Sein Wolston bissop of Wircetre was her in Engelonde
Swuþe holyman al is lif he was, as Ich understonde,
þe wile he was a gong child, god lif he ladde inou;
Wanne oþere children eode pleie, toward chirche he drou.
Seint Edward was þo owre king þat nouþe in hevene is;
And þe bissop of Wircestre, Brigteige het ywis.
Of þis bissop Brigteige, Sein Wolston is ordre nom
Ech after oþer as it bivel, so þat he preost bicom.
þis bissop underveng hym suþþe, and monk him made iwis,
In þe priorie of Wircetre, þat gret hous and hei is,
Swuþe wel is ordre he held in þe priorie,
And al is wille was to paie God and Seinte Marie.
In none bed he nolde come ac wanne oþer geode þerto,
Tovore an auter he wolde go his orisons to do;
Wanne þe dede slep hym overcom, þat he ne migt fer gon,
His heved he wolde legge adoun upe a hard ston
On a degre byvore þe auter, oþer is bok þerunder do,
And ligge a stonde in dwellinge; al is slep was so.
He nolde þre dawes in þe wike noþing ete wiþalle?
Ne noþing speke bote is beden, for nogt þat migte bivalle;
þe oþer dawes wel lite he spak, and wel lite et also,
Bote a lite gruwel oþer porreie, holde he wolde þerto.
So longe he was at Wircetre in holy lyf þus stille,
þat me made hym prior of þe hous, muche agen is wille.
Is covent he weste wel, and to alle godnesse ham drou
Of God and al gode men, love he hadde inou.
þe priorie of Wircetre Sein Oswold bygan er —
þat was bivore sein Wolston aboute an hondred ger —
And þat Seint Oswold bigan er Sein Wolston vulde iwis,
So þat þoru hore beire werk strang and hei it is:
As þis holyman Sein Wolston a time let arere
An hey belhous of strang werk þe bellen to honge þere;
And masons above and byneþe þeraboute were,
And bi laddren clomme up and doun and stones up bere;
A man clam upward bi a laddre, and þo he was up an hey
Fram eorþe mo þan fourti vet, as al þat folk ysey,
Dounward he vel as he misstep (men were sore agaste).
Sein Wolston stod and byheld hou he com dounward vaste,
He made him þe signe of þe crois as he vel to gronde:
Harmles he vel and hol inou, his lymes hol and sonde.
And aros up and dude is werk as hym noþing nere.
Loverd, muche is þi migte, as þou kuddest þere,
þat he so harde fram heie vel, and of eche harm was sker:
þou ert God þat wonder dest — as seiþ þe sauter.
So þat Brigteige, þe bissop of Wircetre, was ded,
A clerk was bissop after hym, þat me clupede Aldred,
þat Seint Wolston lovede wel, and he hym also:
For ech god man wol lovie oþer, it were elles misdo.
Suþþe hit bicom þat þe erchebissop of Everwik was ded,
Erchebissop hy made þer þis bissop Aldred;
And þe bissopriche of Wircestre vacant was and lere
Sein Wolston was sone ichose, and bissop imad þere.
Bissop him made þe holyman Seint Edward oure kyng,
And aveng him in is dignete, and tok him crois and ryng;
His bissopriche he weste wel and ek is priorie,
And aforcede him to servi wel God and Seinte Marie.
Four ger he hadde bissop ibe, and nogt follich fyve,
To seint Edward þe holy king wende out of þis live,
To gret ruþe to al Engelonde, so weilawei þe stonde,
For strange men þer come suþþe and brogte Engelond to gronde.
Vor Harald was suþþe kyng, wiþ traison, alas,
þe croune he bar of Engelond, wuch wile so it was;
Ac Willam Bastard, þat was þo duk of Normandie,
þogte to wynne Engelond þoru strengþe and felonye.
He let him greiþe folk inou and gret poer wiþ hym nom,
Wiþ gret strengþe in þe se hym dude, and to Engelond com;
He let ordeiny is feorde wel, and is baner up arere,
And let destruye al þat he vond, and þat lond sore aferde.
Harald hurde herof telle, þe kyng of Engelonde,
He let garke vaste is ost agen him forto stonde;
þe baronie of Engelonde iredy was wel sone
þe kyng to helpe and eke amsulve, as wone was to done.
þe worre was þo in Engelonde deolvol and strang inou,
And hore eiþer of oþeres men al to grounde slou.
