Nor rain rain on such a one, The one was called Hathulf child, It was upon a summer's day, As he was wont to ride. He found by the strand there, Of Saracens full bold. He asked them what they sought A pagan there beside At once to him replied: And all who hold with Christ this day, The king sprang from his steed then, They smote so under shield There none alive might go, As Christ would have it be. The children all had perished there. In speaking he was bold: "Horn, valour is in thee, As any man can see; Thou art now large and strong, Fair and of body long. Thou shalt grow ever greater For seven years or better, They brought the boys to the shore, Wringing their hands full sore. On shipboard they thrust them, No longer would they trust them. Oft had Horn suffered woe, But never worse than he then did know. The sea began a-flowing And Horn Child a-rowing. The sea so fast the ship did drive, The blow my hand shall deal." Aylbrus went from her to the hall, Where Horn did serve before them all, And ne'er shalt thou it rue." To bower should I seek Rymenhild up did stand Her joy was most in this. "Horn," she said, "without all strife, Thou shalt have me as thy wife. Horn, have of me ruth And plight to me thy truth." Horn in his heart did seek What words he then might speak. "May Christ," said he, "now guide thee! Such a woman's love to know. Betwixt a thrall and a king." Rymenhild was grieved thereby Her arms slipped strengthless down, Horn such woe could nowise brook And then he did her kiss, Rymenhild, that sweetest thing, THE VISION OF WILLIAM CON CERNING PIERS PLOWMAN IN a summer season when the sun was softest, Shrouded in a smock, in shepherd's clothing, In the habit of a hermit of unholy living, 1 went through this world to witness wonders. On a May morning on a Malvern hillside I saw strange sights like scenes of Faerie. I was weary of wandering and went to rest By the bank of a brook in a broad meadow. As I lay and leaned and looked on the water I slumbered and slept, so sweetly it murmured. Then I met with marvelous visions. I was in a wilderness; where, I knew not. I looked up at the East at the high sun, And saw a tower on a toft artfully fashioned. A deep dale was beneath with a dungeon in it, And deep ditches and dark, dreadful to see. A fair field full of folk I found between them, With all manner of men, the meanest and the richest, Working and wandering as the world demanded. Some put them to the plow and practiced hardship In setting and sowing and seldom had leisure; They won what wasters consumed in gluttony. Some practiced pride and quaint behavior, And came disguised in clothes and features. Prayer and penance prevailed with many. For the love of our Lord they lived in strictness, To have bliss hereafter and heavenly riches. Hermits and anchorites held to their dwellings, They feign that they are famished and fight in the ale-house. God wot, they go in gluttony to their chambers And rise with ribaldry, like Robert's children. Sleep and sloth pursue them always. Pilgrims and palmers were plighted together To seek Saint James and saints in Rome. They went on their way with many wise stories, And had leave to lie for a lifetime after. I saw some who said that they sought for relics; In each tale that they told their tongue would always Speak more than was so, it seemed to my thinking. A host of hermits with hooked staves Went to Walsingham with their wenches behind them. These great lubbers and long, who were loath to labor, Clothed themselves in copes to be distinguished from others, And robed themselves as hermits to roam at their leisure. There I found friars of all the four orders, Who preached to the people for the profit of their bellies, And glossed the gospel to their own good pleasure; They coveted their copes, and construed it to their liking. Many master-brothers may clothe themselves to their fancy, For their money and their merchandise multiply together. Since charity has turned chapman to shrive lords and ladies, Strange sights have been seen in a few short years. Unless they and Holychurch hold closer Said that he himself might assoil all men Of all falsehood in fasting and vows that were broken. Common folk confided in him and liked his preaching, And crept up on cowed knees and kissed his pardons. He abused them with brevets and blinded their eyesight; His devil's devises drew rings and brooches. They gave their gold to keep gluttons, And believed in liars and lovers of lechery. If the bishop were blessed and worth both his ears His seal would not be sent to deceive the people. But the power of the bishop is not this preacher's license, For the parish priest and the pardoner share the profits together Which the poor of the parish would have if these were honest. Because parishes were poor since the pestilence season, Parsons and parish priests petitioned the bishops For a license to leave and live in London And sing there for simony, for silver is sweet. Bishops and bachelors, both masters and doctors, Who have cures under Christ and are crowned with the tonsure, In sign of their service to shrive the parish, To pray and preach and give the poor nourishment, Lodge in London in Lent and the long year after; Some are counting coins in the king's chamber, Or in exchequer and chancery challenging his debts From wards and wardmotes, waifs and strays. Some serve as servants to lords and ladies And sit in the seats of steward and butler. They hear mass and matines, and many of their hours Are done without devotion. There is danger that at last Christ in his consistory will curse many. THE CONFESSION OF SLOTH THEN Sloth came all beslobbered, with slime on his eyelids; 66 "I must sit," he said, or else I shall slumber. I cannot stand or stoop, and want a stool for kneeling. If I were brought to bed, unless my buttocks made me, No ringing should make me rise till I was ripe for dinner." He began benedicite with a belch and beat his forehead, And roared and raved and snored for a conclusion. "Awake! awake! wretch," cried Repentance, "make ready for shriving." "If I should die to-day I should never do it. I cannot say pater noster perfectly, as the priest sings it. I know rhymes of Robin Hood and Randolph Earl of Chester, But of our Lord or of our Lady I have learned nothing. I have made forty vows and forgotten them on the morrow. I never performed the penance as the priest commanded, Nor was sorry be. for my sins as a man should And if I pray at my beads, unless Wrath bids me, What I tell with my tongue is two miles from my meaning. I am occupied each day, on holy days and all days, With idle tales at ale, or at other times in churches. Rarely do I remember God's pain and passion. I never visit the feeble nor the fettered men in prison. I had rather hear ribaldry or a summer game of cobblers, Or lies to laugh at and belie my neighbor, Than all that the four evangelists have ever written. Vigils and fasting days slip unheeded. I lie abed in Lent with my lemman beside me, And when matines and mass are over I go to my friars. If I reach to ite missa est1 I have done my duty. Sometimes I am not shriven, unless sickness force me, More than twice in two years, and then I do it by guess work. I have been priest and parson for the past thirty winters, Yet I know neither the scales nor the singing nor the Saints' Legends. I can find an hare afield or frighten him from his furrow Better than read beatus vir 2 or beati omnes,3 Construe their clauses and instruct my parishoners. I can hold love-days and hear a reve's reckoning, But I cannot construe a line in the Canons or Decretals. If I beg or borrow and it be not tallied I forget it as quickly; men can ask me Six times or seven and I will swear to the falsehood. So I trouble true men twenty times over. The salary of my servants is seldom even. I answer angrily when the accounts are reckoned, And my workman's wages are wrath and cursing. If any man does me a favour or helps me in trouble, I answer courtesy with unkindness, and cannot understand it. I have now and I have ever had a hawk's manners. I am not lured with love where nothing lies in the fingers. Sixty times I, Sloth, have since for gotten The kindness that fellow Christians have granted to me. Sometimes I spill - in speech or silence Both flesh and fish and many other vict uals, Bread and ale, butter, milk and cheeses, All slobbered in my service till they may serve no man. 1 The concluding words of the mass. 2 Psalms, i or cxii. 3 Psalms, cxxviii. |