1. Activity or motion that is often unduly hurried; haste, often due to agitation, pressure or eagerness to accomplish something. 2. Commotion or agitation; disturbance, tumult; bustle. hurries, hurried, hurrying.
1. Again an equivoque on the double sense of svadhiti, an axe or other cleaving instrument and the self-ordering power of Nature, Swadha. The image is of the progress of the divine Force through the forests of the material existence as with an axe. But the axe is the natural self-arranging progression of Nature, the World-Energy, the Mother from whom this divine Force, son of Energy, is born.
1. Agitated; restless; turbulent. 2. Mentally or emotionally uneasy, perturbed, anxious, or vexed. 3. Not still or silent.
1. Not affected in mind or feeling; not moved by excitement or emotion; undisturbed, calm. 2. Not approached, crossed, traversed, explored, or visited. 3. Remaining in a pristine state; unchanged.
1. Not moved by emotion or excitement; unaffected, undisturbed; collected, calm. 2. Not moved in position; unstirred; remaining fixed or steady.
“Aditi, the infinite Consciousness, Mother of the worlds.” The Secret of the Veda
afar ::: far, far away, at or to a distance; fig. remotely.from afar. From a long way off.
affections ::: emotions; kind feelings, love, fondness, loving attachment.
afloat ::: 1. Floating or borne on the water; in a floating condition. 2. From the state of a ship or other body floating on the sea, having liberty of motion and buoyancy.
air ::: 1. The transparent, invisible, inodorous, and tasteless gaseous substance which envelopes the earth. 2. *Fig. With reference to its unsubstantial or impalpable nature. 3. Outward appearance, apparent character, manner, look, style: esp. in phrases like ‘an air of absurdity"; less commonly of a thing tangible, as ‘the air of a mansion". 4. Mien or gesture (expressive of a personal quality or emotion). *air"s.
“All this action and struggle and ascension is supported by Heaven our Father and Earth our Mother, Parents of the Gods, who sustain respectively the purely mental and psychic and the physical consciousness. Their large and free scope is the condition of our achievement.
"All true law is the right motion and process of a reality, an energy or power of being in action fulfilling its own inherent movement self-implied in its own truth of existence. This law may be inconscient and its working appear to be mechanical, — that is the character or, at least, the appearance of law in material Nature: it may be a conscious energy, freely determined in its action by the consciousness in the being aware of its own imperative of truth, aware of its plastic possibilities of self-expression of that truth, aware, always in the whole and at each moment in the detail, of the actualities it has to realise; this is the figure of the law of the Spirit.” *The Life Divine
“All true law is the right motion and process of a reality, an energy or power of being in action fulfilling its own inherent movement self-implied in its own truth of existence. This law may be inconscient and its working appear to be mechanical,—that is the character or, at least, the appearance of law in material Nature: it may be a conscious energy, freely determined in its action by the consciousness in the being aware of its own imperative of truth, aware of its plastic possibilities of self-expression of that truth, aware, always in the whole and at each moment in the detail, of the actualities it has to realise; this is the figure of the law of the Spirit.” The Life Divine
amethyst ::: a purple or violet quartz; having the clear colour as of the precious stone. Sri Aurobindo uses the word as an adj."for Amethyst (the Mother)she has revealed that it has a power of protection” Huta
anchor ::: 1. Any of various devices dropped by a chain, cable, or rope to the bottom of a body of water for preventing or restricting the motion of a vessel or other floating object, typically having broad, hooklike arms that bury themselves in the bottom to provide a firm hold. 2. A person or thing that can be relied on for support, stability, or security; mainstay.
ancient ::: 1. Of or in time long past or early in the world"s history. 2. Dating from a remote period; of great age; of early origin. 3. Being old in wisdom and experience; venerable. Ancient.
And do you want to know why he is always represented as a child? It is because he is in constant progression. To the extent that the world is perfected, his play is also perfected — what was the play of yesterday will no longer be the play of tomorrow; his play will become more and more harmonious, benign and joyful to the extent that the world becomes capable of responding to it and enjoying it with the Divine.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.
animates ::: 1. Gives life to; makes alive; breathes life into. 2. To move or stir to action; motivate.
"An OMNIPRESENT Reality is the truth of all life and existence whether absolute or relative, whether corporeal or incorporeal, whether animate or inanimate, whether intelligent or unintelligent; and in all its infinitely varying and even constantly opposed self-expressions, from the contradictions nearest to our ordinary experience to those remotest antinomies which lose themselves on the verges of the Ineffable, the Reality is one and not a sum or concourse. From that all variations begin, in that all variations consist, to that all variations return. All affirmations are denied only to lead to a wider affirmation of the same Reality.” The Life Divine ::: *reality, absolute See **absolute reality**
a person who professes beliefs and opinions that he or she does not hold in order to conceal his or her real feelings or motives; one who pretends to be what he is not. (Sri Aurobindo also uses the term as an adjective.) hypocrite"s.
arabesques ::: 1. Any ornaments or ornamental objects such as rugs or mosaics, in which flowers, foliage, fruits, vases, animals, and figures are represented in a fancifully combined pattern. 2. *Fine Arts.* A sinuous, spiraling, undulating, or serpentine line or linear motif.
"A SPIRITUAL evolution, an evolution of consciousness in Matter in a constant developing self-formation till the form can reveal the indwelling Spirit, is then the keynote, the central significant motive of the terrestrial existence. This significance is concealed at the outset by the involution of the Spirit, the Divine Reality, in a dense material Inconscience; a veil of Inconscience, a veil of insensibility of Matter hides the universal Consciousness-Force which works within it, so that the Energy, which is the first form the Force of creation assumes in the physical universe, appears to be itself inconscient and yet does the works of a vast occult Intelligence.” The Life Divine
“A SPIRITUAL evolution, an evolution of consciousness in Matter in a constant developing self-formation till the form can reveal the indwelling Spirit, is then the keynote, the central significant motive of the terrestrial existence. This significance is concealed at the outset by the involution of the Spirit, the Divine Reality, in a dense material Inconscience; a veil of Inconscience, a veil of insensibility of Matter hides the universal Consciousness-Force which works within it, so that the Energy, which is the first form the Force of creation assumes in the physical universe, appears to be itself inconscient and yet does the works of a vast occult Intelligence.” The Life Divine
"As supramental Truth is not merely a sublimation of our mental ideas, so Divine Love is not merely a sublimation of human emotions; it is a different consciousness, with a different quality, movement and substance.” Letters on Yoga
“As supramental Truth is not merely a sublimation of our mental ideas, so Divine Love is not merely a sublimation of human emotions; it is a different consciousness, with a different quality, movement and substance.” Letters on Yoga
aswarm ::: filled, as by objects, organisms, etc. esp. in motion; teeming, swarming.
at a distance ::: far, remote from someone or something.
atavism ::: 1. The reappearance in an individual of characteristics of some remote ancestor that have been absent in intervening generations. 2. Reversion to an earlier type.
athwart ::: 1. Across from side to side; crosswise or transversely; contrary to the proper or expected course; against; crosswise. 2. Of motion; from side to side.
at rest ::: 1. In a state of repose, as in sleep. 2. Quiescent; inactive; not in motion. 2. Free from worry; tranquil.
At times he calls himself the ‘Lord of Nations." It is he who sets all wars in motion and only by thwarting his plans could the last war be won . . . This one does not want to be converted, not at all. He wants neither the physical transformation not the supramental world, for that would spell his end. The Mother"s talk of 26 March 1959.
At times he calls himself the ‘Lord of Nations.’ It is he who sets all wars in motion and only by thwarting his plans could the last war be won . . . This one does not want to be converted, not at all. He wants neither the physical transformation not the supramental world, for that would spell his end. The Mother’s talk of 26 March 1959.
balance ::: n. **1. A state of equilibrium or equipoise; mental, psychological or emotional. 2. A weighing device, especially one consisting of a rigid beam horizontally suspended by a low-friction support at its center, with identical weighing pans hung at either end, one of which holds an unknown weight while the effective weight in the other is increased by known amounts until the beam is level and motionless. 3. An undecided or uncertain state in which issues are unresolved. v. 4. To have an equality or equivalence in weight, parts, etc.; be in equilibrium. adj. 5. Being in harmonious or proper arrangement or adjustment, proportion. 6. Mental steadiness or emotional stability; habit of calm behaviour, judgement. balanced, balancing.**
banner ::: 1. A piece of cloth bearing a motto or legend. 2. A placard carried in a demonstration.
belief ::: 1. Confidence in the truth or existence of something not immediately susceptible to rigorous proof. 2. Trust or confidence, faith. 3. Something believed; an opinion or conviction. beliefs.
Question: "Sweet Mother, l don"t understand very clearly the difference between faith, belief and confidence.”
Mother: "But Sri Aurobindo has given the full explanation here. If you don"t understand, then. . . He has written ‘Faith is a feeling in the whole being." The whole being, yes. Faith, that"s the whole being at once. He says that belief is something that occurs in the head, that is purely mental; and confidence is quite different. Confidence, one can have confidence in life, trust in the Divine, trust in others, trust in one"s own destiny, that is, one has the feeling that everything is going to help him, to do what he wants to do. Faith is a certitude without any proof. Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 6.
blank ::: n. 1. Fig. Any void space. blanks. adj. 2. Empty, without contents, void, bare. 3. Devoid of activity, interest, or distinctive character; empty. 4. Mere, bare, simple. 5. Lacking expression; expressionless, showing no interest or emotion, vacant. 6. Absolute; complete. blankness.
blessing ::: 1. Something promoting or contributing to happiness, well-being, or prosperity; a boon. 2. A ceremonial prayer invoking divine protection, grace, etc.
mother, Divine ::: see **Divine Mother.**
mother of the universe ::: see **Mother of the Worlds.**
mother of the worlds ::: Sri Aurobindo: "Aditi, the infinite Consciousness, Mother of the worlds.” *The Secret of the Veda
" She is the first Radiance, Aditi, the infinite Consciousness of the infinite conscious Being which is the mother of the worlds.” The Secret of the Veda*
mother ::: Sri Aurobindo: "The One whom we adore as the Mother is the divine Conscious Force that dominates all existence, one and yet so many-sided that to follow her movement is impossible even for the quickest mind and for the freest and most vast intelligence. The Mother is the consciousness and force of the Supreme and far above all she creates.” The Mother ::: "The one original transcendent Shakti, the Mother stands above all the worlds and bears in her eternal consciousness the Supreme Divine.
"That which we call Nature or Prakriti is only her [the Mother"s] most outward executive aspect; she marshals and arranges the harmony of her forces and processes, impels the operations of Nature and moves among them secret or manifest in all that can be seen or experienced or put into motion of life.” *The Mother
: "The Mother comes in order to bring down the Supramental and it is the descent which makes her full manifestation here possible.” *Letters on the Mother
"When one does sadhana, the inner consciousness begins to open and one is able to go inside and have all kinds of experiences there. As the sadhana progresses, one begins to live more and more in this inner being and the outer becomes more and more superficial. At first the inner consciousness seems to be the dream and the outer the waking reality. Afterwards the inner consciousness becomes the reality and the outer is felt by many as a dream or delusion, or else as something superficial and external. The inner consciousness begins to be a place of deep peace, light, happiness, love, closeness to the Divine or the presence of the Divine, the Mother.” Letters on Yoga ::: **mighty Mother, World-Mother, World-Mother"s.**
mother, universal ::: Sri Aurobindo: "What people mean by the formless svarûpa of the Mother, — they means usually her universal aspect. It is when she is experienced as a universal Existence and Power spread through the universe in which and by which all live. When one feels that Presence one begins to feel a universal peace, light, power, bliss without limits — that is her svarûpa.” *The Mother
"The Mahashakti, the universal Mother, works out whatever is transmitted by her transcendent consciousness from the Supreme and enters into the worlds that she has made; her presence fills and supports them with the divine spirit and the divine all-sustaining force and delight without which they could not exist.” The Mother
mother-Wisdom ::: the wisdom of the Mother, the Divine Creatrix.
motion ::: 1. The action or process of changing position or place. 2. The ability or power to move. 3. A meaningful or expressive change in the position of the body or a part of the body; a gesture. motion"s, motions, motion-parable myriad-motioned.
motionless ::: having or making no motion. motionlessly.
motive ::: n. 1. An emotion, desire, physiological need, or similar impulse that acts as an incitement to action. motives. adj. **2. Of or constituting an incitement to action. 3. In art, literature and music: A motif (a recurring subject, theme, idea). motived, motiveless. v. 4. To incite; motivate. motives.**
motley ::: having elements of great variety or incongruity; heterogeneous.
mottled ::: spotted or blotched with different shades or colors.
body ::: “Matter, body is only a massed motion of force of conscious being employed as a starting-point for the variable relations of consciousness working through its power of sense.” Essays on the Gita
bosom ::: 1. The breast. 2. Something likened to the human breast, such as the bosom of the earth, the sea. 2. The breast, conceived of as the centre of feelings or emotions. 3. Centre of; heart of. bosom"s, bosoms, bosomed, white-bosomed.
break ::: v. 1. To destroy by or as if by shattering or crushing. 2. To force or make a way through (a barrier, etc.). 3. To vary or disrupt the uniformity or continuity of. 4. To overcome or put an end to. 5. To destroy or interrupt a regularity, uniformity, continuity, or arrangement of; interrupt. 6. To intrude upon; interrupt a conversation, etc. 7. To discontinue or sever an association, an agreement, or a relationship. **8. To overcome or wear down the spirit, strength, or resistance of. 9. (usually followed by in, into or out). 10. To filter or penetrate as sunlight into a room. 11. To come forth suddenly. 12. To utter suddenly; to express or start to express an emotion, mood, etc. 13. Said of waves, etc. when they dash against an obstacle, or topple over and become surf or broken water in the shallows. 14. To part the surface of water, as a ship or a jumping fish. breaks, broke, broken, breaking.* *n. 15.** An interruption or a disruption in continuity or regularity.
breast ::: 1. Each of two milk-secreting glandular organs on the chest of a woman; the human mammary gland. 2. The front of the body from the neck to the abdomen; chest. 3. Fig. The seat of the affection and emotion. 4. Fig. A source of nourishment. 5. Something likened to the human breast, as a surface, etc. breasts, breasts".
breathless ::: 1. Motionless or still, as air without a breeze. 2. Not breathing; without breath.
burden ::: n. 1. A weight that is to be borne; a load. 2. Something that is emotionally difficult to bear. v. **3. To load or overload. 4.** To oppress; tax; with responsibility, etc.
burn ::: 1. To be very eager; aflame with activity, as to be on fire. 2. To emit heat or light by as if by combustion; to flame.. 3. To give off light or to glow brightly. 4. To light; a candle; incense, etc.) as an offering. 5. To suffer punishment or death by or as if by fire; put to death by fire. 6. To injure, endanger, or damage with or as if with fire. 7. Fig. To be consumed with strong emotions; be aflame with desire; anger; etc. 8. To shine intensely; to seem to glow as if on fire. burns, burned, burnt, burning.
burning ::: adj. 1. Aflame; on fire. Also fig. 2. Very bright; glowing; luminous. 3. Characterized by intense emotion; passionate. 4. Urgent or crucial. 5. Extremely hot; scorching. 6. Very hot. ever-burning.* *n. 7. The state, process, sensation, or effect of being on fire, burned, or subjected to intense heat. altar-burnings.**
"But man also has a life-mind, a vital mentality which is an instrument of desire: this is not satisfied with the actual, it is a dealer in possibilities; it has the passion for novelty and is seeking always to extend the limits of experience for the satisfaction of desire, for enjoyment, for an enlarged self-affirmation and aggrandisement of its terrain of power and profit. It desires, enjoys, possesses actualities, but it hunts also after unrealised possibilities, is ardent to materialise them, to possess and enjoy them also. It is not satisfied with the physical and objective only, but seeks too a subjective, an imaginative, a purely emotive satisfaction and pleasure.” *The Life Divine
“But man also has a life-mind, a vital mentality which is an instrument of desire: this is not satisfied with the actual, it is a dealer in possibilities; it has the passion for novelty and is seeking always to extend the limits of experience for the satisfaction of desire, for enjoyment, for an enlarged self-affirmation and aggrandisement of its terrain of power and profit. It desires, enjoys, possesses actualities, but it hunts also after unrealised possibilities, is ardent to materialise them, to possess and enjoy them also. It is not satisfied with the physical and objective only, but seeks too a subjective, an imaginative, a purely emotive satisfaction and pleasure.” The Life Divine
calm ::: n. 1. Serenity; tranquillity; peace. 2. Nearly or completely motionless as a condition of no wind. Calm, Calm"s, calms, calmness. adj. 3. Not excited or agitated; composed; tranquil; 4. Without rough motion; still or nearly still. calmer, calm-lipped, stone-calm. *adv. calmly.
Sri Aurobindo: "Calm is a still unmoved condition which no disturbance can affect — it is a less negative condition than quiet.” Letters on Yoga*
"Calm is a positive tranquillity which can exist in spite of superficial disturbances.” *Letters on Yoga
"Calm is a strong and positive quietude, firm and solid — ordinary quietude is mere negation, simply the absence of disturbance.” *Letters on Yoga
"But more powerful still is the giving up of the fruit of one"s works, because that immediately destroys all causes of disturbance and brings and preserves automatically an inner calm and peace, and calm and peace are the foundation on which all else becomes perfect and secure in possession by the tranquil spirit.” Essays on the Gita
The Mother: "Calm is self-possessed strength, quiet and conscious energy, mastery of the impulses, control over the unconscious reflexes.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 14*.
cause ::: 1. A person or thing that acts, happens, or exists in such a way that some specific thing happens as a result; the producer of an effect. 2. A basis for an action or response; a reason. 3. Grounds for action; motive; justification. 4. Good or sufficient reason. 5. The principle, ideal, goal, or movement to which a person or group is dedicated. Cause.
chameleon ::: any of numerous Old World lizards of the family Chamaeleontidae, characterized by the ability to change the colour of their skin, very slow locomotion, and a projectile tongue.
change ::: “The motion of the world works under the government of a perpetual stability. Change represents the constant shifting of apparent relations in an eternal Immutability.” The Upanishads
choked ::: interfered with the respiration of by compression or obstruction of the larynx or trachea by strangling, smothering; stifling.
chords ::: 1. A combination of three or more pitches sounded simultaneously. 2. Emotional responses, feelings. 3. Harmony.
cinema ::: a motion picture or a theatre that shows motion pictures.
cling ::: 1. To come or be in close contact with; stick or hold together and resist separation 2. To hold fast or adhere to as if by embracing. 3. To be emotionally or intellectually attached or remain close to. 4. To hold on tightly or tenaciously to. 5. To remain attached as to an idea, hope, memory, etc. clings, clung, clinging.
consciousness ::: “Consciousness is a fundamental thing, the fundamental thing in existence—it is the energy, the motion, the movement of consciousness that creates the universe and all that is in it—not only the macrocosm but the microcosm is nothing but consciousness arranging itself.” Letters on Yoga
“Consciousness is a fundamental thing, the fundamental thing in existence—it is the energy, the motion, the movement of consciousness that creates the universe and all that is in it—not only the macrocosm but the microcosm is nothing but consciousness arranging itself.” Letters on Yoga
control ::: n. 1. Power to direct, determine or command. 2. A means of regulation or restraint; curb; check. v. 3. To exercise authoritative control or power over. 4. To hold in restraint; check, esp. one"s emotions. controls, controlled, controlling.
corner ::: 1. The position at which two lines, surfaces, or edges meet and form an angle. 2. The area enclosed or bounded by an angle formed in this manner. 3. A region, part, quarter. 4. A remote, secluded, or secret place. corners, corner-Mind.
::: "Cosmos is not the Divine in all his utter reality, but a single self-expression, a true but minor motion of his being.” *The Human Cycle
“Cosmos is not the Divine in all his utter reality, but a single self-expression, a true but minor motion of his being.” The Human Cycle
creatrix ::: “O Wisdom-Splendour, Mother of the universe,
creatrix ::: the Divine Mother, the creatress. creatrix. (Sri Aurobindo also employs the word as an adj.)
cynic ::: 1. A person who believes all people are motivated by selfishness and whose outlook is scornfully and often habitually negative. 2. *adj. *Bitterly or sneeringly distrustful, contemptuous, or pessimistic.
dangled ::: caused to hang loosely, esp. with a jerking or swaying motion.
demotic ::: 1. Of or relating to the common people; popular. 2. Of, relating to, or written in the simplified form of ancient Egyptian hieratic writing.
deeply ::: adv. 1. At or to a considerable extent downward; well within or beneath a surface. 2. With deep feeling or emotion; greatly, thoroughly, intensely, acutely.
Definitions by Sri Aurobindo and Mother
delirium ::: 1. A more or less temporary disorder of the mental faculties, as in fevers, disturbances of consciousness, or intoxication, characterised by restlessness, excitement, delusions, hallucinations, etc. 2. A state of violent excitement or emotion.
depth ::: 1. The quality of a state of consciousness. 2. Beyond one"s knowledge or capability. 3. Emotional intensity, profundity. 4. The quality of being deep; deepness. 5. Complexity or profundity. 6. The extent, measurement, or distance downwards, backwards, or inwards. depths, depths", spirit-depths, wave-depths.
design ::: n. 1. Purpose, aim, intention, especially with reference to a Divine Creator. 2. Plan or scheme. 3. A combination of details or features; pattern or motif. design"s, designs. *v. 4. To work out the structure or form of (something). 5. To plan and make (something) artistically or skilfully. *designed, designing.
"Desire is at once the motive of our actions, our lever of accomplishment and the bane of our existence.” The Synthesis of Yoga
“Desire is at once the motive of our actions, our lever of accomplishment and the bane of our existence.” The Synthesis of Yoga
destitute of useful qualities; serving no good end or profitable purpose; not answering or promoting the proposed or desired end; unserviceable, ineffectual.
detached ::: 1. Impartial or objective; disinterested; unbiased. 2. Not involved or concerned; aloof. ::: Sri Aurobindo: "Detachment means that one stands back from [imperfections and weakness of the nature, etc.] , does not identify oneself with them or get upset or troubled because they are there, but rather looks on them as something foreign to one"s true consciousness and true self, rejects them and calls in the Mother"s Force into these movements to eliminate them and bring the true consciousness and its movements there.” Letters on Yoga
detached ::: “Detachment means that one stands back from [imperfections and weakness of the nature, etc.] , does not identify oneself with them or get upset or troubled because they are there, but rather looks on them as something foreign to one’s true consciousness and true self, rejects them and calls in the Mother’s Force into these movements to eliminate them and bring the true consciousness and its movements there.” Letters on Yoga
direction ::: 1. A line of thought or action or a tendency or inclination. 2. A purpose or orientation toward a goal that serves to guide or motivate; focus. directions.
distance ::: 1. The extent of space between two objects or the fact or condition of being apart in space; remoteness. 2. The interval between two points of time; an extent of time. 3. Separation or remoteness in relationship; disparity. distances.
Divine Mother
divine Mother ::: Sri Aurobindo: "The One whom we adore as the Mother is the divine Conscious Force that dominates all existence, one and yet so many-sided that to follow her movement is impossible even for the quickest mind and for the freest and most vast intelligence. The Mother is the consciousness and force of the Supreme and far above all she creates.” *The Mother
drag ::: n. 1. A slow, laborious motion or movement against resistance. v. 2. To pull along with difficulty or effort; haul. 3. To trail along the ground. 4. To be drawn or hauled along. 5. To introduce; inject; insert. drags, dragged, dragging.
dragon of the dark foundation ::: Sri Aurobindo: "All this action and struggle and ascension is supported by Heaven our Father and Earth our Mother, Parents of the Gods, who sustain respectively the purely mental and psychic and the physical consciousness. Their large and free scope is the condition of our achievement. Vayu, Master of life, links them together by the mid-air, the region of vital force. And there are other deities, — Parjanya, giver of the rain of heaven; Dadhikravan, the divine war-horse, a power of Agni; the mystic Dragon of the Foundations; Trita Aptya who on the third plane of existence consummates our triple being; and more besides.” The Secret of the Veda
drama ::: 1. A composition in prose or verse presenting in dialogue or pantomime a story involving conflict or contrast of character, esp. one intended to be acted on the stage; a play. 2. Any situation or series of events having vivid, emotional or conflicting interest or results. drama"s, dramas.
dream ::: 1. A series of images, ideas, emotions, and sensations occurring involuntarily in the mind during certain stages of sleep. 2. A vision occurring to a person while awake. 3. A person or thing that is as pleasant, or seemingly unreal, as a dream 4. An ideal or aspiration; goal; aim. 5. A wild or vain fancy. Dream, dream"s, Dream"s, dreams, dream-brood, dream-brush, dream-built, dream-caught, dream-fact, dream-fate, dream-god"s, dream-happiness, dream-hued, dream-life, dream-light, dream-made, dream-mind, dream-notes, dream-print, dream-sculptured, dream-shores, dream-smiles, dream-splendour, dream-truth, dream-vasts, dream-white, dream-world, half-dream, self-dream, sun-dream, world-dream. *adj. 6. Of a colour: misty, dim, or cloudy. v. 7. To have an image (of) or fantasy (about) in or as if in a dream. dreams, dreamed, *dreaming.
drift ::: n. 1. A driving movement or force; impulse; impetus; pressure. 2. A gradual deviation from an original course, model, method, or intention. 3. Tendency, trend, meaning, or purport. 4. A bank or pile, as of sand or snow, heaped up by currents of air or water. 5. Something moving along in a current of air or water. 6. Any group of stars having a random distribution of velocities; usually applied to a group of stars with an apparent systematic motion towards some point in the sky. v. 7. To be carried along by or as if by currents of air or water. 8. To move leisurely or sporadically from place to place, especially without purpose. drifts, drifted, drifting, sleet-drift, slow-drifting.
drown ::: fig. To overwhelm or smother; to immerse, inundate, flood. drowned.
drunk ::: intoxicated as with an alcoholic liquor; overcome or dominated by a strong feeling or emotion. honey-drunk. (Also, pp. of drink.)
durga ::: "In Hindu religion, the goddess who is the Energy of Shiva and the conquering and protecting aspect of the Universal Mother. She is the slayer of many demons including Mahisasura. Durga is usually depicted in painting and sculpture riding a lion, having eight or ten arms, each holding the special weapon of one or another of the gods who gave them to her for her battles with demons. (A; Enc. Br.)” *Glossary and Index of Proper Names in Sri Aurobindo"s Works.