No strengþe nadde þe stronge men þat icome were so niwe
Agen þe baronic of Engelond, þe wile hi wolde be triwe;
Ac alas þe tricherie þat þo was and gute is
þat brogte þo Engelonde al to grounde ywis:
Vor Englisse barons bycome somme untriwe and fals also,
To bitraie homsulf and hore kyng þat so muche triste ham to.
þe Normans and þe Englisse men day of bataille nome,
þare as is þe Abber of Bataille, a day togadere ycome;
To gronde hy smite and slouwe also, as God gaf þat cas,
Willam Bastard was above, Harald byneþe was;
For hy þat Harald triste to, faillede him wel vaste,
So þat he was byneþe ibrogt, and overcome attelaste.
þis Willam Bastard þat was kyng, suþþe hym understod,
þat he mid unrigt hadde yssad so many mannes blod,
And þere as þe bataille was an abbey he let rere,
þat me clupeþ Abbey of þe Bataille, þat noble stont gut þere.
As sone so he was king ymad, and al Engelond bysette
As he wolde mid strange men, ac no man ne migte hym lette,
þis holy Sein Wolston wel ofte him wiþsede,
þat he wiþ untigt hadde ido a such uvel dede;
And spak agen hym baldeliche, and ne sparede for no drede,
For he was þe kundeste Englisseman þat was of eny manhede,
(For alle oþer were desented ney) þe kyng was wiþ him wroþ
þat he dradde so lite of hym; he swor anon is oþ
To pulte him of is bissopriche; he let him somni also
To Westmistre to answerie hym of þat he hadde misdo.
Nou nas nogt Sein Wolston wel gret clerk in lore,
For wan he scholde to scole go at churche he was more.
To Westmestre he com to is daie, as he was isomned er,
þis king was in grete wraþþe wel prest agen hym þer,
And þe erchebissop of Kanterburi, Lanfranc was is name,
And þe bissop Gondolf of Roucetre, alle to don hym ssame.
Sein Wolston tovore hom com, þat agen him were so stronge,
As a þeof tovore a justice his dom for to avonge.
þe king and þe erchebissop ek speke wordes grete
þat he ssolde as he worþe was his bissopriche forlete;
For to holde such dignete to lite he couþe of lore,
And hy hym hadde to lange iþoled, and þo nolde hi namore;
And foles hy were þat such fol vurst brogte in such migte,
And if he was follich undervonge, adoun he ssolde wiþ rigte.
Sein Wolston stod wel mildeliche, and hurde al þat hy sede,
Nadde he no man bote God to answerie ne to rede:
" Sires", he sede, rigt it is þat Ich goure heste do,
For, sire king, þou ert mi soverein, and þou erchebissop also.
þe crois Ich habbe gare ybore þat ge seoþ her, lo,
I knowe Ich am and wel Ichot þat Ynam nogt worþe þerto.
Wanne ge wolleþ þat Ich me bileve as man þat unworþe is,
Wel vawe Ichelle goure heste do, as mine sovereins iwis.
In obedient to Holy Churche iwis Ich nel be nogt,
To gulde up as ge me hoteþ Ich me habbe here ibrogt;
Ac for ge ne toke hyne me nogt, I nelle gou take non
Ac him þat hine me bitok; byvore gou everichon
þe godeman þat hit me bitok gend he liþ wel stille,
Ichelle him take up agen þanne do Ich goure wille.
To Seinte Edwardes tombe he wende, þat was in marbelston,
And nom is crois wel mildeliche, and smot þe point þeron;
þe staf smot in þe marbelston as it were in nesse sonde
And he was inne deoþ inou, þe godeman let hym stonde.
" Nou", he sede, " Ich him habbe bitake þat bitok it me,
And tovore gou here I goulde up al þulke dignete.
Takeþ nou wam þat ge wolleþ, somme þat be bet in lore,
And habbeþ goday everichon: ge ne mowe me esse namore."
þis holyman hym wende vorþ amang ham alle wel softe,
þe volk stod as hy were inome and biheld þe crois wel ofte:
Hou he stod in þe marbelston so deope and so vaste;
Of þe miracle hom wondred alle and were somdel agaste.
Somme of hom wende þerto sone þe crois up to drawe,
Ac þer nas non so strang of ham þat migte hure enes wawe.
Hy porveide þer Sire Gondolf, bissop of Roucetre,
þat he were after Sein Wolston byssop of Wircetre.
þe erchebissop him het arise, and nyme þe crois anon,
þe bissop aros wel baldeliche and þuderward gan gon.
