First tel me whider I shal303, and to what man.’
‘To whom?’ quod he, ‘Com forth with right good cheere304;
305 I wol thee lede unto the Pope Urban.’
‘Til306 Urban, brother min Valerian?’
Quod tho Tiburce, ‘Woltow me thider lede?
Me thinketh that it were a wonder dede!308
‘Ne menestow nat Urban,’ quod he tho,
310 ‘That is so ofte dampned310 to be deed,
And woneth in halkes alwey to and fro,311
And dar nat ones putte forth his heed312?
Men sholde him brennen313 in a fir so reed
If he were founde, or that men mighte him spye,
315 And we also, to bere him compaignye!
‘And whil we seken thilke divinitee
That is yhid in hevene prively,
Algate318 ybrend in this world shul we be.’
To whom Cecile answerde boldely:
320 ‘Men mighten dreden wel and skilfully320
This lif to lese, min owene deere brother,
If this were living oonly322, and noon oother.
‘But ther is bettre lif in oother place,
That nevere shal be lost, ne drede thee noght324,
325 Which Goddes Sone us tolde thurgh his grace.
That Fadres Sone hath alle thinges wroght326,
And al that wroght is, with a skilful327 thoght
The Goost that fro the Fader gan procede
Hath souled329 hem, withouten any drede.
330 ‘By word and by miracle, he Goddes Sone,
Whan he was in this world, declared heere
That ther332 was oother lif ther men may wone.’
To whom answerde Tiburce, ‘O suster deere,
Ne seidestow right now in this manere,
335 Ther nis but o God, lord in sothfastnesse?
And now of thre how maystow bere witnesse?’
‘That shal I telle,’ quod she, ‘er I go.
Right as a man hath sapiences338 thre –
Memorye, engin339, and intellect also –
340 So in o beinge of divinitee
Thre persones may ther right wel be.’
Tho gan she him ful bisily342 to preche
Of Cristes come343, and of his peines teche,
And manye pointes of his passioun –
345 How Goddes Sone in this world was withholde345
To doon mankinde plein remissioun346,
That was ybounde in sinne and cares colde347 –
Al this thing she unto Tiburce tolde.
And after this, Tiburce, in good entente,
350 With Valerian to Pope Urban he wente,
That thanked God, and with glad herte and light
He cristned him, and made him in that place
Parfit353 in his lerninge, Goddes knight.
And after this, Tiburce gat swich grace
355 That every day he say355, in time and space,
The aungel of God; and every maner boone356
That he God axed, it was sped357 ful soone.
It were ful harde by ordre for to seyn
How many wondres Jesus for hem wroghte.
360 But at the laste, to tellen short and plein,
The sergeantz361 of the toun of Rome hem soghte,
And hem biforn Almache, the prefect, broghte,
Which hem opposed363, and knew al hir entente,
And to the image of Juppiter hem sente,
365 And seide, ‘Whoso wol nat sacrifise,
Swap of366 his heed! This is my sentence heer.’
Anon thise martyrs that I yow devise367,
Oon Maximus, that was an officer
Of the prefectes, and his corniculer369,
370 Hem hente370, and whan he forth the seintes ladde,
Himself he weep371 for pitee that he hadde.
Whan Maximus hadde herd the seintes loore372,
He gat him of the tormentoures373 leve,
And ladde hem to his hous withoute moore;
375 And with hir preching, er that it were eve,
They gonnen fro the tormentours to reve376,
And fro Maxime, and fro his folk echone,
The false feith, to trowe in God allone.
Cecile cam, whan it was woxen379 night,
380 With preestes that hem cristned alle ifeere380;
And afterward, whan day was woxen light,
Cecile hem seide, with a ful stedefast cheere:
‘Now, Cristes owene knightes, leve383 and deere,
Cast al awey the werkes of derknesse,
385 And armeth yow385 in armure of brightnesse.
‘Ye han, for sothe, ydoon386 a greet bataille.
Youre cours is doon; youre feith han ye conserved.
Goth to the corone of lif that may nat faille!
