þat deeþ [d]ide first þoruȝ þe deueles entisyng,
And riȝt as [þe gilours] þoruȝ gile [bigiled man formest]
So shal grace that al bigan [al] make a good [ende
And bigile þe gilour, and þat is good] sleighte:
Ars ut artem falleret.’
“Now suffre we’, seide Truþe; “I se, as me þynkeþ,
Out of þe nyppe of þe Notth noȝt ful fer hennes
Rightwisnesse corne rennynge; reste we þe while,
For he[o] woot moore þan we; he[o] was er we boþe.’
’That is sooþ,’ seide Mercy, “and I se here by Sowþe
Where pees comeþ pleyinge in pacience ycloþed.
Loue haþ coueited hire longe; leue I noon ooþer
But [loue] sente hire som lettre what þis light bymeneþ
That overhoveþ helle þus; she vs shal telle.’ |
Whan Pees in Pacience ycloþed approched ner hem tweyne
Rightwisnesse hire reuerenced for hir riche cloþyng,
And preide pees to telle hire to what place she wolde,
And in hire gaye garnements whom she grete þouȝte.
“My wil is to wende,’ quod she, “and welcome hem alle
That many day myȝte I noȝt se for merknesse of synne,
Adam and Eue and oþere mo in helle,
Moyses and many mo mer[ye] shul [synge];
[Thanne] I shal daunce þerto; do þow so suster.
For Iesus lustede wel loye bigynneþ dawe:
Ad vesperum demorabitur fletus, et ad matutinum Ieticia.
Loue þat is my lemman swiche lettres me sente
That mercy, my suster, and I mankynde sholde saue,
And þat god haþ forgyuen and graunted me, pees, & mercy
To be mannes meynpernour for eueremoore after.
Lo! here þe patente’, quod Pees, “ln pace in idipsum,
And þat þis dede shal dure, dormiam & requiescam.’
“What, rauestow?’ quod Rightwisnesse, “or þow art righty dronke?
Leuestow þat yond light vnlouke myȝte helle
And saue mannes soule? suster, wene it neuere.
[At] þe bigynn [yng god] gaf þe doom hymselue
þat Adam and Eue and alle þat hem suwede
Sholden deye downrighte and dwelle in pyne after
If þat þei touchede a tree and of þe [trees] fruyt eten.
Adam afterward, ayeins his defence,
Freet of þat fruyt and forsook, as it weere,
The loue of oure lord and his loore boþe,
And folwede þat þe fend tauȝte and his [flesshes] wille
Ayeins Reson. [I], rightwisnesse, recorde þus wiþ truþe
That hir peyne be perpetuel and no preiere hem helpe. |
Forþi lat hem chewe as þei chosen, and chide we noȝt, sustres,
For it is botelees bale, þe byte þat þei eten.’
’And I shal preue,’ quod Pees, ’hir peyne moot haue ende,
And wo into wele mowe wenden at þe laste.
For hadde þei wist of no wo, wele hadde þei noȝt knowen;
For no wight woot what wele is þat neuere wo suffrede,
Ne what is hoot hunger þat hadde neuere defaute.
If no nyȝt ne weere, no man as I leeue
Sholde wite witterly what day is to meene.
Sholde neuere riȝt riche man þat lyueþ in reste and ese
Wite what wo is, ne were þe deeth of kynde.
So god þat bigan al of his goode wille
Bicam man of a mayde mankynde to saue
And suffrede to be sold to se þe sorwe of deying,
þe which unknytteth alle care, and comsynge is of reste.
For til modicum mete with vs, I may it wel auowe,
Woot no wight, as I wene, what [is ynogh] to mene.
Forþi god, of his goodnesse, þe firste gome Adam,
Sette hym in solace and in souereyn murþe,
And siþþe he suffred hym synne sorwe to feele,
To wite what wele was, kyndeliche [to] knowe it.
And after god Auntrede hymself and took Adames kynd[e]
To [se] what he haþ suffred in þre sondry places,
Boþe in heuene and in erþe, and now til helle he þenkeþ,
To wite what alle wo is [þat woot of] alle ioye.
So it shal fare by þis folk: hir folie and hir synne
Shal lere hem what langour is and lisse wiþouten ende.
Woot no wight what werre is þer þat pees regneþ,
Ne what is witterly wele til weylawey’ hym teche.’ |
Thanne was þer a wight wiþ two brode eiȝen;
Book highte þat beaupeere, a bold man of speche.
