The Second Nun’s Tale

Here biginneth the Seconde Nonnes Tale, of the lyf of Seinte Cecile.

This mayden bright Cecilie, as hir lyf seith, 

Was comen of Romayns, and of noble kinde,

And from hir cradel up fostred in the feith

Of Crist, and bar his gospel in hir minde;

She never cessed, as I writen finde,

Of hir preyere, and god to love and drede,    

Biseking him to kepe hir maydenhede.

And when this mayden sholde unto a man

Y-wedded be, that was ful yong of age,

Which that y-cleped was Valerian,

And day was comen of hir mariage, 

She, ful devout and humble in hir corage,

Under hir robe of gold, that sat ful fayre,

Had next hir flesh y-clad hir in an heyre.

And whyl the organs maden melodye,

To god alone in herte thus sang she; 

‘O lord, my soule and eek my body gye

Unwemmed, lest that I confounded be:’

And, for his love that deyde upon a tree,

Every seconde or thridde day she faste,

Ay biddinge in hir orisons ful faste.   

The night cam, and to bedde moste she gon

With hir housbonde, as ofte is the manere,

And prively to him she seyde anon,

‘O swete and wel biloved spouse dere,

Ther is a conseil, and ye wolde it here,

Which that right fain I wolde unto yow seye,

So that ye swere ye shul me nat biwreye.’

Valerian gan faste unto hir swere,

That for no cas, ne thing that mighte be,

He sholde never-mo biwreyen here;

And thanne at erst to him thus seyde she,

‘I have an angel which that loveth me,

That with greet love, wher-so I wake or slepe,

Is redy ay my body for to kepe.

And if that he may felen, out of drede, 

That ye me touche or love in vileinye,

He right anon wol slee yow with the dede,

And in your yowthe thus ye shulden dye;

And if that ye in clene love me gye,

He wol yow loven as me, for your clennesse, 

And shewen yow his Ioye and his brightnesse.’

Valerian, corrected as god wolde,

Answerde agayn, ‘if I shal trusten thee,

Lat me that angel se, and him biholde;

And if that it a verray angel be, 

Than wol I doon as thou hast preyed me;

And if thou love another man, for sothe

Right with this swerd than wol I slee yow bothe.’

Cecile answerde anon right in this wyse,

‘If that yow list, the angel shul ye see,

So that ye trowe on Crist and yow baptyse.

Goth forth to Via Apia,’ quod she,

‘That fro this toun ne stant but myles three,

And, to the povre folkes that ther dwelle,

Sey hem right thus, as that I shal yow telle. 

Telle hem that I, Cecile, yow to hem sente,

To shewen yow the gode Urban the olde,

For secree nedes and for good entente.

And whan that ye seint Urban han biholde,

Telle him the wordes whiche I to yow tolde; 

And whan that he hath purged yow fro sinne,

Thanne shul ye see that angel, er ye twinne.’

Valerian is to the place y-gon,

And right as him was taught by his lerninge,

He fond this holy olde Urban anon

Among the seintes buriels lotinge.

And he anon, with-outen taryinge,

Dide his message; and whan that he it tolde,

Urban for Ioye his hondes gan up holde.

The teres from his yën leet he falle—

‘Almighty lord, o Iesu Crist,’ quod he,

‘Sower of chast conseil, herde of us alle,

The fruit of thilke seed of chastitee

That thou hast sowe in Cecile, tak to thee!

Lo, lyk a bisy bee, with-outen gyle,

Thee serveth ay thyn owene thral Cecile!

For thilke spouse, that she took but now

Ful lyk a fiers leoun, she sendeth here,

As meke as ever was any lamb, to yow!’

And with that worde, anon ther gan appere 

An old man, clad in whyte clothes clere,

That hadde a book with lettre of golde in honde,

And gan biforn Valerian to stonde.

Valerian as deed fil doun for drede

Whan he him saugh, and he up hente him tho,      

And on his book right thus he gan to rede—

‘Oo Lord, oo feith, oo god with-outen mo,

Oo Cristendom, and fader of alle also,

Aboven alle and over al everywhere’—

Thise wordes al with gold y-writen were.

Whan this was rad, than seyde this olde man,

‘Levestow this thing or no? sey ye or nay.’

‘I leve al this thing,’ quod Valerian,

‘For sother thing than this, I dar wel say,

Under the hevene no wight thinke may.’

