by Charles Swan
His own estate to guide and rule;
How so it stood of his speakíng,
He was not wise in his doing;
But every riot-e at last
Must need-es fall, and may not last.
After the need of his desert,
So fell this clerk-e in povérte,
And wist not how for to rise
Whereof in many a sundry wise
He cast his wit-es here and there,
He looketh nigh, he looketh far.
Fell on a tim-e that he come
Into the temple, and heed nome1
Where that the god Apollo stood;
He saw the riches, and the good;2
And thought he wold-e by some way,
The treasure pick and steal away.
And thereupon so slily wrought,
That his purpóse about he brought.
And went away unaperceived:
Thus hath the man his god deceived—
His ring, his mantle, and his beard,
As he which nothing was afeard,
All privily with him he bare;
And when the wardens were aware
Of that, their god despoiled was,
They thought it was a wondrous case,
How that a man for any weal,
Durst in so holy plac-e steal,
And nam-e-ly, so great a thing!—
This tale cam-e unto the king,
And was through spoken over-all.
But for to know in special,
What manner man hath done the deed,
They soughten help upon the need,
And maden calculation,
Whereof by demonstration
The man was found-e with the good.
In judgment, and when he stood,
The king hath asked of him thus—
“Say, thou unsely3 Lucius,
Why hast thou done this sacrilege ?”
“My lord, if I the cause allege,”
(Quoth he again,) “me-thinketh this,
That I have done nothíng amiss.
Three points there be, which I have do,
Whereof the first-e point stands so,
That I the ring have ta’en away—
Unto this point this will I say.
When I the god beheld about,
I saw how he his hand stretched out,
And proffered me the ring to yeve;4
And I, which wold-e gladly live
Out of povérte thro’ his largéss,
It underfang,5 so that I guess;
And therefore, am I nought to wite.1
And overmore, I will me ’quit,2
Of gold that I the mantle took :
Gold in his kind, as saith the book,
Is heavy both, and cold also ;
And fór that it was heavy so,
Methought it was no garn-e-ment3
Unto the god convenient,
To clothen him the summer tide:4
I thought upon that other side,
How gold is cold, and such a cloth
By reason ought-e to be lothe5
In winter tim-e for the chiel.
And thus thinking thought-es fele6
As I mine eye about-e cast,
His larg-e beard-e then at last
I saw; and thought anon therefore
How that his father him before,
Which stood upon the sam-e place,
Was beardless, with a youngly face.
And in such wise, as ye have heard
I took away the son-nes beard,
For that his father had-e none,
To make him like; and hereupon
I ask for to be excused.”
Lo, thus where sacrilege is used,
A man can feign his consciénce;
And right upon such evidence
In lov-es cause if I shall treat,
There be of such-e small and great,
If they no leisure find-e else,
They will not wend-e for the bells;
Not tho’ they see the priest at mass—
That will they letten over-pass:
If that they find their lov-e there
They stand, and tellen in her ear;
And ask of God none other grace,
Whil-e they be in that holy place.
But ere they go, some advantage
There will they have; and some pillage
Of goodly word, or of behest;
Or else they taken at the least
Out of her hand a ring or glove,
So nigh, the weder7 they will hove8—
As who saith, “She shall not forget
Now I this token of her have get.”
Thus hallow they the high-e feast,
Such theft-e may no church arrest,9
For all is lawful that them liketh,
To whom that els-e it misliketh,
And eké right in the self kind1
In great cities men may find.
Thus lusty folk, that make them gay,
And wait upon the holy-day,
In churches, and in minsters eke,
They go the women for to seek,
And where that such one goeth about,
Before the fairest of the rout;
Where as they sitten all a row.
There will he most his body show;
His crooked kempt2 and thereon set
An ouch-e3 with a chap-e-let,
Or else one of green leaves,
Which late come out-e of the greves.4
All for5 he should seem fresh:
And thus he looketh on his flesh,
Right as a hawk which hath a sight
Upon the fowl, there he shall light:
And as he were a faëry,
He sheweth him before her eye,
In holy plac-e where they sit,
All for to make their heart-es flytte.6
His eye no where will abide,
But look and pry on every side,
On her and her, as him best liketh,
And other while, among he siketh;7
Thinketh “One of them that was for me,”
And so there thinketh two or three;
And yet he loveth none at all,
But where as ever his chanc-e fall.
