The Second Nun’s Tale
The minister and norice unto vices,
Which that men call in English idleness,
The porter at the gate is of delices;
T’ eschew, and by her contrar’ her oppress—
That is to say, by lawful business—
Well oughtë we to do our all intent,
Lest that the fiend through idleness us hent.
For he, that with his thousand cordës sly
Continually us waiteth to beclap,
When he may man in idleness espy,
He can so lightly catch him in his trap,
Till that a man be hent right by the lappe,
He is not ware the fiend hath him in hand;
Well ought we work, and idleness withstand.
And though men dreaded never for to die,
Yet see men well by reason, doubtëless,
That idleness is root of sluggardý,
Of which there cometh never good increase;
And see that sloth them holdeth in a leas,
Only to sleep, and for to eat and drink,
And to devouren all that others swink.
And, for to put us from such idleness,
That cause is of so great confusión,
I have here done my faithful business,
After the Legend, in translatión
Right of thy glorious life and passión—
Thou with thy garland wrought of rose and lily,
Thee mean I, maid and martyr, Saint Cecílie.
And thou, thou art the flow’r of virgins all,
Of whom that Bernard list so well to write,
To thee at my beginning first I call;
Thou comfort of us wretches, do me indite
Thy maiden’s death, that won through her meríte
Th’ eternal life, and o’er the fiend victóry,
As man may after readen in her story.
Thou maid and mother, daughter of thy Son,
Thou well of mercy, sinful soulës’ cure,
In whom that God of bounté chose to won;
Thou humble and high o’er every creatúre,
Thou nobilest, so far forth our natúre,
That no disdain the Maker had of kind,
His Son in blood and flesh to clothe and wind.
Within the cloister of thy blissful sidës
Took mannë’s shape th’ eternal love and peace,
That of the trinë compass Lord and guide is;
Whom earth, and sea, and heav’n, out of release,
Aye hery; and thou, Virgin wemmëless,
Bare of thy body, and dweltest maiden pure,
The Creatór of every creatúre.
Assembled is in thee magnificence
With mercy, goodness, and with such pitý,
That thou, that art the sun of excellence,
Not only helpest them that pray to thee,
But oftentime, of thy benignity,
Full freely, ere that men thine help beseech,
Thou go’st before, and art their livës’ leech.
Now help, thou meek and blissful fairë maid,
Me, flemed wretch, in this desért of gall;
Think on the woman Cananée that said
That whelpës eat some of the crumbës all
That from their Lordë’s table be y-fall;
And though that I, unworthy son of Eve,
Be sinful, yet acceptë my believe.
And, for that faith is dead withoutë werkës,
For to workë give me wit and space,
That I be quit from thennes that most derk is;
O thou, that art so fair and full of grace,
Be thou mine advocate in that high place,
Where as withouten end is sung Osanne,
Thou Christë’s mother, daughter dear of Anne.
And of thy light my soul in prison light,
That troubled is by the contagión
Of my bodý, and also by the weight
Of earthly lust and false affectión;
O hav’n of refuge, O salvatión
Of them that be in sorrow and distress,
Now help, for to my work I will me dress.
Yet pray I you, that readë what I write,
Forgive me that I do no diligence
This ilkë story subtilly t’ indite.
For both have I the wordës and senténce
Of him that at the saintë’s reverence
The story wrote, and follow her legénd;
And pray you that you will my work amend.
First will I you the name of Saint Cecílie
Expound, as men may in her story see.
It is to say in English, Heaven’s lily,
For purë chasteness of virginity;
Or, for she whiteness had of honesty,
And green of consciénce, and of good fame
The sweetë savour, Lilie was her name.
Or Cecilie is to say, the way of blind;
For she example was by good teachíng;
Or else Cecilie, as I written find,
Is joined by a manner conjoiníng
Of heaven and Lia, and herein figuríng
The heaven is set for thought of holiness,
And Lia for her lasting business.
Cecilie may eke be said in this mannére,
Wanting of blindness, for her greatë light
Of sapience, and for her thewës clear.
Or ellës, lo, this maiden’s name bright
Of heaven and Leos comes, for which by right
Men might her well the heaven of people call,
Example of good and wisë workës all;
For Leos people in English is to say;
And right as men may in the heaven see
The sun and moon, and starrës every way,
Right so men ghostly, in this maiden free,
Sawen of faith the magnanimitý,
And eke the clearness whole of sapiénce,
And sundry workës bright of excellence.