Tho vanisshed the olde man, he niste where,

And pope Urban him cristened right there.

Valerian goth hoom, and fint Cecilie

With-inne his chambre with an angel stonde;

This angel hadde of roses and of lilie

Corones two, the which he bar in honde;

And first to Cecile, as I understonde,

He yaf that oon, and after gan he take

That other to Valerian, hir make.

‘With body clene and with unwemmed thoght    

Kepeth ay wel thise corones,’ quod he;

‘Fro Paradys to yow have I hem broght,

Ne never-mo ne shal they roten be,

Ne lese her sote savour, trusteth me;

Ne never wight shal seen hem with his yë, 

But he be chaast and hate vileinyë.

And thou, Valerian, for thou so sone

Assentedest to good conseil also,

Sey what thee list, and thou shalt han thy bone.’

‘I have a brother,’ quod Valerian tho,

‘That in this world I love no man so.

I pray yow that my brother may han grace

To knowe the trouthe, as I do in this place.’

The angel seyde, ‘god lyketh thy requeste,

And bothe, with the palm of martirdom,

Ye shullen come unto his blisful feste.’

And with that word Tiburce his brother com.

And whan that he the savour undernom

Which that the roses and the lilies caste,

With-inne his herte he gan to wondre faste, 

And seyde, ‘I wondre, this tyme of the yeer,

Whennes that sote savour cometh so

Of rose and lilies that I smelle heer.

For though I hadde hem in myn hondes two,

The savour mighte in me no depper go.

The sote smel that in myn herte I finde

Hath chaunged me al in another kinde.’

Valerian seyde, ‘two corones han we,

Snow-whyte and rose-reed, that shynen clere,

Whiche that thyn yën han no might to see; 

And as thou smellest hem thurgh my preyere,

So shaltow seen hem, leve brother dere,

If it so be thou wolt, withouten slouthe,

Bileve aright and knowen verray trouthe.’

Tiburce answerde, ‘seistow this to me 

In soothnesse, or in dreem I herkne this?’

‘In dremes,’ quod Valerian, ‘han we be

Unto this tyme, brother myn, y-wis.

But now at erst in trouthe our dwelling is.’

‘How woostow this,’ quod Tiburce, ‘in what wyse?’      

Quod Valerian, ‘that shal I thee devyse.

The angel of god hath me the trouthe y-taught

Which thou shalt seen, if that thou wolt reneye

The ydoles and be clene, and elles naught.’—

And of the miracle of thise corones tweye    

Seint Ambrose in his preface list to seye;

Solempnely this noble doctour dere

Commendeth it, and seith in this manere:

The palm of martirdom for to receyve,

Seinte Cecile, fulfild of goddes yifte,

The world and eek hir chambre gan she weyve;

Witnes Tyburces and Valerians shrifte,

To whiche god of his bountee wolde shifte

Corones two of floures wel smellinge,

And made his angel hem the corones bringe: 

The mayde hath broght thise men to blisse above;

The world hath wist what it is worth, certeyn,

Devocioun of chastitee to love.—

Tho shewede him Cecile al open and pleyn

That alle ydoles nis but a thing in veyn;

For they been dombe, and therto they been deve,

And charged him his ydoles for to leve.

‘Who so that troweth nat this, a beste he is,’

Quod tho Tiburce, ‘if that I shal nat lye.’

And she gan kisse his brest, that herde this,    

And was ful glad he coude trouthe espye.

‘This day I take thee for myn allye,’

Seyde this blisful fayre mayde dere;

And after that she seyde as ye may here:

‘Lo, right so as the love of Crist,’ quod she,    

‘Made me thy brotheres wyf, right in that wyse

Anon for myn allye heer take I thee,

Sin that thou wolt thyn ydoles despyse.

Go with thy brother now, and thee baptyse,

And make thee clene; so that thou mowe biholde     

The angels face of which thy brother tolde.’

Tiburce answerde and seyde, ‘brother dere,

First tel me whider I shal, and to what man?’

‘To whom?’ quod he, ‘com forth with right good chere,

I wol thee lede unto the pope Urban.’

Til Urban? brother myn Valerian,’

Quod tho Tiburce, ‘woltow me thider lede?

Me thinketh that it were a wonder dede.

Ne menestow nat Urban,’ quod he tho,

‘That is so ofte dampned to be deed,

And woneth in halkes alwey to and fro,

And dar nat ones putte forth his heed?