::: "Durga is the Mother"s power of Protection.” The Mother*
“Durga is the Mother’s power of Protection.” The Mother
Durga ::: Sri Aurobindo: “… Durga, the conquering and protecting aspect of the Universal Mother.” Letters on Yoga
dynamic ::: 1. Pertaining to or characterized by energy or effective action; vigorously active; forceful; energetic. 2. Of or concerned with energy or forces that produce motion, as opposed to static.
earth-Mother ::: 1. A female spirit or deity serving as a symbol of earth or of life and fertility. 2. The earth conceived of as the female principle of fertility and the source of all life. earth-mother"s.
emotion ::: 1. An affective state of consciousness in which joy, sorrow, fear, hate, or the like, is experienced, as distinguished from cognitive or volitional states of consciousness. Also abstract ‘feeling" as distinguished from the other classes of mental phenomena. 2. A state of mental agitation or disturbance. **emotion"s, emotions.
emotional or spiritual exaltations.
emotion ::: “Emotion itself is not a bad thing; it is a necessary part of the nature, and psychic emotion is one of the most powerful helps to the sadhana. Psychic emotion, bringing tears of love for the Divine or tears of Ananda, ought not to be suppressed: …” Letters on Yoga
"Emotion is a good element in yoga; but emotional desire becomes easily a cause of perturbation and an obstacle. Turn your emotions towards the Divine, aspire for their purification; they will then become a help on the way and no longer a cause of suffering.” Letters on Yoga*
“Emotion is a good element in yoga; but emotional desire becomes easily a cause of perturbation and an obstacle. Turn your emotions towards the Divine, aspire for their purification; they will then become a help on the way and no longer a cause of suffering.” Letters on Yoga
ecstasy ::: 1. Intense joy or delight. 2. A state of exalted emotion so intense that one is carried beyond thought. 3. Used by mystical writers as the technical name for the state of rapture in which the body was supposed to become incapable of sensation, while the soul was engaged in the contemplation of divine things. 4. The trance, frenzy, or rapture associated with mystic or prophetic exaltation. Ecstasy, ecstasy"s, ecstasies, ecstasied, self-ecstasy, strange-ecstasied.
eddy ::: 1. A current at variance with the main current in a stream of liquid or gas, esp. one having a rotary or whirling motion. 2. A small whirlpool. eddies, eddying.
effervescing ::: in a state of natural commotion; bubbling.
elemental ::: 1. Starkly simple, primitive, or basic. 2. Motivated by or symbolic of primitive and powerful natural forces or passions.
elements ::: Sri Aurobindo: "The first ripple or vibration in causal matter creates a new and exceedingly fine and pervasive condition of matter called Akasha or Ether; more complex motion evolves out of Ether a somewhat intenser condition which is called Vayu, Air; and so by ever more complex motion with increasing intensity of condition for result, yet three other matter-states are successively developed, Agni or Fire, Apah or Water and Prithvi or Earth.” *Supplement to the Sri Aurobindo Birth Centenary Library
elements ::: “The first ripple or vibration in causal matter creates a new and exceedingly fine and pervasive condition of matter called Akasha or Ether; more complex motion evolves out of Ether a somewhat intenser condition which is called Vayu, Air; and so by ever more complex motion with increasing intensity of condition for result, yet three other matter-states are successively developed, Agni or Fire, Apah or Water and Prithvi or Earth.” Supplement to the Sri Aurobindo Birth Centenary Library
"Emptiness is not in itself a bad condition, only if it is a sad and restless emptiness of the dissatisfied vital. In sadhana emptiness is very usually a necessary transition from one state to another. When mind and vital fall quiet and their restless movements, thoughts and desires cease, then one feels empty. This is at first often a neutral emptiness with nothing in it, nothing in it either good or bad, happy or unhappy, no impulse or movement. This neutral state is often or even usually followed by the opening to inner experience. There is also an emptiness made of peace and silence, when the peace and silence come out from the psychic within or descend from the higher consciousness above. This is not neutral, for in it there is the sense of peace, often also of wideness and freedom. There is also a happy emptiness with the sense of something close or drawing near which is not yet there, e.g. the closeness of the Mother or some other preparing experience.” Letters on Yoga*
“Emptiness is not in itself a bad condition, only if it is a sad and restless emptiness of the dissatisfied vital. In sadhana emptiness is very usually a necessary transition from one state to another. When mind and vital fall quiet and their restless movements, thoughts and desires cease, then one feels empty. This is at first often a neutral emptiness with nothing in it, nothing in it either good or bad, happy or unhappy, no impulse or movement. This neutral state is often or even usually followed by the opening to inner experience. There is also an emptiness made of peace and silence, when the peace and silence come out from the psychic within or descend from the higher consciousness above. This is not neutral, for in it there is the sense of peace, often also of wideness and freedom. There is also a happy emptiness with the sense of something close or drawing near which is not yet there, e.g. the closeness of the Mother or some other preparing experience.” Letters on Yoga
::: Equality means a quiet and unmoved mind and vital, it means not to be touched or disturbed by things that happen or things said or done to you, but to look at them with a straight look, free from the distortions created by personal feeling, and to try to understand what is behind them, why they happen, what is to be learnt from them, what is it in oneself which they are cast against and what inner profit or progress one can make out of them; it means self-mastery over the vital movements, — anger and sensitiveness and pride as well as desire and the rest, — not to let them get hold of the emotional being and disturb the inner peace, not to speak and act in the rush and impulsion of these things, always to act and speak out of a calm inner poise of the spirit.” *Letters on Yoga
Equality means a quiet and unmoved mind and vital, it means not to be touched or disturbed by things that happen or things said or done to you, but to look at them with a straight look, free from the distortions created by personal feeling, and to try to understand what is behind them, why they happen, what is to be learnt from them, what is it in oneself which they are cast against and what inner profit or progress one can make out of them; it means self-mastery over the vital movements,—anger and sensitiveness and pride as well as desire and the rest,—not to let them get hold of the emotional being and disturb the inner peace, not to speak and act in the rush and impulsion of these things, always to act and speak out of a calm inner poise of the spirit.” Letters on Yoga
equipoise ::: equality in distribution, as of weight, relationship, or emotional forces; equilibrium.
eternity ::: “The timeless Spirit is not necessarily a blank; it may hold all in itself, but in essence, without reference to time or form or relation or circumstance, perhaps in an eternal unity. Eternity is the common term between Time and the Timeless Spirit. What is in the Timeless unmanifested, implied, essential, appears in Time in movement, or at least in design and relation, in result and circumstance. These two then are the same Eternity or the same Eternal in a double status; they are a twofold status of being and consciousness, one an eternity of immobile status, the other an eternity of motion in status.” The Life Divine
ethics ::: 1. A system of moral principles. 2. The branch of philosophy dealing with values relating to human conduct, with respect to the rightness and wrongness of certain actions and to the goodness and badness of the motives and ends of such actions. **ethics".
excite ::: stir the feelings, emotions, or peace of.
fear ::: n. 1. A distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined; the feeling or condition of being afraid. v. 2. To regard with fear; be afraid of. 3. To have reverential awe of.** fear"s, fears, feared, fearing, fear-filled.
ferment ::: 1. A state of agitation or of turbulent change or development. 2. A process of nature involving the addition of yeasts, moulds and certain bacteria (to liquids or solids) causing an effervescence or internal commotion, with evolution of heat, in the substance operated on, and a resulting alteration of its properties.
fiery ::: 1. Like or suggestive of fire. 2. Burning or glowing. 3. Charged with emotion; fervent, vehement, impassioned. fierier, fiery-footed.
flame ::: n. 1. Burning gas or vapor, as from wood or coal, that is undergoing combustion; a portion of ignited gas or vapor. 2. Fig. A brilliant light; fiery glow. 3. Fig. Intense ardour, zeal, passion, vitality. 4. Spiritual fire. 5. Inner fire. 6. Bright colouring; a streak or patch of color. Flame, flames, flame-ascensions, flame-born, flame-bright, flame-child, flame-discovery, flame-edge, flame-eyed, flame-foot, flame-hills, flame-pure, flame-signs, flame-stabs, flame-throw, flame-white, flame-wrapped, moon-flame. v. 8. To burn with a flame or flames; burst into flames; blaze. 7. To burn or glow as if with fire; become red or fiery 8. To burn or burst forth with strong emotion. flames, flamed. ::: flames out. Bursts out in or as if in flames.
flutter ::: 1. To flap the wings rapidly or fly with flapping movements. 2. To move quickly in a nervous, restless, or excited fashion; flit. 3. Generally of the heart: to beat abnormally rapidly, esp. in a regular rhythm. 4. To wave, flap or toss about. 5. To move (a thing) in quick irregular motions. flutters, fluttered, fluttering, flutterest.
Force ::: “Force is nothing but the power of being in motion.” Hymns to the Mystic Fire
". . . Force is inherent in Existence. Shiva and Kali, Brahman and Shakti are one and not two who are separable. Force inherent in existence may be at rest or it may be in motion, but when it is at rest, it exists none the less and is not abolished, diminished or in any way essentially altered.” The Life Divine
“… Force is inherent in Existence. Shiva and Kali, Brahman and Shakti are one and not two who are separable. Force inherent in existence may be at rest or it may be in motion, but when it is at rest, it exists none the less and is not abolished, diminished or in any way essentially altered.” The Life Divine
force ::: n. 1. Strength; energy; power; intensity. 2. Fig. An agency, influence, or source of power likened to a physical force. Force, force"s, forces, Force-compelled, Conscious-Force, earth-force, God-Force, lion-forces, Mother-Force, Nature-force, Nature-Force, serpent-force, soul-force, Soul-Forces, world-force, World-Force, world-forces. *v. 3. To compel or cause (a person, group, etc.) to do something through effort, superior strength, etc.; coerce. 4. To propel or drive despite resistance. 5. To break open (a gate, door, etc.) *forces, forced, forcing.
“… for each individual is in himself the Eternal who has assumed name and form and supports through him the experiences of life turning on an ever-circling wheel of birth in the manifestation. The wheel is kept in motion by the desire of the individual, which becomes the effective cause of rebirth and by the mind’s turning away from the knowledge of the eternal self to the preoccupations of the temporal becoming.” The Life Divine
::: "For in reality, no man works, but Nature works through him for the self-expression of a Power within that proceeds from the Infinite. To know that and live in the presence and in the being of the Master of Nature, free from desire and the illusion of personal impulsion, is the one thing needful. That and not the bodily cessation of action is the true release; for the bondage of works at once ceases. A man might sit still and motionless for ever and yet be as much bound to the Ignorance as the animal or the insect. But if he can make this greater consciousness dynamic within him, then all the work of all the worlds could pass through him and yet he would remain at rest, absolute in calm and peace, free from all bondage.” *The Synthesis of Yoga
“For in reality, no man works, but Nature works through him for the self-expression of a Power within that proceeds from the Infinite. To know that and live in the presence and in the being of the Master of Nature, free from desire and the illusion of personal impulsion, is the one thing needful. That and not the bodily cessation of action is the true release; for the bondage of works at once ceases. A man might sit still and motionless for ever and yet be as much bound to the Ignorance as the animal or the insect. But if he can make this greater consciousness dynamic within him, then all the work of all the worlds could pass through him and yet he would remain at rest, absolute in calm and peace, free from all bondage.” The Synthesis of Yoga
forward ::: adv. 1. Toward or tending to the front; facing frontward. 2. Fig. Directed or moving ahead. 3. Of continuous motion: Towards what is in front; (moving) onwards, on. forward-rippling, forward-striving. *adj. 4. At or near or directed towards a point ahead.* ::: to look forward. Expect or hope for something positive in the future.
friction ::: a resistance encountered when one body moves relative to another body with which it is in contact. Surface resistance to relative motion.
fuel ::: 1. A substance that can be consumed to produce energy. 2. Fig. Something that maintains or stimulates a passionate activity or an emotion. fuel"s.
funnel ::: a shaft, flue, or stack for ventilation or the passage of smoke, especially the smokestack of a ship or locomotive.
gesture ::: 1. A motion of the limbs or body made to express or help express thought or to emphasize speech. 2. The act of moving the limbs or body as an expression of thought or emphasis. 3. An act or a remark made as a formality or as a sign of intention or attitude. gesture"s, gestures.
glow ::: n. 1. A light emitted by or as if by a substance heated to luminosity; incandescence. 2. Brilliance or warmth of colour. 3. Intensity of emotion; ardour. joy-glow, petal-glow. v. 4. To shine intensely, as if from great heat. 5. To show a strong bright colour. glows, glowed, glowing.
"God is the one stable and eternal Reality. He is One because there is nothing else, since all existence and non-existence are He. He is stable or unmoving, because motion implies change in Space and change in Time, and He, being beyond Time and Space, is immutable. He possesses eternally in Himself all that is, has been or ever can be, and He therefore does not increase or diminish. He is beyond causality and relativity and therefore there is no change of relations in His being.” The Upanishads
“God is the one stable and eternal Reality. He is One because there is nothing else, since all existence and non-existence are He. He is stable or unmoving, because motion implies change in Space and change in Time, and He, being beyond Time and Space, is immutable. He possesses eternally in Himself all that is, has been or ever can be, and He therefore does not increase or diminish. He is beyond causality and relativity and therefore there is no change of relations in His being.” The Upanishads
golden Child ::: Sri Aurobindo: "I suppose the golden child is the Truth-Soul which follows after the silver light of the spiritual. When it plunges into the black waters of the subconscient, it releases from it the spiritual light and the sevenfold streams of the Divine Energy and, clearing itself of the stains of the subconscient, it prepares its flight towards the supreme Divine (the Mother).” (Reply to a question in the chapter Visions and Symbols.) Letters on Yoga
grace ::: n. **1. Elegance or beauty of form, manner, motion, or action. 2. Favour or goodwill. 3. A manifestation of favour, especially by a superior. 4. Theol. a. The freely given, unmerited favour and love of God. b. The influence or spirit of God operating in humans to regenerate or strengthen them. c. A virtue or excellence of divine origin. d. The condition of being in God"s favour or one of the elect. 5. Divine love and protection bestowed freely on people. v. 6. To lend or add grace to; adorn. graced, graceful, graceless.**
great Mother
guide ::: “The first is the discovery of the soul, not the outer soul of thought and emotion and desire, but the secret psychic entity, the divine element within us. When that becomes dominant over the nature, when we are consciously the soul and when mind, life and body take their true place as its instruments, we are aware of a guide within that knows the truth, the good, the true delight and beauty of existence, controls heart and intellect by its luminous law and leads our life and being towards spiritual completeness.” The Life Divine
gyre ::: 1. A circular or spiral motion. 2. A ring, circle, or spiral. gyres.
hardly ::: “Your ‘barely enough’, instead of the finer and more suggestive ‘hardly’, falls flat upon my ear; one cannot substitute one word for another in this kind of poetry merely because it means intellectually the same thing; ‘hardly’ is the mot juste in this context and, repetition or not, it must remain unless a word not only juste but inevitable comes to replace it… . On this point I may add that in certain contexts ‘barely’ would be the right word, as for instance, ‘There is barely enough food left for two or three meals’, where ‘hardly’ would be adequate but much less forceful. It is the other way about in this line. Letters on Savitri
haste ::: n. 1. Swiftness of motion; speed; hurry, rush. v. 2. To move or act swiftly; hurry. ::: to make haste: To hurry.
Heart-lotus — emotional centre. The psychic is behind it.
Heart-lotus—emotional centre. The psychic is behind it.
heart ::: Sri Aurobindo: "The heart in Vedic psychology is not restricted to the seat of the emotions; it includes all that large tract of spontaneous mentality, nearest to the subconscient in us, out of which rise the sensations, emotions, instincts, impulses and all those intuitions and inspirations that travel through these agencies before they arrive at form in the intelligence.” *The Secret of the Veda
heart ::: “The heart in Vedic psychology is not restricted to the seat of the emotions; it includes all that large tract of spontaneous mentality, nearest to the subconscient in us, out of which rise the sensations, emotions, instincts, impulses and all those intuitions and inspirations that travel through these agencies before they arrive at form in the intelligence.” The Secret of the Veda
heart-throb ::: 1. A rapid beat or pulsation of the heart. **2. **Fig. Passionate or sentimental emotion.
heavy ::: 1. Having relatively great weight. lit. and fig. 2. Weighed down; burdened. 3. Marked by or exhibiting weariness. 4. Without vivacity or interest; ponderous; dull. 5. Not easily borne; oppressive; burdensome; harsh. 6. Hard to cope with; trying; difficult. 7. Weighed down with sorrow or grief; sorrowful, sad, grieved, despondent. 8. Deep, profound, intense. 9. Of great import or seriousness; grave. 10. Sober, serious, sombre or tragic. 11. With great force, intensity, turbulence, etc. 12. Having considerable thickness or substance. 13. Lacking vitality; deficient in vivacity or grace. 14. Emotionally weighed down; despondent. heavier.
high-pitched ::: 1. Acoustically, a pitch that is perceived as above other pitches. 2. Marked by or indicating lofty character or intense emotion.
holocaust ::: “The Mother not only governs all from above but she descends into this lesser triple universe. Impersonally, all things here, even the movements of the Ignorance, are herself in veiled power and her creations in diminished substance, her Nature-body and Nature-force, and they exist because, moved by the mysterious fiat of the Supreme to work out something that was there in the possibilities of the Infinite, she has consented to the great sacrifice and has put on like a mask the soul and forms of the Ignorance. But personally too she has stooped to descend here into the Darkness that she may lead it to the Light, into the Falsehood and Error that she may convert it to the Truth, into this Death that she may turn it to godlike Life, into this world-pain and its obstinate sorrow and suffering that she may end it in the transforming ecstasy of her sublime Ananda. In her deep and great love for her children she has consented to put on herself the cloak of this obscurity, condescended to bear the attacks and torturing influences of the powers of the Darkness and the Falsehood, borne to pass though the portals of the birth that is a death, taken upon herself the pangs and sorrows and sufferings of the creation, since it seemed that thus alone could it be lifted to the Light and Joy and Truth and eternal Life. This is the great sacrifice called sometimes the sacrifice of the Purusha, but much more deeply the holocaust of Prakriti, the sacrifice of the Divine Mother.” The Mother
"Human pity is born of ignorance & weakness; it is the slave of emotional impressions. Divine compassion understands, discerns & saves.” Essays Divine and Human*
“Ignorance means Avidya, the separative consciousness and the egoistic mind and life that flow from it and all that is natural to the separative consciousness and the egoistic mind and life. This Ignorance is the result of a movement by which the cosmic Intelligence separated itself from the light of the Supermind (the divine Gnosis) and lost the Truth,—truth of being, truth of divine consciousness, truth of force and action, truth of Ananda. As a result, instead of a world of integral truth and divine harmony created in the light of the divine Gnosis, we have a world founded on the part truths of an inferior cosmic Intelligence in which all is half-truth, half-error. . . . All in the consciousness of this creation is either limited or else perverted by separation from the integral Light; even the Truth it perceives is only a half-knowledge. Therefore it is called the Ignorance.” The Mother
ignorance ::: the state or fact of being ignorant; lack of knowledge, learning, information. Ignorance, ignorance"s, Ignorance"s, ignorance", world-ignorance, World-Ignorance.
Sri Aurobindo: "Ignorance is the absence of the divine eye of perception which gives us the sight of the supramental Truth; it is the non-perceiving principle in our consciousness as opposed to the truth-perceiving conscious vision and knowledge.” *The Life Divine
"Ignorance is the consciousness of being in the successions of Time, divided in its knowledge by dwelling in the moment, divided in its conception of self-being by dwelling in the divisions of Space and the relations of circumstance, self-prisoned in the multiple working of the unity. It is called the Ignorance because it has put behind it the knowledge of unity and by that very fact is unable to know truly or completely either itself or the world, either the transcendent or the universal reality.” The Life Divine
"Ignorance means Avidya, the separative consciousness and the egoistic mind and life that flow from it and all that is natural to the separative consciousness and the egoistic mind and life. This Ignorance is the result of a movement by which the cosmic Intelligence separated itself from the light of the Supermind (the divine Gnosis) and lost the Truth, — truth of being, truth of divine consciousness, truth of force and action, truth of Ananda. As a result, instead of a world of integral truth and divine harmony created in the light of the divine Gnosis, we have a world founded on the part truths of an inferior cosmic Intelligence in which all is half-truth, half-error. . . . All in the consciousness of this creation is either limited or else perverted by separation from the integral Light; even the Truth it perceives is only a half-knowledge. Therefore it is called the Ignorance.” The Mother
". . . all ignorance is a penumbra which environs an orb of knowledge . . . .”The Life Divine
"This world is not really created by a blind force of Nature: even in the Inconscient the presence of the supreme Truth is at work; there is a seeing Power behind it which acts infallibly and the steps of the Ignorance itself are guided even when they seem to stumble; for what we call the Ignorance is a cloaked Knowledge, a Knowledge at work in a body not its own but moving towards its own supreme self-discovery.” Essays in Philosophy and Yoga
"Knowledge is no doubt the knowledge of the One, the realisation of the Being; Ignorance is a self-oblivion of Being, the experience of separateness in the multiplicity and a dwelling or circling in the ill-understood maze of becomings: . . . .” The Life Divine*
impassive ::: 1. Without emotion; apathetic; unmoved. 2. Calm; serene. 3. Not subject to suffering; unaffected. impassively.
impetuous ::: 1. Moving with great force or violence; rushing. 2. Characterized by sudden and forceful energy or emotion; impulsive and passionate.
impulse ::: 1. An impelling force or motion; thrust; impetus. 2. The motion produced by such a force. 3. A sudden wish, stimulus or urge that prompts an unpremeditated act or feeling; an abrupt inclination. 4. A psychic drive or instinctual urge. impulses, impulses", impulsed, million-impulsed.
"Indian devotion has especially seized upon the most intimate human relations and made them stepping-stones to the supra-human. God the Guru, God the Master, God the Friend, God the Mother, God the Child, God the Self, each of these experiences — for to us they are more than merely ideas, — it has carried to its extreme possibilities.” Essays in Philosophy and Yoga
“Indian devotion has especially seized upon the most intimate human relations and made them stepping-stones to the supra-human. God the Guru, God the Master, God the Friend, God the Mother, God the Child, God the Self, each of these experiences—for to us they are more than merely ideas,—it has carried to its extreme possibilities.” Essays in Philosophy and Yoga
indwelling ::: abiding within, as a guiding force, motivating principle, etc.
inert ::: 1. Unable to move or act; immobile, unmoving, lifeless, motionless. 2. Inactive or sluggish by habit or nature. inertness.
inertia ::: inertness, esp. with regard to effort, motion, action, and the like; inactivity; sluggishness. Inertia, Inertia"s.
insensible ::: 1. Unaware; unconscious. 2. Not endowed with feeling or sensation, as matter; inanimate. 3. Unaware; unmindful; not emotionally responsive; indifferent. 4. Unresponsive in feeling; not susceptible of emotion or passion; void of any feeling. insensibly.
inspiring mingled reverence and admiration; impressing the emotions or imagination as magnificent; majestic, stately, sublime, solemnly grand; venerable, revered; of supreme dignity.
institutions ::: organizations, establishments, foundations, societies, or the like, devoted to the promotion of a particular cause or program.
intense ::: 1. Existing or occurring in a high or extreme degree. 2. Having a characteristic quality in a high degree. 3. Characterized by deep or forceful feelings or emotions. 4. Of an extreme kind; very great, as in strength, keenness, severity, or the like. intenser, intensity, intensities.
"In the spiritual sense, however, sacrifice has a different meaning — it does not so much indicate giving up what is held dear as an offering of oneself, one"s being, one"s mind, heart, will, body, life, actions to the Divine. It has the original sense of ‘making sacred" and is used as an equivalent of the word yajna. When the Gita speaks of the ‘sacrifice of knowledge", it does not mean a giving up of anything, but a turning of the mind towards the Divine in the search for knowledge and an offering of oneself through it. It is in this sense, too, that one speaks of the offering or sacrifice of works. The Mother has written somewhere that the spiritual sacrifice is joyful and not painful in its nature. On the spiritual path, very commonly, if a seeker still feels the old ties and responsibilities strongly he is not asked to sever or leave them, but to let the call in him grow till all within is ready. Many, indeed, come away earlier because they feel that to cut loose is their only chance, and these have to go sometimes through a struggle. But the pain, the struggle, is not the essential character of this spiritual self-offering.” Letters on Yoga
intoxicated ::: 1. Affected by a substance that intoxicates. 2. Mentally or emotionally exhilarated.
intoxication ::: overpowering exhilaration or excitement of the mind or emotions.
“I suppose the golden child is the Truth-Soul which follows after the silver light of the spiritual. When it plunges into the black waters of the subconscient, it releases from it the spiritual light and the sevenfold streams of the Divine Energy and, clearing itself of the stains of the subconscient, it prepares its flight towards the supreme Divine (the Mother).” (Reply to a question in the chapter Visions and Symbols.) Letters on Yoga
". . . it is the seat of two powers, in front the higher vital or emotional being, behind and concealed the soul or psychic being.” *Letters on Yoga
“… it is the seat of two powers, in front the higher vital or emotional being, behind and concealed the soul or psychic being.” Letters on Yoga
::: "It may be said that perfection is attained, though it remains progressive, when the receptivity from below is equal to the force from above which wants to manifest.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.
joy ::: n. 1. The emotion of great delight or happiness caused by something exceptionally good or satisfying; keen pleasure; elation. 2. A state of happiness or felicity. joys, joyless, joylessness, joy-glow, soul-joy. v. 3. To feel happiness or joy. **joys, joyed.
kali ::: hinduism. One of the manifestations and titles of the wife of Shiva and mother goddess Devi, especially in her role as a goddess of death and destruction. **Kali"s.
Kali ::: Sri Aurobindo: “… the terrible Kali is also the loving and beneficent Mother; …” Essays on the Gita
::: "Kali, the Mother of all and destroyer of all, is the Shakti that works in secret in the heart of humanity. . . .” *Essays in Philosophy and Yoga
“Kali, the Mother of all and destroyer of all, is the Shakti that works in secret in the heart of humanity….” Essays in Philosophy and Yoga
kindle ::: 1. To start (a fire); cause (a flame, blaze, etc.) to begin burning; often fig. 2. To light up, illuminate, or make bright. 3. To arouse or be aroused; call forth (emotions, feelings, and responses); 4. To begin to burn as combustible matter, a light, fire, or flame. kindles, kindled, kindling.
kinetic ::: of, relating to, or produced by motion.
lacerated ::: 1. *Lit. Torn; mangled. 2. Fig.* Torn with deep emotional pain; distress.
lacking the sensation of contact with; unperceived by the senses, emotions, etc.
language ::: any system of formalized symbols, signs, sounds, gestures, or the like used or conceived as a means of communicating thought, emotion, etc. God-language.
“Light is a general term. Light is not knowledge but the illumination that comes from above and liberates the being from obscurity and darkness.” The Mother
light ::: Sri Aurobindo: ". . . light is primarily a spiritual manifestation of the Divine Reality illuminative and creative; material light is a subsequent representation or conversion of it into Matter for the purposes of the material Energy.” *The Life Divine
"Our sense by its incapacity has invented darkness. In truth there is nothing but Light, only it is a power of light either above or below our poor human vision"s limited range.
For do not imagine that light is created by the Suns. The Suns are only physical concentrations of Light, but the splendour they concentrate for us is self-born and everywhere.
God is everywhere and wherever God is, there is Light.” *The Hour of God
"Light is a general term. Light is not knowledge but the illumination that comes from above and liberates the being from obscurity and darkness.” The Mother
The Mother: "The light is everywhere, the force is everywhere. And the world is so small.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15. ::: *Light, light"s, lights, light-petalled, light-tasselled, half-light.
-loop ::: something having a shape, order, or path of motion that is circular or curved over on itself. Time-loop.
Man alive, your proposed emendations are an admirable exposition of the art of bringing a line down the steps till my poor "slow miraculous” above-mind line meant to give or begin the concrete portrayal of an act of some hidden Godhead finally becomes a mere metaphor thrown out from its more facile mint by a brilliantly imaginative poetic intelligence. First of all, you shift my "dimly” out of the way and transfer it to something to which it does not inwardly belongs make it an epithet of the gesture or an adverb qualifying its epithet instead of something that qualifies the atmosphere in which the act of the Godhead takes place. That is a preliminary havoc which destroys what is very important to the action, its atmosphere. I never intended the gesture to be dim, it is a luminous gesture, but forcing its way through the black quietude it comes dimly. Then again the bald phrase "a gesture came” without anything to psychicise it becomes simply something that "happened”, "came” being a poetic equivalent for "happened”, instead of the expression of the slow coming of the gesture. The words "slow” and "dimly” assure this sense of motion and this concreteness to the word"s sense here. Remove one or both whether entirely or elsewhere and you ruin the vision and change altogether its character. That is at least what happens wholly in your penultimate version and as for the last its "came” gets another meaning and one feels that somebody very slowly decided to let out the gesture from himself and it was quite a miracle that it came out at all! "Dimly miraculous” means what precisely or what "miraculously dim” — it was miraculous that it managed to be so dim or there was something vaguely miraculous about it after all? No doubt they try to mean something else — but these interpretations come in their way and trip them over. The only thing that can stand is the first version which is no doubt fine poetry, but the trouble is that it does not give the effect I wanted to give, the effect which is necessary for the dawn"s inner significance. Moreover, what becomes of the slow lingering rhythm of my line which is absolutely indispensable? Letters on Savitri
Man alive, your proposed emendations are an admirable exposition of the art of bringing a line down the steps till my poor”slow miraculous” above-mind line meant to give or begin the concrete portrayal of an act of some hidden Godhead finally becomes a mere metaphor thrown out from its more facile mint by a brilliantly imaginative poetic intelligence. First of all, you shift my”dimly” out of the way and transfer it to something to which it does not inwardly belongs make it an epithet of the gesture or an adverb qualifying its epithet instead of something that qualifies the atmosphere in which the act of the Godhead takes place. That is a preliminary havoc which destroys what is very important to the action, its atmosphere. I never intended the gesture to be dim, it is a luminous gesture, but forcing its way through the black quietude it comes dimly. Then again the bald phrase”a gesture came” without anything to psychicise it becomes simply something that”happened”,”came” being a poetic equivalent for”happened”, instead of the expression of the slow coming of the gesture. The words”slow” and”dimly” assure this sense of motion and this concreteness to the word’s sense here. Remove one or both whether entirely or elsewhere and you ruin the vision and change altogether its character. That is at least what happens wholly in your penultimate version and as for the last its”came” gets another meaning and one feels that somebody very slowly decided to let out the gesture from himself and it was quite a miracle that it came out at all!”Dimly miraculous” means what precisely or what”miraculously dim”—it was miraculous that it managed to be so dim or there was something vaguely miraculous about it after all? No doubt they try to mean something else—but these interpretations come in their way and trip them over. The only thing that can stand is the first version which is no doubt fine poetry, but the trouble is that it does not give the effect I wanted to give, the effect which is necessary for the dawn’s inner significance. Moreover, what becomes of the slow lingering rhythm of my line which is absolutely indispensable? Letters on Savitri
master-spring ::: 1. A compound word denoting the mainspring or principal spring in a piece of equipment. 2. Fig. The prevailing power or motive to use or control something.
maternal ::: of, pertaining to, having the qualities of, or befitting a mother.
mechanism ::: an assembly of moving parts performing a complete functional motion, often being part of a large machine or likened to one; linkage.
mind ::: Sri Aurobindo: "The ‘Mind" in the ordinary use of the word covers indiscriminately the whole consciousness, for man is a mental being and mentalises everything; but in the language of this yoga the words ‘mind" and ‘mental" are used to connote specially the part of the nature which has to do with cognition and intelligence, with ideas, with mental or thought perceptions, the reactions of thought to things, with the truly mental movements and formations, mental vision and will, etc., that are part of his intelligence.” *Letters on Yoga
"Mind in its essence is a consciousness which measures, limits, cuts out forms of things from the indivisible whole and contains them as if each were a separate integer.” The Life Divine
"Mind is an instrument of analysis and synthesis, but not of essential knowledge. Its function is to cut out something vaguely from the unknown Thing in itself and call this measurement or delimitation of it the whole, and again to analyse the whole into its parts which it regards as separate mental objects.” The Life Divine
"The mind proper is divided into three parts — thinking Mind, dynamic Mind, externalising Mind — the former concerned with ideas and knowledge in their own right, the second with the putting out of mental forces for realisation of the idea, the third with the expression of them in life (not only by speech, but by any form it can give).” Letters on Yoga
"The difference between the ordinary mind and the intuitive is that the former, seeking in the darkness or at most by its own unsteady torchlight, first, sees things only as they are presented in that light and, secondly, where it does not know, constructs by imagination, by uncertain inference, by others of its aids and makeshifts things which it readily takes for truth, shadow projections, cloud edifices, unreal prolongations, deceptive anticipations, possibilities and probabilities which do duty for certitudes. The intuitive mind constructs nothing in this artificial fashion, but makes itself a receiver of the light and allows the truth to manifest in it and organise its own constructions.” The Synthesis of Yoga
"He [man] has in him not a single mentality, but a double and a triple, the mind material and nervous, the pure intellectual mind which liberates itself from the illusions of the body and the senses, and a divine mind above intellect which in its turn liberates itself from the imperfect modes of the logically discriminative and imaginative reason.” The Synthesis of Yoga
"Our mind is an observer of actuals, an inventor or discoverer of possibilities, but not a seer of the occult imperatives that necessitate the movements and forms of a creation. . . .” *The Life Divine
"The human mind is an instrument not of truth but of ignorance and error.” Letters on Yoga
"For Mind as we know it is a power of the Ignorance seeking for Truth, groping with difficulty to find it, reaching only mental constructions and representations of it in word and idea, in mind formations, sense formations, — as if bright or shadowy photographs or films of a distant Reality were all that it could achieve.” The Life Divine
The Mother: "The true role of the mind is the formation and organization of action. The mind has a formative and organizing power, and it is that which puts the different elements of inspiration in order for action, for organizing action. And if it would only confine itself to that role, receiving inspirations — whether from above or from the mystic centre of the soul — and simply formulating the plan of action — in broad outline or in minute detail, for the smallest things of life or the great terrestrial organizations — it would amply fulfil its function. It is not an instrument of knowledge. But is can use knowledge for action, to organize action. It is an instrument of organization and formation, very powerful and very capable when it is well developed.” Questions and Answers 1956, MCW Vol. 8.*
miracle-monger ::: a compound word denoting a person promoting something undesirable or discreditable, in this instance, miracles.
misery ::: 1. Severe mental or emotional unhappiness or distress. 2. The state of suffering and want as a result of physical circumstances or extreme poverty. 3. A cause or source of suffering. misery"s, miseries.
mood ::: 1. A state or quality of feeling at a particular time. 2. A prevailing emotional tone or general attitude. moods.