The rightful juge which that ye han served
390 Shal yeve it yow, as ye han it deserved.’
And whan this thing was seid as I devise,
Men ledde hem forth to doon the sacrifise.
But whan they weren to the place broght,
To tellen shortly the conclusioun394,
395 They nolde encense395 ne sacrifise right noght,
But on hir knees they setten hem adoun
With humble herte and sad397 devocioun,
And losten bothe hir hevedes398 in the place;
Hir soules wenten to the king of grace.
400 This Maximus, that say400 this thing bitide,
With pitous teeris tolde it anon-right
That he hir soules saugh to hevene glide
With aungeles ful of cleernesse403 and of light;
And with his word converted many a wight404,
405 For which Almachius dide him405 so bete
With whippe of leed406, til he his lif gan lete.
Cecile him took and buried him anon
By Tiburce and Valerian softely408,
Withinne hir burying-place under the stoon.
410 And after this Almachius hastily
Bad hise ministres fecchen openly
Cecile, so that she mighte in his presence
Doon sacrifise, and Juppiter encense.
But they, converted at414 hir wise loore,
415 Wepten ful sore and yaven415 ful credence
Unto hir word, and criden moore and moore,
‘Crist, Goddes sone, withouten difference417
Is verray God – this is al oure sentence418 –
That hath so good a servant him to serve!
420 This with o vois420 we trowen, thogh we sterve.’
Almachius, that herde of this doinge421,
Bad fecchen Cecile, that he mighte hir se;
And alderfirst423, lo, this was his axinge:
‘What maner womman artow?’ tho quod he.
425 ‘I am a gentil womman born,’ quod she.
‘I axe thee,’ quod he, ‘thogh it thee greve426,
Of thy religioun, and of thy bileve.’
‘Ye han bigonne428 youre question folily,’
Quod she, ‘that wolden two answeres conclude429
430 In o demande; ye axed lewedly430.’
Almache answerde unto that similitude431:
‘Of whennes comth thin answering so rude?’
‘Of whennes?’ quod she, whan that she was freined433,
‘Of434 conscience and of good feith unfeined.’
435 Almachius seide, ‘Ne takestow noon hede
Of my power?’ And she answerde him this:
‘Youre might’, quod she, ‘ful litel is to drede437,
For every mortal mannes power nis
But lik a bladdre ful of wind, iwys,
440 For with a nedles point, whan it is blowe440,
May al the boost of it be leid ful lowe441.’
‘Ful wrongfully bigonne thow,’ quod he,
‘And yet443 in wrong is thy perseveraunce!
Wostow nat how oure mighty princes free444
445 Han thus
comanded, and maad ordinaunce
That every Cristen wight shal han penaunce446,
But if447 that he his Cristendom withseye,
And goon al quit448, if he wol it reneye?’
‘Youre princes erren, as youre nobleye449 dooth,’
450 Quod tho Cecile, ‘and with a wood sentence450
Ye make us gilty, and it is nat sooth;
For ye, that knowen wel oure innocence,
Forasmuche as we doon a reverence
To Crist, and for454 we bere a Cristen name,
455 Ye putte on us a crime, and eek a blame.
‘But we, that knowen thilke name so
For457 vertuous, we may it nat withseye.’
Almache answerde, ‘Chees oon of thise two:
Do sacrifice, or Cristendom reneye,
460 That thow mowe now escapen by that weye.’
At which the holy blisful faire maide
Gan for to laughe, and to the juge she saide:
‘O juge, confus463 in thy nicetee!
Wiltow that I reneye innocence
465 To maken me a wikked wight?’ quod she.
‘Lo, he dissimuleth466 heere in audience!
He spareth and woodeth in his advertence.’467
To whom Almachius: ‘Unsely468 wrecche,
Ne wostow nat how fer my might may strecche?
470 ‘Han noght oure mighty princes to me yeven,
Ye, bothe power and auctoritee
To maken folk to dien or to liven?
Why spekestow so proudly thanne to me?’
‘I speke noght but stedefastly,’ quod she,
475 ‘Nat proudly; for I seye, as for my side475,
We haten dedly476 thilke vice of pride.