Men sholde him brennen in a fyr so reed

If he were founde, or that men mighte him spye;

And we also, to bere him companye—

And whyl we seken thilke divinitee

That is y-hid in hevene prively,

Algate y-brend in this world shul we be!’

To whom Cecile answerde boldely,

‘Men mighten dreden wel and skilfully

This lyf to lese, myn owene dere brother,

If this were livinge only and non other.

But ther is better lyf in other place,

That never shal be lost, ne drede thee noght,

Which goddes sone us tolde thurgh his grace; 

That fadres sone hath alle thinges wroght;

And al that wroght is with a skilful thoght,

The goost, that fro the fader gan precede,

Hath sowled hem, withouten any drede.

By word and by miracle goddes sone,

Whan he was in this world, declared here

That ther was other lyf ther men may wone.’

To whom answerde Tiburce, ‘o suster dere,

Ne seydestow right now in this manere,

Ther nis but o god, lord in soothfastnesse

And now of three how maystow bere witnesse?’

‘That shal I telle,’ quod she, ‘er I go.

Right as a man hath sapiences three,

Memorie, engyn, and intellect also,

So, in o being of divinitee, 

Three persones may ther right wel be.’

Tho gan she him ful bisily to preche

Of Cristes come and of his peynes teche,

And many pointes of his passioun;

How goddes sone in this world was withholde, 

To doon mankinde pleyn remissioun,

That was y-bounde in sinne and cares colde:

Al this thing she unto Tiburce tolde.

And after this Tiburce, in good entente,

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

Parfit in his lerninge, goddes knight.

And after this Tiburce gat swich grace,

That every day he saugh, in tyme and space,    

The angel of god; and every maner bone

That he god axed, it was sped ful sone.

It were ful hard by ordre for to seyn

How many wondres Iesus for hem wroghte;

But atte laste, to tellen short and pleyn,

The sergeants of the toun of Rome hem soghte,

And hem biforn Almache the prefect broghte,

Which hem apposed, and knew al hir entente,

And to the image of Iupiter hem sente,

And seyde, ‘who so wol nat sacrifyse,

Swap of his heed, this is my sentence here.’

Anon thise martirs that I yow devyse,

Oon Maximus, that was an officere

Of the prefectes and his corniculere,

Hem hente; and whan he forth the seintes ladde,      

Him-self he weep, for pitee that he hadde.

Whan Maximus had herd the seintes lore,

He gat him of the tormentoures leve,

And ladde hem to his hous withoute more;

And with hir preching, er that it were eve, 

They gonnen fro the tormentours to reve,

And fro Maxime, and fro his folk echone

The false feith, to trowe in god allone.

Cecilie cam, whan it was woxen night,

With preestes that hem cristned alle y-fere; 

And afterward, whan day was woxen light,

Cecile hem seyde with a ful sobre chere,

‘Now, Cristes owene knightes leve and dere,

Caste alle awey the werkes of derknesse,

And armeth yow in armure of brightnesse. 

Ye han for sothe y-doon a greet bataille,

Your cours is doon, your feith han ye conserved,

Goth to the corone of lyf that may nat faille;

The rightful Iuge, which that ye han served,

Shall yeve it yow, as ye han it deserved.’ 

And whan this thing was seyd as I devyse,

Men ladde hem forth to doon the sacrifyse.

But whan they weren to the place broght,

To tellen shortly the conclusioun,

They nolde encense ne sacrifice right noght, 

But on hir knees they setten hem adoun

With humble herte and sad devocioun,

And losten bothe hir hedes in the place.

Hir soules wenten to the king of grace.

This Maximus, that saugh this thing bityde, 

With pitous teres tolde it anon-right,

That he hir soules saugh to heven glyde

With angels ful of cleernesse and of light,

And with his word converted many a wight;

For which Almachius dide him so to-bete

With whippe of leed, til he his lyf gan lete.

Cecile him took and buried him anoon

By Tiburce and Valerian softely,

Withinne hir burying-place, under the stoon.

And after this Almachius hastily 

Bad his ministres fecchen openly

Cecile, so that she mighte in his presence

Doon sacrifyce, and Iupiter encense.

But they, converted at hir wyse lore,

Wepten ful sore, and yaven ful credence

Unto hir word, and cryden more and more,

‘Crist, goddes sone withouten difference,

Is verray god, this is al our sentence,

That hath so good a servant him to serve;

This with o voys we trowen, thogh we sterve!’ 