Mother of the worlds
Mother"s Agenda, Volume 10, 1969.
Mother ::: “The One whom we adore as the Mother is the divine Conscious Force that dominates all existence, one and yet so many-sided that to follow her movement is impossible even for the quickest mind and for the freest and most vast intelligence. The Mother is the consciousness and force of the Supreme and far above all she creates.” The Mother
Mother, universal
moved ::: aroused the emotions of; affected.
moveless ::: motionless; fixed.
movement ::: 1. The act or an instance of moving; a change in place or position. A particular manner of moving. 2. Usually, movements, actions or activities, as of a person or a body of persons. ::: movement"s, movements, many-movemented.
Sri Aurobindo: "When we withdraw our gaze from its egoistic preoccupation with limited and fleeting interests and look upon the world with dispassionate and curious eyes that search only for the Truth, our first result is the perception of a boundless energy of infinite existence, infinite movement, infinite activity pouring itself out in limitless Space, in eternal Time, an existence that surpasses infinitely our ego or any ego or any collectivity of egos, in whose balance the grandiose products of aeons are but the dust of a moment and in whose incalculable sum numberless myriads count only as a petty swarm." *The Life Divine
". . . the purest, freest form of insight into existence as it is shows us nothing but movement. Two things alone exist, movement in Space, movement in Time, the former objective, the latter subjective.” The Life Divine
"The world is a cyclic movement (samsâra ) of the Divine Consciousness in Space and Time. Its law and, in a sense, its object is progression; it exists by movement and would be dissolved by cessation of movement. But the basis of this movement is not material; it is the energy of active consciousness which, by its motion and multiplication in different principles (different in appearance, the same in essence), creates oppositions of unity and multiplicity, divisions of Time and Space, relations and groupings of circumstance and Causality. All these things are real in consciousness, but only symbolic of the Being, somewhat as the imaginations of a creative Mind are true representations of itself, yet not quite real in comparison with itself, or real with a different kind of reality.” The Upanishads*
mover ::: a person, force or thing that sets something in motion. Often used for God. movers.
myriad ::: n. 1. Ten thousand. 2. A very great or indefinitely great number of persons or things. myriads. *adj. 3. Constituting a very large, indefinite number; innumerable. Chiefly poet. *myriad-motioned.
n. 1. An impelling motive, force, pressure, action, influence, etc.; impulse. 2. An involuntary, natural or instinctive impulse. v. 3. To press forcibly in some direction; to force or impel forward or onward; to drive.
n. 1. Emotional or spiritual exaltation. 2. An elevating effect, result, or influence in the sphere of morality, emotion, physical condition, etc. v. 3. To lift up; raise; elevate. 4. To elevate in rank, honour, estate, or estimation. 5. To exalt emotionally or spiritually. uplifts, uplifting.
nerve ::: 1. Any of the cordlike bundles of fibers made up of neurons through which sensory stimuli and motor impulses pass between the brain or other parts of the central nervous system and the eyes, glands, muscles, and other parts of the body. Nerves form a network of pathways for conducting information throughout the body. 2. Fortitude; stamina. Forceful quality; boldness. nerve"s, nerves, nerve-beat.
“New birth: birth of the true consciousness, that of the Divine Presence in us.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.
new birth ::: the Mother: "New birth: birth of the true consciousness, that of the Divine Presence in us.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.
nook ::: any remote or sheltered spot; any small corner or recess.
not able to move or be moved; fixed; stationary; motionless. immobility.
not moving; devoid of motion.
nympholepts ::: those who are in an emotional frenzy, esp. with desires that cannot be fulfilled.
o ::: 1. Used before a name or noun in direct address, esp. in solemn or poetic language, to lend earnestness. 2. Used to express surprise or strong emotion.
obscure ::: 1. Not bright or lustrous; dull or darkish, as colour or appearance. 2. Hidden, secret, or remote. 3. Not clearly understood or expressed; ambiguous or vague. 4. Not readily noticed or seen; inconspicuous. 5. So faintly perceptible as to lack clear delineation; indistinct. 6. Gloomy, dark, clouded, or dim. 7. Pertaining to darkness. obscurest.
occult ::: “The ancient knowledge in all countries was full of the search after the hidden truths of our being and it created that large field of practice and inquiry which goes in Europe by the name of occultism,—we do not use any corresponding word in the East, because these things do not seem to us so remote, mysterious and abnormal as to the occidental mentality; they are nearer to us and the veil between our normal material life and this larger life is much thinner.” The Synthesis of Yoga
Oh, a tremendous power—tremendous. The first time I heard it … The first time I heard it … There was a certain Bernard who had spent a year in India, in the Himalayas, and he was visited by yogis whom he didn’t know (he lived in a hut in the Himalayas, all alone). One yogi came to see him; he didn’t say anything, he just sat by his side and then left. And that yogi simply told him,”Om …” Then he came back to France, recounted his experiences in India, and he said that. Me, I knew absolutely nothing of India at the time, and when he uttered the word OM … (Mother brings her arms down), it came: a Force like this, my whole, entire body, everything vibrated in an extraordinary way! It was like a revelation—everything, but everything started vibrating. Then I said,”At last, here’s the true sound!” Yet I knew nothing, absolutely nothing, neither what it meant nor anything. Mother’s Agenda, Volume 10, 1969.
Oh, a tremendous power—tremendous. The first time I heard it … The first time I heard it … There was a certain Bernard who had spent a year in India, in the Himalayas, and he was visited by yogis whom he didn"t know (he lived in a hut in the Himalayas, all alone). One yogi came to see him; he didn"t say anything, he just sat by his side and then left. And that yogi simply told him, "Om …” Then he came back to France, recounted his experiences in India, and he said that. Me, I knew absolutely nothing of India at the time, and when he uttered the word OM … (Mother brings her arms down), it came: a Force like this, my whole, entire body, everything vibrated in an extraordinary way! It was like a revelation—everything, but everything started vibrating. Then I said, "At last, here"s the true sound!” Yet I knew nothing, absolutely nothing, neither what it meant nor anything.
oh ::: used to express strong emotion, such as surprise, fear, anger, or pain.
opening ::: The Mother: “Opening is the release of the consciousness by which it begins to admit into itself the working of the Divine Light and Power.”Words of the Mother”, MCW Vol. 14.
opening ::: the Mother: "Opening is the release of the consciousness by which it begins to admit into itself the working of the Divine Light and Power.” *Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 14.
outburst ::: a sudden and violent expression of emotion; a sudden spell of activity, energy, etc. outbursts.
outlying ::: relatively distant or remote from a center or middle.
overcome ::: adj. 1. Overpowered, as with emotion, etc. v. 2. To defeat or conquer; to prevail over. overcame, overcoming.
pain ::: 1. An unpleasant sensation occurring in varying degrees of severity as a consequence of injury, disease, or emotional disorder. 2. The sensation of acute physical hurt or discomfort caused by injury, illness, etc. **Pain, pain"s, pains, earth-pain, life-pain, world-pain, pain-forgetting, pain-fraught.
pang ::: 1. A sudden sharp spasm of pain. 2. Fig. A sudden sharp feeling of emotional distress. pangs, sense-pangs.
parent ::: n. 1. A father or mother. 2. Fig. A source or cause; an origin. parent"s, parents, parents". adj. 3. Being the original source.
party ::: an established political group organized to promote and support its principles and candidates for public office.
passionate ::: 1. Intense or vehement, as emotions or feelings. 2. Having, compelled, or ruled by intense emotion, such as sorrow or grief, or other strong feeling. passionately.
passionless ::: not feeling or moved by passion; cold or unemotional; calm, detached or unimpassioned.
passion ::: n. 1. Suffering. 2. A powerful emotion, such as love, joy, hatred, or anger. 3. An abandoned display of emotion, especially of anger. 4. Strong sexual desire; lust. 5. Violent anger. 6. The sufferings of Jesus in the period following the Last Supper and including the Crucifixion, as related in the New Testament. passion"s, passions, world-passion. adj. **passioning. v. 7. To be affected by intense emotions such as love, joy, hatred, anger, etc. passions, passioned, passioning, passion-tranced. ::: **
passive ::: 1. Not reacting visibly to something that might be expected to produce manifestations of an emotion of feeling. 2. Not involving visible reaction or active participation. 3. Inert or quiescent. passivity.
"Perfection is eternal; it is only the resistance of the world that makes it progressive.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.
“Perfection is eternal; it is only the resistance of the world that makes it progressive.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.
physical ::: the Mother: "The physical is the concrete domain that crystallises and defines the thoughts, the movements of the vital, etc. It is a solid foundation for action.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.
pierce ::: 1. To cut or pass through with or as if with a sharp instrument; stab or penetrate. Also fig. 2. To make a hole or opening in; perforate. 3. To succeed in penetrating (something) with the eyes or the intellect. 4. To move or affect (a person"s emotions, bodily feelings, etc.) deeply or sharply. pierced, piercing.
positions or postures of the body appropriate to or expressive of an action, emotion.
possess ::: 1. To gain or seize for oneself. 2. To gain or exert influence or control over the emotions etc.; dominate. 3. To have as one"s property; own. possesses, possessed.
Preface ::: This supplement to the Lexicon of an Infinite Mind, A Dictionary of Words and Terms in Savitri, is a selection of answers to our numerous questions posed to disciples and devotees of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother. It is a rare treasure for generations to come for it provides a profound insight into the understanding of various terms and phrases in Savitri by those who knew Sri Aurobindo and had His darshan many times and a few others with a deep knowledge of specific terms in Savitri.
presence ::: 1. The state or fact of being present; current existence or occurrence. 2. A divine, spiritual, or supernatural spirit or influence felt or conceived as present. 3. The immediate proximity of someone or something.
Sri Aurobindo: "It is intended by the word Presence to indicate the sense and perception of the Divine as a Being, felt as present in one"s existence and consciousness or in relation with it, without the necessity of any further qualification or description. Thus, of the ‘ineffable Presence" it can only be said that it is there and nothing more can or need be said about it, although at the same time one knows that all is there, personality and impersonality, Power and Light and Ananda and everything else, and that all these flow from that indescribable Presence. The word may be used sometimes in a less absolute sense, but that is always the fundamental significance, — the essential perception of the essential Presence supporting everything else.” *Letters on Yoga
"Beyond mind on spiritual and supramental levels dwells the Presence, the Truth, the Power, the Bliss that can alone deliver us from these illusions, display the Light of which our ideals are tarnished disguises and impose the harmony that shall at once transfigure and reconcile all the parts of our nature.” Essays Divine and Human
"But if we learn to live within, we infallibly awaken to this presence within us which is our more real self, a presence profound, calm, joyous and puissant of which the world is not the master — a presence which, if it is not the Lord Himself, is the radiation of the Lord within.” *The Life Divine
"The true soul secret in us, — subliminal, we have said, but the word is misleading, for this presence is not situated below the threshold of waking mind, but rather burns in the temple of the inmost heart behind the thick screen of an ignorant mind, life and body, not subliminal but behind the veil, — this veiled psychic entity is the flame of the Godhead always alight within us, inextinguishable even by that dense unconsciousness of any spiritual self within which obscures our outward nature. It is a flame born out of the Divine and, luminous inhabitant of the Ignorance, grows in it till it is able to turn it towards the Knowledge. It is the concealed Witness and Control, the hidden Guide, the Daemon of Socrates, the inner light or inner voice of the mystic. It is that which endures and is imperishable in us from birth to birth, untouched by death, decay or corruption, an indestructible spark of the Divine.” *The Life Divine
"If we need any personal and inner witness to this indivisible All-Consciousness behind the ignorance, — all Nature is its external proof, — we can get it with any completeness only in our deeper inner being or larger and higher spiritual state when we draw back behind the veil of our own surface ignorance and come into contact with the divine Idea and Will behind it. Then we see clearly enough that what we have done by ourselves in our ignorance was yet overseen and guided in its result by the invisible Omniscience; we discover a greater working behind our ignorant working and begin to glimpse its purpose in us: then only can we see and know what now we worship in faith, recognise wholly the pure and universal Presence, meet the Lord of all being and all Nature.” *The Life Divine
"The presence of the Spirit is there in every living being, on every level, in all things, and because it is there, the experience of Sachchidananda, of the pure spiritual existence and consciousness, of the delight of a divine presence, closeness, contact can be acquired through the mind or the heart or the life-sense or even through the physical consciousness; if the inner doors are flung sufficiently open, the light from the sanctuary can suffuse the nearest and the farthest chambers of the outer being.” *The Life Divine
"There is a secret divine Will, eternal and infinite, omniscient and omnipotent, that expresses itself in the universality and in each particular of all these apparently temporal and finite inconscient or half-conscient things. This is the Power or Presence meant by the Gita when it speaks of the Lord within the heart of all existences who turns all creatures as if mounted on a machine by the illusion of Nature.” *The Synthesis of Yoga
"For what Yoga searches after is not truth of thought alone or truth of mind alone, but the dynamic truth of a living and revealing spiritual experience. There must awake in us a constant indwelling and enveloping nearness, a vivid perception, a close feeling and communion, a concrete sense and contact of a true and infinite Presence always and everywhere. That Presence must remain with us as the living, pervading Reality in which we and all things exist and move and act, and we must feel it always and everywhere, concrete, visible, inhabiting all things; it must be patent to us as their true Self, tangible as their imperishable Essence, met by us closely as their inmost Spirit. To see, to feel, to sense, to contact in every way and not merely to conceive this Self and Spirit here in all existences and to feel with the same vividness all existences in this Self and Spirit, is the fundamental experience which must englobe all other knowledge.” *The Synthesis of Yoga
"One must have faith in the Master of our life and works, even if for a long time He conceals Himself, and then in His own right time He will reveal His Presence.” *Letters on Yoga
"They [the psychic being and the Divine Presence in the heart] are quite different things. The psychic being is one"s own individual soul-being. It is not the Divine, though it has come from the Divine and develops towards the Divine.” *Letters on Yoga
"For it is quietness and inwardness that enable one to feel the Presence.” *Letters on Yoga
"Beyond mind on spiritual and supramental levels dwells the Presence, the Truth, the Power, the Bliss that can alone deliver us from these illusions, display the Light of which our ideals are tarnished disguises and impose the harmony that shall at once transfigure and reconcile all the parts of our nature.” *Essays Divine and Human
The Mother: "For, in human beings, here is a presence, the most marvellous Presence on earth, and except in a few very rare cases which I need not mention here, this presence lies asleep in the heart — not in the physical heart but the psychic centre — of all beings. And when this Splendour is manifested with enough purity, it will awaken in all beings the echo of his Presence.” Words of the Mother, MCW, Vol. 15.
::: "Progress: to be ready, at every minute, to give up all one is and all one has in order to advance on the way.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.
prop ::: n. 1. An object placed beneath or against a structure to keep it from falling or shaking; a support. 2. Fig. A person or thing giving support, as of a moral or spiritual nature. 3. Theat. Property, a usually moveable item, other than costumes or scenery, used on the set of a theatre production, motion picture, etc.; any object handled or used by an actor in a performance. v. 3. To sustain or support. props.
pulsations of the heart. Fig. Emotions or feelings. heart-beats".
pulse ::: 1. The rhythmic contraction and expansion of an artery at each beat of the heart, often discernible to the touch at points such as the wrists. 2. A throb of life, emotion, etc.
"Pure indeed is he for whom as for the eater of things there is the flowing progression by Nature,(1) as by an axe, and with a happy travail she, his Mother, brought him forth that he may accomplish her works and taste of the enjoyment.(2)
purpose ::: the object toward which one strives or for which something exists; an aim or a goal. Purpose, purposes. ::: Sri Aurobindo: "Purpose means the intention, the object in view towards which the Divine is working.” *The Mother
quiescent ::: being at rest; quiet; still; inactive or motionless. quiescence.
quiet ::: n. 1. An untroubled state; free from disturbances. 2. The absence of sound. 3. adj. Free of noise or uproar; or making little if any sound. 4. Free of mental or emotional turmoil and agitation; untroubled. 5. Tranquil; serene. quieted, quietly.
quiver ::: n. 1. The act or state of quivering; a tremble or tremor. quivering, quiverings. v. 2. To shake with a slight, rapid, tremulous movement esp. with emotion. quivers, quivered, quivering.
"Radha is the symbol of loving consecration to the Divine.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 16.*
rapt ::: 1. Deeply engrossed or absorbed. 2. Entranced; transported with emotion; enraptured; ecstatic. 3. Indicating, proceeding from, characterized by, a state of rapture. 4. Carried off spiritually to another place, sphere of existence, etc. self-rapt.
rapture ::: the state of being transported by a lofty emotion; ecstasy. rapture"s, rapture", rapture-drink, rapture-flowers, rapture-offering, rapture-thrill, world-rapture, heaven-rapture"s.
ravished ::: 1. Overwhelmed with emotion; enraptured. 2. Seized and carried away by force; violated; raped.
remote ::: 1. Located far away; distant in space or time; abstracted. (In lit. and fig. uses.) 2. Removed, as from the source or point of action. 3. Reserved and distant in manner; aloof. remotely, remoteness, remotenesses.
reborn ::: emotionally or spiritually revived or regenerated; born again.
recess ::: a remote, secret, or secluded place. recesses, sky-recesses.
reeled ::: went round and round in a whirling motion.
religion ::: Sri Aurobindo: "There is no word so plastic and uncertain in its meaning as the word religion. The word is European and, therefore, it is as well to know first what the Europeans mean by it. In this matter we find them, — when they can be got to think clearly on the matter at all, which is itself unusual, — divided in opinion. Sometimes they use it as equivalent to a set of beliefs, sometimes as equivalent to morality coupled with a belief in God, sometimes as equivalent to a set of pietistic actions and emotions. Faith, works and pious observances, these are the three recognised elements of European religion . . . . ::: Religion in India is a still more plastic term and may mean anything from the heights of Yoga to strangling your fellowman and relieving him of the worldly goods he may happen to be carrying with him. It would therefore take too long to enumerate everything that can be included in Indian religion. Briefly, however, it is Dharma or living religiously, the whole life being governed by religion.” *From an unpublished essay
restless ::: 1. Never still or motionless. 2. Of things or conditions: Never at rest; perpetually agitated or in motion. restlessness.
rest ::: n. 1. A state of repose, quiescence, or inactivity. 2. Relief or freedom, esp. from anything that wearies, troubles, or disturbs. 3. Mental or emotional or spiritual tranquillity. 4. Termination or absence of motion. 5. The repose of death. v. 6. To cease motion, work, or activity. 7. To be, become, or remain temporarily still, quiet, or inactive. 8. To be present; dwell; linger (usually followed by on or upon). 9. To depend or rely on. rests, rested, resting.
revolution ::: 1. A turning or rotational motion about an axis. 2. A sudden or momentous change in a situation esp. one accompanied by violence. 3. The orbital or circular movement of the stars, etc. **revolution"s, revolutions.
rhapsody ::: a composition free in structure and highly emotional in character.
rhythm ::: 1. Procedure marked by the regular recurrence of particular elements, phases, etc.; flow, pulse, cadence. 2. Regular recurrence of elements in a system of motion. 3. Music. The pattern of regular or irregular pulses caused in music by the occurrence of strong and weak melodic and harmonic beats. 4. Measured movement, as in dancing. 5. Physiol. The regular recurrence of an action of function, as of the beat of the heart. 6. The arrangement of words into a more or less regular sequence of stressed and unstressed or long and short syllables. 7. Pros. Metrical or rhythmical form; metre; a particular kind of metrical form or metrical movement. rhythms, rhythm-beats, fire-rhythm, jewel-rhythm, world-rhythms. (Sri Aurobindo also employs rhythms as a v., rhythmed as a v. and an adj., and rhythming as a v. and an adj.)
riot ::: n. 1. An unbridled outbreak, as of emotions, passions, etc. 2. Unrestrained merrymaking; revelry. v. 3. riots. Indulges in unrestrained revelry or merriment.
rocked ::: 1. Moved back and forth or from side to side, especially gently or rhythmically, as a cradle. Also fig. 2. Swayed violently, as from a blow, shock or other impact. 3. Effected deeply; stunned; moved or swayed powerfully, as with emotion. rocks.
round ::: adj. 1. Full, complete, entire. rounded. 2. Whole or complete; full. 3. Expressed to the nearest ten, hundred, or thousand; rounded by approximation. adv. 4. Involving or using circular motion. 5. On all sides; all about; surrounding; enveloping. 6. In all directions from a centre or point of reference. 7. In a circular or rounded course. prep. 8. Around.
sake ::: purpose or motive, esp. for the advantage of or good of.
savitri ::: "In the Mahabharata, the heroine of the tale of Satyavan and Savitri; . . . . She was the daughter of King Ashwapati, and lover of Satyavan, whom she married although she was warned by Narada that he had only one year to live. On the fatal day, when Yama carried off Satyavan"s spirit, she followed him with unswerving devotion. Ultimately Yama was constrained to restore her husband to life.” *Glossary and Index of Proper Names in Sri Aurobindo"s Works
Sri Aurobindo: "Savitri is the Divine Word, daughter of the Sun, goddess of the supreme Truth who comes down and is born to save; . . . .” (Author"s note at beginning of Savitri.)
"Savitri is represented in the poem as an incarnation of the Divine Mother . . . .” Letters on Savitri
The Mother: "Savitri [the poem] is a mantra for the transformation of the world.” Spoken to Udar
smote ::: past tense of smite.
smothered ::: completely covered; stifled; suffocated.
smothering ::: concealing; suppressing; covering. Also fig.
screen ::: n. 1. A moveable or fixed device, usually consisting of a covered frame, that provides shelter, serves as a partition, etc. 2. Something interposed as a partition so as to conceal from view. 3. A window or door insertion or framed wire or plastic mesh used to keep out insects and permit air flow. 4. A specially prepared, light reflecting, flat vertical surface for the reception of images as from a slide or motion picture projector. screens. v. 5. To conceal from view with or as if with a screen. screens, screened.
script ::: 1. A kind of writing, a system of alphabetical or other written characters. 2. Handwriting, esp. cursive writing, the characters used in hand-writing (as distinguished from print). 3. A manuscript or document. 4. A manuscript or written text of a play, motion picture, etc. scripts.
secluded ::: removed or remote from others; solitary; screened from view.
secret ::: n. 1. Something unknown or kept hidden from others or is beyond understanding or explanation; a mystery. 2. A reason or explanation not immediately or generally apparent. secrets. adj. **3. Kept from knowledge or observation; hidden, concealed. 4. Kept from the knowledge of any but the initiated and privileged. 5. Beyond ordinary human understanding; esoteric. 6.** Secluded, remote, sheltered, or withdrawn.
see **Mother, universal.**
sensations (‘s) ::: 1. Perception or awareness of stimuli through the senses. 2. A physical ‘feeling" considered apart from the resulting ‘perception" of an object. 3. A state of intense or heightened interest or emotion; an exciting experience resulting from the stimulation of one of the sense organs. sensations.
sensibility ::: 1. Capacity for sensation or feeling; responsiveness or susceptibility to sensory stimuli. 2. Mental or emotional responsiveness toward something; such as the feelings of another; discernment; awareness. sensibilities.
serpentine ::: 1. Of, characteristic of, or resembling a serpent, as in form or movement; sinuous. 2. Having a twisting or winding course similar to that of a serpent"s motion.
shallow ::: 1. Of little depth; not deep. 2. Lacking depth of intellect, emotion, feeling or knowledge.
shame ::: 1. A painful emotion caused by a strong sense of guilt, embarassment, unworthiness, or disgrace. 2. Something that brings one dishonour, disgrace, or condemnation. Now poet.
“ She is the first Radiance, Aditi, the infinite Consciousness of the infinite conscious Being which is the mother of the worlds.” The Secret of the Veda
shock ::: 1. A violent collision or impact; a heavy blow. 2. Something that jars the mind or emotions as if with a violent, unexpected blow. 3. A sudden disturbance of function, equilibrium or mental faculties caused by such a blow; violent agitation. shocks.
shun ::: to keep away from (a place, person, object, etc.), from motives of dislike, caution, etc.; take pains to avoid. shuns, shunned, shunning.
"Silence is the absence of all motion of thought or other vibration of activity.” *Letters on Yoga
"Silence means freedom from thoughts and vital movements —- when the whole consciousness is quite still.” The Mother - Flowers and Their Messages, Glossary Of Philosophical And Psychological Terms.
"Sincerity exacts from each one that in his thoughts, his feelings, his sensations and his actions he should express nothing but the central truth of his being.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.
"Sincerity means more than mere honesty. It means that you mean what you say, feel what you profess, are earnest in your will.” The Mother - The Spiritual Significance of Flowers
"Sincerity means to lift all the movements of the being to the level of the highest consciousness and realisation already attained.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 14.
slogans ::: distinctive cries, phrases, or mottoes of any party, group, manufacturer, or person; catchwords or catch phrases.
solitary ::: 1. Existing, living, or going without others; alone. 2. Having no companions; lonesome or lonely. 3. Single or set apart from others. 4. Remote from civilization; secluded.
solitude ::: 1. The state or quality of being alone or remote from others. 2. A lonely, secluded or uninhabited place. Solitude, solitudes.
sordid ::: 1. Morally ignoble or base; vile, esp. moved by meanly selfish motives. 2. Unrefined; coarse; unpolished. sordid-thoughted.
spirit of Delight ::: Sri Aurobindo: " Now, that a conscious Infinite is there in physical Nature, we are assured by every sign, though it is a consciousness not made or limited like ours. All her constructions and motions are those of an illimitable intuitive wisdom too great and spontaneous and mysteriously self-effective to be described as an intelligence, of a Power and Will working for Time in eternity with an inevitable and forecasting movement in each of its steps, even in those steps that in their outward or superficial impetus seem to us inconscient. And as there is in her this greater consciousness and greater power, so too there is an illimitable spirit of harmony and beauty in her constructions that never fails her, though its works are not limited by our aesthetic canons. An infinite hedonism too is there, an illimitable spirit of delight, of which we become aware when we enter into impersonal unity with her; and even as that in her which is terrible is a part of her beauty, that in her which is dangerous, cruel, destructive is a part of her delight, her universal Ananda. Essays in Philosophy and Yoga
spring ::: n. 1. A small stream of water flowing naturally from the earth. 2. Fig. A source, origin, or beginning. 3. The season of the year, occurring between winter and summer, during which the weather becomes warmer and plants revive. 4. The act or an instance of jumping or leaping. 5. Fig. An actuating force or factor; a motive. Spring, springs, spring-bird"s, master-spring. v. 6. To rise, leap, move, or act suddenly and swiftly, as by a sudden dart or thrust forward or outward, or being suddenly released from a coiled or constrained position. 7. To proceed or originate from a specific source or cause. 8. To come into being by growth, as from a seed or germ, bulb, root, etc.; grow, as plants. springs.