“By goddes body’, quod this Book, “I wol bere witnesse
That þo þis barn was ybore þer blased a sterre
That alle þe wise of þis world in o wit acor[de]den
That swich a barn was ybore in Bethleem þe Citee
That mannes soule sholde saue and synne destroye.
And alle þe elementȝ,’ quod þe book, “herof beren witnesse.
That he was god þat al wroȝte þe wolkne first shewed:
[The oostes] in heuene token stella com[a]ta
And tendeden [hire] as a torche to reuerencen his burþe;
The light folwede þe lord into þe lowe erþe.
The water witnesse[þ] þat he was god for he wente on it;
Peter þe Apostel parceyued his gate,
And as he wente on þe water wel hym knew and seide,
“Iube me venire ad te super aquas.’’
And lo! how þe sonne gan louke hire light in hirselue
Whan she seiȝ hym suffre, þat sonne and see made.
The Erþe for heuynesse þat he wolde suffre
Quaked as quyk þyng and al biquasshed þe roche.
“Lo! helle myȝte nat holde, but opnede þo God þolede,
And leet out Symondes sone[s] to seen hym hange on roode.
And now shal Lucifer leue it, þouȝ hym looþ þynke.
For [Iesus as a] geaunt wiþ a gyn [comeþ yonde]
To breke and to bete adoun [alle] þat hym likeþ].
[And I, book, wole be brent, but Iesus rise to lyue
In alle myȝtes of man, and his moder gladie,
And conforte al his kyn and out of care brynge,
And al þe Iewene Ioye vnioynen and vnlouken; |
And but þei reuer[en]sen his roode and his Resurexion
And bileue on a newe lawe be lost, lif and soule.’
“Suffre we’, seide truþe; ’I here and see boþe
A spirit spekeþ to helle and biddeþ vnspere þe yates:
Attolite portas.
A vois loude in þat light to lucifer crieþ,
“Prynces of þis place, vnpynneþ and vnloukeþ,
For here comeþ wiþ crowne þat kyng is of glorie.“
Thanne sikede Sathan and seide to he[l]le,
“Swich a light, ayeins oure leue laȝar it fette.
Care and [c]ombraunce is comen to vs alle.
If þis kyng come In mankynde wole he fecche
And lede it þer [laȝar is] and lightliche me bynde.
Patriarkes and prophetes han parled herof longe
That swich a lord and [a] light sholde lede hem alle hennes.’
“Listneþ!’ quod lucifer, “for I þis lord knowe;
Boþe þis lord and þis light, is longe ago I knew hym.
May no deeþ [þis lord] dere, ne no deueles queyntise,
And where he wole, is his wey; ac ware hym of þe perils!
If he reu[e] me my riȝt, he robbeþ me by maistrie.
For by right and by reson þe renkes þat ben here
Body and soule beþ myne, boþe goode and ille.
For hymself seide, þat Sire is of heuene,
If Adam ete þe Appul, alle sholde deye
And dwelle wiþ vs deueles; þis þretynge [driȝten] made.
And [siþen] he þat Sooþnesse is seide þise wordes,
And I siþen [was] seised seuene [þousand] wynter
I leeue þat lawe nyl noȝt lete hym þe leeste.’
“That is sooþ’, seide Sathan, “but I me soore drede, |
For þow gete hem wiþ gile, and his Gardyn breke,
And in semblaunce of a serpent sete vþon þe Appultree
And eggedest hem to ete, Eue by hirselue,
And toldest hire a tale, of treson were þe wordes;
And so þow haddest hem out and hider at þe laste.’
’It is noȝt graiþly geten, þer gile is þe roote!’
For god wol noȝt be bigiled’, quod Gobelyn, ’ne byiaped.
We haue no trewe title to hem, for þoruȝ treson were þei dampned.’
“Certes, I drede me,’ quod þe deuel, “lest truþe [do] hem fecche.
Thise þritty wynter, as I wene, [he wente aboute] and preched.
I haue assailled hym with synne, and som tyme yasked
Wheiþer he were god or goddes sone; he [g]af me short answere;
And þus haþ he trolled forþ [lik a tidy man] þise two and pretty wynter.
And whan I seiȝ it was so, slepynge I wente
To warne Pilates wif what done man was Iesus,
For Iewes hateden hym and han doon hym to deþe.