Almachius, that herde of this doinge,

Bad fecchen Cecile, that he might hir see,

And alderfirst, lo! this was his axinge,

‘What maner womman artow?’ tho quod he.

‘I am a gentil womman born,’ quod she. 

‘I axe thee,’ quod he, ‘thogh it thee greve,

Of thy religioun and of thy bileve.’

‘Ye han bigonne your question folily,’

Quod she, ‘that wolden two answeres conclude

In oo demande; ye axed lewedly.’ 

Almache answerde unto that similitude,

‘Of whennes comth thyn answering so rude?’

‘Of whennes?’ quod she, whan that she was freyned,

‘Of conscience and of good feith unfeyned.’

Almachius seyde, ‘ne takestow non hede 

Of my power?’ and she answerde him this—

‘Your might,’ quod she, ‘ful litel is to drede;

For every mortal mannes power nis

But lyk a bladdre, ful of wind, y-wis.

For with a nedles poynt, whan it is blowe,

May al the boost of it be leyd ful lowe.’

‘Ful wrongfully bigonne thou,’ quod he,

‘And yet in wrong is thy perseveraunce;

Wostow nat how our mighty princes free

Han thus comanded and maad ordinaunce, 

That every cristen wight shal han penaunce

But-if that he his cristendom withseye,

And goon al quit, if he wol it reneye?’

‘Your princes erren, as your nobley dooth,’

Quod tho Cecile, ‘and with a wood sentence 

Ye make us gilty, and it is nat sooth;

For ye, that knowen wel our innocence,

For as muche as we doon a reverence

To Crist, and for we bere a cristen name,

Ye putte on us a cryme, and eek a blame. 

But we that knowen thilke name so

For vertuous, we may it nat withseye.’

Almache answerde, ‘chees oon of thise two,

Do sacrifyce, or cristendom reneye,

That thou mowe now escapen by that weye.’    

At which the holy blisful fayre mayde

Gan for to laughe, and to the Iuge seyde,

‘O Iuge, confus in thy nycetee,

Woltow that I reneye innocence,

To make me a wikked wight?’ quod she; 

‘Lo! he dissimuleth here in audience,

He stareth and woodeth in his advertence!’

To whom Almachius, ‘unsely wrecche,

Ne woostow nat how far my might may strecche?

Han noght our mighty princes to me yeven, 

Ye, bothe power and auctoritee

To maken folk to dyen or to liven?

Why spekestow so proudly than to me?’

‘I speke noght but stedfastly,’ quod she,

‘Nat proudly, for I seye, as for my syde,

We haten deedly thilke vyce of pryde.

And if thou drede nat a sooth to here,

Than wol I shewe al openly, by right,

That thou hast maad a ful gret lesing here.

Thou seyst, thy princes han thee yeven might

Bothe for to sleen and for to quiken a wight;

Thou, that ne mayst but only lyf bireve,

Thou hast non other power ne no leve!

But thou mayst seyn, thy princes han thee maked

Ministre of deeth; for if thou speke of mo,    

Thou lyest, for thy power is ful naked.’

‘Do wey thy boldnes,’ seyde Almachius tho,

‘And sacrifyce to our goddes, er thou go;

I recche nat what wrong that thou me profre,

For I can suffre it as a philosophre; 

But thilke wronges may I nat endure

That thou spekest of our goddes here,’ quod he.

Cecile answerede, ‘o nyce creature,

Thou seydest no word sin thou spak to me

That I ne knew therwith thy nycetee; 

And that thou were, in every maner wyse,

A lewed officer and a veyn Iustyse.

Ther lakketh no-thing to thyn utter yën

That thou nart blind, for thing that we seen alle

That it is stoon, that men may wel espyen, 

That ilke stoon a god thou wolt it calle.

I rede thee, lat thyn hand upon it falle,

And taste it wel, and stoon thou shalt it finde,

Sin that thou seest nat with thyn yën blinde.

It is a shame that the peple shal 

So scorne thee, and laughe at thy folye;

For comunly men woot it wel overal,

That mighty god is in his hevenes hye,

And thise images, wel thou mayst espye,

To thee ne to hem-self mowe nought profyte, 

For in effect they been nat worth a myte.’

Thise wordes and swiche othere seyde she,

And he weex wroth, and bad men sholde hir lede

Hom til hir hous, ‘and in hir hous,’ quod he,

‘Brenne hir right in a bath of flambes rede.’ 