Sri Aurobindo: A symbol, as I understand it, is the form on one plane that represents a truth of another. For instance, a flag is the symbol of a nation…. But generally all forms are symbols. This body of ours is a symbol of our real being and everything is a symbol of some higher reality. There are, however, different kinds of symbols: 1. Conventional symbols, such as the Vedic Rishis formed with objects taken from their surroundings. The cow stood for light because the same word `go ‘ meant both ray and cow, and because the cow was their most precious possession which maintained their life and was constantly in danger of being robbed and concealed. But once created, such a symbol becomes alive. The Rishis vitalised it and it became a part of their realisation. It appeared in their visions as an image of spiritual light. The horse also was one of their favourite symbols, and a more easily adaptable one, since its force and energy were quite evident. 2. What we might call Life-symbols, such as are not artificially chosen or mentally interpreted in a conscious deliberate way, but derive naturally from our day-to-day life and grow out of the surroundings which condition our normal path of living. To the ancients the mountain was a symbol of the path of yoga, level above level, peak upon peak. A journey, involving the crossing of rivers and the facing of lurking enemies, both animal and human, conveyed a similar idea. Nowadays I dare say we would liken yoga to a motor-ride or a railway-trip. 3. Symbols that have an inherent appositeness and power of their own. Akasha or etheric space is a symbol of the infinite all-pervading eternal Brahman. In any nationality it would convey the same meaning. Also, the Sun stands universally for the supramental Light, the divine Gnosis. 4.* Mental symbols, instances of which are numbers or alphabets. Once they are accepted, they too become active and may be useful. Thus geometrical figures have been variously interpreted. In my experience the square symbolises the supermind. I cannot say how it came to do so. Somebody or some force may have built it before it came to my mind. Of the triangle, too, there are different explanations. In one position it can symbolise the three lower planes, in another the symbol is of the three higher ones: so both can be combined together in a single sign. The ancients liked to indulge in similar speculations concerning numbers, but their systems were mostly mental. It is no doubt true that supramental realities exist which we translate into mental formulas such as Karma, Psychic evolution, etc. But they are, so to speak, infinite realities which cannot be limited by these symbolic forms, though they may be somewhat expressed by them; they might be expressed as well by other symbols, and the same symbol may also express many different ideas. Letters on Yoga
Sri Aurobindo: "Consciousness is a fundamental thing, the fundamental thing in existence — it is the energy, the motion, the movement of consciousness that creates the universe and all that is in it — not only the macrocosm but the microcosm is nothing but consciousness arranging itself.” *Letters on Yoga
::: Sri Aurobindo: ". . . Durga, the conquering and protecting aspect of the Universal Mother.” *Letters on Yoga
*Sri Aurobindo: "Emotion itself is not a bad thing; it is a necessary part of the nature, and psychic emotion is one of the most powerful helps to the sadhana. Psychic emotion, bringing tears of love for the Divine or tears of Ananda, ought not to be suppressed: . . . .” Letters on Yoga
*Sri Aurobindo: "Force is nothing but the power of being in motion.” Hymns to the Mystic Fire
Sri Aurobindo: ". . . for each individual is in himself the Eternal who has assumed name and form and supports through him the experiences of life turning on an ever-circling wheel of birth in the manifestation. The wheel is kept in motion by the desire of the individual, which becomes the effective cause of rebirth and by the mind"s turning away from the knowledge of the eternal self to the preoccupations of the temporal becoming.” The Life Divine
*Sri Aurobindo: " . . . for what we inappropriately call revolution, is only a rapidly concentrated movement of evolution — a yet remote end which in the ordinary course of events could only be realised, if at all, in the far distant future.” The Human Cycle, etc.
Sri Aurobindo: "I suppose the golden child is the Truth-Soul which follows after the silver light of the spiritual. When it plunges into the black waters of the subconscient, it releases from it the spiritual light and the sevenfold streams of the Divine Energy and, clearing itself of the stains of the subconscient, it prepares its flight towards the supreme Divine (the Mother).” (Reply to a question in the chapter Visions and Symbols.) Letters on Yoga
Sri Aurobindo: "Matter, body is only a massed motion of force of conscious being employed as a starting-point for the variable relations of consciousness working through its power of sense.” *Essays on the Gita
Sri Aurobindo: ::: "O Wisdom-Splendour, Mother of the universe,
::: Sri Aurobindo: "Spiritual force has its own concreteness; it can take a form (like a stream, for instance) of which one is aware and can send it quite concretely on whatever object one chooses. This is a statement of fact about the power inherent in spiritual consciousness. But there is also such a thing as a willed use of any subtle force — it may be spiritual, mental or vital — to secure a particular result at some point in the world. Just as there are waves of unseen physical forces (cosmic waves etc.) or currents of electricity, so there are mind-waves, thought-currents, waves of emotion, — for example, anger, sorrow, etc., — which go out and affect others without their knowing whence they come or that they come at all, they only feel the result. One who has the occult or inner senses awake can feel them coming and invading him.” Letters on Yoga
Sri Aurobindo: "The ancient knowledge in all countries was full of the search after the hidden truths of our being and it created that large field of practice and inquiry which goes in Europe by the name of occultism, — we do not use any corresponding word in the East, because these things do not seem to us so remote, mysterious and abnormal as to the occidental mentality; they are nearer to us and the veil between our normal material life and this larger life is much thinner.” *The Synthesis of Yoga
Sri Aurobindo: "The motion of the world works under the government of a perpetual stability. Change represents the constant shifting of apparent relations in an eternal Immutability.” The Upanishads
Sri Aurobindo: "The first is the discovery of the soul, not the outer soul of thought and emotion and desire, but the secret psychic entity, the divine element within us. When that becomes dominant over the nature, when we are consciously the soul and when mind, life and body take their true place as its instruments, we are aware of a guide within that knows the truth, the good, the true delight and beauty of existence, controls heart and intellect by its luminous law and leads our life and being towards spiritual completeness.” *The Life Divine
Sri Aurobindo: "The Mother not only governs all from above but she descends into this lesser triple universe. Impersonally, all things here, even the movements of the Ignorance, are herself in veiled power and her creations in diminished substance, her Nature-body and Nature-force, and they exist because, moved by the mysterious fiat of the Supreme to work out something that was there in the possibilities of the Infinite, she has consented to the great sacrifice and has put on like a mask the soul and forms of the Ignorance. But personally too she has stooped to descend here into the Darkness that she may lead it to the Light, into the Falsehood and Error that she may convert it to the Truth, into this Death that she may turn it to godlike Life, into this world-pain and its obstinate sorrow and suffering that she may end it in the transforming ecstasy of her sublime Ananda. In her deep and great love for her children she has consented to put on herself the cloak of this obscurity, condescended to bear the attacks and torturing influences of the powers of the Darkness and the Falsehood, borne to pass though the portals of the birth that is a death, taken upon herself the pangs and sorrows and sufferings of the creation, since it seemed that thus alone could it be lifted to the Light and Joy and Truth and eternal Life. This is the great sacrifice called sometimes the sacrifice of the Purusha, but much more deeply the holocaust of Prakriti, the sacrifice of the Divine Mother.” The Mother
Sri Aurobindo: "There is no ignorance that is not part of the Cosmic Ignorance, only in the individual it becomes a limited formation and movement, while the Cosmic Ignorance is the whole movement of world consciousness separated from the supreme Truth and acting in an inferior motion in which the Truth is perverted, diminished, mixed and clouded with falsehood and error.” Letters on Yoga
*Sri Aurobindo: ". . . the terrible Kali is also the loving and beneficent Mother; . . . .” Essays on the Gita
*Sri Aurobindo: "The timeless Spirit is not necessarily a blank; it may hold all in itself, but in essence, without reference to time or form or relation or circumstance, perhaps in an eternal unity. Eternity is the common term between Time and the Timeless Spirit. What is in the Timeless unmanifested, implied, essential, appears in Time in movement, or at least in design and relation, in result and circumstance. These two then are the same Eternity or the same Eternal in a double status; they are a twofold status of being and consciousness, one an eternity of immobile status, the other an eternity of motion in status.” The Life Divine ::: "The spiritual fullness of the being is eternity; . . . ” The Life Divine
Sri Aurobindo: "To be entirely sincere means to desire the divine Truth only, to surrender yourself more and more to the Divine Mother, to reject all personal demand and desire other than this one aspiration, to offer every action in life to the Divine and do it as the work given without bringing in the ego. This is the basis of the divine life.” Bases of Yoga*
Sri Aurobindo: "Visions come under the head of experiences, unless they fix themselves and are accompanied by a realisation of which they are as it were the support.” The Mother*
Sri Aurobindo: "Vitality means life-force — wherever there is life, in plant or animal or man, there is life-force — without the vital there can be no life in matter and no living action. The vital is a necessary force and nothing can be done or created in the bodily existence, if the vital is not there as an instrument.” *Letters on Yoga
"The vital proper is the life-force acting in its own nature, impulses, emotions, feelings, desires, ambitions, etc., having as their highest centre what we may call the outer heart of emotion, while there is an inner heart where are the higher or psychic feelings and sensibilities, the emotions or intuitive yearnings and impulses of the soul. The vital part of us is, of course, necessary to our completeness, but it is a true instrument only when its feelings and tendencies have been purified by the psychic touch and taken up and governed by the spiritual light and power.” *Letters on Yoga
". . . the vital is the Life-nature made up of desires, sensations, feelings, passions, energies of action, will of desire, reactions of the desire-soul in man and of all that play of possessive and other related instincts, anger, fear, greed, lust, etc., that belong to this field of the nature. Letters on Yoga
The Mother: "The vital is the dynamism of action. It is the seat of the will, of impulses, desires, revolts, etc.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15*.
Sri Aurobindo: "What the "void" feels as a clutch is felt by the Mother only as a reminding finger laid on her cheek. It is one advantage of the expression ‘as if" that it leaves the field open for such variation. It is intended to suggest without saying it that behind the sombre void is the face of a mother. The two other ‘as if"s have the same motive and I do not find them jarring upon me. The second is at a sufficient distance from the first and it is not obtrusive enough to prejudice the third which more nearly follows. . . .” Letters on Savitri
Sri Aurobindo: "Your ‘barely enough", instead of the finer and more suggestive ‘hardly", falls flat upon my ear; one cannot substitute one word for another in this kind of poetry merely because it means intellectually the same thing; ‘hardly" is the mot juste in this context and, repetition or not, it must remain unless a word not only juste but inevitable comes to replace it… . On this point I may add that in certain contexts ‘barely" would be the right word, as for instance, ‘There is barely enough food left for two or three meals", where ‘hardly" would be adequate but much less forceful. It is the other way about in this line. Letters on Savitri
stifled ::: smothered; suppressed; suffocated.
stifle ::: to smother or suppress; keep from manifesting. stifles.
sting ::: 1. Pain or irritation resulting from a wound inflicted by an venomous insect, reptile, poisonous plant, etc. 2. Fig. A mental or emotional pain or suffering inflicted on someone, or a stimulus, goad or spur.
stir ::: n. 1. A slight movement. 2. A strong reaction, esp. a movement of activity; excitement, emotion, etc. v. 3. To rouse, as from indifference or inaction and prompt to action. 4. To move, esp. slightly or lightly. 5. To become active, as from some rousing or quickening impulse. 6. To provoke one to be moved emotionally to feeling, emotion, or passion or action. 7. To prod into brisk or vigorous action; bestir. stirs, stirred, stirring.
stirred ::: 1. Disturbed; troubled. 2. Set in tremulous, fluttering, or irregular motion. wind-stirred.
stirrings ::: initial arousings of particular emotions, intellectual activity, etc.
stolidity ::: the quality of being not easily stirred or moved mentally; or revealing little emotion; impassiveness.
stony ::: 1. Covered with or full of stones; rocky. 2 . Resembling stone, as in hardness. 3. Exhibiting no feeling or warmth; impassive; rigid; esp. of movement, a look, etc. 4. Rigid, fixed, motionless; destitute of movement or expression: esp. of the eyes or look. stony-eyed.
strangling ::: 1. Killing by squeezing the throat so as to choke or suffocate; or throttling by a cord, etc. around the neck. 2. Cutting off the oxygen supply of; smothering. Also fig. **strangled.**
stress ::: 1. Physical, mental or emotional strain or tension; a situation, occurrence, condition or factor causing strain. 2. Stimulus or pressure of the influence of an adverse force. 3. Special or exceptional emphasis or significance attached to something. stress-vision.
stricken ::: affected by something overwhelming, such as disease, trouble, or painful emotion.
stunned ::: filled with the emotional impact of overwhelming surprise or shock.
subdue ::: 1. To overpower; overcome; conquer; prevail over. 2. To bring under mental or emotional control or subjection; render submissive. subdued.
suntracks ::: a word coined by Sri Aurobindo. Lines of travel, passage, or motion; the actual courses or routes followed (which need not be any beaten or visible path, or leave any traces, as the paths of ships, birds in the air, comets, etc.).
surging ::: rising and moving in a billowing or swelling manner. Also said of emotions, feelings and actions.
surprise ::: to encounter suddenly or unexpectedly; take or catch unawares. To ‘take hold of" or affect suddenly or unexpectedly; a desire, emotion, etc.
sway ::: n. 1. Power; dominant influence. 2. Dominion or control; sovereign command. 3. The act of moving from side to side with a swinging motion. v. 4. To cause to swing back and forth or to and fro. 5. To cause to incline or bend to one side. sways, swayed, swaying.
sweep ::: 1. *n. A broad reach, extent or range. lit. and fig. 2. A curving, esp. widely or gently curving, line, form, part, or mass. storm-sweeps. v. 3. To drive or carry by some steady force, as of a wind or wave. 4. To pass over (a surface, region, etc.) with a steady, driving movement or unimpeded course, as winds, floods, etc. 5. To move with a strong or swift even motion; to move over or through a surface or region, usually rapidly. 6. To pass the gaze, eyes, etc., over (a region, area, etc.). *sweeps, swept, rain-swept.
swirl ::: a whirling or eddying motion or mass.
sympathy ::: 1. A relationship or an affinity between people or things in which whatever affects one correspondingly affects the other. 2. The sharing of another"s emotions, esp. of sorrow or anguish; pity; compassion. sympathies.
taboos ::: bans or inhibitions resulting from social customs or emotional aversions.
tempest ::: 1. A violent windstorm, frequently accompanied by rain, snow, or hail. 2. Fig. Furious agitation, commotion, or tumult; an uproar. tempest"s, tempests".
tension ::: 1. The act or process of stretching something tight. 2. Mental, emotional, or nervous strain.
“That which we call Nature or Prakriti is only her [the Mother’s] most outward executive aspect; she marshals and arranges the harmony of her forces and processes, impels the operations of Nature and moves among them secret or manifest in all that can be seen or experienced or put into motion of life.” The Mother
::: "The ancient Vedanta presents us with . . . the conception and experience of Brahman as the one universal and essential fact and of the nature of Brahman as Sachchidananda [Existence, Consciousness, Bliss]. In this view the essence of all life is the movement of a universal and immortal existence, the essence of all sensation and emotion is the play of a universal and self-existent delight in being, the essence of all thought and perception is the radiation of a universal and all-pervading truth, the essence of all activity is the progression of a universal and self-effecting good.” The Life Divine
“The ancient Vedanta presents us with . . . the conception and experience of Brahman as the one universal and essential fact and of the nature of Brahman as Sachchidananda [Existence, Consciousness, Bliss]. In this view the essence of all life is the movement of a universal and immortal existence, the essence of all sensation and emotion is the play of a universal and self-existent delight in being, the essence of all thought and perception is the radiation of a universal and all-pervading truth, the essence of all activity is the progression of a universal and self-effecting good.” The Life Divine
"The animal is satisfied with a modicum of necessity; the gods are content with their splendours. But man cannot rest permanently until he reaches some highest good. He is the greatest of living beings because he is the most discontented, because he feels most the pressure of limitations. He alone, perhaps, is capable of being seized by the divine frenzy for a remote ideal.” The Life Divine
“The animal is satisfied with a modicum of necessity; the gods are content with their splendours. But man cannot rest permanently until he reaches some highest good. He is the greatest of living beings because he is the most discontented, because he feels most the pressure of limitations. He alone, perhaps, is capable of being seized by the divine frenzy for a remote ideal.” The Life Divine
"The colours of the lotuses and the numbers of petals are respectively, from bottom to top: — (1) the Muladhara or physical consciousness centre, four petals, red; (2) the abdominal centre, six petals, deep purple red; (3) the navel centre, ten petals, violet; (4) the heart centre, twelve petals, golden pink; (5) the throat centre, sixteen petals, grey; (6) the forehead centre between the eye-brows, two petals, white; (7) the thousand-petalled lotus above the head, blue with gold light around. The functions are, according to our yoga, — (1) commanding the physical consciousness and the subconscient; (2) commanding the small vital movements, the little greeds, lusts, desires, the small sense-movements; (3) commanding the larger life-forces and the passions and larger desire-movements; (4) commanding the higher emotional being with the psychic deep behind it; (5) commanding expression and all externalisation of the mind movements and mental forces; (6) commanding thought, will, vision; (7) commanding the higher thinking mind and the illumined mind and opening upwards to the intuition and overmind. The seventh is sometimes or by some identified with the brain, but that is an error — the brain is only a channel of communication situated between the thousand-petalled and the forehead centre. The former is sometimes called the void centre, sunya , either because it is not in the body, but in the apparent void above or because rising above the head one enters first into the silence of the self or spiritual being.” Letters on Yoga*
“The colours of the lotuses and the numbers of petals are respectively, from bottom to top:—(1) the Muladhara or physical consciousness centre, four petals, red; (2) the abdominal centre, six petals, deep purple red; (3) the navel centre, ten petals, violet; (4) the heart centre, twelve petals, golden pink; (5) the throat centre, sixteen petals, grey; (6) the forehead centre between the eye-brows, two petals, white; (7) the thousand-petalled lotus above the head, blue with gold light around. The functions are, according to our yoga,—(1) commanding the physical consciousness and the subconscient; (2) commanding the small vital movements, the little greeds, lusts, desires, the small sense-movements; (3) commanding the larger life-forces and the passions and larger desire-movements; (4) commanding the higher emotional being with the psychic deep behind it; (5) commanding expression and all externalisation of the mind movements and mental forces; (6) commanding thought, will, vision; (7) commanding the higher thinking mind and the illumined mind and opening upwards to the intuition and overmind. The seventh is sometimes or by some identified with the brain, but that is an error—the brain is only a channel of communication situated between the thousand-petalled and the forehead centre. The former is sometimes called the void centre, sunya , either because it is not in the body, but in the apparent void above or because rising above the head one enters first into the silence of the self or spiritual being.” Letters on Yoga
"The Devi is the Divine Shakti — the Consciousness and Power of the Divine, the Mother and Energy of the worlds. All powers are hers. Sometimes Devi-power may mean the power of the universal World-Force; but this is only one side of the Shakti.” Letters on Yoga
::: "The Divine Mother is the Consciousness and Force of the Divine — which is the Mother of all things.” *The Mother
“The Divine Mother is the Consciousness and Force of the Divine—which is the Mother of all things.” The Mother
". . . the ego is the lynch-pin invented to hold together the motion of our wheel of nature. The necessity of centralisation around the ego continues until there is no longer need of any such device or contrivance because there has emerged the true self, the spiritual being, which is at once wheel and motion and that which holds all together, the centre and the circumference.” The Life Divine
“… the ego is the lynch-pin invented to hold together the motion of our wheel of nature. The necessity of centralisation around the ego continues until there is no longer need of any such device or contrivance because there has emerged the true self, the spiritual being, which is at once wheel and motion and that which holds all together, the centre and the circumference.” The Life Divine
::: "The Gods, as has already been said, are in origin and essence permanent Emanations of the Divine put forth from the Supreme by the Transcendent Mother, the Adya Shakti; in their cosmic action they are Powers and Personalities of the Divine each with his independent cosmic standing, function and work in the universe. They are not impersonal entities but cosmic Personalities, although they can and do ordinarily veil themselves behind the movement of impersonal forces.” Letters on Yoga
“The Gods, as has already been said, are in origin and essence permanent Emanations of the Divine put forth from the Supreme by the Transcendent Mother, the Adya Shakti; in their cosmic action they are Powers and Personalities of the Divine each with his independent cosmic standing, function and work in the universe. They are not impersonal entities but cosmic Personalities, although they can and do ordinarily veil themselves behind the movement of impersonal forces.” Letters on Yoga
"The greatest motion of poetry comes when the mind is still and the ideal principle works above and outside the brain, above even the hundred petalled lotus of the ideal mind, in its proper empire; for then it is Veda that is revealed, the perfect substance and expression of eternal truth.” Essays Divine and Human*
“The greatest motion of poetry comes when the mind is still and the ideal principle works above and outside the brain, above even the hundred petalled lotus of the ideal mind, in its proper empire; for then it is Veda that is revealed, the perfect substance and expression of eternal truth.” Essays Divine and Human
::: "The heart is the centre of the emotional being and the emotions are vital movements. When the heart is purified, the vital emotions change into psychic feelings or else psychicised vital movements.” Letters on Yoga
“The heart is the centre of the emotional being and the emotions are vital movements. When the heart is purified, the vital emotions change into psychic feelings or else psychicised vital movements.” Letters on Yoga
“The Mahashakti, the universal Mother, works out whatever is transmitted by her transcendent consciousness from the Supreme and enters into the worlds that she has made; her presence fills and supports them with the divine spirit and the divine all-sustaining force and delight without which they could not exist.”“The Mother
theme ::: 1. A topic of discourse or discussion. 2. A unifying or dominant idea, motif, etc. 3. A principal melodic subject in a musical composition. themes.
::: "The most usual form of power is control over things, person, events, forces.” The Mother
The Mother: "All sincere prayers are granted, but it may take some time to realise materially.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.
The Mother : "An Avatar is an emanation of the Supreme Lord who assumes a human body on earth.” Works of the Mother, "On Thoughts and Aphorisms” Vol.10
The Mother : “An Avatar is an emanation of the Supreme Lord who assumes a human body on earth.” Works of the Mother,”On Thoughts and Aphorisms” Vol.10.
The Mother: "And this Vibration (which I feel and see) gives the feeling of a fire. That"s probably what the Vedic Rishis translated as the "Flame” – in the human consciousness, in man, in Matter. They always spoke of a "Flame.” It is indeed a vibration with the intensity of a higher fire. Mother"s Agenda 25 March 1964.
The Mother: “And this Vibration (which I feel and see) gives the feeling of a fire. That’s probably what the Vedic Rishis translated as the”Flame”—in the human consciousness, in man, in Matter. They always spoke of a”Flame.” It is indeed a vibration with the intensity of a higher fire. Mother’s Agenda 25 March 1964.
*The Mother: "And ultimately, all form is a symbol. All forms: our form is a symbol — not a very brilliant one, I admit!
The Mother: “And ultimately, all form is a symbol. All forms: our form is a symbol—not a very brilliant one, I admit!
The Mother: "An ‘entity" is a personality or an individuality.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.**
The Mother: " A total self-giving to the Divine is the true purpose of existence.” On Thoughts and Aphorisms, MCW Vol. 10.*
The Mother: “Calm is self-possessed strength, quiet and conscious energy, mastery of the impulses, control over the unconscious reflexes.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 14.
“The Mother comes in order to bring down the Supramental and it is the descent which makes her full manifestation here possible.” Letters on the Mother
The Mother: "Consciousness is indeed the creatrix of the universe, but love is its saviour. . . .” On Education, MCW Vol. 12.
The Mother: “Consciousness is indeed the creatrix of the universe, but love is its saviour….” On Education, MCW Vol. 12.
::: The Mother: "Consciousness is the faculty of becoming aware of anything through identification. The Divine Consciousness is not only aware but knows and effects.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol.15*. Consciousness.
The Mother: “Consciousness is the faculty of becoming aware of anything through identification. The Divine Consciousness is not only aware but knows and effects.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol.15.
The Mother: "For me poetry is beyond all philosophy and beyond all explanation.” On Education, MCW Vol. 12.
The Mother: "Immortality is not a goal, it is not even a means. It will proceed naturally from the fact of living the Truth.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15. ::: *Immortality, immortalities, immortality"s.
The Mother: “Immortality is not a goal, it is not even a means. It will proceed naturally from the fact of living the Truth.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.
The Mother: "In the physical world, of all things it is beauty that expresses best the Divine. the physical world is the world of form and the perfection of form is beauty. Beauty interprets, expresses, manifests the Eternal. Its role is to put all manifested nature in contact with the Eternal through the perfection of form, through harmony and a sense of the ideal which uplifts and leads towards something higher. On Education, MCW Vol. 12.
The Mother: “In the physical world, of all things it is beauty that expresses best the Divine. the physical world is the world of form and the perfection of form is beauty. Beauty interprets, expresses, manifests the Eternal. Its role is to put all manifested nature in contact with the Eternal through the perfection of form, through harmony and a sense of the ideal which uplifts and leads towards something higher. On Education, MCW Vol. 12.
"The Mother is the consciousness and force of the Divine — or, it may be said, she is the Divine in its consciousness-force.” *The Mother
“The Mother is the consciousness and force of the Divine—or, it may be said, she is the Divine in its consciousness-force.” The Mother
The Mother: “Krishna represents both the universal Godhead and the immanent Godhead, he whom one can meet within one’s being and in all that constitutes the manifested world. And do you want to know why he is always represented as a child? It is because he is in constant progression. To the extent that the world is perfected, his play is also perfected—what was the play of yesterday will no longer be the play of tomorrow; his play will become more and more harmonious, benign and joyful to the extent that the world becomes capable of responding to it and enjoying it with the Divine.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.
::: The Mother: "Krishna represents both the universal Godhead and the immanent Godhead, he whom one can meet within one"s being and in all that constitutes the manifested world.
The Mother: "Man is the intermediary being between what is and what is to be realised.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15. ::: *man"s
The Mother: “Man is the intermediary being between what is and what is to be realised.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.
::: The Mother: "Of all the aspects of the Mother, Kali most powerfully expresses vibrant and active love, and despite her sometimes terrible aspect, she carries in herself the golden splendour of an all-powerful love.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15*.
The Mother: “Of all the aspects of the Mother, Kali most powerfully expresses vibrant and active love, and despite her sometimes terrible aspect, she carries in herself the golden splendour of an all-powerful love.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.
The Mother: "OM is the signature of the Lord.” *Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.
The Mother: “OM is the signature of the Lord.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.
::: The Mother: "Perfection is not a maximum or an extreme. It is an equilibrium and a harmonisation.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.
The Mother: “Perfection is not a maximum or an extreme. It is an equilibrium and a harmonisation.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.
The Mother: "Perseverance is patience in action.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 14.
::: The Mother: "Progress is the sign of the divine influence in creation.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.
The Mother: "Radha"s consciousness symbolises perfect attachment to the Divine.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.
The Mother: "Surrender is the decision taken to hand over the responsibility of your life to the Divine. Without this decision nothing is at all possible; if you do not surrender, the Yoga is entirely out of the question. Everything else comes naturally after it, for the whole process starts with surrender.” Questions and Answers, MCW Vol. 3.
The Mother: "That which can easily change its form is ‘plastic". Figuratively, it is suppleness, a capacity of adaptation to circumstances and necessities.” Questions and Answers, MCW Vol. 4.
The Mother: "The Avatar: the supreme Divine manifested in an earthly form — generally a human form — for a definite purpose.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.*
The Mother: “The Avatar: the supreme Divine manifested in an earthly form—generally a human form—for a definite purpose.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.
The Mother: "The certitude of the Victory gives an infinite patience with the maximum of energy.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.*
The Mother: “The light is everywhere, the force is everywhere. And the world is so small.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.
The Mother: ‘There are four Asuras. Two have already been converted, and the other two, the Lord of Death and the Lord of Falsehood, made an attempt at conversion by taking on a physical body – they have been intimately associated with my life. The story of these Asuras would be very interesting to recount. . . the Lord of Death disappeared; he lost his physical body, and I don"t know what has become of him. As for the other, the Lord of Falsehood, the one who now rules over this earth, he tried hard to be converted but he found it disgusting!
The Mother: ‘There are four Asuras. Two have already been converted, and the other two, the Lord of Death and the Lord of Falsehood, made an attempt at conversion by taking on a physical body—they have been intimately associated with my life. The story of these Asuras would be very interesting to recount. . . the Lord of Death disappeared; he lost his physical body, and I don’t know what has become of him. As for the other, the Lord of Falsehood, the one who now rules over this earth, he tried hard to be converted but he found it disgusting!
The Mother: "The snake is not the symbol of power but of energy, and just as there are obscure and perverted energies, so too the snake can be the symbol of unregenerate and anti-divine forces.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.*
The Mother "The sun is the symbol of the Divine in the physical nature” Questions and Answers, MCW Vol. 3
The Mother: “The true role of the mind is the formation and organization of action. The mind has a formative and organizing power, and it is that which puts the different elements of inspiration in order for action, for organizing action. And if it would only confine itself to that role, receiving inspirations—whether from above or from the mystic centre of the soul—and simply formulating the plan of action—in broad outline or in minute detail, for the smallest things of life or the great terrestrial organizations—it would amply fulfil its function. It is not an instrument of knowledge. But is can use knowledge for action, to organize action. It is an instrument of organization and formation, very powerful and very capable when it is well developed.” Questions and Answers 1956, MCW Vol. 8.
The Mother: "The Truth is something living, moving, expressing itself at each second, and it is one way of approaching the Supreme.” Collected Works of the Mother, Vol. 15.*
The Mother: "The universe is a finite whole, but its content is infinite; the changes which occur in this infinity result from the action of Essence on substance, from the penetration, the permeation of quantity by quality, which brings about a constant and progressive organisation and reorganisation of the content of the universe.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.*
The Mother (to a young person): "It is very simple, as you will see. 1) The Infinite is the inexhaustible storehouse of forces. The individual is a battery, a storage cell which runs down after use. Consecration is the wire that connects the individual battery to the infinite reserve of forces. Or 2) The Infinite is the river that flows without cease; the individual is the little pond that dries up slowly in the sun. Consecration is the canal that connects the river to the pond and prevents the pond from drying up.” Some Answers from the Mother, MCW *Vol. 16.