þe crois he nom and faste drou uppon þe marbelston —
He ne migte hure wawe nogt — þat folk wondrede echon.
And þareaboute wel þicke drou þat wonder for to se;
þe king and þe erchebissoþ iseye þat it ne migte oþer be.
Hy repentede of hore dede, and after Sein Wolston sende,
In vaire manere þat hy wolde hore trespas amende.
þe messagers iredi were, after hym sone wende;
Gute þis holyman for al gare gult is herte to ham bende,
And sede: " Ich mot nede do mine sovereines wille."
To court he wende agen mid hom wel mildeliche and stille
þo he was to court icome hy arise agen him anon,
þe kyng and þe erchebissop ek, and oþere þat were is fon,
In grete noblesse hy clupede him vorþ, and forgifnesse hym bede,
And bede to amendy agen him al hore misdede;
And bede him nyme age þe crois, and do by hore rede,
For he was best worþe þerto þanne eni oþer hy sede.
" Nay certes, sire", quaþ Sein Wolston, " þat nere nogt to do,
For Ich wot ge sede soþ, Inam nogt worþe þerto;
Ac nymeþ wan goure wille be, anoþer þat conne more."
þe king and þe erchebissop ek cride him milce and ore,
And sede þer nas non oþer þat so worþe were þerto.
Longe it was ar þis holiman hore wille wolde do;
Ac for to obeie is sovereins, he wende vorþ attelaste,
And nom þis crois wel mildeliche þat stikede er so faste.
As ligtliche as he wolde hymsulf þe crois he gan up drawe,
þat so mani men vondede er and ne migte nogt enes wawe,
þicke orn þat folk aboute hym — and no wonder hit nas —
þe miracle was sone ikud þat so apert was.
Me honurede þis holyman as muche as me migte:
His poer þat him was bynome, he tok agen wiþ rigte;
And agen to is bissopriche wiþ gret honour drou,
Is covent underveng hym faire, and honurede him inou.
þis holyman ladde al is lyf in god lyf and clene.
In syknesse wel vewe þer were þat man wolde ofmene
þat he ne brogte to hele anon, þoru oure Loverdes grace;
Sike men wel þicke come to him in eche place,
Deve and dombe and eke blinde, and ech maner sike also,
He helde þoru oure Loverdes grace wanne bicome hym to.
So longe he livede an eorþe her þat a was of gret elde,
His body bygan to hevegy al, gret feblesse he velde.
A slou fevere him com on, þat nom hym nogt to stronge,
þat made is body multe awey, þat laste swuþe long.
Sevenigt byvore þat he deide, his breþeren let vecche alle,
And let him al his rigtes do, and sede wat ssolde bivalle.
Out of þis lyf to hevene he wende, as he ssel byleve,
In the monþe of Geniver, a Sein Fabianes eve;
A þousond ger and nyenty and five þer byvore
It was þat oure swete Loverd an eorþe was ibore;
In þe teþe ger it was also of þe kyngdom
Of Willam þe rede kyng, þat after Willam Bastard com.
He hadde ar he hanne wende voure and þritti ger
And four monþes and four dawes bissop ibeo her.
Vour score ger he was old and sevene also ney,
Ar he wende out of þis lyf to þe joie of hevene an hey.
þo þis holyman was ded, þis monekes come sone
In þe priorie of Wircetre and dude wat was to done:
Wesse þat body as it was rigt and to churche it bere.
þe monkes alle wiþ gret honur, þat is breþeren were,
þe servise þer aboute dede, as it was wel rigt,
And to segge hore sauter ek, þeraboute hy woke al nigt.
þo hit was wel wiþinne nigt, as hy sede in hore boke,
Hom luste slepe swuþe wel, unneþe hi migte loke,
And somme ne migte nogt forbere, ac leige and slepe vaste,
Somme as it were in dwellinge, hore eigne togadere caste.
þis holy body þat lay þer ded bytwene hom in þe bere,
Aros him up wel mildeliche as it alyve were;
And aweigte horn everichon, and bigan atte on ende,
And bygan al along þe rewe þoruout þe quer wende.
And evere as he aweigte hom, he gan hom somdel chide,
þat hy nolde wiþ hore slep hore rigte time abide.
So muche was is holy herte þe ordre for to wite,
þat he nolde nogt, þei he were ded, is breþeren forgute.
þis miracle was wide ikud, as rigt was þat he were,
At Wircestre he was ibured, and issrined is nou þere.
For him me may þer al day many fair miracle ise;
Nou God leove þat we mote wiþ hym in þe joie of hevene be!