And right so as these philosóphers write,
That heav’n is swift and round, and eke burning,
Right so was fairë Cecilíe the white
Full swift and busy in every good workíng,
And round and whole in good perséveríng,
And burning ever in charity full bright;
Now have I you declared what she hight.
This maiden bright Cecile, as her life saith,
Was come of Romans, and of noble kind,
And from her cradle foster’d in the faith
Of Christ, and bare his Gospel in her mind:
She never ceased, as I written find,
Of her prayére, and God to love and dread,
Beseeching him to keep her maidenhead.
And when this maiden should unto a man
Y-wedded be, that was full young of age,
Which that y-called was Valerian,
And comë was the day of marriáge,
She, full devout and humble in her coráge,
Under her robe of gold, that sat full fair,
Had next her flesh y-clad her in an hair.
And while the organs madë melody,
To God alone thus in her heart sang she;
“O Lord, my soul and eke my body gie
Unwemmed, lest that I confounded be.”
And, for his love that died upon the tree,
Every second or third day she fast’,
Aye bidding in her orisons full fast.
The night came, and to beddë must she gon
With her husbánd, as it is the mannére;
And privily she said to him anon;
“O sweet and well-beloved spousë dear,
There is a counsel, an’ ye will it hear,
Which that right fain I would unto you say,
So that ye swear ye will it not bewray.”
Valerian gan fast unto her swear
That for no case nor thing that mightë be,
He never should to none bewrayen her;
And then at erst thus to him saidë she;
“I have an angel which that loveth me,
That with great love, whether I wake or sleep,
Is ready aye my body for to keep;
“And if that he may feelen, out of dread,
That ye me touch or love in villainy,
He right anon will slay you with the deed,
And in your youthë thus ye shouldë die.
And if that ye in cleanë love me gie,
He will you love as me, for your cleannéss,
And shew to you his joy and his brightnéss.”
Valerian, corrected as God wo’ld,
Answer’d again, “If I shall trustë thee,
Let me that angel see, and him behold;
And if that it a very angel be,
Then will I do as thou hast prayed me;
And if thou love another man, forsooth
Right with this sword then will I slay you both.”
Cecile answér’d anon right in this wise;
“If that you list, the angel shall ye see,
So that ye trow Of Christ, and you baptise;
Go forth to Via Appia,” quoth she,
That from this townë stands but milës three,
And to the poorë folkës that there dwell
Say them right thus, as that I shall you tell.
“Tell them, that I, Cecile, you to them sent
To shewë you the good Urban the old,
For secret needës, and for good intent;
And when that ye Saint Urban have behold,
Tell him the wordës which I to you told;
And when that he hath purged you from sin,
Then shall ye see that angel ere ye twin.”
Valerian is to the placë gone;
And, right as he was taught by her learning,
He found this holy old Urban anon
Among the saintës’ burials louting;
And he anon, withoutë tarrying,
Did his messáge, and when that he it told,
Urban for joy his handës gan uphold.
The tearës from his eyen let he fall;
“Almighty Lord, O Jesus Christ,” quoth he,
“Sower of chaste counsél, herd of us all;
The fruit of thilkë seed of chastity
That thou hast sown in Cecile, take to thee:
Lo, like a busy bee, withoutë guile,
Thee serveth aye thine owen thrall Cicile.
“For thilkë spousë, that she took but new,
Full like a fierce lión, she sendeth here,
As meek as e’er was any lamb to ewe.”
And with that word anon there gan appear
An old man, clad in whitë clothës clear,
That had a book with letters of gold in hand,
And gan before Valerian to stand.
Valerian, as dead, fell down for dread,
When he him saw; and he up hent him tho,
And on his book right thus he gan to read;
“One Lord, one faith, one God withoutë mo’,
One Christendom, one Father of all alsó,
Aboven all, and over all everywhere.”
These wordës all with gold y-written were.
When this was read, then said this oldë man,
“Believ’st thou this or no? say yea or nay.”
“I believe all this,” quoth Valerian,
“For soother thing than this, I dare well say,
Under the Heaven no wight thinkë may.”
Then vanish’d the old man, he wist not where;
And Pope Urban him christened right there.
Valerian went home, and found Cecílie
Within his chamber with an angel stand;
This angel had of roses and of lily
Coronës two, the which he bare in hand,
And first to Cecile, as I understand,
He gave the one, and after gan he take
The other to Valerian her make.