And nath-e-less to say a sooth
The cause why that he so doth,
Is for to steal a heart or two,
Out of the church ere that he go.
And as I said it here above,
All is that sacrilege of love,
For well may be that he stealeth away,
That he never after yield may.8
“Tell me for this, my son, anon,
Hast thou done sacrilege, or none,9
As I have said in this mannér ?”
“My father, as of this mattér,
I will you tellen readily
What I have done; but tru-e-ly
I may excuse mine intent
That I never yet to church went
In such mannér as ye me shrive,1
For no woman that is alive.
The cause why I have it laft,2
May be, for3 I unto that craft,
Am nothing able for to steal,
Though there be women not so fele.4
But yet will I not say-e this,
When I am where my lady is,
In whom lieth wholly my quarrél,
And she to church or to chapél
Will go to matins or to mess,5
That time I wait-e well and guess.
To church I come, and there I stand,
And tho’6 I take a book in hand,
My countenance is on the book,
But toward her is all my look;
And if so fallen7 that I pray
Unto my God, and somewhat say
Of Pater Noster, or of creed,
All is for that I wold-e speed,
So that my bead in holy church,
There might-e some mirácl
e wirche,8
My lady’s heart-e for to change,
Which ever hath been to me so strange.
So that all my devotión,
And all my contemplatión,
With all mine heart, and my couráge,
I only set on her imáge,
And ever I wait-e upon the tide,
If she look any thing aside,
That I me may of her advise:
Anon I am with covetise9
So smit, that me were lefe10
To be in holy church a thief.
But not to steal, a vest-e-ment,
For that is nothing my talént;
But I would steal, if that I might,
Á glad word, or a goodly sight.
And ever my servíce I proffer,
And namely, when she will go, offer;
For then I lead her, if I may:
For somewhat would I steal away
When I beclip her on the waist;
Yet at least, I steal a taste.
And other while ‘grant mercy,’11
She saith. And so were I thereby
A lusty touch, a good word eke,
But all the rem-e-nant to seek,
Is from my purpose wonder far.
So may I say, as I said ere,1
In holy church if that I vow,
My con-sci-énce I would allow
Be so, that on amend-e-ment,
I might-e get assign-e-ment;2
Where, for to speed in other place,
Such sacrilege I hold a grace.
“And thus, my father, sooth to say,
In church-e right as in the way,
If I might ought of lov-e take
Such hansel3 have I nought forsake.
But finally, I me confess,
There is in me no holinéss,
While her I see in holy stead;
And yet for aught that ever I did,
No sacrilege of her I took,
But4 it were of word or look,
Or els-e if that I her freed,5
When I towárd offeríng6 her lead,
Take thereof what I take may,
For els-e bear I nought away.
For tho’ I wold-e ought else have,
All other thing-es be so safe,
And kept with such a privilege,
That I may do no sacrilege.
God wote7 my will nath-e-less,
Though I must need-es keep-e peace,
And maugre mine so let it pass,
My will thereto is not the lass,8
If I might otherwise away.
“For this, my father, I you pray
Tell what you thinketh thereupon,
If I thereof have guilt or none.”
“Thy will, my son, is for to blame,
The rem-e-nant is but a game
That I have thee told as yet,
But take this lore into thy wit,
That all things have time and stead.
The church serveth for the bead,9
The chamber is of an other speech:
But if thou wistest of the wreche,10
How sacrilege it hath abought,
Thou woldest better be bethought.”
Confessio Amantis, lib. v. fol. 122, ed, 1532.
I have transcribed the whole of this tale (though the latter part of it is but the moral) because of the truth and nature with which it is replete. Our churches are filled in this day with too many of the characters described so admirably by Gower.
Ibid. “For two especial reasons took away the beard. The first was, that she should look more like her author, and not grow too proud of her golden beard” (p. 31).
This idea seems to have arisen from a witticism of Dionysius, the tyrant of Syracuse, recorded by Valerius Maximus, lib. i. cap. 1, ex. 37 :
“Idem Epidauri Æsculapio barbam auream demi jussit: quod affirmaret, non convenire patrem Apollinem imberbem, ipsum barbatum.”
NOTE 2. Page 38.