And as he bad, right so was doon in dede;

For in a bath they gonne hir faste shetten,

And night and day greet fyr they under betten.

The longe night and eek a day also,

For al the fyr and eek the bathes hete,

She sat al cold, and felede no wo,

It made hir nat a drope for to swete.

But in that bath hir lyf she moste lete;

For he, Almachius, with ful wikke entente

To sleen hir in the bath his sonde sente.

Three strokes in the nekke he smoot hir tho,

The tormentour, but for no maner chaunce

He mighte noght smyte al hir nekke a-two;

And for ther was that tyme an ordinaunce,

That no man sholde doon man swich penaunce    

The ferthe strook to smyten, softe or sore,

This tormentour ne dorste do na-more.

But half-deed, with hir nekke y-corven there,

He lefte hir lye, and on his wey is went.

The Cristen folk, which that aboute hir were, 

With shetes han the blood ful faire y-hent.

Thre dayes lived she in this torment,

And never cessed hem the feith to teche;

That she hadde fostred, hem she gan to preche;

And hem she yaf hir moebles and hir thing, 

And to the pope Urban bitook hem tho,

And seyde, ‘I axed this at hevene king,

To han respyt three dayes and na-mo,

To recomende to yow, er that I go,

Thise soules, lo! and that I mighte do werche    

Here of myn hous perpetuelly a cherche.’

Seint Urban, with his deknes, prively

The body fette, and buried it by nighte

Among his othere seintes honestly.

Hir hous the chirche of seint Cecilie highte; 

Seint Urban halwed it, as he wel mighte;

In which, into this day, in noble wyse,

Men doon to Crist and to his seint servyse.

Here is ended the Seconde Nonnes Tale.

Here beginneth the Second Nun’s Tale, of the life of Saint Cecile.

  This maiden bright Cecilie, as her life saith,

Was comen of Romans, and of noble kind,

And from her cradle up fostered in the faith

Of Christ, and bear his gospel in her mind;

She never ceased, as I written find,

Of her prayer, 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-cleped was Valerian,

And day was comen of her marriage,

She, full devout and humble in her courage,

Under her robe of gold, that sat full fair,

Had next her flesh y-clad her in an hair.

And while the organs maden melody,

To god alone in heart thus sang she;

“O lord, my soul and eke my body guy,

Unwemmed, lest that I confounded be:”   

And, for his love that died upon a tree,

Every second and third day she fast,

Aye bidding in her orisons full fast.

The night came, and to bed must she gon

With her husband, as oft is the manner,

And privily to him she said anon,

“O sweet and well beloved spouse dear,

There is a counsel, and ye would it hear,

Which that right fain I would unto you say,

So that ye swear ye shall me not betray.”

Valerian ’gan fast unto her swear,

That for no case, ne thing that might be,

He should never mo’ betrayen her;

And then at erst to him thus said she,

“I have an angel which that loveth me,

That with great love, whe’er so 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 dead,

And in your youth thus ye shoulden die;

And if that ye in clean love me guy,

He will you loven as me, for your cleanness,

And showen you his joy and his brightness.”

Valerian, corrected as god would,

Answered again, “If I shall trusten 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, for sooth

Right with this sword then will I slay you both.”

Cecile answered anon right in this wise,

“If that you list, the angel shall ye see,

So that ye trow on Christ and you baptise.

Goeth forth to Via Appia,” quoth she,

“That from this town ne stant but miles three,

And to the povre folks that there dwell,

Say ’em right thus, as that I shall you tell.

Tell ’em that I, Cecile, you to ’em sent,

To showen you the good Urban the old,

For secree needs and for good intent.

And when that ye saint Urban have behold,

Tell him the words 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 place y-gone,

And right as him was taught by his learning,

He found this holy old Urban anon

Amongst the saints’ burials lurking.

And he anon, withouten tarrying,

Did his message; and when that he it told,

Urban for joy his hands ’gan up hold.

The tears from his eyen let he fall—

“Almighty lord, O Jesus Christ,” quoth he,

“Sower of chaste counsel, herd of us all,

The fruit of thilk seed of chastity

That thou hast sow in Cecile, take to thee!

Lo, like a busy bee, withouten guile, 

Thee serveth aye thine own thrall Cecile!

