Over salt mete doth grete oppressioun
To fieble stomakes, whan they can nat refreyne; For nothyng more contrary to theyr complexioun, Of gredy handes the stomak hath grete peyne.
Thus in two thynges standith al the welthe
Of sowle and body, who so lust to sewe,
Moderat foode gevith to man his helthe,
And al surfetis doth from hym remeve,
And charité to the sowle is dewe;
This ressayt is bought of no poticarye,
Of mayster Antony, nor of maister Hewe,
To al indifferent, richest diatorye.
THE MORAL OF THE LEGEND OF DIDO.
[From MS. Harl. 2251, fol. 94-95.]
L'ENVOY OF DYDO, QUENE OF CARTAGE.
O fayre Dido! most noble in constaunce!
Qwene of Cartage, myrrour of highe noblesse !
Reygneng in glory and vertuous habundaunce,
Called in thy tyme chief sours of gentillesse,
In whom was never founde no doublenesse,
Ay of on herte, and so thow didest fyne,
With light of trouth al wydewes to enlumyne.
Chaste and unchaunged in perseveraunce,
And immutable founde in thy goodenesse,
Whiche never thougtest upon variaunce,
Force and prudence, wardeyns of thi fayrenesse,
No langage digne thy vertus to expresse,
By newe report so clierly they don shyne,
Withe light of trouth al wydewes to enlumyne.
Thy famous bounté to putte in remembraunce,
Thow sloughe thyself of innocent purenesse,
Lest that thi suerté shuld hang in balaunce,
Of suche as thought thi chastité oppresse,
Deth was ynoughe therof to bere witnesse,
Causyng thy beauté to al clennesse enclyne,
Withe light of hevene thy lyf to enlumyne.
O loode-sterre of al goode governaunce !
Alle vicious lustes by wisdom to represse,
Thy grene yowthe flouryng with al plesaunce,
Diane hath demed so chastely thy clennesse,
How didest it brydel withe vertuous sobrenesse,
Whilest thow were soole plainly to termyne,
Withe light of trouth al wydewes to enlumyne.
O noble matrouns, whiche have al suffisaunce
Of wommanhede, yowre wittes doth up dresse,
How that fortune list oft to turn hir chaunce,
Beth nat to rakel of sodayne hastynesse,
But ay providith in youre hastulesse,
That no such folye entre in your corage,
To folwe Dydo, that was qwene of Cartage.
Withe hir maners hath nat your acqueytaunce, Putte out of mynde suche foltisshe wilfulnesse, To sle youreself thynk it were grete penaunce,
God of his grace defende yow al and blesse,
And eke preserve youre variaunt brutilnesse,
So that youre trouthe ne falle in none outrage,
To folwe Dydo, that was qwene of Cartage.
Withe covert colour and sobre contenaunce,
Of feithful meanyng pretendithe a lyknesse,
Countrefeteth in speche and daliaunce,
Al thyng that sowneth into stide fastnesse,
Of grete prudence by youre avisenesse,
Youreself restreynith and of al age,
To folwe Dydo, that was qwene of Cartage.
Lete al youre porte be voyde of displesaunce,
To gete youre frendis doth ay you besyness,
And beth never without purviaunce,
So shal ye best encresen in richesse,
In oone allone may be no sykernesse,
Unto youre hertis beothe dyvers of langage,
Contrary to Dydo that was qwene of Cartage.
Holdith youre servauntis under obeysaunce,
Lete hem neyther fredam ne fraunchesse,
But under daunger don ther observaunce,
Dauntithe theyr pruyde and brydel hem with low-
And whan the serpent of newfangelnesse
Assailethe yow, dothe youre avauntage,
Contrarye to Dydo, that was qwene of Cartage.
LEGEND OF WULFRIKE, ART OF
[From MS. Harl. 2251, fol. 78.]
IN Wiltshire of Englond two pristes ther were,
Right famulyer in goode conversacioune,
The tone was riche, that other somwhat bare,
And both they were nygh on habitacioune;
The tone had ever right grete devocioun,
Of requiem his masse to syng or say,
And for alle Cristen soules ever to pray.
Whan God of his grete visitacioun,
List out of this worlde for hym to sende,
His rightes he had by goode deliberacioun,
And to God his soule he highly did comend,
And as a triew Cristen man here he made his ende,
Aboute mydnyght, as we fynde and rede,
His felaw unknowyng that he was dede.
Til erly on the mornyng whan he shulde gon,
Unto the chirche his service for to say,
Out of theyr graves he sawe many oon,
Appere as children, in white array,
"Arise! aryse!" they sayde," and lete us pray
For Wulfryke oure prist, that no doth passe,
That for us hathe sayde many a requiem masse."
Devoutly they prayed, as to hym semed,
And into theyr graves they tourned agayne,
He mervailed moche and inwardly demed,
That his felaw was past out of worldly peyn,
The trouthe for to knawe he was right fayn,
And homward he went hymself allone,
Hym fonde hym dede, wherfor he made grete mone.
Examples we fynde and rede many oone,
How we shulde synge and rede for to pray for other,
And specially for them that be past and goon,
Whiche on us only trust as brother on brother;
Now pray we, Jhesu, and his blessed moder,
With help of al seyntes in hevene an hy,
On alle Cristen soulis to have pité and mercy.
LEGEND OF A MONK OF PARIS.
[From MS. Harl. 2251, fol. 78.]
REMEMBRYD by scriptures we fynde and rede,
Holsum and holy it is to thynke and pray,
For al the sowles that be past in dede
Out of this wretchid world unto domesday,
Abidyng in purgatory with soruful lay,
Cryeng and callyng for mercy and pité,
Unto them in special that there friendis be.
There was a man right hooly and devoute,
Of Parase in Fraunce, that worthy cyté,
That daily wold sey in his chirche-yerde aboute,
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