The Mother (to a young person): “It is very simple, as you will see. 1) The Infinite is the inexhaustible storehouse of forces. The individual is a battery, a storage cell which runs down after use. Consecration is the wire that connects the individual battery to the infinite reserve of forces. Or 2) The Infinite is the river that flows without cease; the individual is the little pond that dries up slowly in the sun. Consecration is the canal that connects the river to the pond and prevents the pond from drying up.” Some Answers from the Mother, MCW Vol. 16.
The Mother (to a young person): “It is very simple, as you will see. 1) The Infinite is the inexhaustible storehouse of forces. The individual is a battery, a storage cell which runs down after use. Consecration is the wire that connects the individual battery to the infinite reserve of forces. Or 2) The Infinite is the river that flows without cease; the individual is the little pond that dries up slowly in the sun. Consecration is the canal that connects the river to the pond and prevents the pond from drying up.” The Mother—Collected Works, Centenary Ed., Vol. 16—Some Answers from the Mother
::: The Mother (to a young person): "It is very simple, as you will see. 1) The Infinite is the inexhaustible storehouse of forces. The individual is a battery, a storage cell which runs down after use. Consecration is the wire that connects the individual battery to the infinite reserve of forces. Or 2) The Infinite is the river that flows without cease; the individual is the little pond that dries up slowly in the sun. Consecration is the canal that connects the river to the pond and prevents the pond from drying up.” The Mother - Collected Works, Centenary Ed., Vol. 16 - Some Answers from the Mother*
The Mother: "To be humble means for the mind, the vital and the body never to forget that without the Divine they know nothing, are noting and can do nothing; with the Divine they are nothing but ignorance, chaos and impotence. The Divine alone is Truth, Life, Power, Love, Felicity.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 14.
*The Mother: "To conquer the Adversary is not a small thing. One must have a greater power than his to vanquish him. But one can liberate oneself totally from his influence. And from the minute one is completely free from his influence, one"s self-giving can be total. And with the self-giving comes joy, long before the Adversary is truly vanquished and disappears.”
The Mother: “To conquer the Adversary is not a small thing. One must have a greater power than his to vanquish him. But one can liberate oneself totally from his influence. And from the minute one is completely free from his influence, one’s self-giving can be total. And with the self-giving comes joy, long before the Adversary is truly vanquished and disappears.”
::: The Mother: "True art means the expression of beauty in the material world. In a world wholly converted, that is to say, expressing integrally the divine reality, art must serve as the revealer and teacher of this divine beauty in life.” On Education, MCW Vol. 12.
The Mother: “True art means the expression of beauty in the material world. In a world wholly converted, that is to say, expressing integrally the divine reality, art must serve as the revealer and teacher of this divine beauty in life.” On Education, MCW Vol. 12.**
The Mother: "True humility consists in knowing that the Supreme Consciousness, the Supreme Will alone exists and that the I is not.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 14.
The Mother: “True humility consists in knowing that the Supreme Consciousness, the Supreme Will alone exists and that the I is not.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 14.
The Mother: Unity does not come from any exterior disposition, but by becoming conscious of the eternal Oneness.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.
The Mother: "Will: power of consciousness turned towards effectuation.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 14.*
The Mother: "Wisdom cannot be acquired except through union with the Divine Consciousness.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.*
::: The Mother: "With the Divine"s Love is the power of Transformation. It has this power because it is for the sake of Transformation that it has given itself to the world and manifested everywhere. Not only into man but into all the atoms of Matter it has infused itself in order to bring the world back to the original Truth. The moment you open to it, you also receive its power of Transformation.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.
The Mother: “With the Divine’s Love is the power of Transformation. It has this power because it is for the sake of Transformation that it has given itself to the world and manifested everywhere. Not only into man but into all the atoms of Matter it has infused itself in order to bring the world back to the original Truth. The moment you open to it, you also receive its power of Transformation.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.
"The one original transcendent Shakti, the Mother stands above all the worlds and bears in her eternal consciousness the Supreme Divine. Alone, she harbours the absolute Power and the ineffable Presence; containing or calling the Truths that have to be manifested, she brings them down from the Mystery in which they were hidden into the light of her infinite consciousness and gives them a form of force in her omnipotent power and her boundless life and a body in the universe.” The Mother
“The one original transcendent Shakti, the Mother stands above all the worlds and bears in her eternal consciousness the Supreme Divine. Alone, she harbours the absolute Power and the ineffable Presence; containing or calling the Truths that have to be manifested, she brings them down from the Mystery in which they were hidden into the light of her infinite consciousness and gives them a form of force in her omnipotent power and her boundless life and a body in the universe.” The Mother
“The one original transcendent Shakti, the Mother stands above all the worlds and bears in her eternal consciousness the Supreme Divine.
“The One whom we adore as the Mother is the divine Conscious Force that dominates all existence, one and yet so many-sided that to follow her movement is impossible even for the quickest mind and for the freest and most vast intelligence. The Mother is the consciousness and force of the Supreme and far above all she creates.” The Mother
the psychic and emotional energy associated with instinctual biological drives. world-libido"s.
"The real motive power of the life of the soul is Will; desire is only a deformation of will in the dominant bodily life and physical mind. The essential turn of the soul to possession and enjoyment of the world consists in a will to delight, and the enjoyment of the satisfaction of craving is only a vital and physical degradation of the will to delight. It is essential that we should distinguish between pure will and desire, between the inner will to delight and the outer lust and craving of the mind and body.” The Synthesis of Yoga
"There are, according to the Sankhya philosophy accepted in this respect by the Gita, three essential qualities or modes of the world-energy and therefore also of human nature, sattva, the mode of poise, knowledge and satisfaction, rajas, the mode of passion, action and struggling emotion, tamas, the mode of ignorance and inertia.” Essays on the Gita
"There is a sunlit path as well as a gloomy one and it is the better of the two — a path in which one goes forward in absolute reliance on the Mother, fearing nothing, sorrowing over nothing. Aspiration is needed but there can be a sunlit aspiration full of light and faith and confidence and joy. If difficulty comes, even that can be faced with a smile.” Letters on Yoga
“There is a sunlit path as well as a gloomy one and it is the better of the two—a path in which one goes forward in absolute reliance on the Mother, fearing nothing, sorrowing over nothing. Aspiration is needed but there can be a sunlit aspiration full of light and faith and confidence and joy. If difficulty comes, even that can be faced with a smile.” Letters on Yoga
“There is no ignorance that is not part of the Cosmic Ignorance, only in the individual it becomes a limited formation and movement, while the Cosmic Ignorance is the whole movement of world consciousness separated from the supreme Truth and acting in an inferior motion in which the Truth is perverted, diminished, mixed and clouded with falsehood and error.” Letters on Yoga
"The Supermind is in its very essence a truth-consciousness, a consciousness always free from the Ignorance which is the foundation of our present natural or evolutionary existence and from which nature in us is trying to arrive at self-knowledge and world-knowledge and a right consciousness and the right use of our existence in the universe. The Supermind, because it is a truth-consciousness, has this knowledge inherent in it and this power of true existence; its course is straight and can go direct to its aim, its field is wide and can even be made illimitable. This is because its very nature is knowledge: it has not to acquire knowledge but possesses it in its own right; its steps are not from nescience or ignorance into some imperfect light, but from truth to greater truth, from right perception to deeper perception, from intuition to intuition, from illumination to utter and boundless luminousness, from growing widenesses to the utter vasts and to very infinitude. On its summits it possesses the divine omniscience and omnipotence, but even in an evolutionary movement of its own graded self-manifestation by which it would eventually reveal its own highest heights it must be in its very nature essentially free from ignorance and error: it starts from truth and light and moves always in truth and light. As its knowledge is always true, so too its will is always true; it does not fumble in its handling of things or stumble in its paces. In the Supermind feeling and emotion do not depart from their truth, make no slips or mistakes, do not swerve from the right and the real, cannot misuse beauty and delight or twist away from a divine rectitude. In the Supermind sense cannot mislead or deviate into the grossnesses which are here its natural imperfections and the cause of reproach, distrust and misuse by our ignorance. Even an incomplete statement made by the Supermind is a truth leading to a further truth, its incomplete action a step towards completeness.” The Supramental Manifestation
"The surface mental individuality is, in consequence, always ego-centric; even its altruism is an enlargement of its ego: the ego is the lynch-pin invented to hold together the motion of our wheel of nature. The necessity of centralisation around the ego continues until there is no longer need of any such device or contrivance because there has emerged the true self, the spiritual being, which is at once wheel and motion and that which holds all together, the centre and the circumference.” *The Life Divine
"The Truth is not linear but global: it is not successive but simultaneous. Therefore it cannot be expressed in words: it has to be lived.” Collected Works of the Mother, Vol. 15.
“The world is a cyclic movement (samsâra ) of the Divine Consciousness in Space and Time. Its law and, in a sense, its object is progression; it exists by movement and would be dissolved by cessation of movement. But the basis of this movement is not material; it is the energy of active consciousness which, by its motion and multiplication in different principles (different in appearance, the same in essence), creates oppositions of unity and multiplicity, divisions of Time and Space, relations and groupings of circumstance and Causality. All these things are real in consciousness, but only symbolic of the Being, somewhat as the imaginations of a creative Mind are true representations of itself, yet not quite real in comparison with itself, or real with a different kind of reality.” The Upanishads
thrill ::: n. 1. A quivering or trembling caused by sudden excitement or emotion. 2. A trembling sensation. thrills. v. 3. To cause to quiver, tremble, or vibrate. 4. To be stirred by a tremor or tingling sensation of emotion or excitement. thrills, thrilled.
throb ::: n. 1. The act of throbbing; a beating, palpitation, or vibration. 2. Any pulsation or vibration. 3. A strong rhythmic vibration or beat. throbs, heart-throb, wave-throbs. v. 4. To beat strongly or with increased force or rapidity, as the heart under the influence of emotion or excitement; palpitate. throbs, throbbed.
to draw by appealing by the emotions or senses, by stimulating interest, or by exciting admiration; allure; invite. attracts, attracted, attracting.
torpid ::: deprived of the power of motion or feeling; benumbed.
toss ::: n. 1. A rolling or pitching motion. v. 2. To throw upward of in a certain direction. 3. To fling or be flung about, esp. constantly or regularly in an agitated or violent way. 4. To throw with a light motion. 5. To be thrown here and there; be flung to and fro. 6. To throw, fling, or heave continuously about; pitch to and fro. tosses, tossed, laugh-tossed.
trafficker ::: one who promotes or exchanges goods or services for money. traffickers.
tranquil ::: 1. Free from commotion, agitation, or disturbance. 2. Steady; even.
tranquilly ::: calmly; without emotional agitation.
transformation ::: Sri Aurobindo: "Transformation means that the higher consciousness or nature is brought down into the mind, vital and body and takes the place of the lower. There is a higher consciousness of the true self, which is spiritual, but it is above; if one rises above into it, then one is free as long as one remains there, but if one comes down into or uses mind, vital or body — and if one keeps any connection with life, one has to do so, either to come down and act from the ordinary consciousness or else to be in the self but use mind, life and body, then the imperfections of these instruments have to be faced and mended — they can only be mended by transformation.” *Letters on Yoga
"‘Transformation" is a word that I have brought in myself (like ‘supermind") to express certain spiritual concepts and spiritual facts of the integral yoga. People are now taking them up and using them in senses which have nothing to do with the significance which I put into them. Purification of the nature by the ‘influence" of the Spirit is not what I mean by transformation; purification is only part of a psychic change or a psycho-spiritual change — the word besides has many senses and is very often given a moral or ethical meaning which is foreign to my purpose.” *Letters on Yoga
"It is indeed as a result of our evolution that we arrive at the possibility of this transformation. As Nature has evolved beyond Matter and manifested Life, beyond Life and manifested Mind, so she must evolve beyond Mind and manifest a consciousness and power of our existence free from the imperfection and limitation of our mental existence, a supramental or truth-consciousness and able to develop the power and perfection of the spirit. Here a slow and tardy change need no longer be the law or manner of our evolution; it will be only so to a greater or less extent so long as a mental ignorance clings and hampers our ascent; but once we have grown into the truth-consciousness its power of spiritual truth of being will determine all. Into that truth we shall be freed and it will transform mind and life and body. Light and bliss and beauty and a perfection of the spontaneous right action of all the being are there as native powers of the supramental truth-consciousness and these will in their very nature transform mind and life and body even here upon earth into a manifestation of the truth-conscious spirit. The obscurations of earth will not prevail against the supramental truth-consciousness, for even into the earth it can bring enough of the omniscient light and omnipotent force of the spirit conquer. All may not open to the fullness of its light and power, but whatever does open must that extent undergo the change. That will be the principle of transformation.” The Supramental Manifestation
The Mother: "Transformation. The change by which all the elements and all the movements of the being become ready to manifest the supramental Truth.”
"One thing you must know and never forget: in the work of transformation all that is true and sincere will always be kept; only what is false and insincere will disappear.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.
tremble ::: 1. Shake involuntarily, as from excitement or anger; quake. 2. Feel fear or anxiety. 3. Vibrate with short slight movements. 4. Vibrate with emotion such as joy. trembles, trembled.
trembling ::: vibrating, shaking, esp. with emotion.
"True sincerity consists in following the way because you cannot do otherwise, in consecrating yourself to the divine life because you cannot do otherwise, in endeavouring to transform your being and emerge into the Light because you cannot do otherwise, because it is the very reason for which you live.” *Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.
"Truth is a difficult and strenuous conquest. One must be a real warrior to make this conquest, a warrior who fears nothing, neither enemies nor death, for with or against everybody, with or without a body, the struggle continues and will end by Victory.” Collected Works of the Mother, Vol. 15.*
tumult ::: 1. Violent and noisy commotion or disturbance of a crowd or mob; uproar. 2. A disorderly commotion or disturbance. **3. Great emotional or mental agitation. tumults.**
turmoil ::: a state of extreme confusion or agitation; commotion or tumult
twisted ::: 1. Altered or distorted the intended meaning or form of. Also fig. **2.** Altered or distorted the mental, moral, or emotional character of.
twists ::: twist. 1. To bend tortuously. 2. To cause to become mentally or emotionally distorted; warp. twisted.
unapproachable ::: 1. Not capable of being approached; remote; unreachable; inaccessible. 2. One who, or that which, cannot be approached or equalled. unapproachably.
universal Mother :::
vehement ::: 1. Zealous; ardent; impassioned. 2. Characterized by forcefulness of expression or intensity of emotion or conviction; fervid.
vexed ::: adj. 1. Irritated; annoyed; troubled persistently, especially with petty annoyances. sound-vexed, time-vexed. v. 2. Disturbed, troubled, esp. by motion; stirred up; tossed about.
vibrate ::: 1. To thrill, as in emotional response. 2. To move to and fro or up and down quickly and repeatedly; quiver; tremble. vibrates.
vibrating ::: quivering as with emotion; trembling.
vibration ::: 1. A rapid oscillation of a particle, particles, or elastic solid or surface, back and forth across a central position. 2. A distinctive emotional aura experienced instinctively. vibrations.
victim ::: 1. One who is harmed or killed by another. 2. One who is harmed by or made to suffer from an act, circumstance, agency, or condition. 3. A living creature slain and offered as a sacrifice during a religious rite. 4. One who is deceived or cheated, as by his or her own emotions or ignorance, by the dishonesty of others, or by some impersonal agency. victim"s, victims.
vileness ::: 1. A degraded state or condition; wretchedness; baseness; depravity. 2. The quality of being disgusting to the senses or emotions.
visitants ::: 1. Supernatural beings; ghosts; apparitions. 2. Moods, feelings, emotions, etc., that come to a person from time to time.
vivid ::: 1. Full of life; lively; animated. 2. Strikingly bright or intense, as colour, light, etc. 3. Making a powerful impact on the emotions or senses. 4. Uttered, operating, or acting with vigour. 5. Strong, distinct, or clearly perceptible.
wallow ::: 1. To roll about or lie in water, snow, mud, dust, or the like, as for pleasure. 2. To indulge oneself in possessions, emotion, etc. 3. To luxuriate; revel in. **wallows, wallowed, wallowing.**
way, the upward ::: Sri Aurobindo: "For the gods are the guardians and increasers of the Truth, the powers of the Immortal, the sons of the infinite Mother; the way to immortality is the upward way of the gods, the way of the Truth, a journey, an ascent by which there is a growth into the law of the Truth, rtasya panthâh.” The Renaissance in India
"We. . . become conscious, in our physical movements, in our nervous and vital reactions, in our mental workings, of a Force greater than body, mind and life which takes hold of our limited instruments and drives all their motion. There is no longer the sense of ourselves moving, thinking or feeling but of that moving, feeling and thinking in us. This force that we feel is the universal Force of the Divine, which, veiled or unveiled, acting directly or permitting the use of its powers by beings in the cosmos, is the one Energy that alone exists and alone makes universal or individual action possible. For this force is the Divine itself in the body of its power; all is that, power of act, power of thought and knowledge, power of mastery and enjoyment, power of love.” The Synthesis of Yoga
“We. . . become conscious, in our physical movements, in our nervous and vital reactions, in our mental workings, of a Force greater than body, mind and life which takes hold of our limited instruments and drives all their motion. There is no longer the sense of ourselves moving, thinking or feeling but of that moving, feeling and thinking in us. This force that we feel is the universal Force of the Divine, which, veiled or unveiled, acting directly or permitting the use of its powers by beings in the cosmos, is the one Energy that alone exists and alone makes universal or individual action possible. For this force is the Divine itself in the body of its power; all is that, power of act, power of thought and knowledge, power of mastery and enjoyment, power of love.” The Synthesis of Yoga
weep ::: 1. To express grief, sorrow, or any overpowering emotion by shedding tears; cry. 2. To shed tears as an expression of emotion. 3. To express grief or anguish for; lament, (chiefly poet.). weeps, wept.
“What people mean by the formless svarûpa of the Mother,—they means usually her universal aspect. It is when she is experienced as a universal Existence and Power spread through the universe in which and by which all live. When one feels that Presence one begins to feel a universal peace, light, power, bliss without limits—that is her svarûpa.” The Mother
“What the ’void’ feels as a clutch is felt by the Mother only as a reminding finger laid on her cheek. It is one advantage of the expression ‘as if’ that it leaves the field open for such variation. It is intended to suggest without saying it that behind the sombre void is the face of a mother. The two other ‘as if’s have the same motive and I do not find them jarring upon me. The second is at a sufficient distance from the first and it is not obtrusive enough to prejudice the third which more nearly follows….” Letters on Savitri
wheeling ::: n. 1. Motion in a circle or curve; circling, circuitous movement. adj. 2. Turning like a wheel; revolving about an axis; rotating, rolling, whirling, swirling. Also fig. of a recurring or ‘revolving" period of time. ever-wheeling.
“When one does sadhana, the inner consciousness begins to open and one is able to go inside and have all kinds of experiences there. As the sadhana progresses, one begins to live more and more in this inner being and the outer becomes more and more superficial. At first the inner consciousness seems to be the dream and the outer the waking reality. Afterwards the inner consciousness becomes the reality and the outer is felt by many as a dream or delusion, or else as something superficial and external. The inner consciousness begins to be a place of deep peace, light, happiness, love, closeness to the Divine or the presence of the Divine, the Mother.” Letters on Yoga
"When the Peace is established, this higher or Divine Force from above can descend and work in us. It descends usually first into the head and liberates the inner mind centres, then into the heart centre and liberates fully the psychic and emotional being, then into the navel and other vital centres and liberates the inner vital, then into the Muladhara and below and liberates the inner physical being. It works at the same time for perfection as well as liberation; it takes up the whole nature part by part and deals with it, rejecting what has to be rejected, sublimating what has to be sublimated, creating what has to be created. It integrates, harmonises, establishes a new rhythm in the nature. It can bring down too a higher and yet higher force and range of the higher nature until, if that be the aim of the sadhana, it becomes possible to bring down the supramental force and existence. All this is prepared, assisted, farthered by the work of the psychic being in the heart centre; the more it is open, in front, active, the quicker, safer, easier the working of the Force can be. The more love and bhakti and surrender grow in the heart, the more rapid and perfect becomes the evolution of the sadhana. For the descent and transformation imply at the same time an increasing contact and union with the Divine.” Letters on Yoga
“When the Peace is established, this higher or Divine Force from above can descend and work in us. It descends usually first into the head and liberates the inner mind centres, then into the heart centre and liberates fully the psychic and emotional being, then into the navel and other vital centres and liberates the inner vital, then into the Muladhara and below and liberates the inner physical being. It works at the same time for perfection as well as liberation; it takes up the whole nature part by part and deals with it, rejecting what has to be rejected, sublimating what has to be sublimated, creating what has to be created. It integrates, harmonises, establishes a new rhythm in the nature. It can bring down too a higher and yet higher force and range of the higher nature until, if that be the aim of the sadhana, it becomes possible to bring down the supramental force and existence. All this is prepared, assisted, farthered by the work of the psychic being in the heart centre; the more it is open, in front, active, the quicker, safer, easier the working of the Force can be. The more love and bhakti and surrender grow in the heart, the more rapid and perfect becomes the evolution of the sadhana. For the descent and transformation imply at the same time an increasing contact and union with the Divine.” Letters on Yoga
"When the Peace is established, this higher or Divine Force from above can descend and work in us. It descends usually first into the head and liberates the inner mind centres, then into the heart centre and liberates fully the psychic and emotional being, then into the navel and other vital centres and liberates the inner vital, then into the Muladhara and below and liberates the inner physical being. It works at the same time for perfection as well as liberation; it takes up the whole nature part by part and deals with it, rejecting what has to be rejected, sublimating what has to be sublimated, creating what has to be created.” Letters on Yoga
“When the Peace is established, this higher or Divine Force from above can descend and work in us. It descends usually first into the head and liberates the inner mind centres, then into the heart centre and liberates fully the psychic and emotional being, then into the navel and other vital centres and liberates the inner vital, then into the Muladhara and below and liberates the inner physical being. It works at the same time for perfection as well as liberation; it takes up the whole nature part by part and deals with it, rejecting what has to be rejected, sublimating what has to be sublimated, creating what has to be created.” Letters on Yoga
"When we study this Life as it manifests itself upon earth with Matter as its basis, we observe that essentially it is a form of the one cosmic Energy, a dynamic movement or current of it positive and negative, a constant act or play of the Force which builds up forms, energises them by a continual stream of stimulation and maintains them by an unceasing process of disintegration and renewal of their substance. This would tend to show that the natural opposition we make between death and life is an error of our mentality, one of those false oppositions — false to inner truth though valid in surface practical experience — which, deceived by appearances, it is constantly bringing into the universal unity.” The Life Divine ::: *life"s, life-born, life-curve, life-delight"s, life-drift, life-foam, life-giving, life-impulse, life-impulse"s, life-motives, life-nature"s, life-pain, life-plan, life-power, life-room, life-scene, life-self, life-thought, life-wants, all-life, sense-life.
whip ::: 1. An instrument, either a flexible rod or a flexible thong or lash attached to a handle, used for driving animals or administering corporal punishment. 2. A whipping or lashing motion or stroke; a whiplash. whips.
will, human ::: Sri Aurobindo: "The will of man works in the ignorance by a partial light or more often flickerings of light which mislead as much as they illuminate. His mind is an ignorance striving to erect standards of knowledge, his will an ignorance striving to erect standards of right, and his whole mentality as a result very much a house divided against itself, idea in conflict with idea, the will often in conflict with the ideal of right or the intellectual knowledge. The will itself takes different shapes, the will of the intelligence, the wishes of the emotional mind, the desires and the passion of the vital being, the impulsions and blind or half-blind compulsions of the nervous and the subconscient nature, and all these make by no means a harmony, but at best a precarious concord among discords. The will of the mind and life is a stumbling about in search of right force, right Tapas which can wholly be attained in its true and complete light and direction only by oneness with the spiritual and supramental being.” *The Synthesis of Yoga
wind ::: air in natural motion, as that moving horizontally at any velocity along the earth"s surface. Wind, wind"s, winds, wind-faces, wind-feet, wind-goddess, wind-haired, wind-lashed, wind-maned, wind-rippled, wind-stirred, priest-wind"s.
wing ::: n. **1. Either of the two forelimbs of most birds and of bats, corresponding to the human arms, that are specialized for flight. 2. Something likened to a bird"s wing. 3. Theatr. The space offstage to the right or left of the acting area in a theatre. 4. In one"s care or tutelage. wings, god-wings, moth-wings, soul-wings. v. 5. To travel on or as if on wings, fly; soar. 6. Fig. To enable to fly, move rapidly, etc.; lend speed or celerity to. wings, winged, far-winging.**
wisdom ::: 1. The quality or state of being wise; knowledge of what is true or right coupled with just judgement as to action; sagacity, discernment, or insight. 2. Accumulated knowledge or erudition or enlightenment. Wisdom, wisdom"s, Wisdom"s, wisdom-cry, wisdom-self, Wisdom-Splendour, wisdom-works, All-Wisdom, Mother-wisdom, Mother-Wisdom, Mother-Wisdom"s.
wonder ::: n. 1. An event inexplicable by the laws of nature; a miracle; something strange and surprising brought about by a supernatural force. 2. A miraculous deed or event; remarkable phenomenon. 3. The emotion excited by what is strange and surprising; a feeling of surprised or puzzled interest, sometimes tinged with admiration. 4. Something strange, unexpected, or extraordinary. Wonder, wonder"s, Wonder"s, wonders, wonder-book, wonder-couch, wonder-dance, wonder-flecks, wonder-flowers, wonder-hues, wonder-plastics, wonder-rounds, wonder-rush, wonder-tree, wonder-web, wonder-weft, Wonder-worker, Wonder-worker"s, wonder-works, wonder-world, wonder-worlds. *adj. 5. Arousing awe or admiration; wonderful. v. 6. To be filled with admiration, amazement or awe; marvel (often followed by at); to think or speculate curiously (at or about); be curious to know. *wonders, wondered, wondering.
"World is a becoming which seeks always to express in motion of Time and Space, by progression in mind, life and body what is beyond all becoming, beyond Time and Space, beyond mind, life and body.” The Upanishads
world-Mother ::: Sri Aurobindo: "The Ishwari Shakti, divine Conscious-Force and World-Mother, becomes a mediatrix between the eternal One and the manifested Many. On one side, by the play of the energies which she brings from the One, she manifests the multiple Divine in the universe, involving and evolving its endless appearances out of her revealing substance; on the other, by the reascending current of the same energies she leads back all towards That from which they have issued so that the soul in its evolutionary manifestation may more and more return towards the Divinity there or here put on its divine character.” The Synthesis of Yoga
**World-Mother"s.**
KEYS (10k)
NEW FULL DB (2.4M)
28 Timothy Ferriss
19 Mother Teresa
15 Anne Lamott
11 The Mother
8 Timothy Snyder
7 Timothy Leary
5 Masashi Kishimoto
3 Victor Hugo
3 Miyamoto Musashi
2 William Shakespeare
2 Tony Robbins
2 Timothy J Keller
2 Plato
2 Mother Jones
2 Malcolm Gladwell
2 Kurt Vonnegut
2 J K Rowling
2 Hal Elrod
2 Cheryl Strayed
2 Brian McDermott
*** WISDOM TROVE ***
1:En un mot, l'homme conna|"t qu'il est mise rable: il est donc mise rable, puisqu'il l'est; mais il est bien grand, puisqu'il le conna|"t. In one word, man knows that he is miserable and therefore he is miserable because he knows it; but he is also worthy, because he knows his condition. ~ blaise-pascal, @wisdomtrove 2:Of alle the floures in the mede, Than love I most these floures whyte and rede, Swiche as men callen daysies in our toun. . . . . Til that myn herte dye. . . . . That wel by reson men hit calle may The & *** NEWFULLDB 2.4M ***
1:Un bon mot ne prouve rien. ~ Voltaire, #NFDB
2:Le mot impossible n'est pas français. ~ Napol on Bonaparte, #NFDB
3:Le mot juste. In this cas le mot juste was wimps. ~ Stephen King, #NFDB
4:Le mot juste. In this case le mot juste was wimps. ~ Stephen King, #NFDB
5:Un mot et tout est perdu, un mot et tout est sauvé. ~ Andr Breton, #NFDB
6:La distance est un vain mot, la distance n'existe pas! ~ Jules Verne, #NFDB
7:Il pouvait à peine placer un mot tellement ça l'excitait de vivre. ~ Jack Kerouac, #NFDB
8:Hence the famous bon mot of Lord Ismay, who took up his post as NATO’s ~ Tony Judt, #NFDB
9:Souvent, j'ai accompli de délicieux voyages, embarqué sur un mot ... ~ Honor de Balzac, #NFDB
10:Sans la moindre métaphore et dans toute l'acception du mot, vivre, c'est brûler. ~ Victor Hugo, #NFDB
11:My own favorite Bierce bon mot: “War is God’s way of teaching Americans geography. ~ Stephen King, #NFDB
12:Han lutade sig mot relingen, gav sin tribut till evigheten och spottade i havet. ~ Henning Mankell, #NFDB
13:Kristus var en värdig man att göra uppror mot, för han var själv upproret personifierat. ~ Patti Smith, #NFDB
14:Il n'y a pas une idée qui ne porte en elle sa réfutation possible, un mot, le mot contraire. ~ Marcel Proust, #NFDB
15:La sagesse est préférable à l'esprit, et sur le long terme, c'est elle qui aura le dernier mot. ~ Jane Austen, #NFDB
16:Le mot tantôt comme un passant mystérieux de l'âme, tantot comme un polype noir de l'océan pensê. ~ Victor Hugo, #NFDB
17:En un mot, nos mains tâchent de faire dans la nature, pour ainsi dire, une autre nature. ~ Marcus Tullius Cicero, #NFDB
18: La tautologie. Oui, je sais, le mot n'est pas beau. Mais la chose est fort laide aussi. ~ Roland Barthes, #NFDB
19:Ma vie est une énigme dont ton nom est le mot. (My life is an enigma, of which your name is the word.) ~ Victor Hugo, #NFDB
20:Elle flotte, elle hésite; en un mot, elle est femme.” “(She floats, she hesitates; in a word, she's a woman.) ~ Jean Racine, #NFDB
21:Att komma till Klostret och lära mig läsa var som att få ett stort fönster öppnat mot ljus och värme. ~ Maria Turtschaninoff, #NFDB
22:In France we can cauterize wounds but we do not yet know any remedy for the injuries inflicted by a bon mot. ~ Honore de Balzac, #NFDB
23:Margaret Thatcher’s notorious bon mot: “there is no such thing as society, there are only individuals and families”. ~ Tony Judt, #NFDB
24:Messieurs, c'est les microbes qui auront le dernier mot." (Gentlemen, it is the microbes who will have the last word.) ~ Louis Pasteur, #NFDB
25:Jesus is too colossal for the pen of phrasemongers, however artful. No man can dispose of Christianity with a bon mot ~ Albert Einstein, #NFDB
26:They were eyes made for laughter, but not raucous yuks; rather, for the laughter of wit, of erudition, of the bon mot. ~ Stephen Hunter, #NFDB
27:(...) je sais avec quelle facilité les perceptions peuvent être déformées par un seul mot glissé dans la mauvaise oreille. ~ Paul Auster, #NFDB
28:Mitt ansikte är i hans händer och mina läppar är mot hans läppar och han kyssar mig och jag är syre och han behöver andas. ~ Tahereh Mafi, #NFDB
29:Un bon mot ne prouve rien. ~ A witty saying proves nothing. ~ Voltaire, Le dîner du comte de Boulainvilliers (1767): Deuxième Entretien, #NFDB
30:- Quand vas-tu enfin cesser de me causer des peurs pareilles ? Avant de te connaître, j'ignorais jusqu'au simple sens de ce mot. ~ Sarah Morgan, #NFDB
31:Med näsduken pressad mot ett öga i taget gråter han av tomhet, gråter och gråter, ty tomheten har fler tårar än någonting annat. ~ Stig Dagerman, #NFDB
32:Alors je me souviens que le mot 'Étranger' est une des plus belles promesses du monde, une promesse en couleurs, belle comme la Liberté. ~ Marc Levy, #NFDB
33:Fornam jeg legemets sote lyst og begjær mot dette eller hint, så skremte forsagelsens fyrste meg med sitt: Avdo her for å leve hisset. ~ Henrik Ibsen, #NFDB
34:Kenneth Boulding’s bon mot, ‘To believe that the economy can grow forever in a finite world, you have to be a madman or an economist’. ~ Wolfgang Sachs, #NFDB
35:I'm sorry, I sobbed. I'm helpless.