For thilk spouse, that she took but now

Full like a fierce lion, she sendeth here,

As meek as ever was any lamb, to you!”

And with that word anon there ’gan appear

An old man, clad in white clothes clear,

That had a book with letter 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—

“Oo Lord, oo faith, oo god, withouten mo’,

Oo Christendom, and father of all also,

Aboven all and over all everywhere”—

These words all with gold y-written were.

When this was read, then said this old man,

“’Lievest thou this thing or no? Say yea or nay.”

“I ’lieve all this thing,” quoth Valerian,

“For soother thing than this, I dare well say,

Under the heaven no wight think may.”

Tho vanished this old man, he nist where,

And pope Urban him christened right there.

Valerian goeth home, and found Cecilie

Within his chamber with an angel stand.

This angel had of roses and of lily

Crowns two, the which he bear in hand;

And first to Cecile, as I understand,

He gave that one, and after ’gan he take

The other to Valerian, her make.

“With body clean and with unwemmed thought  

Keepeth aye well these crowns,” quoth he;

“From Paradise to you have I ’em brought,

Ne never mo’ ne shall they rotten be,

Ne lose their sweet savour, trusteth me;

Ne never wight shall see ’em with his eye,

But he be chaste and hate villainy.

And thou, Valerian, for thou so soon

Assentedest to good counsel 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 both, with the palm of martyrdom,

Ye shallen come unto his blissful feast.”

And with that word Tiburce his brother come.

And when that he the savour undernom 

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,

Whence that sweet savour cometh so

Of rose and lilies that I smell here.

For though I had ’em in mine hands two,

The savour might in me no deeper go.

The sweet smell that in mine heart I find

Hath changed me all in another kind.”

Valerian said: “Two crowns have we,

Snow white and rose red, that shinen clear,

Which that thine eyen have no might to see;

And as thou smellest ’em through my prayer,

So shalt thou see ’em, lief brother dear,  

If it so be thou wilt, withouten sloth,

Believe a-right and knowen very truth.”

Tiburce answered, “sayest thou this to me

In soothness, or in dream I harken this?”

“In dreams,” quoth Valerian, “have we be

Unto this time, brother mine, y-wis.

But now at erst in truth our dwelling is.”

“How wist thou this?” quoth Tiburce, “in what wise?”

Quoth Valerian, “That shall I thee devise.

The angel of god hath me the truth y-taught

Which thou shalt see, if that thou wilt renay

The idols and be clean, and else naught.”

And of the miracle of these crowns tway

Saint Ambrose in his preface list to say;

Solemnly this noble doctor dear

Commendeth it, and saith in this manner:

The palm of martyrdom for to receive,

Saint Cecile, fulfilled of god’s gift,

The world and eke her chamber ’gan she waive;

Witness Tiburce’s and Valerian’s shrift,

To which god of his bounty would shift

Crowns two of flowers well smelling,

And made his angel ’em the crowns bring:

The maid hath brought these men to bliss above;

The world hath wist what it is worth, certain,

Devotion of chastity to love.—

Tho showed him Cecile all open and plain

That all idols nis but a thing in vain,

For they be dumb, and thereto they been deaf,

And charged him his idols for to leave.

“Whoso that troweth not this, a beast he is,”

Quoth tho Tiburce, “if that I shall not lie.”

And she ’gan kiss his breast, that heard this,

And was full glad he could truth espy.

“This day I take thee for mine ally,”

Said this blissful fair maid 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 ally here take I thee,

Since that thou wilt thine idols despise.

Go with thy brother now, and thee baptise,

And make thee clean; so that thou may behold

The angels face of which thy brother told.”

Tiburce answered and said, “brother dear,

First tell me whether I shall, and to what man?”

“To whom,” quoth he, “come forth with right good cheer,

I will thee lead unto the pope Urban.”

“To Urban? brother mine Valerian,”

Quoth tho Tiburce, “wilt thou me thither lead?

Methinketh that it were a wonder deed.

“Ne meanest thou not Urban,” quoth he tho,

“That is so often damned to be dead,

And woneth in halks alway to and fro,  

And dare not once put forth his head?

Men should him burnen in a fire so red

If he were found, or that men might him spy;

And we also, to bear him company—

And while we seeken thilk divinity

That is y-hid in heaven privily,

Algate y-burned in this world shall we be!”

To whom Cecile answered boldly,

“Men mighten dreaden well and skilfully

This life to lose, mine own dear brother,

If this were living only and none other.

