The Dance of Death. Douce Francis

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      Karolles wrastelynges or somour games,

      Whosoever haunteth any swyche shames,

      Yn cherche other yn cherche yerd,

      Of sacrilage he may be aferd;

      Or entyrludes or syngynge,

      Or tabure bete or other pypynge;

      All swyche thyng forboden es,

      Whyle the prest stondeth at messe;

      But for to leve in cherche for to daunce,

      Y shall you telle a full grete chaunce,

      And y trow the most that fel,

      Ys sothe as y you telle.

      And fyl thys chaunce yn thys londe,

      Yn Ingland as y undyrstonde,

      Yn a kynges tyme that hyght Edward,

      Fyl this chaunce that was so hard.

      Hyt was upon crystemesse nyzt

      That twelve folys a karolle dyzt,

      Yn Wodehed, as hyt were yn cuntek,13

      They come to a toune men calle Cowek:14

      The cherche of the toune that they to come,

      Ys of Seynt Magne that suffred martyrdome,

      Of Seynt Bukcestre hyt ys also,

      Seynt Magnes suster, that they come to;

      Here names of all thus fonde y wryte,

      And as y wote now shal ye wyte

      Here lodesman15 that made hem glew,16

      Thus ys wryte he hyzte17 Gerlew;

      Twey maydens were yn here coveyne,

      Mayden Merswynde18 and Wybessyne;

      All these came thedyr for that enchesone,} doghtyr

      Of the prestes of the toune.

      The prest hyzt Robert as y can ame,

      Azone hyzt hys sone by name,

      Hys doghter that there men wulde have,

      Thus ys wryte that she hyzt Ave.

      Echone consented to o wyl,

      Who shuld go Ave out to tyl,

      They graunted echone out to sende,

      Bothe Wybessyne and Merswynde:

      These women zede and tolled19 her oute,

      Wyth hem to karolle the cherche aboute,

      Benne ordeyned here karollyng,

      Gerlew endyted what they shuld syng.

      Thys ys the karolle that they sunge,

      As telleth the Latyn tunge,

      Equitabat Bevo per sylvam frondosam,

      Ducebat secum Merwyndam formosam,

      Quid stamus cur non imus.

      By the levede20 wode rode Bevolyne,

      Wyth hym he ledde feyre Merwyne,

      Why stonde we why go we noght:

      Thys ys the karolle that Grysly wroght,

      Thys songe sung they yn chercheyerd,

      Of foly were they nothyng aferd.

      That swych a venjeaunce were on hem sent,

      Are they out of that stede21 were went,

      That myzt ever ryzt so wende,

      Unto that tyme twelvemonth ende.

      Yn the Latyne that y fonde thore,

      He seyth not twelvemonth but evermore.

      The preste yede22 yn whan thys was done,

      And comaunded hys sone Azone,

      That shuld go swythe after Ave,

      Oute of that karolle algate to have;

      But al to late that wurde was sayde,

      For on hem alle was the venjeaunce leyd.

      Azonde wende weyl for to spede

      Unto the karolle asswythe he yede;

      Hys syster by the arme he hente,

      And the arme fro the body wente;

      Men wundred alle that there wore,

      And merveyle nowe ye here more;

      For seythen he had the arme yn hand,

      The body yode furth karoland,

      And nother body ne the arme

      Bled never blode colde ne warme;

      But was as drye with al the haunche,

      As of a stok were ryve a braunche.

      Sunge that songge that the wo wrozt,

      “Why stond we, why go we nozt.”

      For to thy СКАЧАТЬ