That's where you're wrong, she told me. You're mot helpless. You need help. There's a big difference. ~ Jodi Picoult,#NFDB
36:You just put your boot so far up his ass, he’ll have to eat his dinner with a shoehorn.” “I can always count on you for a suitable bon mot. ~ Douglas Preston, #NFDB
37:dans les steppes, on emploie toujours le mot bleu pour décrire le ciel, même s'il est gris, car on sait qu'au dessus des nuages il demeure Bleu ~ Paulo Coelho, #NFDB
38:Det tridje kann eg, um turvast kann
mot fiendar rame råder:
eggjar eg doyver
for uvener mine,
so det bit korkje våpen eller velur. ~ Snorri Sturluson,#NFDB
39:Une mouche éphémère naît à neuf heures du matin dans les grands jours d’été, pour mourir à cinq heures du soir ; comment comprendrait-elle le mot nuit ? ~ Stendhal, #NFDB
40:Tantôt il bêchait la terre dans son jardin, tantôt il lisait et écrivait. Il n’avait qu’un mot pour ces deux sortes de travail, il appelait cela jardiner. ~ Victor Hugo, #NFDB
41:Je ne me battrais pas pour chaque mot tombé de ma bouche, mais il y a des tas de choses dont je ne parviens pas à parler et pour lesquelles je me battrais. ~ Flannery O Connor, #NFDB
42:Je suis un intellectuel. Ça m'agace qu'on fasse de ce mot une insulte : les gens ont l'air de croire que le vide de leur cerveau leur meuble les couilles. ~ Simone de Beauvoir, #NFDB
43:Elle me dit son nom, celui qu'elle s'est choisi: « Nadja, parce qu'en russe c'est le commencement du mot espérance, et parce que ce n'en n'est que le commencement. ~ Andr Breton, #NFDB
44:Jarndyce mot Jarndyce maler videre. Dette fugleskremselet av en rettssak er med tiden blitt så innflokt at det ikke er en levende sjel som vet hva den går ut på. ~ Charles Dickens, #NFDB
45:tout le monde sait ça, un plumitif c’est un écrivain, c’est quelqu’un qui tient une plume. Mais c’est une horreur de mot. C’est à vous faire tomber vos dents de sagesse. ~ Marcel Proust, #NFDB
46:Det finnes skydd mot nästan allt som är
mot eld och skador genom storm och köld
ja, räkna upp vad slag som tänkas kan.
Men det finns inget skydd mot människan. ~ Harry Martinson,#NFDB
47:Tiamat, Mot and Leviathan are not evil, but are simply fulfilling their cosmic role. They have to die and endure dismemberment before an ordered cosmos can emerge from chaos. ~ Karen Armstrong, #NFDB
48:Froken Aemelin, nesten alt det som folk gjor mot hverandre, betyr som handling betraktet svært lite. Det som er avgjorende, er deres formål, hvor de vil hen, hva de vil ha tak i. ~ Tove Jansson, #NFDB
49:Le mot « caverne » ne rend évidemment pas ma pensée pour peindre cet immense milieu. Mais les mots de la langue humaine ne peuvent suffire à qui se hasarde dans les abîmes du globe. ~ Jules Verne, #NFDB
50:The state might say that it had taken a year to write the book, and the author might say it had taken thirty. Goethe said that every bon mot of his had cost a purse of gold. What ~ Upton Sinclair, #NFDB
51:The French call mot juste the word that exactly fits. Why is this word so hard to find? The reasons are many. First, we don't always know what we mean and are too lazy too find out. ~ Jacques Barzun, #NFDB
52:Amis, un dernier mot! - et je ferme à jamais
Ce livre à ma pensée étranger désormais,
Je n'écouterai pas ce qu'en dira la foule,
Car qu'importe à la source où son onde s'écoule? ~ Victor Hugo,#NFDB
53:Si seulement il avait un peu de temps. [...] Le temps aussi de bien comprendre le mot "amour". Un mot beaucoup trop gros pour lui. Tellement gros qu'il ne sait pas par quel bout le prendre. ~ Luc Besson, #NFDB
54:Daniel var en mand som forstod adskillig, han hadde været ute for et og andet i livet, hadde mistet både sin farsgård og sin kjæreste, han visste hvad omsorg og rommekoller og godt mot betydde. ~ Knut Hamsun, #NFDB
55:Tantôt il bêchait la terre dans son jardin, tantôt il lisait et il écrivait. Il n'avait qu'un mot pour ces deux sortes de travail; il appelait cela jardiner. "L'esprit est un jardin", disait-il. ~ Victor Hugo, #NFDB
56:«Hva i granskauen har du i den vesken, Rose? Brostein?» hvisket han foran innkjorselen til Curt Wads hus mot Brondbyostervej. «Er du gal. Det er Shakespeares samlede verker i skinninnbinding.» ~ Jussi Adler Olsen, #NFDB
57:Någonstans ute i mörkret, borta vid de lömska Stökgrunden slog en osynliga gädda en virvel, och mot öster, där gryningen brukade komma skrek en uppretad tärna.
Kanske också fåglar hade mardrömmar? ~ Henning Mankell,#NFDB
58:Jernstangen som han plukket opp fra gulvet, ville ingen kunne overleve et velrettet slag fra. Han grep hardt rundt den med begge hender og rettet den fremover mot trappen som lyssverdet til en Jedi. ~ Jussi Adler Olsen, #NFDB
59:En samlande kärlek från dem alla till dem alla – outsagd, men som ett under: levande. De kunde vara grymma mot varandra i minuten men älskade varandra i timmen och dagen. De kunde inte undvara varandra. ~ Harry Martinson, #NFDB
60:kids whose brains have undergone epigenetic changes because of early adversity have an inflammation-pro-mot- drip of fight-or-flight hormones turned on high every day—and there is no off switch. ~ Donna Jackson Nakazawa, #NFDB
61:Paris pour le rappeler. En déclarant, le 9 juillet dernier, sans un mot pour les dizaines de victimes civiles palestiniennes, qu’il appartenait au gouvernement de Tel-Aviv de « prendre toutes les mesures pour ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
62:Le duc finit son verre, puis énonça cette remarque :
— Ce qui me plaît dans l’essence de fenouil, c’est qu’il n’y a aucun autre mot qui rime avec. Avec fenouil.
— À moins qu’on ne change de genre, dit Lalix. ~ Raymond Queneau,#NFDB
63:Han tar mina händer och trycker dem mot sitt bröst, vägleder mina fingrar när de vandrar nerför hans bröstkorg innan hans läppar möter mina igen och igen och igen och drogar mig till ett delirium jag aldrig vill lämna. ~ Tahereh Mafi, #NFDB
64:Den ville i det minste i dromme varme opp det blod som naturen har latt i stikken, den ville loftet haken og droyet både musklene, energien og livsgleden for denne stakkaren som i full fart iler mot sin undergang. ~ Michel de Montaigne, #NFDB
65:Plus récemment, les termes « hashtag », « pure player », « big data » et « crowdsourcing » ont obtenu la naturalisation française, pour devenir «mot-dièse», « tout en ligne », « mégadonnées » et « production participative ». ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
66:Espèce de saint d'Afrique, pensé-je, tu viens donner ta sagesse à un sauvage d'Europe qui suit la lune sur le calendrier et les nuages d'après le bulletin de la radio, et qui ne sait lire aucun mot sans un alphabet. (p. 93) ~ Erri De Luca, #NFDB
67:Il revoyait en souvenir la jolie cité claire, dégringolant, comme une cascade de maisons plates, du haut de sa montagne dans la mer, mais il ne trouvait plus un mot pour exprimer ce qu’il avait vu, ce qu’il avait senti. ~ Guy de Maupassant, #NFDB
68:I had learned of Gertrude Steins bon mot that medicine opened all doors. This prompted me, in different moods, to view my future life as literary psychiatrist, globe-trotting tropical disease specialist, or academic internist. ~ Harold E Varmus, #NFDB
69:[...] le mot « infini », qui s’y trouve trois fois, est impropre et devrait être remplacé par « indéfini » : Dieu seul est infini, l’espace et le temps ne peuvent être qu’indéfinis.
"Le Cœur du Monde dans la Kabbale hébraïque ~ Ren Gu non,#NFDB
70:Använd din nya kunskap med ansvar. Använd den enbart till att göra gott. Det finns många som har försökt det motsatta och som kan vittna om att det alltid slår tillbaka mot dig själv till slut. Plus att du blir en sten i nästa liv. ~ Henrik Fexeus, #NFDB
71:Vendt mot syd, var til hoyre en langbratt mektig ås. Bakom denne blå fjell. Til venstre en naken skrent; mange vannfosser nedover. Skogen var i lovspretten; den sendte god lukt med vinden til alle sider, og minte en om liv i en lovsal. ~ Knut Hamsun, #NFDB
72:Och du föddes efter det att Kraften försvann? Så du har aldrig känt den? Du har aldrig kunnat forma något?"
Oni sänkte blicken mot stigen medan de gick vidare. "Man behöver inte alltid ha känt något för att veta att man saknar det. ~ Siri Pettersen,#NFDB
73:Small! I'm mot going to be small anymore. I'm going to be a dragon, with wings like lacquer fans and jets of fire breath for roasting up goose suppers midair!" Pippin spread out her arms, imagining them wings. Why not? she asked herself. ~ Laini Taylor, #NFDB
74:Ce mot d'amour était sublime d'enfantillage. Et, quelles que soient les passions que j'éprouve dans la suite, jamais ne sera plus possible l'émotion adorable de voir une fille de dix-neuf ans pleurer parce qu'elle se trouve trop vieille. ~ Raymond Radiguet, #NFDB
75:Vous êtes trop généreuse pour vous jouer de moi. Si vos sentiments sont encore ce qu'ils étaient en avril dernier, dites-le moi tout de suite. Mes sentiments et mes vœux, eux, n'ont pas changé, mais un mot de vous m'imposera silence pour toujours ~ Jane Austen, #NFDB
76:Le bonheur n'est pas une chose; c'est une pensée. Ce n'est pas un fait; c'est une invention. Ce n'est pas un état; c'est une action.
Disons le mot: le bonheur est création.[...] C'est une praxis, disait- Aristote, et point une poiésis. ~ Andr Comte Sponville,#NFDB
77:Jag vill ta hans hand och trycka den mot mitt hjärta, precis där det värker som mest. Jag vet inte om ett sådant tilltag skulle bota smärtan eller kanske få mitt hjärta att brista helt, men oavsett vilket skulle den ihållande, hungriga väntan vara över. ~ Ally Condie, #NFDB
78:Heureuse ! Qu'est-ce que cela signifiait ? C'était tout juste un mot commode pour ceux qui veulement que la vie soit uniformément blanche ou noire, pour ces petites gens perdus dans la jungle humaine et qui cherchent à se rassurer par une formule ~ Vita Sackville West, #NFDB
79:Un livre est un monde, un monde fait, un monde avec un commencement et une fin. Chaque page d'un livre est une ville. Chaque ligne est une rue. Chaque mot est une demeure. Mes yeux parcourent la rue, ouvrant chaque porte, pénétrant dans chaque demeure. ~ R jean Ducharme, #NFDB
80:I got a scribbled comment that changed the way I rewrote my fiction once and forever. Jotted below the machine-generated signature of the editor was this mot: “Not bad, but PUFFY. You need to revise for length. Formula: 2nd Draft = 1st Draft – 10%. Good luck. ~ Stephen King, #NFDB
81:Hvorfor var dette så vanskelig? Han så jo ikke engang ansiktet til personen i stolen, for alt han visste, var det ingen der, det var bare en hatt. «Det er bare en hatt,» hvisket en hes stemme i oret hans. «Men det du kjenner mot bakhodet ditt, er en helt ekte pistol. ~ Jo Nesb, #NFDB
82:Il y a pas une grande sagesse a dire un mot de reproche ; mais il y a une plus grande sagesse a dire un mot qui, sans se moquer du malheur de l'homme, le ranime, lui rende du courage, comme les éperons rendent du courage à un cheval que l'abreuvoir a rafraîchi. ~ Nikolai Gogol, #NFDB
83:You need not hurry when the object is only to prevent my saying a bon mot, for there is not the least wit in my nature. I am a very matter-of-fact, plain-spoken being, and may blunder on the borders of a repartee for half an hour together without striking it out. ~ Jane Austen, #NFDB
84:Le mot 'psychologie'est un de ceux qu'aucun auteur d'aujourd'hui ne peut entendre prononcer a' son sujet sans baisser les yeux et rougir. The word 'psychology' is one that no author today can hear said about her work without lowering her eyes and blushing. ~ Nathalie Sarraute, #NFDB
85:Mumintrollets pappa hade aldrig känt sig så lugn och så absolut nöjd med allting. Det var egentligen skönt att ingenting behöva säga och ingenting förklara, varken för sig själv eller andra. Man bara satt och såg mot horisonten och hörde vågorna klucka under båten. ~ Tove Jansson, #NFDB
86:C'est souvent hasarder un bon mot et vouloir le perdre quo de le donner pour sien. ~ A good saying often runs the risk of being thrown away when quoted as the speaker's own. ~ Jean de La Bruyère, Les Caractères, II; in Hoyt's New Cyclopedia Of Practical Quotations (1922), p. 653-54., #NFDB
87:The only thing that tames the kar chhlok is finding one’s amavar, their one true mate. Once that happens, there’s no longer any need to attend Mot Ruom. But among the six of us, only Werizan has claimed a mate and there are no female Baiks this far out in the universe. ~ Marina Maddix, #NFDB
88:em un mot la nature et l'experience m'appirent,apres mure reflexion,que toutes les bonnes choses de l'univers ne sont bonnes pour nous que suivont l'usage que nous en faisons,et qu'on n'en jouit qu'autant qu'on s'en sert ou qu'on les amasse pour les donner aux autres,et pas plus ~ Daniel Defoe, #NFDB
89:Vi samles på Fortroppens hjorne mot vest og ser over mot tinden. Fra blokken vi står på har Pan eller Jordånden eller Djævelen selv spændt en usynlig kabel på to hundrede meter over i stortindens ostvegg, der nyskurte tusenmetersva er brukket efter midten og hængt op til tork. ~ Peter Wessel Zapffe, #NFDB
90:You say that someday your prince will come. More than anything, you want him to reply, "But what if your prince is right under your nose?" Instead he says, "Well, as long as he's mot one of those deposed princes..."
You wish he weren't such a prince. You wish he were a frog. ~ David Levithan,#NFDB
91:Un Mot gribouillé sans réfléchir sur une Page
Peut stimuler un Œil
Quand enveloppé dans les plis de l'éternité
Son Auteur Ridé reposera
L'Infection se développe dans la phrase
Nous pouvons inhaler le Désespoir
Comme, venant du fond des Siècles,
La Malaria - ~ Emily Dickinson,#NFDB
92:Vi sitter på varden og lar blikket seile. Fra jokelens islys i ost til Lofotvæggens hilderland i vest under havranden. Det ryker av dypet og det driver av himlen, mens storm og tåke knuses mot hjorner og gjél. Og syn og sus flyter sammen til en saga om mineralets evige suverænitet. ~ Peter Wessel Zapffe, #NFDB
93:En un mot, l'homme conna|"t qu'il est mise rable: il est donc mise rable, puisqu'il l'est; mais il est bien grand, puisqu'il le conna|"t. In one word, man knows that he is miserable and therefore he is miserable because he knows it; but he is also worthy, because he knows his condition. ~ Blaise Pascal, #NFDB
94:Mais, comme il éprouvait une peine infinie à découvrir des idées, il prit la spécialité des déclamations sur la décadence des moeurs sur l'abaissement des caractères, l'affaissement du patriotisme et l'anémie de l'honneur français. (Il avait trouvé le mot "anémie" dont il était fier.) ~ Guy de Maupassant, #NFDB
95:La vie et l`ordre social lui ont dit leur dernier mot. Il lui est arrivé tout ce qui lui arrivera. Elle a tout ressenti, tout supporté, tout éprouvé, tout souffert, tout perdu, tout pleuré. Elle est résignéee de cette résignation qui ressemble à l`indifférence comme la mort ressemble au sommeil. ~ Victor Hugo, #NFDB
96:Pour avoir tout voulu, ils risquent de tout perdre,
On les verra sous peu tel Ubu crier "merdre!",
Ce mot de l'avanie qui, giflant l'arrogance,
Dessille le mirage de la toute-puissance,
Et laisse ceux qu'alors elle a si bien trompés
Au milieu de leurs ruines, cois et désemparés. ~ Fr d ric Lordon,#NFDB
97:Hun hadde forbrutt seg mot Guds og menneskets strengeste lover og tatt liv, og likevel hadde hun aldri hatt det bedre enn i dette vidunderlige oyeblikket da Michelle Hansens gispende ansikt forsvant inn under bilen med en kraft som knuste kroppen hennes og slengte bilen en halvmeter opp i været. ~ Jussi Adler Olsen, #NFDB
98:Ce qui est charmant, c’est précisément que, sans prononcer un mot, nous nous sommes compris par cette conversation insaisissable des regards et des intonations. Aujourd’hui, plus nettement que jamais, elle m’a dit qu’elle m’aimait. Et avec quel charme, quelle simplicité et surtout avec quelle confiance! ~ Leo Tolstoy, #NFDB
99:J'ai un but, une tâche, disons le mot, une passion. Le métier d'écrire en est une violente et presque indestructible."
("I have an object, a task, let me say the word, a passion. The profession of writing is a violent and almost indestructible one.")
[Letter to Jules Boucoiran, 4 March 1831] ~ George Sand,#NFDB
100:Jeg er for å fjerne alle unodige bestemmelser som ikke tjener en hensikt eller bare skaper besvær for folk. Samtidig er jeg på vakt mot de som bruker frihet og tillit som generelle argumenter mot lover, regler og bestemmelser – særlig fordi det kan være at disse nettopp er vedtatt for å sikre frihet, muligheter og rettferdighet. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
101:Aujourd'hui il n'y a plus de marre. Ce monde s'est consumé, c'est comme s'il n'avait jamais existé. Que les descendants d'Adam et Ève sachent en tirer la leçon'' (...) ''Qui sait si l'un des vôtres ne découvrira pas lui aussi un secret aussi nuisible que le Mot Déplorable et ne l'utilisera pas pour détruire tous les êtres vivants? ~ C S Lewis, #NFDB
102:Jeg har til og med vært med på å plage Stefan fordi han var forst ute med kjonnshår, Emma fordi hun kler seg annerledes og Ingrid fordi hun begynner å grine lett. Hvert minste avvik undertrykkes, og jeg er like hensynslos mot dem som mobberne mine er mot meg. Alt for å ikke synes. Alt for å slippe unna mobbernes sokelys. ~ Jason Timbuktu Diakit, #NFDB
103:Er det sant at du gjorde rent i huset mitt?” spurte hun.
Å pokker… Det eneste svaret han hadde på det, var alt for avslorende.
“Er det?”
“Ja. Jeg gjorde det”
“Jeg kommer til å klemme deg nå”
Z stivnet, men for han rakk å komme seg unna, la armene hennes seg rundt midjen hans og hodet la seg mot den nakne brystkassen. ~ J R Ward,#NFDB
104:Vad hon hade börjat lära sig var hur tungt det kan kännas att bli fri. Friheten är en mäktig börda som ens själ måste bära på. Det är inte så lätt. Det är ingen gåva man får, det är ett val man gör, och det kan vara ett svårt val. Vägen går uppåt mot ljuset men den tungt lastade resenären kanske aldrig når fram till vägens slut. ~ Ursula K Le Guin, #NFDB
105:Le mot inducteur [est] l'image première productrice d'images secondaires. Si l'on suit cette image comme système d'analyse, l'analyse s'ordonne d'elle-même. Au contraire, faute d'attention à cette image inductrice, des pages entières paraissent obscures, pauvres, froides. Elles sont inertes. On n'a pas épousé leur courant de vie. ~ Gaston Bachelard, #NFDB
106:Il lui semblait atteindre un carrefour de sa vie, ou plutôt une lisière d’où il pourrait s’élancer vers l’avenir. Pour la première fois, il avait dans la tête le mot avenir, et un autre mot: l’horizon. Ces soirs-là, les rues désertes et silencieuses du quartier étaient des lignes de fuite, qui débouchaient toutes sur l’avenir et l’HORIZON. ~ Patrick Modiano, #NFDB
107:Je voudrais bien savoir pourquoi les gens qui se scandalisent si fort de la comédie de Molière ne disent mot de celle de Scaramouche."
"La raison de cela, c'est que la comédie de Scaramouche joue le ciel et la religion, dont ces messieurs-là ne se soucient point; mais celle de Molière les joue eux-mêmes; c'est ce qu'ils ne peuvent souffrir. ~ Moli re,#NFDB
108:...Je n’ai pas cessé de l’être si c’est d’être jeune que d’aimer toujours !... L’humanité n’est pas un vain mot. Notre vie est faite d’amour, et ne plus aimer c’est ne plus vivre." (I have never ceased to be young, if being young is always loving... Humanity is not a vain word. Our life is made of love, and to love no longer is to live no longer.) ~ George Sand, #NFDB
109:Är du säker på att du blir lycklig av att vara som alla andra?" En tyst viskning; hans andedräkt mot mitt öra och min hals, hans mun som nuddar min hud. Och då tänker jag att jag kanske redan är död. Kanske bet hunden mig och jag blev slagen i huvudet och allt det här är bara en dröm - resten av världen har försvunnit. Bara han. Bara jag. Bara vi. ~ Lauren Oliver, #NFDB
110:L'éphémère est une divinité polymorphe ainsi que son nom. Sur ces trois pieds qui sonnent comme une légende peuplée d'yeux de farfadets, mon ami Robert Desnos, ce singulier sage moderne, qui a des navires étranges dans chaque pli de sa cervelle, s'est longuement penché, cherchant par l'échelle de soie philologique le sens de ce mot fertile mirages. ~ Louis Aragon, #NFDB
111:...Je n’ai pas cessé de l’être si c’est d’être jeune que d’aimer toujours !... L’humanité n’est pas un vain mot. Notre vie est faite d’amour, et ne plus aimer c’est ne plus vivre."
(I have never ceased to be young, if being young is always loving... Humanity is not a vain word. Our life is made of love, and to love no longer is to live no longer.) ~ George Sand,#NFDB
112:Hans andakt er undringen ved det å være til, taknemmelighet over kroppens og sansernes og sindets virkelighet i en verden av fabler. Når tanken går mot den store gåde, da blir kanhænde tinden til hans altersten - og det som damper av den er ikke blod (skont den kræver sitt offer iblandt), men nattens stigende tåker gjennemlyst av soloppgangen. ~ Peter Wessel Zapffe, #NFDB
113:Every single world we've visited isn't just random—it's the result of countless choices, all of them combining to create a new reality. You and I have been given an infinity of chances, and that's so much more than mot people will ever get—but in the end we get to live in only one world, and that's the world we make. I want us to create that world together. ~ Claudia Gray, #NFDB
114:Det är natt och jag sover inte. Jag tänker på hud. En mans hud. Mot min. Får inte tänka så. Får inte längta. Längtan är grym. Längtan är reklam som inte håller vad den lovar. Relationer betyder arbete. Man måste kompromissa. Jag vill varken arbeta eller kompromissa. Jag vill leva. Vara vild, fri, galen. Utan löften som kommer att gå sönder. Som snärjer mig. ~ Johanna Nilsson, #NFDB
115:Of alle the floures in the mede, Than love I most these floures whyte and rede, Swiche as men callen daysies in our toun. . . . . Til that myn herte dye. . . . . That wel by reson men hit calle may The 'dayesye' or elles the 'ye of day,' The emperice and flour of floures alle. I pray to god that faire mot she falle, And alle that loven floures, for hir sake! ~ Geoffrey Chaucer, #NFDB
116:Jeg tar av meg frakken, hatten og skjerfet og gir meg i kast med å tomme askebegre og plukke opp klær. Tre kvarter senere ser leiligheten ut som om den kunne ha blitt fotografert til Håndbok i husstell for leiemordere. Jeg har nettopp sunket ned i en lenestol, den som vender mot kjokkenet og inngangsdora, da Gunholder stiger inn. Jeg skynder meg å trekke inn magen. ~ Hallgr mur Helgason, #NFDB
117:..., savez-vous ce que c'est que de voir mourir quelqu'un ? Y avez-vous déjà assisté ? Avez-vous vu comment le corps se recroqueville, comment les ongles bleuis griffent le vide, comment chaque membre se contracte, chaque doigt se raidit contre l'effroyable issue, comment un râle sort du gosier...avez-vous vu dans les yeux exorbités cette épouvante qu'aucun mot ne peut rendre ? ~ Stefan Zweig, #NFDB
118:Historien skal avspeile den menneskelige tragedie i et for barna mest mulig gripende billedsprog. Historien handler om dem selv! Og man må dvele lengst mulig i mytekretsene om de store og gode karakterer; det må vises at de klarte å forandre litt på verden. Det gir barna mot og livskraft. (...) Moral er det samme som mot. Og dette er mere vedrt enn pointsummene på eksamensbordet. ~ Jens Bj rneboe, #NFDB
119:Pour tout Européen du 19è siècle, (...), l'orientalisme était un système de vérités de ce genre, des vérités au sens donné par Nietzsche à ce mot [cf : "les vérités sont des illusions dont on a oublié qu'elles le sont"]. Il est donc exact que tout Européen, dans ce qu'il pouvait dire sur l'Orient, était, pour cette raison, raciste, impérialiste et presque totalement ethnocentriste. ~ Edward W Said, #NFDB
120:Nous écrirons : « Nous mangeons beaucoup de noix », et non pas : « Nous aimons les noix », car le mot « aimer » n’est pas sûr, il manque de précision et d’objectivité. […] Les mots qui définissent les sentiments sont très vagues; il vaut mieux éviter leur emploi et s’en tenir à la description des objets, des êtres humains et de soi-même, c’est-à-dire à la description fidèles des faits. ~ gota Krist f, #NFDB
121:I've been working hard on [Ulysses] all day," said Joyce. Does that mean that you have written a great deal?" I said. Two sentences," said Joyce. I looked sideways but Joyce was not smiling. I thought of [French novelist Gustave] Flaubert. "You've been seeking the mot juste?" I said. No," said Joyce. "I have the words already. What I am seeking is the perfect order of words in the sentence. ~ James Joyce, #NFDB
122:When, with growing self-awareness, he experiences his relation to an opponent, and the sacrificed realizes his identity with the sacrificiant, and vice versa, the hitherto cosmic opposition of light and darkness is experienced as an opposition between human or divine twins, and the long succession of fraternal feuds in mythology opens with the squabbles between Osiris and Set, Baal and Mot.7 ~ Erich Neumann, #NFDB
123:Je ne vois que las condamnation a mort qui distingue un homme, pensa Mathilde, c'est la seule chose qui ne s'achete pas.