‘And if thow drede nat a sooth to here,
Thanne wol I shewe al openly, by right,
That thow hast maad a ful greet lesing479 here.
480 Thow seyst thy princes han thee yeven might
Bothe for to sleen and for to quike481 a wight.
Thow that ne mayst but oonly lif bireve482,
Thow hast noon oother power ne no leve483.
‘But thow mayst seyn thy princes han thee maked
485 Ministre of deeth; for if thow speke of mo
Thow liest, for thy power is ful naked486.’
‘Do wey487 thy boldnesse,’ seide Almachius tho,
‘And sacrifice to oure goddes, er thow go.
I recche489 nat what wrong that thow me profre,
490 For I kan suffre490 it as a philosophre;
‘But thilke wronges may I nat endure
That thow spekest of oure goddes here,’ quod he.
Cecile answerde, ‘O nice493 creature,
Thow seidest no word, sin thow spak to me,
495 That I ne knew therwith thy nicetee,495
And that thow were, in every maner wise,
A lewed497 officer and a vein justise.
‘Ther lakketh nothing to thine outter eyen498
That thow n’art blind; for thing that we seen alle
500 That it is stoon – that men may wel espyen –
That ilke stoon a god thow wolt it calle.
I rede502 thee, lat thin hand upon it falle,
And taste503 it wel, and stoon thow shalt it finde,
Sin that thow seest nat with thine eyen blinde.
505 ‘It is a shame that the peple shal
So scornen thee, and laughe at thy folye,
For comunly men woot507 it wel overal
That mighty God is in hise hevenes hye,
And thise images, wel thow mayst espye,
510 To thee ne to hemself mowe noght profite510,
For in effect they be nat worth a mite.’
Thise wordes, and swiche othere, seide she;
And he weex wrooth513, and bad men sholde hir lede
Hoom til hir hous, ‘and in hir hous’, quod he,
515 ‘Brenne hire right in a bath of flambes rede.’
And as he bad,516 right so was doon the dede,
For in a bath they gonne517 hire faste shetten
And night and day greet fir they under518 betten.
The longe night, and eek a day also,
520 For al520 the fir, and eek the bathes hete,
She sat al coold, and feelede no wo521;
It made hir nat a drope for to swete.
But in that bath hir lif she moste lete523,
For he Almachius, with a ful wikke entente,
525 To sleen hire in the bath his sonde525 sente.
Thre strokes in the nekke he smoot526 hire tho,
The tormentour527; but for no maner chaunce
He mighte noght smite al hir nekke atwo.
And for ther was that time an ordinaunce
530 That no man sholde doon man swich penaunce530
The ferthe531 strook to smiten, softe or soore,
This tormentour ne dorste532 do namoore,
But half deed, with hir nekke ycorven533 there,
He lefte hir lie, and on his wey he went.
535 The Cristen folk whiche that aboute hire were
With shetes536 han the blood ful faire yhent.
Thre dayes lived she in this torment,
And nevere cessed hem the feith to teche
That she hadde fostred539; hem she gan to preche,
540 And hem she yaf hir moebles540 and hir thing,
And to the Pope Urban bitook541 hem tho,
And seide, ‘I axed this of hevene king,
To han respit thre dayes and namo,
To recommende544 to yow, er that I go,
545 Thise soules, lo, and that I mighte do werche545
Here of min hous perpetuelly a cherche546.’
Seint Urban, with hise deknes547, prively
The body fette548, and buried it by nighte,
Among hise othere seintes honestly.
550 Hir hous the chirche of Seinte Cecilye highte;
Seint Urban halwed551 it, as he wel mighte;
In which, into this day, in noble wise,
Men doon to Crist and to his seinte servise.
Heere is ended the Seconde Nonnes Tale.
THE CANON’S YEOMAN’S PROLOGUE
The Prologe of the Chanouns Yemannes Tale.
Whan ended was the lif of Seinte Cecile,
555 Er we hadde riden fully five mile,
At Boghtoun under Blee us gan atake556