Swuþe holyman al is lif he was, as Ich understonde,
þe wile he was a gong child, god lif he ladde inou;
Wanne oþere children eode pleie, toward chirche he drou.
Seint Edward was þo owre king þat nouþe in hevene is;
And þe bissop of Wircestre, Brigteige het ywis.
Of þis bissop Brigteige, Sein Wolston is ordre nom
Ech after oþer as it bivel, so þat he preost bicom.
þis bissop underveng hym suþþe, and monk him made iwis,
In þe priorie of Wircetre, þat gret hous and hei is,
Swuþe wel is ordre he held in þe priorie,
And al is wille was to paie God and Seinte Marie.
In none bed he nolde come ac wanne oþer geode þerto,
Tovore an auter he wolde go his orisons to do;
Wanne þe dede slep hym overcom, þat he ne migt fer gon,
His heved he wolde legge adoun upe a hard ston
On a degre byvore þe auter, oþer is bok þerunder do,
And ligge a stonde in dwellinge; al is slep was so.
He nolde þre dawes in þe wike noþing ete wiþalle?
Ne noþing speke bote is beden, for nogt þat migte bivalle;
þe oþer dawes wel lite he spak, and wel lite et also,
Bote a lite gruwel oþer porreie, holde he wolde þerto.
So longe he was at Wircetre in holy lyf þus stille,
þat me made hym prior of þe hous, muche agen is wille.
Is covent he weste wel, and to alle godnesse ham drou
Of God and al gode men, love he hadde inou.
þe priorie of Wircetre Sein Oswold bygan er —
þat was bivore sein Wolston aboute an hondred ger —
And þat Seint Oswold bigan er Sein Wolston vulde iwis,
So þat þoru hore beire werk strang and hei it is:
As þis holyman Sein Wolston a time let arere
An hey belhous of strang werk þe bellen to honge þere;
And masons above and byneþe þeraboute were,
And bi laddren clomme up and doun and stones up bere;
A man clam upward bi a laddre, and þo he was up an hey
Fram eorþe mo þan fourti vet, as al þat folk ysey,
Dounward he vel as he misstep (men were sore agaste).
Sein Wolston stod and byheld hou he com dounward vaste,
He made him þe signe of þe crois as he vel to gronde:
Harmles he vel and hol inou, his lymes hol and sonde.
And aros up and dude is werk as hym noþing nere.
Loverd, muche is þi migte, as þou kuddest þere,
þat he so harde fram heie vel, and of eche harm was sker:
þou ert God þat wonder dest — as seiþ þe sauter.
So þat Brigteige, þe bissop of Wircetre, was ded,
A clerk was bissop after hym, þat me clupede Aldred,
þat Seint Wolston lovede wel, and he hym also:
For ech god man wol lovie oþer, it were elles misdo.
Suþþe hit bicom þat þe erchebissop of Everwik was ded,
Erchebissop hy made þer þis bissop Aldred;
And þe bissopriche of Wircestre vacant was and lere
Sein Wolston was sone ichose, and bissop imad þere.
Bissop him made þe holyman Seint Edward oure kyng,
And aveng him in is dignete, and tok him crois and ryng;
His bissopriche he weste wel and ek is priorie,
And aforcede him to servi wel God and Seinte Marie.
Four ger he hadde bissop ibe, and nogt follich fyve,
To seint Edward þe holy king wende out of þis live,
To gret ruþe to al Engelonde, so weilawei þe stonde,
For strange men þer come suþþe and brogte Engelond to gronde.
Vor Harald was suþþe kyng, wiþ traison, alas,
þe croune he bar of Engelond, wuch wile so it was;
Ac Willam Bastard, þat was þo duk of Normandie,
þogte to wynne Engelond þoru strengþe and felonye.
He let him greiþe folk inou and gret poer wiþ hym nom,
Wiþ gret strengþe in þe se hym dude, and to Engelond com;
He let ordeiny is feorde wel, and is baner up arere,
And let destruye al þat he vond, and þat lond sore aferde.
Harald hurde herof telle, þe kyng of Engelonde,
He let garke vaste is ost agen him forto stonde;
þe baronie of Engelonde iredy was wel sone
þe kyng to helpe and eke amsulve, as wone was to done.
þe worre was þo in Engelonde deolvol and strang inou,
And hore eiþer of oþeres men al to grounde slou.