Ah! c'est un bon mot que je viens de me dire! quel dommage qu'il ne soit pas venu de facon a m'en faire honneur. Mathilde avait trop de gout pour amener dans la conversation un bon mot fait d'avance, mais elle avait aussie trop de vanite pour ne pas etre enchantee d'elle-meme. ~ Stendhal,#NFDB
124:Il ne fait aucun doute pour moi que la sagesse est le but principal de la vie et c'est pourquoi je reviens toujours aux stoïciens. Ils ont atteint la sagesse, on ne peut donc plus les appeler des philosophes au sens propre du terme. De mon point de vue, la sagesse est le terme naturel de la philosophie, sa fin dans les deux sens du mot. Une philosophie finit en sagesse et par là même disparaît. ~ Emil M Cioran, #NFDB
125:Au fond, l’amour pour se dire a besoin de l'expression la plus simple : « je t’aime » qui s’accompagne de multiples signes qui vont envelopper le mot, comme nous le faisons pour l’emballage d’un cadeau précieux. Je t’aime se dit avec la lumière des yeux, l’infime d’un mouvement, l’élan d’un geste, la pétillante d’un regard, la gravité des mots, la douceur d’une présence, la chaleur d’un contact. ~ Jacques Salom, #NFDB
126:Varför måste man skriva? För att ställa sig vid sidan om, som i en kokong, försjunken i ensamhet, på trots mot andras behov. Virginia Woolf hade sitt rum. Proust sina stängda fönsterluckor. Marguerite Duras sitt tysta hus. Dylan Thomas sin enkla bod. Alla var de ute efter en tomhet att fylla med ord. Orden som ska tränga in i orörda marker, uppdaga oinmutade associationer, ge uttryck åt oändligheten. ~ Patti Smith, #NFDB
127:Vous êtes tellement jeune! a-t-elle ajouté.
On me dit ça souvent, et me sens flattée. Soudain, le mot m'a agacée. C'est un compliment ambigu qui annonce de pénibles lendemains. Garder de la vitalité, de la gaieté, de la présence d'esprit, c'est rester jeune. Donc, le lot de la vieillesse c'est de la routine, la morosité, le gâtisme. Je ne suis pas jeune, je suis bien conservée. C'est different. ~ Simone de Beauvoir,#NFDB
128:Le livre, comme livre, appartient à l'auteur, mais comme pensée, il appartient -le mot n'est pas trop vaste- au genre humain. Toutes les intelligences y ont droit. Si l'un des deux droits, le droit de l'écrivain et le droit de l'esprit humain, devait être sacrifié, ce serait, certes, le droit de l'écrivain, car l'intérêt public est notre préoccupation unique, et tous, je le déclare, doivent passer avant nous. ~ Victor Hugo, #NFDB
129:NÄR JAG I JERUSALEM i januari 1991, natt efter natt, rusade upp med gasmask till hotellets översta våning och dess förseglade rum kände jag samtidigt en intensiv lättnad. Det är ju inte atombomber! Tänk om kriget mot Saddam Hussein hade kommit 1994 eller 1995! Då hade Israels folk – och Gulfstaternas, Saudiarabiens, Irans, Turkiets och Syriens – troligen hukat i förfäran i sina skyddsrum i väntan på kärnvapenangreppet. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
130:God not da faddah, he just the spoiled moody child, but you got to go t'rough him to get to da real power, his mama, Mot'er God. She da real Almighty! She run da heavens alone. Original single parent. When somethin' bad happen, usually mean she let God try his hand, and he screw up plenny. You need something important, you go directly Mot'er God. Jesus, Mary, Joseph? Dey just small potatoes, part of the chorus, neh? ~ Kiana Davenport, #NFDB
131:I've been working hard on [Ulysses] all day," said Joyce.
Does that mean that you have written a great deal?" I said.
Two sentences," said Joyce.
I looked sideways but Joyce was not smiling. I thought of [French novelist Gustave] Flaubert. "You've been seeking the mot juste?" I said.
No," said Joyce. "I have the words already. What I am seeking is the perfect order of words in the sentence. ~ James Joyce,#NFDB
132:Celui qui prétend se souvenir mot pour mot d'une conversation m'a toujours paru un menteur ou un mythomane. Il ne me reste jamais que des bribes, un texte plein de trous, comme un document mangé des vers. Mes propres paroles, même à l'instant où je les prononce, je ne les entends pas. Quand à celles de l'autre, elles m'échappent, et je ne me souviens que du mouvement d'une bouche à portée de mes lèvres. (p. 202-203) ~ Marguerite Yourcenar, #NFDB
133:[...] Notons qu'un soi-disant "sociobiologiste"-- ce mot est tout un programme -- a poussé l'ingéniosité jusqu'à remplacer la matière par des "gênes" dont l'égoïsme aveugle, combiné avec un instinct de fourmis ou d'abeilles, aurait fini par constituer non seulement les corps mais aussi la conscience et en fin de compte l'intelligence humaine, miraculeusement capable de disserter sur les gênes qui se sont amusés à la produire. ~ Frithjof Schuon, #NFDB
134:[Wergeland] slapp å bli en olding som satt og gjorde seg motbydelig for sine omgivelser ved sin elde. En gave var det til ham fra gudene, en nåde var det mot ham av gudene. Og heller ikke gled han nedover til den slappelse i sin produksjon som kanskje ville fore til en St. Olav eller en annen fin anerkjennelse, dertil ble han iallfall ikke gammel nok; nei han dode ung. (”Wergeland”, tale på Henrik Wergelands hundreårsdag 17. juni 1908) ~ Knut Hamsun, #NFDB
135:Il y eut un moment, par exemple, où M. Gliddon, ne pouvant pas faire comprendre à l'Egyptien le mot : la Politique, s'avisa heureusement de dessiner sur le mur, avec un morceau de charbon, un petit monsieur au nez bourgeonné, aux coudes troussés, grimpé sur un piedestal, la jambe gauche tendue en arrière, le bras droit projeté en avant, le poing fermé, les yeux convulsés vers le ciel, et la bouche ouverte sous un angle de 90 degrés. ~ Edgar Allan Poe, #NFDB
136:Non, je ne me trompe pas ! je lis dans ses yeux noirs le sincère intérêt
qu'elle prend à moi et à mon sort. Oui, je sens, et là-dessus je puis m'en
rapporter à mon coeur, je sens qu'elle… Oh ! l'oserai-je ? oserai-je prononcer
ce mot qui vaut le ciel ?… Elle m'aime !
Elle m'aime ! combien je me deviens cher à moi-même ! combien…
j'ose te le dire à toi, tu m'entendras… combien je m'adore depuis qu'elle
m'aime ! ~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe,#NFDB
137:Så snudde hun seg mot Carl. «Han der,» sa hun og pekte på Assad. «Han kan få lov til å montere bordene. Så tar jeg meg av resten. Og jeg kommer forst klokka halv seks i morgen, for bussen går ikke for.» Så tok hun teddybjornen og stakk den i brystlommen hans. «Og den der, den finner du eiermannen til selv, er vi enige om det?» Assad og Carl så ned i bordet, begge to, da hun stormet ut doren. Valborg i Olsenbanden hadde funnet sin likemann. ~ Jussi Adler Olsen, #NFDB
138:«Jeg hadde vel tenkt å stikke opp dit aleine,» sa Harry. «Og la meg som er så morkeredd, vara att her?» «Du fikk med deg det jeg sa om lasersikte?» Harry satte en pekefinger mot pannen. «Jeg er fortsatt brennmerka etter Smestaddammen. Dette er mitt prosjekt, og du er på pappaperm.» «Du har sett sånne diskusjoner på film når dama maser på helten om å få bli med på noe farlig?» «Ja …» «Je pleier å spole forbi det fordi je veit hvem som vinner. Skal vi gå?» ~ Jo Nesb, #NFDB
139:La phrase : "Je suis homme et rien de ce qui est humain ne m'est étranger" me semble être, sinon le dernier mot de la sagesse, en tout cas l'un des plus profonds, et ce que j'aime chez Etienne, c'est qu'il le prend à la lettre, c'est même ce qui selon moi lui donne le droit d'être juge. De ce qui le fait humain, pauvre, faillible, magnifique, il ne veut rien retrancher, et c'est aussi pourquoi dans le récit de sa vie je ne veux, moi, rien couper. ~ Emmanuel Carr re, #NFDB
140:Il ne s'était jamais considéré comme un homme de prière, mais, assis dans la voiture au milieu de l'obscurité qui tombait et des minutes qui s'égrenaient, il comprit ce que le mot « prier » voulait dire. C'était vouloir que le mal se transforme en bien, le désespoir en espérance, que la mort devienne vie. C'était vouloir que les rêves existent et que les spectres deviennent réalité. C'était vouloir que finisse l'angoisse, vouloir que commence la joie. ~ Elizabeth George, #NFDB
141:Là où l’ancienne éducation initiait, la nouvelle ″conditionne″. Avec l’ancienne, on traitait les élèves comme les oiseaux traitent leurs petits pour leur apprendre à voler ; dans la nouvelle, on les traite plutôt comme un éleveur traite ses jeunes volailles, pour des raisons dont elles ignorent tout. En un mot, l’ancienne éducation était une sorte de propagation –des hommes transmettant la force de leur humanité aux hommes-, la nouvelle n’est que propagande. ~ C S Lewis, #NFDB
142:Vi har gått mot allt strängare övervakning - och den har inte gjort oss säkrare, som vi hoppades, utan ängsligare. Med vår skräck växer också impulsen att så omkring oss. Är det inte så: då ett vilt djur känner sig hotat och inte ser någon utväg att fly, går den till anfall. Då skräcken smyger sig över oss, finns det inget annat att göra än att hugga först. Det är svårt, när vi inte ens vet vartåt vi ska hugga... Men bättre förekomma en förekommas ( s. 105) ~ Karin Boye, #NFDB
143:Rev·er·end n. the title of an Anglican archbishop or an Irish Roman Catholic bishop. most sig·nif·i·cant bit (abbr.: MSB) n. [COMPUTING] the bit in a binary number that is of the greatest numerical value. Mo·sul a city in northern Iraq, on the Tigris River, opposite the ruins of Nineveh; pop. 571,000. mot n. (pl. mots ) short for BON MOT. Linked entries: BON MOT ■ mote n. a tiny piece of a substance: the tiniest mote of dust. a mote in someone's eye a fault in a ~ Erin McKean, #NFDB
144:On n'a qu'à regarder certains hommes pour s'en défier, on les sent ténébreux à leurs deux extrémités. Ils sont inquiets derrière eux et menaçants devant eux. Il y a en eux de l'inconnu. On ne peut pas plus répondre de ce qu'ils ont fait que de ce qu'ils feront. L'ombre qu'ils ont dans le regard les dénonce. Rien qu'en les entendant dire un mot ou qu'en les voyant faire un geste on entrevoit de sombres secrets dans leur passé et de sombres mystères dans leur avenir. ~ Victor Hugo, #NFDB
145:The difference between sex with David and sex with Stephen is like the difference between science and art. With Stephen it's all empathy and imagination and exploration and the shock of the new, and the outcome is... uncertain, if you know what I mean. I'm engaged by it, but I', mot necessarily sure what its all about. David, on the other hand, presses this button, then that one, and bingo! It's like operating a lift - just as romantic, but actually just as useful. ~ Nick Hornby, #NFDB
146:Elle murmura son nom avec la circonspection d'un enfant qui s'essaie à des sons distincts. Lorsqu'il énonça le sien en réponse, on aurait dit un mot nouveau - les syllabes restaient les mêmes, le sens était différent. Enfin, il prononça ces trois mots simples que nul art médiocre, nulle mauvaise foi ne réussiront jamais à déprécier tout à fait. Elle les répéta, avec exactement la même légère insistance sur le dernier mot, comme si elle était la première à les dire... ~ Ian McEwan, #NFDB
147:L'histoire de toute société jusqu'à nos jours n'a été que l'histoire des luttes de classes. hommes libres et esclaves, patriciens et plébéiens, barons et serfs, maîtres de jurande et compagnons, en un mot, oppresseurs et opprimés, en opposition constante, ont mené une guerre ininterrompue, tantôt ouverte, tantôt dissimulée ; une guerre qui finissait toujours par une transformation révolutionnaire de la société toute entière, ou par la destruction des deux classes en lutte. ~ Karl Marx, #NFDB
148:I wasn't thinking of Tom but of myself. And of a self who seemed to be mot 'me' but 'she.' An innocent, moving fecklessly through the days, knowing nothing, whom I saw now with awful wisdom. ... I had hesitated to make this journey, had put it off year after year but had known always that eventually it must be undertaken. And, confronted at last with the mirage -- with the shining phantom of that other time -- I was surprised to find that it was myself that was the poignant presence. ~ Penelope Lively, #NFDB
149:Je continuais à lire des illustrés, mais plus de livres qui remplissaient mon crâne et élargissaient mon front. Les lire, c'était pour moi prendre le large en bateau, mon nez étant la proue, et les lignes les vagues. J'allais lentement, à la rame, passant sur un mot que je ne comprenais pas, sans fouiller dans les dictionnaires. Il restait approximatif, dans l'attente d'être compris. Je devais y arriver tout seul, en trouver le sens à travers d'autres occasions, à force de le rencontrer. ~ Erri De Luca, #NFDB
150:Le mot "ésotérisme", entendu en son sens étymologique, désigne, dans les trois rameaux de la communauté abrahamique, un phénomène créant entre eux une communauté spirituelle, dont il incombe aux philosophes d'être les gardiens, les mainteneurs, fût-ce à rebours des forces "exotériques" qui édifient la façade de l'Histoire. À leur origine commune permane le "phénomène du Livre saint", impliquant le rang privilégié de la prophétologie, sous toutes les amplifications que peut lui donner la philosophie. ~ Henry Corbin, #NFDB
151:Ainsi, hormis le fragile souvenir que lui consacre ici l’auteur de ce livre, il ne reste plus rien aujourd’hui du mot mystérieux gravé dans la sombre tour de Notre-Dame, rien de la destinée inconnue qu’il résumait si mélancoliquement. L’homme qui a écrit ce mot sur ce mur s’est effacé, il y a plusieurs siècles, du milieu des générations, le mot s’est à son tour effacé du mur de l’église, l’église elle-même s’effacera bientôt peut-être de la terre. C’est sur ce mot qu’on a fait ce livre. Février 1831. NOTE ~ Victor Hugo, #NFDB
152:Mary Lou et moi, on est amies depuis qu’on est toutes petites. J’étais le boute-en-train de service, et elle, le cancre de la classe. « Cancre » n’est peut-être pas le mot juste. Disons que ses objectifs n’étaient pas très hauts. Elle voulait se marier et fonder une famille. Et si elle pouvait épouser le capitaine d’une équipe de foot, c’était encore mieux. [...]
Moi, à la même époque, je rêvais d’épouser Aladin pour qu’il m’emmène sur son tapis volant. Donc, vous voyez : on n’avait pas les mêmes valeurs. ~ Janet Evanovich,#NFDB
153:Les trois garçons - l'un brun, l'autre blond et le dernier flamboyant, à défaut d'autre mot - ne remarquent pas la nuit. Sans doute une partie de leur esprit en est conscient, mais ils sont jeunes et saouls, avec au fond de leur cœur la pensée qu'ils ne vieilliront jamais. Ils savent aussi qu'ils sont amis et ils éprouvent les uns pour les autres une forme d'amour qui ne les abandonnera jamais. Ces garçons savent bien d'autres choses mais aucune ne semble aussi importante que celle là. Ils ont peut être raison. ~ Patrick Rothfuss, #NFDB
154:Voyager, c'est vivre dans toute la plénitude du mot; c'est oublier le passé et l'avenir pour le présent; c'est respirer à pleine poitrine, jouir de tout, s'emparer de la création comme d'une chose qui est sienne, c'est chercher dans la terre des mines d'or que personne n'a fouillées, dans l'air des merveilles que personne n'a vues, c'est passer après la foule et ramasser sous l'herbe les perles et les diamants qu'elle a pris, ignorante et insoucieuse qu'elle est, pour des flocons de neige et des gouttes de rosée. ~ Alexandre Dumas, #NFDB
155:I need not describe the feelings of those whose dearest ties are rent by that mot irreparable evil, the void that presents itself to the soul, and the despair that is exhibited on the countenance. It is so long before the mind can persuade itself that she whom we saw every day and whose very existence appeared a part of our own, can have departed forever - that the brightness of a beloved eye can have been extinguished and the sound of a voice so familiar and dear to the ear can be hushed, never more to be heard. ~ Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, #NFDB
156:Framtiden är här', hör Cayce sig själv säga 'och tittar bakåt mot oss. Försöker bli klok på den fiktion vi kommer att ha blivit. Och ur deras synvinkel kommer vårt förflutna inte alls att se ut som det förflutna vi själva föreställer oss nu.
Jag vet bara att den enda konstanten i historien är förändring: det förflutna förändras. Vår version av dåtiden kommer att intressera framtiden i ungefär samma utsträckning som vi är intresserade av den dåtid som viktorianerna trodde på. Den kommer helt enkelt inte att te sig särskilt betydelsefull. ~ William Gibson,#NFDB
157:Människan var inte en maskin, men befann sig inne i maskinen. Det var det som var konsten. Att bemästra maskinen. Då skulle ansikten han tecknade le tacksamt och välvilligt mot honom. Men det svåra, det riktigt svåra var att de inte tycktes tacksamma. Att människornas små elaka huvuden mellan punkterna, de som avbockats! blivit klara! lösta!!!, att dessa ansikten som tittade fram var ondskefulla och illvilliga och otacksamma. Framför allt var de inte hans vänner. Samhället var en maskin, och ansiktena illvilliga. Nej, ingen klarhet längre. ~ Per Olov Enquist, #NFDB
158:Qui dit individualisme dit nécessairement refus d'admettre une autorité supérieure à l'individu, aussi bien qu'une faculté de connaissance supérieure à la raison individuelle ; les deux choses sont inséparables l'une de l'autre. Par conséquent, l'esprit moderne devait rejeter toute autorité spirituelle au vrai sens du mot, prenant sa source dans l'ordre supra-humain, et toute organisation traditionnelle, qui se base essentiellement sur une autorité, quelle que soit la forme qu'elle revêt, forme qui diffère naturellement suivant les civilisations. ~ Ren Gu non, #NFDB
159:To hear the effect of height, what you should do is mouth, in order, the vowels in meet [i], mate [e], met and Matt [æ]. Don’t actually pronounce them. While doing this, take your thumb and forefinger and flick the skin underneath your back jaw. This will produce a hollow popping sound (something like clapping your palm over an open bottle). As you move from the higher vowel to the lower vowel, the tone of that hollow popping sound will actually get higher. You can repeat the example with moot [u], moat [o] and mot and hear the same result. ~ David J Peterson, #NFDB
160:Og likevel kjente Patrick at han var trukket mot sin fars dod av en sterkere tilboyelighet til å ta etter ham, enn han var i stand til å holde ut. Doden var selvsagt alltid en fristelse; men nå virket den som en fristelse han måtte adlyde. I tillegg til kraften den hadde til å overgå en dekadent eller opponerende sinnstilstand i den endelose og dramatiske ungdommen, i tillegg til den velkjente tiltrekningen mot rå vold og selvdestruksjon, hadde den fått et aspekt av konformitet, som å overta familieforretningen. Den dekket virkelig alle valgmuligheter. ~ Edward St Aubyn, #NFDB
161:En ce début du XXIe siècle, la souveraineté, jadis fondement de l’État-nation, est devenue une notion toute relative. De ce fait, les grands défis de notre époque – changement climatique, crise bancaire, crise de l’euro,
crise économique, paradis fiscaux, migrations, surpopulation – ne peuvent plus être relevés de façon adéquate par les gouvernements nationaux. L’impuissance est devenue le maître-mot de notre époque : impuissance du citoyen face aux gouvernements nationaux, des gouvernements nationaux face à l’Europe, et de l’Europe face au monde. ~ David Van Reybrouck,#NFDB
162:short piece of sacred choral music, typically polyphonic and unaccompanied. late Middle English: from Old French, diminutive of mot 'word'. moth n. (pl. moths ) a chiefly nocturnal insect related to the butterflies. It lacks the clubbed antennae of butterflies and typically has a stout body, drab coloration, and wings that fold flat when resting. Most superfamilies of the order Lepidoptera. Formerly placed in a grouping known as the Heterocera. INFORMAL short for CLOTHES MOTH. like a moth to the flame with an irresistible attraction for someone or something: ~ Erin McKean, #NFDB
163:Hello, Lanier, how about a song? Will you and Topsy sing me a song?”
“What shall we sing?” agreed the little boy, with the odd chanting accent of
American children brought up in France.
“That song about ‘Mon Ami Pierrot.’”
Brother and sister stood side by side without self-consciousness and their voices soared sweet and shrill upon the evening air.
“Au clair de la lune
Mon Ami Pierrot
Prête-moi ta plume
Pour écrire un mot
Ma chandelle est morte
Je n’ai plus de feu
Ouvre-moi ta porte
Pour l’amour de Dieu. ~ F Scott Fitzgerald,#NFDB
164:Vous avez raisons de parler d’un “retour” pur et simple à la tradition, mais qui ne peut être une “répétition” (peut être vaudrait-il mieux alors un autre mot que celui de “retour”, mais peu importe au fond) ; maintenant, s’il n’y a pas “répétition”, il faut qu’il y ait “adaptation”, dans la mesure où les circonstances ont changé ; et c’est sans doute là que réside pratiquement les plus grandes difficultés. Il va de soi que cette adaptation n’a rien de commun avec des concessions faites aux idées modernes, scientifiques, philosophique ou autres.
(Di Giorgio, 1924) ~ Ren Gu non,#NFDB
165:For a moment, Isabel's eyes met those of someone looking out of the window, a thin-faced woman with her hair done up in a bun. The woman began a smile, but stopped, as if conscious of somehow transgressing the conventions of isolation with which as city-dwellers we immure ourselves. The bus moved on, and zisabel felt a sudden desire to run alongside it, to wave to the woman, to aknowledge the unexpected exchange of fellow feeling between them. But she did mot, necause she never acted on these impulses, and because it might have puzzled or even frightened the other woman. ~ Alexander McCall Smith, #NFDB
166:Le rêve est le tuteur du pauvre, et son pourfendeur. Il nous tient par la main, puis il nous tient dans la sienne pour nous larguer quand il veut après nous avoir baladés à sa guise à travers mille promesses. C’est un gros malin, le rêve, un fin psychologue : il sait nous prendre à nos propres sentiments comme on prend au mot un fieffé menteur ; lorsque nous lui confions notre cœur et notre esprit, il nous fausse compagnie au beau milieu d’une déroute, et nous nous retrouvons avec du vent dans la tête et un trou dans la poitrine – il ne nous reste plus que les yeux pour pleurer. ~ Yasmina Khadra, #NFDB
167:Höstens lugna gång mot vinter är ingen dålig tid. Det är en tid för att bevara och säkra och lägga upp så stora förråd man kan. Det är skönt att samla det man har så tätt intill sig som möjligt, samla sin värme och sina tankar och gräva sig en säker håla längst in, en kärna av trygghet där man försvarar det som är viktigt och dyrbart och ens eget. Sen kan kölden och stormarna och mörkret komma bäst de vill. De trevar över väggarna och letar efter en ingång men det går inte, alltihop är stängt och därinne sitter den som har varit förtänksam och skrattar in sin värme och sin ensamhet. ~ Tove Jansson, #NFDB
168:A ce propos, il y aurait lieu de se poser certaines questions assez curieuses : ainsi, on pourrait se demander pourquoi la langue chinoise représente symboliquement l’indéfini par le nombre dix mille ; l’expression « les dix mille êtres », par exemple, signifie tous les êtres, qui sont réellement en multitude indéfinie ou « innombrable ». Ce qui est très remarquable, c’est que la même chose précisément se produit aussi en grec, où un seul mot, avec une simple différence d’accentuation... sert également à exprimer à la fois l’une et l’autre de ces deux idées : μύριοι, dix mille ; μυρίοι, une indéfinité. ~ Ren Gu non, #NFDB
169:Many of its cities—particularly the smaller ones at the intersection of old and new imperial boundaries, such as Trieste, Sarajevo, Salonika, Cernovitz, Odessa or Vilna—were truly multicultural societies avant le mot, where Catholics, Orthodox, Muslims, Jews and others lived in familiar juxtaposition. We should not idealise this old Europe. What the Polish writer Tadeusz Borowski called ‘the incredible, almost comical melting-pot of peoples and nationalities sizzling dangerously in the very heart of Europe’ was periodically rent with riots, massacres and pogroms—but it was real, and it survived into living memory. ~ Tony Judt, #NFDB
170:När jag i Montreal eller på andra platser möter flickor som frivilligt och avsiktligt skadar sig själva och vill få ärr inristade i huden för all framtid, kan jag inte låta bli att i hemlighet önska att de fick möta de där andra flickorna, som också de bär på outplånliga ärr, men så djupa att de är osynliga för blotta ögat. Jag skulle vilja att de träffades så att jag fick höra dem jämföra ett självförvållat ärr med ett som man tillfogats, det ena betalar man för, det andra gör man mot betalning, det ena är synligt och det andra hemligt, det ena är ytligt och det andra går på djupet, det ena är skarpt, det andra suddigt. ~ Kim Th y, #NFDB
171:- Det var alltså själva affärsidén? Frälsningen?
- Och det eviga livet. Alla människor har vissa invändningar mot döden. De ogillar den. Jag lovade västerbottningarna att de skulle få leva i evighet. Jag drevs av ett tygellöst behov att oavbrutet gå till anfall mot döden och förintelsen. I själva verket kunde jag naturligtvis inget bevisa. Men jag trodde. Ingen kunde förbli oberörd av kraften och härligheten i min tro. Och alla vill försvinna på ett storslagnare och sannare sätt än genom döden. Befolkningen häromkring var förvånansvärt lättfrälst.
- Våra yngre läsare är inte särskilt intresserade av döden. ~ Torgny Lindgren,#NFDB
172:Non pas la mort (quoiqu'à tout instant la mort s'affirmât), non pas la damnation (quoiqu'à tout instant la damnation s'affichât), mais d'abord l'omission: un non, un nom, un manquant:
Tout a l'air normal, tout a l'air sain, tout a l'air significatif, mais, sous l'abri vacillant du mot, talisman naïf, gris-gris biscornu, vois, un chaos horrifiant transparaît, apparaît: tout a l'air normal, tout aura l'air normal, mais dans un jour, dans huit jours, dans un mois, dans un an, tout pourrira: il y aura un trou qui s'agrandira, pas à pas, oubli colossal, puits sans fond, invasion du blanc. Un à un, nous nous tairons à jamais. ~ Georges Perec,#NFDB
173:De siste ti årene hadde Hellas opplevd minst et dusin statskupp og nesten dobbelt så mange regjeringer, og pendelen hadde fortsat å svinge mellom tilhengere og motstandere av monarkiet. Monarkiets være eller ikke være var et evig tema for stridigheter og debatt i Hellas. I 1920, da kong Alexander dode av et apebitt, vendte faren hans hjem fra eksil, bare for å bli kastet ut av landet igjen to år senere. Han ble erstattet av sin eldste sonn, Georg, som i sin tur måtte tre av mot slutten av det neste året. Kong Georg hadde levd i eksil i nesten tolv år da han kunne vende tilbake til tronen etter en manipulert folkeavstemning. ~ Victoria Hislop, #NFDB
174:- Vous êtes plus pessimiste qu'autrefois ?