But there is better life in other place,

That never shall be lost, ne dread thee not,

Which god’s son us told through his grace;

That father’s son hath all thing wrought;

And all that wrought is with a skilful thought, 

The ghost, that from the father ’gan proceed,

Hath souled ’em, withouten any dread.

By word and by miracle god’s son,

When he was in this world, declared here

That there was other life there men may wone.”  

To whom answered Tiburce, “o sister dear,

Ne saidest thou right now in this manner,

There nis but one god, lord in soothfastness;

And now of three how mayest thou bear witness?”

“That shall I tell,” quoth she, “ere I go,

Right as a man hath sapiences three,

Memory, engine, and intellect also, 

So, in one being of divinity,

Three persons may there right well be.”

Tho ’gan she him full busily to preach

Of Christ’s come and of his pains teach,

And many points of his passion;

How god’s son in this world was withhold,

To do mankind plain remission,

That was y-bound in sin and cares cold:

All this thing she unto Tiburce told.

And after this Tiburce in good intent,

With Valerian to Pope Urban he went,

That thanked god, and with glad heart and light

He christened him, and made him in that place

Perfect in his learning, god’s knight.

And after this Tiburce gat such grace,

That every day he saw, in time and space,

The angel of god; and every manner boon

That he god asked, it was sped full soon.

It were full hard by order for to sayn

How many wonders Jesus for ’em wrought;

But at last, to tellen short and plain,

The sergeants of the town of Rome ’em sought,

And ’em beforn Almache the prefect brought,

Which ’em apposed, and knew all their intent, 

And to the image of Jupiter ’em sent,

And said, “Whoso will not sacrifice,

Swipe off his head; this is my sentence hear.”

Anon these martyrs that I you devise,

One Maximus, that was an officer

Of the prefects, and his corniculer,

’Em hent, and when he forth the saints led,  

Himself he weep, for pity that he had.

When Maximus had heard the saint’s lore,

He gat him of the tormentors leave,

And led ’em to his house without more;

And with their preaching, ere that it were eve,

They gonnen from the tormentors to reave, 

And from Maxim, and from his folk each one,

The false faith, to trow in god alone.

Cecilie came, when it was waxen night,

With priests that ’em christened all y-fare;

And afterward, when day was waxen light,

Cecile ’em said with a full sober cheer,

“Now, Christ’s own knights lief and dear,

Cast all away the works of darkness,

And armeth you in armour of brightness.

Ye have for sooth y-done a great battle,

Your course is done, your faith have ye conserved,

Goeth to the crown of life that may not fail;

The rightful Judge, 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 ’em forth to do the sacrifice.

But when they weren to the place brought

To tellen shortly the conclusion,

They nould incense ne sacrifice right naught,

But on their knees they setten ’em a-down

With humble heart and staid devotion,

And losten both their heads in the place.

Their souls wenten to the king of grace.

This Maximus, that saw this thing betide,

With piteous tears told it anon-right,

That he their souls saw to heaven glide

With angels full of clearness and light,

And with his word converted many a wight;

For which Almachius did him so to-beat

With whip of lead, till he his life ’gan let.

Cecile him took and buried him anon

By Tiburce and Valerian softly,

Within their burying place, under the stone.

And after this Almachius hastily

Bade his ministers fetchen openly

Cecile, so that she might in his presence

Do sacrifice, and Jupiter incense.

But they, converted at her wise lore,

Wepten full sore, and gaven full credence

Unto her word, and crieden more and more,

“Christ, god’s son withouten difference,

Is very god, this is all our sentence,

That hath so good a servant him to serve;

This with one voice we trowen, though we starve!”  

Almachius, that heard of this doing,

Bade fetchen Cecile, that he might her see,

And alderfirst, lo! this was his asking. 

“What manner woman art thou?” tho quoth he. 

“I am a gentil woman born,” quoth she.

“I ask thee,” quoth he, “though it thee grieve,

Of thy religion and of thy belief.”

“Ye have begun your question follily,”

Quoth she, “that woulden two answers conclude

In one demand; ye asked lewdly.”

Almache answered unto that similitude,

“Of whence cometh thine answering so rude?”

“Of whence?” quoth she, when that she was frayned,

“Of conscience and of good faith unfeigned.”