“With body clean, and with unwemmed thought,
Keep aye well these coronës two,” quoth he;
“From Paradise to you I have them brought,
Nor ever morë shall they rotten be,
Nor lose their sweetë savour, trustë me,
Nor ever wight shall see them with his eye,
But he be chaste, and hatë villainy.
“And thou, Valerian, for thou so soon
Assented hast to good counsél, also
Say what thee list, and thou shalt have thy boon.”
“I have a brother,” quoth Valerian tho,
“That in this world I love no man so;
I pray you that my brother may have grace
To know the truth, as I do in this place.”
The angel said, “God liketh thy request,
And bothë, with the palm of martyrdom,
Ye shallë come unto this blissful rest.”
And, with that word, Tiburce his brother came.
And when that he the savour undernome
Which that the roses and the lilies cast,
Within his heart he gan to wonder fast;
And said; “I wonder, this time of the year,
Whencë that sweetë savour cometh so
Of rose and lilies, that I smellë here;
For though I had them in mine handës two,
The savour might in me no deeper go;
The sweetë smell, that in my heart I find,
Hath changed me all in another kind.”
Valerian said, “Two crownës here have we,
Snow-white and rosë-red, that shinë clear,
Which that thine eyen have no might to see;
And, as thou smellest them through my prayére,
So shalt thou see them, levë brother dear,
If it so be thou wilt withoutë sloth
Believe aright, and know the very troth.”
Tiburce answéred, “Say’st thou this to me
In soothness, or in dreamë hear I this?”
“In dreamës,” quoth Valerian, “have we be
Unto this timë, brother mine, y-wis:
But now at erst in truth our dwelling is.”
“How know’st thou this,” quoth Tiburce; “in what wise?”
Quoth Valerián, “That shall I thee devise.
“The angel of God hath me the truth y-taught,
Which thou shalt see, if that thou wilt reny
The idols, and be clean, and ellës nought.”
[And of the mirácle of these crownës tway
Saint Ambrose in his preface list to say;
Solemnëly this noble doctor dear
Commendeth it, and saith in this mannére:
“The palm of martyrdom for to receive,
Saint Cecilie, full filled of God’s gift,
The world and eke her chamber gan to weive;
Witness Tiburce’s and Cecilie’s shrift,
To which God of his bounty wouldë shift
Coronës two, of flowers well smellíng,
And made his angel them the crownës bring.
“The maid hath brought these men to bliss above;
The world hath wist what it is worth, certáin,
Devotión of chastity to love.”]
Then showed him Cecilie all open and plain,
That idols all are but a thing in vain,
For they be dumb, and thereto they be deave;
And charged him his idols for to leave.
“Whoso that trow’th not this, a beast he is,”
Quoth this Tiburce, “if that I shall not lie.”
And she gan kiss his breast when she heard this,
And was full glad he could the truth espy:
“This day I takë thee for mine ally.”
Saidë this blissful fairë maiden dear;
And after that she said as ye may hear.
“Lo, right so as the love of Christ,” quoth she,
“Made me thy brother’s wife, right in that wise
Anon for mine allý here take I thee,
Since that thou wilt thine idolës despise.
Go with thy brother now and thee baptise,
And make thee clean, so that thou may’st behold
The angel’s face, of which thy brother told.”
Tiburce answér’d, and saidë, “Brother dear,
First tell me whither I shall, and to what man?”
“To whom?” quoth he, “come forth with goodë cheer,
I will thee lead unto the Pope Urbán.”
“To Urban? brother mine Valerián,”
Quoth then Tiburce; “wilt thou me thither lead?
Me thinketh that it were a wondrous deed.
“Meanest thou not that Urban,” quoth he tho,
“That is so often damned to be dead,
And wons in halkës always to and fro,
And dare not onës puttë forth his head?
Men should him brennen in a fire so red,
If he were found, or if men might him spy:
And us also, to bear him companý.
“And while we seekë that Divinity
That is y-hid in heaven privily,
Algatë burnt in this world should we be.”
To whom Cecilie answer’d boldëly;
“Men mightë dreadë well and skilfully
This life to lose, mine owen dearë brother,
If this were living only, and none other.
“But there is better life in other place,
That never shall be lostë, dread thee nought;
Which Goddë’s Son us toldë through his grace,
That Father’s Son which allë thingës wrought;
And all that wrought is with a skilful thought,
The Ghost, that from the Father gan proceed,
Hath souled them, withouten any drede.
“By word and by mirácle, high God’s Son,
When he was in this world, declared here,
That there is other life where men may won.”