No strengþe nadde þe stronge men þat icome were so niwe
Agen þe baronic of Engelond, þe wile hi wolde be triwe;
Ac alas þe tricherie þat þo was and gute is
þat brogte þo Engelonde al to grounde ywis:
Vor Englisse barons bycome somme untriwe and fals also,
To bitraie homsulf and hore kyng þat so muche triste ham to.
þe Normans and þe Englisse men day of bataille nome,
þare as is þe Abber of Bataille, a day togadere ycome;
To gronde hy smite and slouwe also, as God gaf þat cas,
Willam Bastard was above, Harald byneþe was;
For hy þat Harald triste to, faillede him wel vaste,
So þat he was byneþe ibrogt, and overcome attelaste.
þis Willam Bastard þat was kyng, suþþe hym understod,
þat he mid unrigt hadde yssad so many mannes blod,
And þere as þe bataille was an abbey he let rere,
þat me clupeþ Abbey of þe Bataille, þat noble stont gut þere.
As sone so he was king ymad, and al Engelond bysette
As he wolde mid strange men, ac no man ne migte hym lette,
þis holy Sein Wolston wel ofte him wiþsede,
þat he wiþ untigt hadde ido a such uvel dede;
And spak agen hym baldeliche, and ne sparede for no drede,
For he was þe kundeste Englisseman þat was of eny manhede,
(For alle oþer were desented ney) þe kyng was wiþ him wroþ
þat he dradde so lite of hym; he swor anon is oþ
To pulte him of is bissopriche; he let him somni also
To Westmistre to answerie hym of þat he hadde misdo.
Nou nas nogt Sein Wolston wel gret clerk in lore,
For wan he scholde to scole go at churche he was more.
To Westmestre he com to is daie, as he was isomned er,
þis king was in grete wraþþe wel prest agen hym þer,
And þe erchebissop of Kanterburi, Lanfranc was is name,
And þe bissop Gondolf of Roucetre, alle to don hym ssame.
Sein Wolston tovore hom com, þat agen him were so stronge,
As a þeof tovore a justice his dom for to avonge.
þe king and þe erchebissop ek speke wordes grete
þat he ssolde as he worþe was his bissopriche forlete;
For to holde such dignete to lite he couþe of lore,
And hy hym hadde to lange iþoled, and þo nolde hi namore;
And foles hy were þat such fol vurst brogte in such migte,
And if he was follich undervonge, adoun he ssolde wiþ rigte.
Sein Wolston stod wel mildeliche, and hurde al þat hy sede,
Nadde he no man bote God to answerie ne to rede:
" Sires", he sede, rigt it is þat Ich goure heste do,
For, sire king, þou ert mi soverein, and þou erchebissop also.
þe crois Ich habbe gare ybore þat ge seoþ her, lo,
I knowe Ich am and wel Ichot þat Ynam nogt worþe þerto.
Wanne ge wolleþ þat Ich me bileve as man þat unworþe is,
Wel vawe Ichelle goure heste do, as mine sovereins iwis.
In obedient to Holy Churche iwis Ich nel be nogt,
To gulde up as ge me hoteþ Ich me habbe here ibrogt;
Ac for ge ne toke hyne me nogt, I nelle gou take non
Ac him þat hine me bitok; byvore gou everichon
þe godeman þat hit me bitok gend he liþ wel stille,
Ichelle him take up agen þanne do Ich goure wille.
To Seinte Edwardes tombe he wende, þat was in marbelston,
And nom is crois wel mildeliche, and smot þe point þeron;
þe staf smot in þe marbelston as it were in nesse sonde
And he was inne deoþ inou, þe godeman let hym stonde.
" Nou", he sede, " Ich him habbe bitake þat bitok it me,
And tovore gou here I goulde up al þulke dignete.
Takeþ nou wam þat ge wolleþ, somme þat be bet in lore,
And habbeþ goday everichon: ge ne mowe me esse namore."
þis holyman hym wende vorþ amang ham alle wel softe,
þe volk stod as hy were inome and biheld þe crois wel ofte:
Hou he stod in þe marbelston so deope and so vaste;
Of þe miracle hom wondred alle and were somdel agaste.
Somme of hom wende þerto sone þe crois up to drawe,
Ac þer nas non so strang of ham þat migte hure enes wawe.
Hy porveide þer Sire Gondolf, bissop of Roucetre,
þat he were after Sein Wolston byssop of Wircetre.
þe erchebissop him het arise, and nyme þe crois anon,
þe bissop aros wel baldeliche and þuderward gan gon.
þe crois he nom and faste drou uppon þe marbelston —
He ne migte hure wawe nogt — þat folk wondrede echon.