I wolde haue lengþed his lif, for I leued if he deide
That his soule wolde suffre no synne in his sighte;
For þe body, while it on bones yede, aboute was euere
To saue men from synne if hemself wolde.
And now I se wher a soule comeþ [silynge hiderward]
Wiþ glorie and with gret light; god it is, I woot wel.
I rede we fle’, quod [þe fend], “faste alle hennes,
For vs were bettre noȝt be þan biden his sighte.
For þi lesynges, Lucifer, lost is al oure praye.
First þoruȝ þe we fellen fro heuene so heiȝe:
For we leued þi lesynges [we lopen out alle;
And now for thi laste lesynge, ylorn we haue Adam,
And al oure lordshipe, I leue, a londe and [in helle]:
Nunc princeps huius mundi e[i]cietur foras.’
Eft þe light bad vnlouke, and Lucifer; | answerde
[’Quis est iste?
What lord artow?’ quod Lucifer. | þe light soone seide,
’Rex glorie,]
[The] lord of myght and of ma[y]n and alle manere vertues,
Dominus virtutum.
Dukes of þis dymme place, anoon vndo þise yates
That crist may come In, þe kynges sone of heuene!’
And wiþ þat breeþ helle brak with Belialles barres;
For any wye or warde wide open þe yates.
Patriarkes and prophetes, populus in tenebris,
Songen seint Iohanes song, Ecce agnus dei.
Lucifer loke ne myȝte, so light hym ablente.
And tho þat oure lord louede into his light he laughte,
And seide to Sathan, “lo! here my soule to amendes
For alle synfulle soules, to saue þo þat ben worþi.
Myne þei ben and of me; I may þe bet hem cleyme.
[Al]þouȝ Reson recorde, and riȝt of myselue,
That if [þei] ete þe Appul alle sholde deye,
I bihiȝte hem noȝt here helle for euere.
For þe dede þat þei dide, þi deceite it made;
Wiþ gile þow hem gete ageyn alle reson.
For in my paleis, Paradis, in persone of an Addre,
Falsliche þow fettest þyng þat I louede.
“Thus ylik a lusard wiþ a lady visage,
Thefliche þow me robbedest; þe olde lawe graunteþ
That gilours be bigiled and þat is good reson:
Dentem pro dente & oculum pro oculo.
Ergo soule shal soule quyte and synne to synne wende,
And al þat man haþ mysdo I man wole amende.
Membre for membre [was amendes by þe olde lawe],
And lif for lif also, and by þat lawe I clayme
Adam and al his issue at my wille herafter;
And þat deeþ in hem fordide, my deeþ shal releue |
And boþe quyke and quyte þat queynt was þoruȝ synne;
And þat grace gile destruye, good feiþ it askeþ.
So leue [it] noȝt, lucifer, ayein þe lawe I fecche hem,
But by right and by reson raunsone here my liges:
Non veni soluere legem set adimplere.
Thow fettest myne in my place [maugree] alle resoun,
Falsliche and felonliche; good feiþ me it tauȝte,
To recouere hem þoruȝ raunsoun, and by no reson ellis,
So þat with gile þow gete þoruȝ grace it is ywonne.
Thow, lucifer, in liknesse of a luþer Addere
Getest bi gile þo þat god louede;
And I in liknesse of a leode, þat lord am of heuene,
Graciousliche þi gile haue quyt: go gile ayein gile!
And as Adam and alle poruȝ a tree deyden,
Adam and alle þoruȝ a tree shal turne to lyue,
And gile is bigiled and in his gile fallen:
Et cecidit in foueam quam fecit.
Now bigynneth þi gile ageyn þee to turne
And my grace to growe ay gretter and widder.
[þe bitternesse þat þow hast browe, now brouke it þiselue;
þat art doctour of deeth, drynk þat þow madest.
“For I þat am lord of lif, loue is my drynke,
And for þat drynke today, I deide vpon erþe.
I fauȝt so me þursteþ ȝit, for mannes soule sake;
May no drynke me moiste, ne my þurst slake,
Til þe vendage falle in þe vale of Iosaphat,
That I drynke riȝt ripe Must, Resureccio mortuorum.
And þanne shal I come as a kyng, crouned, with Aungeles,
And haue out of helle alle mennes soules.
Fendes and f[e]ndekynes bifore me shul stande |
And be at my biddyng whereso [best] me likeþ.