Almachius said, “ Ne takest thou no heed

Of my power?” And she answered him this—

“Your might,” quoth she, “full little is to dread,

For every mortal man’s power nis

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 begun thou,” quoth he,

“And yet in wrong is thy perseverance;

Wist thou not how our mighty princes free

Have thus commanded and made ordinance,

That ever christian wight shall have penance

But if that he his christendom withsay,

And gon all quit, if he will it renay?”  

“Your princes erren, as your noblay doeth,”   

Quoth tho Cecile, “and with a wood sentence

Ye make us guilty, and it is not sooth;

For ye, that knowen well our innocence,

For as much as we do a reverence

To Christ, and for we bear a christian name,

Ye put on us a crime, and eke a blame.

But we that knowen thilk name so

For virtuous, we may it not withsay.”

Almache answered, “choose one of these two,

Do sacrifice, or christendom renay,

That thou may now escapen by that way.”

At which the holy blissful fair maid

’Gan for to laugh, and to the judge said,

“O judge, confuse in thy nicety,

Wilt thou that I deny innocence,

To make me a wicked wight?” quoth she;

“Lo! he dissimuleth here in audience,  

He stareth, and woodeth in his advertence!”   

To whom Almachius, “unseely wretch,

Ne wist thou not how far my might may stretch?

Have not our mighty princes to me given,

Yea, both power and authority

To maken folk to dien or to liven?

Why speakest thou so proudly then to me?”

“I speak naught but steadfastly,” quoth she;

“Not proudly, for I say, as for my side,

We haten deadly thilk vice of pride.

And if thou dread not a sooth to hear,

Then will I show all openly, by right,

That thou hast made a full great leasing here.

Thou sayest, thy princes have thee given might

Both for to slayen and for to quicken a wight;

Thou, that ne mayest but only life bereave,

Thou hast no other power ne no leave!

But thou mayest sayn, thy princes have thee maked

Minister of death; for if thou speak of mo’,

Thou liest, for thy power is full naked.”

“Do ’way thy boldness,” said Almachius tho,

“And sacrifice to our gods, ere thou go;

I reck’ not what wrong that thou me proffer,

For I can suffer it as a philosopher;

But thilk wrongs may I not endure

That thou speakest of our gods here,” quoth he.

Cecile answered, “o nice creature,  

Thou saidest no word since thou spake to me

That I ne knew therewith thy nicety;

And that thou were, in every manner wise,

A lewd officer and a vain justice.

There lacketh no thing to thine outer eyen

That thou n’art blind, for thing that we see all

That it is stone, that men may well espyen,

That same 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 seest not with thine eyen blind.

It is a shame that the people shall

So scorn thee, and laugh at thy folly;

For commonly men wot it well overall,

That mighty god is in his heavens high,

And these images, well thou mayest espy,

To thee ne to ’emself mayen not profit,

For in effect they be not worth a mite.”

These words and such others said she,

And he wax wroth, and bade men should her lead

Home till her house, “and in her house,” quoth he,

“Burn her right in a bath of flames red.”

And as he bade, right so was done in deed;

For in a bath they gon her fast shutten,

And night and day great fire they under beaten.

The long night and eke a day also,

For all the fire and eke the bath’s heat

She sat all cold, and feeled no woe.

It made her not a drop for to sweat.

But in that bath her life she must let;

For he, Almachius, with full wick intent,

To slayen her in the bath his sand sent.   

Three strokes in the neck he smote her tho,

The tormentor, but for no manner chance

He might not smite all her neck a-two;

And for there was that time an ordinance,

That no man should do man such penance

The fourth stroke to smiten, soft or sore,

This tormentor ne durst do no more.

But half dead, with her neck y-carven there,

He left her lie, and on his way is went.

The Christian folk, which that about her were,

With sheets have the blood full fair y-hent

Three days lived she in this torment,

And never ceased ’em the faith to teach;

That she had fostered, ’em she ’gan to preach;

And ’em she gave her mobles and her thing, 

And to the pope Urban betook ’em tho,

And said, “I asked of heaven king,

To have respite three days and no mo’,

To recommend to you, ere that I go,

These souls, lo! and that I might do wirche

Here of mine house perpetually a church.”

Saint Urban, with his deacons, privily

The body fet’, and buried it by night

Among his other saints honestly.

Her house the church of saint Cecilie hight;

Saint Urban hallowed it, as he well might;

In which, into this day, in noble wise,

Men do to Christ and to his saint service.

Here is ended the Second Nun’s Tale.