And þareaboute wel þicke drou þat wonder for to se;
þe king and þe erchebissoþ iseye þat it ne migte oþer be.
Hy repentede of hore dede, and after Sein Wolston sende,
In vaire manere þat hy wolde hore trespas amende.
þe messagers iredi were, after hym sone wende;
Gute þis holyman for al gare gult is herte to ham bende,
And sede: " Ich mot nede do mine sovereines wille."
To court he wende agen mid hom wel mildeliche and stille
þo he was to court icome hy arise agen him anon,
þe kyng and þe erchebissop ek, and oþere þat were is fon,
In grete noblesse hy clupede him vorþ, and forgifnesse hym bede,
And bede to amendy agen him al hore misdede;
And bede him nyme age þe crois, and do by hore rede,
For he was best worþe þerto þanne eni oþer hy sede.
" Nay certes, sire", quaþ Sein Wolston, " þat nere nogt to do,
For Ich wot ge sede soþ, Inam nogt worþe þerto;
Ac nymeþ wan goure wille be, anoþer þat conne more."
þe king and þe erchebissop ek cride him milce and ore,
And sede þer nas non oþer þat so worþe were þerto.
Longe it was ar þis holiman hore wille wolde do;
Ac for to obeie is sovereins, he wende vorþ attelaste,
And nom þis crois wel mildeliche þat stikede er so faste.
As ligtliche as he wolde hymsulf þe crois he gan up drawe,
þat so mani men vondede er and ne migte nogt enes wawe,
þicke orn þat folk aboute hym — and no wonder hit nas —
þe miracle was sone ikud þat so apert was.
Me honurede þis holyman as muche as me migte:
His poer þat him was bynome, he tok agen wiþ rigte;
And agen to is bissopriche wiþ gret honour drou,
Is covent underveng hym faire, and honurede him inou.
þis holyman ladde al is lyf in god lyf and clene.
In syknesse wel vewe þer were þat man wolde ofmene
þat he ne brogte to hele anon, þoru oure Loverdes grace;
Sike men wel þicke come to him in eche place,
Deve and dombe and eke blinde, and ech maner sike also,
He helde þoru oure Loverdes grace wanne bicome hym to.
So longe he livede an eorþe her þat a was of gret elde,
His body bygan to hevegy al, gret feblesse he velde.
A slou fevere him com on, þat nom hym nogt to stronge,
þat made is body multe awey, þat laste swuþe long.
Sevenigt byvore þat he deide, his breþeren let vecche alle,
And let him al his rigtes do, and sede wat ssolde bivalle.
Out of þis lyf to hevene he wende, as he ssel byleve,
In the monþe of Geniver, a Sein Fabianes eve;
A þousond ger and nyenty and five þer byvore
It was þat oure swete Loverd an eorþe was ibore;
In þe teþe ger it was also of þe kyngdom
Of Willam þe rede kyng, þat after Willam Bastard com.
He hadde ar he hanne wende voure and þritti ger
And four monþes and four dawes bissop ibeo her.
Vour score ger he was old and sevene also ney,
Ar he wende out of þis lyf to þe joie of hevene an hey.
þo þis holyman was ded, þis monekes come sone
In þe priorie of Wircetre and dude wat was to done:
Wesse þat body as it was rigt and to churche it bere.
þe monkes alle wiþ gret honur, þat is breþeren were,
þe servise þer aboute dede, as it was wel rigt,
And to segge hore sauter ek, þeraboute hy woke al nigt.
þo hit was wel wiþinne nigt, as hy sede in hore boke,
Hom luste slepe swuþe wel, unneþe hi migte loke,
And somme ne migte nogt forbere, ac leige and slepe vaste,
Somme as it were in dwellinge, hore eigne togadere caste.
þis holy body þat lay þer ded bytwene hom in þe bere,
Aros him up wel mildeliche as it alyve were;
And aweigte horn everichon, and bigan atte on ende,
And bygan al along þe rewe þoruout þe quer wende.
And evere as he aweigte hom, he gan hom somdel chide,
þat hy nolde wiþ hore slep hore rigte time abide.
So muche was is holy herte þe ordre for to wite,
þat he nolde nogt, þei he were ded, is breþeren forgute.
þis miracle was wide ikud, as rigt was þat he were,
At Wircestre he was ibured, and issrined is nou þere.
For him me may þer al day many fair miracle ise;
Nou God leove þat we mote wiþ hym in þe joie of hevene be!