A[c] to be merciable to man þanne, my kynde [it] askeþ,
For we beth breþeren of blood, but noȝt in baptisme alle.
Ac alle þat beþ myne hole breþeren, in blood and in baptisme,
Shul noȝt be dampned to þe deeþ þat [durep] wiþouten ende:
Tibi soli peccaui & c.
It is noȝt vsed on erþe to hangen a feloun
Ofter þan ones, þouȝ he were a tretour.
And if þe kyng of þat kyngdom corme in þat tyme
There [a] feloun þole sholde deeþ ooþer Iuwise,
Lawe wolde he yeue hym lif if he loked on hym.
And I þat am kyng of kynges shal come swich a tyme
Ther doom to þe deeþ dampneþ alle wikked,
And if lawe wole I loke on hem it lith in my grace
Wheiþer þei deye or deye noȝt for þat þei diden ille.
Be it any þyng abouȝt, þe boldnesse of hir synnes,
I [may] do mercy þoruȝ [my] rightwisnesse and alle my wordes trewe;
And þouȝ holy writ wole þat I be wroke of hem þat diden ille—
Nullum malum impunitum & c—
They shul be clensed clerliche and [keuered] of hir synnes
In my prisone Purgatorie til parce it hote.
And my mercy shal be shewed to manye of my [halue] breþeren,
For blood may suffre blood boþe hungry and acale
Ac blood may noȝt se blood blede but hym rewe:
Auaiui archana verba que non licet homini loqui.
Ac my rightwisnesse and right shal rulen al helle,
And mercy al mankynde bifore me in heuene.
For I were an vnkynde kyng but I my kyn helpe,
And nameliche at swich a nede þer nedes help bihoueþ:
Non intres in Iudicium cum seruo tuo.
Thus by lawe’, quod oure lord, “lede I wole fro hennes |
Tho [ledes] þat [I] lou[e], and leued in my comynge;
And for þi lesynge, lucifer, þat þow leighe til Eue
Thow shalt abyen it bittre!“ and bond hym wiþ cheynes.
Astroth and al þe route hidden hem in hernes;
They dorste noȝt loke on oure lord, þe [leeste] of hem alle,
But leten hym lede forþ [what] hym liked and lete [what] hym liste.
Manye hundred of Aungeles harpeden and songen,
Culpat caro, purgat caro, regnat deus dei caro.
Thanne pipede pees of Poesie a note:
Clarior est solito post maxima nebula phebus;
Post inimicicias [clarior est et amor].
’After sharpest shoures’, quod pees, “moost shene is þe sonne;
Is no weder warmer þan after watry cloudes;
Ne no loue leuere, ne leuer frendes,
Than after werre and wo whan loue and pees ben maistres.
Was neuere werre in this world, ne wikkednesse so kene,
That loue, and hym liste, to laughyng ne brouȝte;
And Pees þoruȝ pacience alle perils stoppeþ.’
“Trewes!’ quod Truþe, “þow tellest us sooþ, by Iesus!
Clippe we in couenaunt, and ech of vs kisse ooþer,
And leteþ no peple’, quod pees, “parceyue þat we chidde;
For inpossible is no þyng to hym þat is almyghty.’
“Thow seist sooþ,’ [seyde] Rightwisnesse, and reuerentliche hire kiste,
Pees, and pees h[i]re, per secula seculorum:
Misericordia & veritas obuiauerunt sibi; Iusticia & pax osculate su[nt].
Truþe trumpede þo and song Te deum laudamus,
And þanne lutede [loue] in a loud note:
Ecce quam bonum & quam iocundum & c. |
Til þe day dawed þise damyseles [carolden]
That men rongen to þe resurexion, and riȝt wiþ þat I wakede,
And called kytte my wif and Calote my doghter:
’[Ariseþ] and reuerence[þ] goddes resurexion,
And crepe[þ] to þe cros on knees, and kisse[þ] it for Iuwel
For goddes blikssede body it bar for oure boote;
And it afereþ þe fend, for swich is þe mygȝte
May no grisly goost glide þere it [shadweþ].’
Notes:
Original text dates to the late 14th century, by William Langland. Source language text is public domain.
William Langland, “Passus 18.” from Piers Plowman: The B Version, edited by George Kane and E. Talbot Donaldson. London: Athlone Press, 1975.