“Allexius, or Alexis, was canonized. This story is taken from his legend. In the metrical Lives of the Saints, his life is told in a sort of measure different from that of the rest, and not very common in the earlier stages of our poetry. It begins thus:—
“Listeneth all, and hearkeneth me,
Young and old-e, bond and free,
And I you tellen soon,
How a stout man, gent and free,
Began this world-es weal to flee,
Yborn he was in Rome.
“In Rom-e was a doughty man,
That was y-cleped Eufemian,
Man of much might;
Gold and silver he had enows,
Hall and bowers, oxen and plows,
And very well it dight.
“When Alexius returns home in disguise, and asks his father about his son, the father’s feelings are thus described:—
“So soon as he spake of his son,
The good man, as was his wone,1
Gan to sigh sore;
His heart fell as cold as stone,
The tears fellen to his ton,2
On his beard hoar.
“At his burial, many miracles are wrought on the sick.
“With mochel3 sighs, and mochel song,
That holy corse, them all among
Bishops to church-e bare.
“Amidst right the high street,
So much folk him gone meet,
That they rest a stonde,1
All they sighed that to him come,
And healed were very soon,
Of feet, and eke of honde.
“The history of Saint Alexius is told entirely in the same words in the GESTA ROMANORUM, and in the LEGENDA AUREA of Jacobus de Voraigne,2 translated through a French medium, by Caxton. This work of Jacobus does not consist solely of the legends of the saints, but is interspersed multis aliis pulcherrimis et peregrinis historiis, with many other most beautiful and strange histories.”3—WARTON.
As it may be amusing to the reader to compare the translation in the text with that executed by the venerable patriarch of the press, William Caxton, in the fifteenth century, I am tempted to transcribe it. There are many little additional touches of manners which the antiquary will value; and while the general reader smiles at the primitive simplicity with which the story is narrated, he will, it is presumed, derive some pleasure from the strong contrast afforded by the past and the present era—from the elevated situation on which he may seem to stand: a being, as it were, of another sphere; asserting the pre-eminence of civilization over uncultivated life—the polite refinement of modem manners over the rude character of remote and barbarous times.
And fyrst of his name.
Alexis is as moche as to saye as goynge out of the la we of maryage for to keep virginite for goddes sake, and to renounce all the pomp and rychesses of the worlde for to lyue in pouerte.
In the tyme that Archadius and Honorius were emperours of Rome, there was in Rome a ryght noble lord named Eufemyen, which was chefe and aboue all other lordes aboute the emperours, and had under his power a thousande knyghtes. He was a moche iust man to all men, and also he was pyteous and mercyfull unto ye poore. For he had dayly thre tables set and couered for to fede ye orphans, poor wydowes, and pylgryms. And he ete at the houre of none with good and religyous persones. His wyfe yt was named Aglaes ledde a religyous lyfe. But bycause they had no childe, they prayed to god to send them a sone yt myght be theyr heyre after them, of theyr honour and goodes. It was so that god herde theyre prayers, and beheld theyre bounte and good lyvynge, and gave unto them a sone which was named Alexis, whome they dyd to be taught and enfourmed in all scyences and honours. After this, they maryed hym unto a fayre damoysel, which was of yc lygnage of ye emperour of Rome. Whan the daye of ye weddynge was comen to even, Alexis beynge in the chambre wh his wyfe alone, began to enfourme and enduce her to drede god and serue hym, and were all that night togyder in right good doctryne, and fynally he gave to his wyfe his rynge and the buckle of golde of hys gyrdle, b
othe bounden in a lytel cloth of purple, and sayd to her. Fayre sister, haue this, and kepe it as longe as it shall please our lord god, and it shall be a token bytweene us, and he gyue you grace to kepe truly your virgynitie. After this he toke of gokfe and syluer a grete somme, and departed alone fro Rome, and founde a shyppe in which he sayled in to Greece. And fro thens went in to Surrye,1 and came to a city called Edessia, and gaue there all his money for the loue of God, and clad hym in a cote, and de-maunded almes for goddes sake lyke a poore man tofore the chirche of our lady, and what he lefte of the almesses aboue his necessity, he gaue it to other for goddes sake, and euery sondaye he was houseled and receyved the sacrament, suche a lyfe he ladde longe. Some of ye messengers yt his father had