To whom answér’d Tiburce, “O sister dear,
Saidest thou not right now in this mannére,
There was but one God, Lord in soothfastness,
And now of three how may’st thou bear witnéss?”
“That shall I tell,” quoth she, “ere that I go.
Right as a man hath sapiénces three,
Memory, engine, and intellect also,
So in one being of divinity
Three personës there mayë right well be.”
Then gan she him full busily to preach
Of Christë’s coming, and his painës teach,
And many pointës of his passión;
How Goddë’s Son in this world was withhold
To do mankindë plein remissión,
That was y-bound in sin and carës cold.
All this thing she unto Tiburcë told,
And after that Tiburce, in good intent,
With Valerián to Pope Urban he went;
That thanked God, and with glad heart and light
He christen’d him, and made him in that place
Perféct in his learníng, and Goddë’s knight.
And after this Tiburcë got such grace,
That every day he saw in time and space
Th’ angel of God, and every manner boon
That be God asked, it was sped full soon.
It were full hard by order for to sayn
How many wonders Jesus for them wrought.
But at the last, to tellë short and plain,
The sergeants of the town of Rome them sought,
And them before Almach the Prefect brought,
Which them appos’d, and knew all their intent,
And to th’ imáge of Jupiter them sent;
And said, “Whoso will not do sacrifice,
Swap off his head, this is my sentence here.”
Anon these martyrs, that I you devise,
One Maximus, that was an officére
Of the preféct’s, and his corniculére,
Them hent, and when he forth the saintës lad,
Himself he wept for pity that he had.
When Maximus had heard the saintës’ lore,
He got him of the tormentorës leave,
And led them to his house withoutë more;
And with their preaching, ere that it were eve,
They gonnen from the tórmentors to reave,
And from Maxim’, and from his folk each one,
The falsë faith, to trow in God alone.
Cecilia came, when it was waxen night,
With priestës, that them christen’d all in fere;
And afterward, when day was waxen light,
Cecile them said with a full steadfast cheer,
“Now, Christë’s owen knightës lefe and dear,
Cast all away the workës of darknéss,
And armë you in armour of brightnéss.
Ye have forsooth y-done a great battaile;
Your course is done, your faith have ye conserved;
Go to the crown of life that may not fail;
The rightful Judgë, which that ye have served,
Shall give it you, as ye have it deserved.”
And when this thing was said, as I devise,
Men led them forth to do the sacrifice.
But when they were unto the placë brought,
To tellë shortly the conclusión,
They would incénse nor sacrifice right nought.
But on their knees they settë them adown,
With humble heart and sad devotión,
And lostë both their headës in the place;
Their soulës wentë to the King of grace.
This Maximus, that saw this thing betide,
With piteous tearës told it anon right,
That he their soulës saw to heaven glide
With angels, full of clearness and of light;
And with his word converted many a wight.
For which Almachius did him to-beat
With whip of lead, till he his life gan lete.
Cecile him took, and buried him anon
By Tiburce and Valerian softëly,
Within their burying-place, under the stone.
And after this Almachius hastily
Bade his ministers fetchen openly
Cecile, so that she might in his presénce
Do sacrifice, and Jupiter incénse.
But they, converted at her wisë lore,
Weptë full sore, and gavë full credénce
Unto her word, and criëd more and more;
“Christ, Goddë’s Son, withoutë difference,
Is very God, this is all our senténce,
That hath so good a servant him to serve:
Thus with one voice we trowë, though we sterve.”
Almachius, that heard of this doíng,
Bade fetch Cecilie, that he might her see;
And alderfirst, lo, this was his askíng;
“What manner woman artë thou?” quoth he.
“I am a gentle woman born,” quoth she.
“I askë thee,” quoth he, “though it thee grieve,
Of thy religion and of thy believe.”
“Ye have begun your question foolishly,”
Quoth she, “that wouldest two answérs conclude
In one demand? ye askë lewëdly.”
Almach answér’d to that similitude,
“Of whencë comes thine answering so rude?”
“Of whencë?” quoth she, when that she was freined,
“Of consciénce, and of good faith unfeigned.”
Almachius saidë; “Takest thou no heed
Of my powér?” and she him answer’d this;
“Your might,” quoth she, “full little is to dread;
For every mortal mannë’s power is
But like a bladder full of wind, y-wis;
For with a needle’s point, when it is blow’,
May all the boast of it be laid full low.”
“Full wrongfully begunnest thou,” quoth he,
“And yet in wrong is thy perséveránce.
Know’st thou not how our mighty princes free
Have thus commanded and made ordinánce,
That every Christian wight shall have penánce,
But if that he his Christendom withsay,
And go all quit, if he will it renay?”
“Your princes erren, as your nobley doth,”
Quoth then Cecile, “and with a wood senténce
Ye make us guilty, and it is not sooth:
For ye that knowë well our innocence,
Forasmuch as we do aye reverence
To Christ, and for we bear a Christian name,
Ye put on us a crime and eke a blame.
“But we that knowë thilkë namë so
For virtuous, we may it not withsay.”
Almach answered, “Choose one of these two,
Do sacrifice, or Christendom renay,
That thou may’st now escapë by that way.”
At which the holy blissful fairë maid
Gan for to laugh, and to the judgë said;
“O judge, confused in thy nicety,
Wouldest thou that I rény innocence?
To makë me a wicked wight,” quoth she,
“Lo, he dissimuleth here in audience;
He stareth and woodeth in his adverténce.”
To whom Almachius said, “Unsely wretch,
Knowest thou not how far my might may stretch?
“Have not our mighty princes to me given
Yea bothë power and eke authority
To makë folk to dien or to liven?
Why speakest thou so proudly then to me?”
“I speakë not but steadfastly,” quoth she,
Not proudly, for I say, as for my side,
We hatë deadly thilkë vice of pride.
“And, if thou dreadë not a sooth to hear,
Then will I shew all openly by right,
That thou hast made a full great leasing here.
Thou say’st thy princes have thee given might
Both for to slay and for to quick a wight—
Thou that may’st not but only life bereave;
Thou hast none other power nor no leave.
“But thou may’st say, thy princes have thee maked
Minister of death; for if thou speak of mo’,
Thou liest; for thy power is full naked.”
“Do away thy boldness,” said Almachius tho,
“And sacrifice to our gods, ere thou go.
I reckë not what wrong that thou me proffer,
For I can suffer it as a philosópher.
“But thosë wrongës may I not endure,
That thou speak’st of our goddës here,” quoth he.
Cecile answér’d, “O nicë creatúre,
Thou saidest no word, since thou spake to me,
That I knew not therewith thy nicety,
And that thou wert in every manner wise
A lewëd officer, a vain justíce.
“There lacketh nothing to thine outward eyen
That thou art blind; for thing that we see all
That it is stone, that men may well espyen,
That ilkë stone a god thou wilt it call.
I rede thee let thine hand upon it fall,
And taste it well, and stone thou shalt it find;
Since that thou see’st not with thine eyen blind.
“It is a shamë that the people shall
So scornë thee, and laugh at thy follý;
For commonly men wot it well over all,
That mighty God is in his heaven high;
And these imáges, well may’st thou espy,
To thee nor to themselves may not profíte,
For in effect they be not worth a mite.”
These wordës and such others saidë she,
And he wax’d wroth, and bade men should her lead
Home to her house; “And in her house,” quoth he,
“Burn her right in a bath, with flamës red.”
And as he bade, right so was done the deed;
For in a bath they gan her fastë shetten,
And night and day great fire they under betten.
The longë night, and eke a day also,
For all the fire, and eke the bathë’s heat,
She sat all cold, and felt of it no woe,
It made her not one droppë for to sweat;
But in that bath her lifë she must lete.
For he, Almachius, with full wick’ intent,
To slay her in the bath his sondë sent.
Three strokës in the neck he smote her tho,
The tórmentor, but for no manner chance
He might not smite her fairë neck in two:
And, for there was that time an ordinance
That no man shouldë do man such penánce,
The fourthë stroke to smitë, soft or sore,
This tórmentor he durstë do no more;
But half dead, with her neckë carven there
He let her lie, and on his way is went.
The Christian folk, which that about her were,
With sheetës have the blood full fair y-hent;
Three dayës lived she in this tormént,
And never ceased them the faith to teach,
That she had foster’d them, she gan to preach.
And them she gave her mebles and her thing,
And to the Pope Urban betook them tho;
And said, “I askë this of heaven’s king,
To have respite three dayës and no mo’,
To recommend to you, ere that I go,
These soulës, lo; and that I might do wirch
Here of mine house perpetually a church.”
Saint Urban, with his deacons, privily
The body fetch’d, and buried it by night
Among his other saintës honestly;
Her house the church of Saint Cecilie hight;
Saint Urban hallow’d it, as he well might;
In which unto this day, in noble wise,
Men do to Christ and to his saint servíce.