sent to seche hym through all the partyes of the world came to seek hym in the sayd cyte of Edyssia and gaue unto hym theyr almes, he syttynge tofore the chirche with other poore people, but they knew hym not, and he knewe well them, and thanked our Lord, sayenge, I thank the fayre lorde Jesu Chryst yt thou vouchest safe to call me, and to take almes in thy name of my seruants, I praye the to perfourm in me that which thou hast begon. Whan the messengers were returned to Rome, and Eufemyen his fader sawe they had not founden his sone, he layd hym down upon a matres stratchynge on the erth, waylynge and sayd thus, I shal holde me here and abyde tyll yt I have tydynges of my sone. And ye wyfe of his sone Alexis sayd wepynge to Eufemyen, I shal not departe out of your hous, but shal make me semblable and lyke to the turtle, whiche after yt she hath lost her felowe wyl take none other, but all her lyfe after lyveth chaste. In lyke wyse, I shall refuse all felow-shyp unto ye time yt I shall knowe where my ryghte swete frende is becomen. After that Alexis had done his penaunce by right grete poverte in ye sayd cyte, and ledde a ryght holy lyfe by ye space of xvij yere, there was a voyce herde yt came fro god unto the chirche of our lady and said to the porter, Make the man of god to entre in, for he is worthy to haue the kingdome of heven, and the spiryte of god resteth on hym. Whan the clerke coude not fynde ne knowe hym amonge the other poor men, he prayed unto god to shewe to hym who it was. And a voyce came from heven and sayd, he sytteth without tofore the entre of the chirche. And so the clerke founde hym, and prayed hym humbly that he wolde come into ye chirche. Whan this myracle came to the knowledge of the people, and Alexis sawe that men dyd to hym honour and worshyp, anone for to eschewe vaynglory he departed fro thens and came into Grece when he toke shyppe, and entred for to go to Cecyle,2 but as god wold there arose a grete wynde which made the shyppe to arryne at the porte of Rome. When Alexis sawe this, anone he sayd to hymselfe, By the grace of god I wyl charge no man of Rome, I wyl go to my faders hous in suche wyse as I shal not be beknowen of ony person. And when he was within Rome he mette Eufemyen his fader which came fro ye palays of ye emperours wh a grete meyny1 followynge hym. And Alexis hys sone a poore man ranne cryenge and sayd. Sergeaunt of god haue pyte on me that am a poor pylgrym, and receyve me into thy hous for to haue my sustenaunce of ye relefe yt shall come fro thy borde, that god [may] blysse the, and haue pyte on thy sone, which is also a pylgrym. Whan Eufemyen herde speke of his sone, anone his herte began to melt and sayd to hys servauntes, Whiche of you wyl haue pyte on this man, and take ye cure and charge of hym. I shall deliver hym from hys servage and make him free, and shall gyve hym of myn herytage. And anone he commysed2 hym to one of his servauntes, and commaunded yt his bedde sholde be made in a corner of ye hall, whereas comers and goers myght se hym. And the servaunt to whom Alexis was commaunded to kepe made anone his bedde under the stayr and steppes of the hall. And there he lay right like a poore wretche, and suffred many vylanyes and despytes of the servauntes of his fader, which oft tymes cast and threwe on hym ye wasshynge of disshes and other fylth, and dyd to hym many euill tumes, and mocked hym, but he neuer complayned, but suffered all pacyently for the loue of god. Finally whan he had ledde this right holy lyfe wtin his faders hous in fastynge, in prayenge, and in penaunce by the space of vij yere, and knewe that he sholde soon dye, he prayed the servaunt yt kepte hym to gyve hym a pece of parchement and ynke. And therein he wrote by ordre all hys lyfe and how he was maryed by the commaundement of his fader, and what he had sayd to hys wife, and of the tokens of hys rynge and bocle of hys gyrdell, that he had gyuen to her at his departynge, and what he had suffered for goddes sake. And all this dyd he for to make his fader to understande that he was his sone. After this whan it pleased god for to shewe and manyfest the vyctory of our lorde Jesu Christ in his servaunt Alexis. On a tyme on a sondaye after masse herynge all the people in the chirche, there was a voyce herde from god cryenge and sayenge as is sayd Mathei undecimo capitulo. Come unto me ye that labour and be trauayled, I shall comfort you. Of which voyce all the people were abasshed, whiche anone fell downe unto the erth. And the voyce sayd agayne. Seche ye the servaunt of god, for he prayeth for all Rome. And they sought hym, but he was not founden.