- Pessimisme et optimisme, encore deux mots que je récuse. Il s'agit d'avoir les yeux ouverts. Le médecin qui analyse le sang et les selles d'un malade, mesure sa fièvre et prend sa tension, n'est ni optimiste ni pessimiste : il fait de son mieux à partir de ce qui est. Mais, si l'on peut employer ce misérable mot, je me sens pessimiste quand je constate combien la masse humaine a peu changé depuis des millénaires. Les plus grands réformateurs se sont généralement heurtés à cette quasi-impossibilité de changer l'homme, et leur leçon s'est généralement perdue après eux. (p.240) ~ Marguerite Yourcenar,#NFDB
175:Han visste att det var en sjukdom, inte bara hos honom utan hos människorna där på gårdarna; deras bottenlöst sterila egenkärlek med rönnbärsattityden utåt, mot den svage som inte vågade gå i svaromål om livsvärdena, smickret inför den starke och hatet som på grund av infrysningen växte och svällde i bröstet och grep om hjärtat med förruttnelsens klo, tills handen grep om riset, käppen, rottingen, dolken, svärdet, handgranaten, mausern och sökte syndabockar, syndabockar, syndabockar! Då (som vuxen) hatade han hatet självt i vanmäktigt raseri, men alla hatare skrattade honom i ansiktet och han tog bara skada till sin matsmältning. ~ Harry Martinson, #NFDB
176:Because he was a real captain, and very important in the general scheme of things, Matthews had a secretary, although she liked to be called an executive assistant. Her name was Gwen, and she had three virtues far above anyone else I had ever known: She was astonishingly efficient, unbearably serious, and uncompromisingly plain. It was a delightful combination and I always found it irresistible. So as I hurried up to her desk, wiping the residue of the doughnut off my hands and onto my pants where it belonged, I could not help attempting a very small bon mot. “Fair Gwendolyn,” I said. “The face that launched a thousand patrol vehicles!” She ~ Jeff Lindsay, #NFDB
177:Ett dovt illamående rörde sig på botten av min mage. Jag kände igen det: det hade med närheten att göra. Jag mår illa när jag alltför snabbt kommer nära nya människor. Jag behöver tid. Drinkar på avstånd på stela mingeltillställningar, situationer som tillåter mig att betrakta i hemlighet, skapa mig mina uppfattningar ifred, som en spindel i en källares lugn sakta väver sin trygghet runt sig. Människor som öppnar sig alltför snabbt är som rutschkanor in i mörkret: all trygghet är inbillad och till slut faller man fritt. Jag kan mot dessa människor känna ett slags oförklarligt raseri, som om någon olovligen hårt och plötsligt pressat sin kropp mot min. ~ Lina Wolff, #NFDB
178:Jag saknar tro och kan därför aldrig bli någon lycklig människa, ty en lycklig människa skall aldrig behöva frukta att hennes liv är ett meningslöst irrande mot den vissa döden. Jag har varken ärvt en god eller fast punkt på jorden varifrån jag skulle kunna tilldraga mig en guds uppmärksamhet. Jag har heller inte ärvt skeptikerns väl dolda raseri eller ateistens brinnande oskuld. Jag vågar därför inte kasta sten på henne som tror på ting, på vilka jag tvivlar eller på honom som dyrkar ett tvivel, som vore inte även det omgivet av mörker. Den stenen skulle träffa mig själv, ty om en sak är jag fast övertygad: att människans behov av tröst är omättligt. ~ Stig Dagerman, #NFDB
179:[...] et de même la matière ne serait pas divisée « à l’infini » si cette division pouvait jamais s’achever et aboutir à des « derniers éléments » ; et ce n’est pas seulement que nous ne puissions pas parvenir en fait à ces derniers éléments, comme le concède Bernoulli, mais bien qu’ils ne doivent pas exister dans la nature. Il n’y a pas plus d’éléments corporels insécables, ou d’ « atomes » au sens propre du mot, qu’il n’y a, dans l’ordre numérique, de fraction indivisible et qui ne puisse donner naissance à des fractions toujours plus petites, ou qu’il n’y a, dans l’ordre géométrique, d’élément linéaire qui ne puisse se partager en éléments plus petits. ~ Ren Gu non, #NFDB
180:Quant à moi, j’étais tout à fait tranquille sur mon sort. Moi aussi, j’aimais passionnément mon art ; mais je savais dès le commencement de ma carrière que je resterais, au sens littéral du mot, un ouvrier de l’art. En revanche, je suis fier de ne pas avoir enfoui, comme l’esclave paresseux, ce que m’avait donné la nature, et, au contraire, de l’avoir augmenté considérablement. Et si on loue mon jeu impeccable, si l’on vante ma technique, tout cela je le dois au travail ininterrompu, à la conscience nette de mes forces, à l’éloignement que j’eus toujours pour l’ambition, la satisfaction de soi-même et la paresse, conséquence de cette satisfaction. ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky, #NFDB
181:Under en månad tvingades jag löpa publicistiskt gatlopp på kultursidorna i Dagens Nyheter. Jag utpekades som Afrikahatare och rasist. Jag beskylldes för att kränka alla nu levande afrikaner, inklusive afro-amerikaner och afro-svenskar, eftersom jag retroaktivt skuldbelade Afrika för ett av de värsta brotten mot mänskligheten i historien. Väl att märka hade ingen av belackarna läst mina böcker. Vid mitt eget universitet uppmanades jag att inställa mig till ett studentlett seminarium och diskutera mitt förmenta ställningstagande. Jag accepterade, men med kravet att motparterna först läste vad jag skrivit. Eftersom de vägrade blev det aldrig något seminarium.[123] ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
182:Pourtant, affin que je face fin à ce prologue, tout ainsi comme je me donne à cent mille panerés de beaulx diables, corps et ame, trippes et boyaul, en cas que j'en mente en toute l'hystoire d'un seul mot, pareillement le feu sainct Antoine vous arde, mau de terre vous vire, le lancy, le maulubec vous trousse, la caquesangue vous viengne,
Le mau fin feu de ricqueracque,
Aussi menu que poil de vache,
Tout renforcé de vif argent,
Vous puisse entrer au fondement,
et comme Sodome et Gomorre puissiez tomber en soulphre, en feu et en abysme, en cas que vous ne croyez fermement tout ce que je vous racompteray en ceste presente Chronicque! ~ Fran ois Rabelais,#NFDB
183:Il faudrait pouvoir restituer au mot « philosophie » sa signification originelle : la philosophie — l'« amour de la sagesse » — est la science de tous les principes fondamentaux ; cette science opère avec l'intuition, qui « perçoit », et non avec la seule raison, qui « conclut ». Subjectivement parlant, l'essence de la philosophie est la certitude ; pour les modernes au contraire, l'essence de la philosophie est le doute : le philosophe est censé raisonner sans aucune prémisse (voraussetzungsloses Denken), comme si cette condition n'était pas elle-même une idée préconçue ; c'est la contradiction classique de tout relativisme. On doute de tout, sauf du doute. ~ Frithjof Schuon, #NFDB
184:[…] beaucoup d’Orientaux, prenant par ignorance les Textes sacrés à la lettre, tout en maintenant arbitrairement le sens purement symbolique de certains passages, croient à la réincarnation au sens vulgaire de ce mot ; ils ne se rendent manifestement pas compte que, si l’on voulait prendre au pied de la lettre tous les Textes brahmaniques, à commencer par le Vêda, on arriverait à une monstrueuse divinisation de phénomènes physiques et par conséquent à un culte grossier de la nature, et l’on devrait admettre, en comprenant par exemple le Rig Vêda littéralement, que les âmes des défunts montent à la lune et redescendent dans la pluie, et d’autres choses de ce genre. ~ Frithjof Schuon, #NFDB
185:La démocratie est l'État où les fonctions se répartissent par la voie du sort ; l'oligarchie est celui où elles se répartissent selon le cens ; l'aristocratie, selon les lumières et l'éducation. J'entends par éducation celle qu'ont réglée les lois ; et dans toute aristocratie, les chefs sont ceux qui obéissent à la loi fidèlement ; car dès lors ils semblent les meilleurs de tous les citoyens ; et c'est de là que cette forme de gouvernement a tiré son nom. Enfin, la monarchie, comme le mot même l'indique, est l'État où un seul individu est maître de tout. Quand la monarchie est soumise à un certain ordre, c'est une royauté ; quand l'autorité y est sans limites, c'est une tyrannie. ~ Aristotle, #NFDB
186:Och när man sedan håller på att köpa tärnad cantaloupemelon på Sjunde Avenyn råkar man få syn på Nick Dunne, och pang, där är någon som känner en, någon som känner igen en. Och det gäller er båda två. Ni tycker båda att precis samma saker är värda att minnas. (Fast bara en oliv.) Ni har samma rytm. Klick. Ni känner helt enkelt varandra. Och plötsligt ser du hur ni läser i sängen och våfflor på söndagar och hur ni skrattar åt ingenting och hans mun mot din. Och det är så bortom okej att man förstår att man aldrig mer kan nöja sig med det som bara är okej. Så fort gick det. Man tänker: Jaha, här är resten av mitt liv. Äntligen är det här. ~ Gillian Flynn, #NFDB
187:On peut s’expliquer facilement par là un fait que nous avons eu fréquemment l’occasion de constater en ce qui concerne les gens dits « cultivés » ; on sait ce qui est entendu communément par ce mot : il ne s’agit même pas là d’une instruction tant soit peu solide, si limitée et si inférieure qu’en soit la portée, mais d’une « teinture » superficielle de toute sorte de choses, d’une éducation surtout « littéraire », en tout cas purement livresque et verbale, permettant de parler avec assurance de tout, y compris ce qu’on ignore le plus complètement, et susceptible de faire illusion à ceux qui, séduits par ces brillantes apparences, ne s’aperçoivent pas qu’elles ne recouvrent que le néant. ~ Ren Gu non, #NFDB
188:Tu ne peux pas comprendre. Qu'importe ? Je sortirai peut-être de là. Mais je sens monter en moi des êtres sans nom. Que ferais-je contre eux ? (Il se retourne vers elle.) Oh ! Caesonia, je savais qu'on pouvait être désespère, mais j'ignorais ce que ce mot voulait dire. Je croyais comme tout le monde que c'était une maladie de l'âme. Mais non, c'est le corps qui souffre. Ma peau me fait mal, ma poitrine, mes membres. J'ai la tête creuse et le coeur soulevé. Et le plus affreux, c'est ce goût dans la bouche. Ni sang, ni mort, ni fièvre, mais tout cela à la fois. Il suffit que je remue la langue pour que tout redevienne noir et que les êtres me répu-gnent. Qu'il est dur, qu'il est amer de devenir un homme! ~ Albert Camus, #NFDB
189:On songe au mot d'Esprit: Je ne me consolerois jamais de mourir.
Dans un monde où tout va à la mort, la mort est le fond. C'est sur lui que se dressent les femmes seules dans l'insomnie, les enfants qui regardent et les cires qui fondent. La beauté des regards et des mains, des corps, des lumières qui se portent sur eux, des couleurs qui les vêtent, des pourpoints et des socques, des vielles et des cartes à jouer, des verres et des livres, des doigts qui s'avancent et qui se tendent, est faite de la mort. La beauté est une flamme de chandelle dans la tristesse, dans l'argent, dans le mépris, dans la solitude. Dans la nuit. Une haleine d'enfant la courbe; un souffle la menace; le vent définitif l'éteint. ~ Pascal Quignard,#NFDB
190:Parents et éducateurs font profession d'influencer l'enfant parce qu'ils pensent savoir ce qu'il lui faut, ce qu'il doit apprendre te ce qu'il doit devenir. Je pense qu'ils se trompent. Je n'essaie jamais de faire partager mes croyances ou mes préjugés aux enfants. Je n'ai pas de religion, mais je n'ai jamais prononcé un mot contre la religion, ni d'ailleurs conter notre code pénal barbare, l'antisémitisme ou l'impérialisme. Je n'influencerai jamais consciemment un enfant pour qu'il devienne pacifiste, végétarien, réformateur ou quoi que ce soit. Je sais que prêcher ne prend pas avec les enfants. Je mets ma confiance dans le pouvoir de la liberté pour armer la jeunesse contre l'artifice, le fanatisme et les ismes de toutes sortes. (p. 324) ~ A S Neill, #NFDB
191:Early in “Postulates of Linguistics,” Deleuze and Guattari claim that, “the elementary unit of language … is the order-word,” which “not to be believe but to be obeyed” (ATP, 76). Perhaps the starkest example is the judge’s sentence that condemns a criminal to death (80-81; 94). But the French for order-word, mot d’ordre, also refers to the political slogan, which is substantiated by Deleuze and Guattari’s reference to Lenin’s pamphlet “On Slogans” (83). Both of these examples indicate how closely their linguistics aligns with the rhetorical theory of symbolic action. Rhetoric is excellent at studying those acts that cause incorporeal transformations, which as changes in a state of affairs that do not directly alter its materiality (80-88). ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
192:Az alsóneműk – elsősorban a bugyi és a melltartó, de az alsószoknya, a harisnyafélék és az „alakformáló” ruhadarabok is – a női lét speciális darabjai. A tűzoltók overalljának és sisakjának női megfelelői. Vagy a bohócok túlméretezett cipőjének. A nőiség „munkájához” kell. Technikai szempontból szükséges. Úgy értem, minden nő más, de legtöbbször szükségünk van a melltartóra, hogy átvészeljünk egy-egy napot – főleg, ha futni kell a busz után, vagy kivágott ruha van rajtunk. Különben elő kell adni azt a műsorszámot, amikor az ember a keblébe markolva üget – nehogy a melle olyan hevesen ugráljon, hogy a végén mintha körbe-körbe pörögne, mint egy sztriptíztáncosnő pomponja, és akaratlanul is hipnotizálja az arra járókat. Velem már megesett. Elég rossz volt. ~ Caitlin Moran, #NFDB
193:Sauvages. Expliquons-nous sur ce mot. Ces hommes hérissés qui, dans les jours génésiaques du chaos révolutionnaire, déguenillés, hurlants, farouches, le casse-tête levé, la pique haute, se ruaient sur le vieux Paris bouleversé, que voulaient-ils? Ils voulaient la fin des oppressions, la fin des tyriannies, la fin du glaive, le travaille pour l'homme, l'instruction pour l'enfant, la douceur sociale pour la femme, la liberté, l'égalité, la fraternité, le pain pour tous, l'idée pour tous, l'édénisation du monde, le progrès; et cette chose sainte, bonne et douce, le progrès poussés à bout, hors d'eux-mêmes, ils la réclamaient terribles, demi-nus, la massue au poing, le rugissement à la bouche. C'étaient les sauvages, oui; mais les sauvages de la civilisation. ~ Victor Hugo, #NFDB
194: Trompe-la-Mort dînait chez les Grandlieu, se glissait dans le boudoir des grandes dames, aimait Esther par procuration. Enfin, il voyait en Lucien un Jacques Collin, beau, jeune, noble, arrivant au poste d'ambassadeur. Trompe-la-Mort avait réalisé la superstition allemande DU DOUBLE par un phénomène de paternité morale que concevront les femmes qui, dans leur vie, ont aimé véritablement, qui ont senti leur âme passée dans celle de l'homme aimé, qui ont vécu de sa vie, noble ou infâme, heureuse ou malheureuse, obscure ou glorieuse, qui ont éprouvé, malgré les distances, du mal à leur jambe, s'il s'y faisait une blessure, qui ont senti qu'il se battait en duel, et qui, pour tout dire en un mot, n'ont pas eu besoin d'apprendre une infidélité pour la savoir. ~ Honor de Balzac, #NFDB
195:Je sais bien qu’on ne peut se passer de dominer ou d’être servi. Chaque homme a besoin d’esclaves comme d’air pur. Commander, c’est respirer, vous êtes bien de cet avis ? Et même les plus déshérités ar-rivent à respirer. Le dernier, dans l’échelle sociale a encore son conjoint, ou son enfant. S’il est célibataire, un chien. L’essentiel, en somme, est de pouvoir se fâcher sans que l’autre ait le droit de répon-dre. « On ne répond pas à son père », vous connaissez la formule ? Dans un sens, elle est singulière. A qui répondrait-on en ce monde sinon à ce qu’on aime ? Dans un autre sens, elle est convaincante. Il faut bien que quelqu’un ait le dernier mot. Sinon, à toute raison peut s’opposer une autre : on n’en finirait plus. La puissance, au contraire, tranche tout. ~ Albert Camus, #NFDB
196:Un livre est un monde, un monde fait, un monde avec un commencement et une fin. Chaque page d'un livre est une ville. Chaque ligne est une rue. Chaque mot est une demeure. Mes yeux parcourent la rue, ouvrant chaque porte, pénétrant dans chaque demeure. [...] Ce matin, en sortant de mon livre, j'éprouvais une délicieuse sensation d'ébriété et d'espace, une grande impatience, un magnifique désir. Tout ce que je demande à un livre, c'est de m'inspirer ainsi de l'énergie et du courage, de me dire ainsi qu'il y a plus de vie que je ne peux en prendre, de me rappeler ainsi l'urgence d'agir. Si presque tous les mots de cette nuit ont passé sous mes yeux comme l'eau de mer sur les flancs d'un navire, les rares mots que j'ai retenus ont gravé dans mon esprit une marque indélébile. ~ R jean Ducharme, #NFDB
197:[...] quand un homme s'inquiète d'une inondation et cherche le moyen de lui échapper, la psychanalyse dissoudra l'inquiétude et laissera le patient se noyer ; ou encore, au lieu d'abolir le péché, elle abolira la mauvaise conscience, ce qui permet d'aller sereinement en enfer. [...] Il résulte de tout ceci que pour le psychanalyste moyen, un complexe est mauvais parce que c'est un complexe ; on ne veut pas se rendre compte qu'il est des complexes qui font honneur à l'homme [...]. Et c'est pour cela qu'un médecin de l'âme doit être un pontifex, donc un maître spirituel au sens propre et traditionnel du mot ; un professionnel profane n'a ni la capacité ni par conséquent le droit de toucher à l'âme, au-delà des difficultés élémentaires que le simple bon sens suffit à résoudre. ~ Frithjof Schuon, #NFDB
198:Förresten hade pappan börjat tänka på ett alldeles nytt sätt. Mer och mer sällan funderade han över allt han hade varit med om under sitt vänliga och brokiga liv, och lika sällan drömde han om vad alla de kommande dagarna skulle ge honom.
Hans tankar gled som båten, utan minnen och drömmar, de var som gråa vandrande vågor som inte ens hade lust att komma fram till horisonten.
Pappan försökte inte prata med hatifnattarna längre. Han stirrade ut över havet som de, hans ögon hade blivit bleka som deras och lånade himlens växlande färg. Och när nya öar kom emot dem rörde han sig inte, bara svansen slog några slag mot durken.
Jag undrar, tänkte pappan en gång när de glöd framåt i en lång trött dyning, jag undrar om jag inte håller på att börja likna en hatifnatt. ~ Tove Jansson,#NFDB
199:Un mot exprime à lui seul ce double caractère, solitaire et inconnaissable, de toute chose au monde : le mot idiotie. Idiôtès, idiot, signifie simple, particulier, unique ; puis, par une extension sémantique dont la signification philosophique est de grande portée, personne dénuée d’intelligence, être dépourvu de raison. Toute chose, toute personne sont ainsi idiotes dès lors qu’elles n’existent qu’en elles-mêmes, c’est-à-dire sont incapables d’apparaître autrement que là où elles sont et telles qu’elles sont : incapables donc, et en premier lieu, de se refléter, d’apparaître dans le double du miroir. Or, c'est le sort finalement de toute réalité que de ne pouvoir se dupliquer sans devenir aussitot autre: l'image offerte par le miroir n'est pas superposable à la réalité qu'elle suggère. ~ Cl ment Rosset, #NFDB
200:C'est étrange que les choses en soient venues à ce point à notre époque, et que la philosophie ne soit, même pour les gens intelligents, qu'un mot creux et chimérique, qui ne soit d'aucune utilité et n'ait aucune valeur, ni dans l'opinion générale, ni dansla réalité. Je crois que la cause en est que ses grandes avenues ont été occupées par des discussions oiseuses. On a grand tort de la décrire comme quelque chose d'inaccessible aux enfants, et de lui faire un visage renfrogné, sourcilleux et terrible : qui donc lui a mis ce masque d'un visage blême et hideux? Il n'est rien de plus gai, de plus allègre et de plus enjoué, et pour un peu, je dirais même : folâtre... Elle ne prêche que la fête et le bon temps. Une mine triste et abattue : voila qui montre bien que ce n'est pas laqu'elle habite. ~ Michel de Montaigne, #NFDB
201:Allah said in the Holy Qur'an there are many kinds of hearts,
Heart healthy: it is faithful to God and free of distractions
Penitent heart: a lasting return to God and repent to him
Heart diffidence: who's afraid of Allah
Heart met: to maximize their God
Living heart: who believes in God and thank him and not be ungrateful him
The patient's heart: is free of suspicion or hypocrisy
Blind: a heart that does not see right
The heart of sin: it stifles the right certificate
Arrogant heart: which flaunts on people and argue and fight
Large heart: and he who tended him compassion and mercy
Harsh: a heart that knows no God and no MOT
Heart dopey: it overlooked his role and his worship life
O Lord, let our hearts of hearts sound the repentant ~ Anonymous,#NFDB
202:Det var uansett som Kierkegaard skriver, en kort sorg, og så var den over. Men den folges av andre, for barna skal bli sine egne mennesker, og for å bli det må de kutte båndene til sine foreldre, vende seg bort fra oss og ut mot verden: vi mister dem, de vinner seg selv. Gjor vi ikke det, holder vi dem tett inntil oss, blir de avhengige, uselvstendige, hjelpelose, i en viss forstand livsudyktige. Det er et offer, det er visst lite, det er visst hverdagslig og knapt verdt å nevne, men like fullt et offer, og det vi ofrer, er det vi elsker mer enn noe annet, som vi må gi fra oss. I det lyset markerer troen, manifestert gjennom Abrahams umenneskelige, ubegripelige vilje til å ofre sin sonn, en vending bort fra symbiosen av andre grad, det sosiale som vi kommer til syne i og er integrert i, og til et sted hvor vi er alene, er enestående. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
203:Les émotions, d’après mon expérience, ne sont pas recouvertes par de simples mots. Je ne crois pas en la « tristesse », la « joie », ou le « regret ». Peut-être la meilleure preuve de la nature patriarcale du langage est le fait qu’il simplifie les sentiments. J’aimerais avoir à ma disposition des émotions hybrides compliquées, des constructions germaniques comme, par exemple : « Le bonheur qui accompagne le désastre. » Ou : « La déception de coucher avec son fantasme. » J’aimerais montrer comment « La conscience de la mort suscitée par des parents vieillissants » est liée à « La haine des miroirs qui commence à l’âge mûr ». J’aimerais avoir un mot pour « La tristesse inspirée par les mauvais restaurants » comme pour « L’excitation d’entrer dans une chambre avec minibar ». Je n’ai jamais eu les mots qu’il faut pour décrire ma vie. ~ Jeffrey Eugenides, #NFDB
204:Tu n'as rien appris, sinon que la solitude n'apprend rien, que l'indifférence n'apprend rien: c'était un leurre, une illusion fascinante et piégée. Tu étais seul et voilà tout et tu voulais te protéger: qu'entre le monde et toi les ponts soient à jamais coupés. Mais tu es si peu de chose et le monde est un si grand mot: tu n'as jamais fait qu'errer dans une grande ville, que longer sur quelques kilomètres des façades, des devantures, des parcs et des quais.
L'indifférence est inutile. Tu peux vouloir ou ne pas vouloir, qu'importe! Faire ou ne pas faire une partie de billard électrique, quelqu'un, de toute façon, glissera une pièce de vingt centimes dans la fente de l'appareil. Tu peux croire qu'à manger chaque jour le même repas tu accomplis un geste décisif. Mais ton refus est inutile. Ta neutralité ne veut rien dire. Ton inertie est aussi vaine que ta colère. ~ Georges Perec,#NFDB
205:Jeg vet ei om den jeg priser
er dod eller i live,
ofte hans blinkende okser
doyvde ornens hunger;
folk sier begge deler
og sverger på det er sannhet.
Såret var han i hvert fall;
vondt er å vite mere.
Menn som kom fra kampen
sa at kongen levde;
de forer dunkel tale
om sviklos sonn til Tryggve.
Olav, sier de, slapp vel
ut av våpenstormen;
folk taler langt fra sannhet,
verre var det enn dette.
Hor det kvad jeg kveder.
Dengang kjempene sokte
mot den kraftige konge
kunne lagnaden ikke
slippe ham av striden,
den solvrike herre,
elsket av mange. Annet
kan jeg ikke tro på.
Enda sier meg somme
menn at såret var han,
at kongen kom seg unna
fra kampen der i osten.
Men nå har jeg sannspurt sorfra,
han falt i storslaget.
Jeg kan ikke med å fylle
folk med lose rykter. ~ Snorri Sturluson,#NFDB
206:Il était de ces hommes, rares dans notre ville comme ailleurs, qui ont toujours le courage de leurs bons sentiments. Le peu qu’il confiait de lui témoignait en effet de bontés et d’attachements qu’on n’ose pas avouer de nos jours. Il ne rougissait pas de convenir qu’il aimait ses neveux et sa sœur, seule parente qu’il eût gardée et qu’il allait, tous les deux ans, visiter en France. Il reconnaissait que le souvenir de ses parents, morts alors qu’il était encore jeune, lui donnait du chagrin. Il ne refusait pas d’admettre qu’il aimait par-dessus tout une certaine cloche de son quartier qui résonnait doucement vers cinq heures du soir. Mais, pour évoquer des émotions si simples cependant, le moindre mot lui coûtait mille peines. Finalement, cette difficulté avait fait son plus grand souci. « Ah ! docteur, disait-il, je voudrais bien apprendre à m’exprimer. » Il en parlait à Rieux chaque fois qu’il le rencontrait. ~ Albert Camus, #NFDB
207:Han så noe bevege seg i halvmorket, oppå vasken, et par folehorn som svingte frem og tilbake.
En kakerlakk. Den var på storrelse med en tommelfinger og hadde en oransje stripe på ryggen. Han
hadde aldri sett en slik for, men det var kanskje ikke så rart – han hadde lest at det fantes over tre
tusen forskjellige arter kakerlakker. Han hadde også lest at de gjemmer seg når de foler vibrasjonene
av noen som kommer, at for hver kakerlakk du oppdager, er det minst ti som har kommet seg unna.
Det betydde at de var overalt. Hvor mye veier en kakerlakk? Ti gram? Hvis det var over hundre av
dem gjemt i sprekker og bak bordplater, ville det si at det var over et kilo kakerlakk i rommet. Han
grosset. Det var knapt noen trost å vite at de var reddere enn ham. Av og til hadde han en folelse av at
alkoholen hadde begynt å gjore mer for ham enn den gjorde mot ham. Han lukket oynene og provde
å ikke tenke. ~ Jo Nesb,#NFDB
208:Qu’il n’en ait pas toujours été ainsi, le mot même de « clergé » en fournit la preuve, car, originairement, « clerc » ne signifie pas autre chose que « savant », et il s’oppose à « laïque », qui désigne l’homme du peuple, c’est-à-dire du « vulgaire », assimilé à l’ignorant ou au « profane », à qui on ne peut demander que de croire ce qu’il n’est pas capable de comprendre, parce que c’est là le seul moyen de le faire participer à la tradition dans la mesure de ses possibilités. Il est même curieux de noter que les gens qui, à notre époque, se font gloire de se dire « laïques », tout aussi bien que ceux qui se plaisent à s’intituler « agnostiques », et d’ailleurs ce sont souvent les mêmes, ne font en cela que se vanter de leur propre ignorance ; et pour qu’ils ne se rendent pas compte que tel est le sens des étiquettes dont ils se parent, il faut que cette ignorance soit en effet bien grande et vraiment irrémédiable. ~ Ren Gu non, #NFDB
209:L'autre fait notable, c'est qu'un médiatique a désormais le droit de plaisanter avec son outil professionnel, en certains cas. Un général, par exemple, n'avait pas le droit de plaisanter à la tête de ses troupes, ou un juge en prononçant ses sentences, et je ne sais même pas s'il est encore tout à fait permis au respon-sable d'une centrale où l'on produit l'énergie nucléaire de plaisanter, au sens propre du mot, à l'instant où il fait connaître ses directives. Mais il est littéralement hors de doute qu'un médiatique ne peut être privé de ce droit. C'est un salarié remarquablement spécial, qui ne reçoit d'ordre de personne, et qui sait tout sur tous les sujets dont il veut parler. Il porte donc, suivant sa déontologie, qu'il ne saurait trahir sans hideuse concussion, littéralement toute la conscience de l'époque. S'il n'avait pas le droit de plaisanter, où serait donc la liberté de la presse et, partant, la démocratie elle-même? ~ Guy Debord, #NFDB
210:Dans tous les cas, nous avons conscience de n’avoir pas écrit un seul mot que n’aurait pu écrire un Oriental de naissance ; nous nous plaçons, en effet, à un point de vue strictement oriental, qui est devenu entièrement le nôtre, et nous tenons à ce qu’on sache bien que nous ne sommes pas allé de l’Occident à l’Orient, mais que, fort heureusement pour nous, nous avons pu étudier les doctrines orientales à une époque où nous ne connaissions à peu près rien de la pensée occidentale. Et ceci nous amène à une dernière remarque : l’obstacle le plus redoutable, pour beaucoup, c’est la philosophie ; nous voulons dire que ceux qui s’efforcent d’envisager ces doctrines à un point de vue philosophique se condamnent par là même à n’y jamais rien comprendre. Il ne s’agit point d’un vain « jeu d’idées », non plus que d’un amusement d’érudits ; il s’agit de choses sérieuses, les plus sérieuses qui soient, et nous souhaitons que l’Occident s’en rende compte avant qu’il ne soit trop tard. ~ Ren Gu non, #NFDB
211:Det är meningslöst att säga att en människa bör vara nöjd med att ha lugn och ro. Hon behöver liv och rörelse, och om det inte bjuds henne skapar hon det. Tusenden är dömda till en ännu händelselösare tillvaro än mig, och tusende lever i tyst protest mot sitt öde. Ingen vet hur många uppror vid sidan av de politiska som jäser bland alla de människor som befolkar jorden. Kvinnor förväntas alltid vara stillsamma, men kvinnor har samma känslor som män, de har samma behov av att öva sina förmågor och spänna sina krafter som deras bröder. De plågas av den trånga instängdheten och fullständiga händelselösheten på precis samma sätt som män plågas, och det är trångsynt av deras mer privilegierade medmänniskor att hävda att de borde vara nöjda med att sticka strumpor och laga puddingar, spela piano och brodera väskor. Det är tanklöst att fördöma dem eller skratta åt dem om de vill uträtta mer eller lära sig mer än vad traditionen föreskriver som passande för deras kön (s. 125-126). ~ Charlotte Bront, #NFDB
212:Selon Ibn Khaldoun, il ne faut jamais oublier l'importance du climat. Le visage soucieux et l'allure renfrognée du Fassi, s"expliqueraient par le climat rugueux qu'ils endurent avec cet hiver givré de glace et de ce vent mordant qui souffle du nord. Je me demande pourtant si le climat a une telle importance pour déterminer la place de le séduction dans une culture donnée. A fès, il y a un mot pour désigner celui ou celle qui sourit sans raison. On dit qu'il "Farnass". C'est ce qu'on dit de quelqu'un qui a la lèvre supérieure qui fuit quelque peu et découvre les dents de devant. Petite, je m'entendais dire sans cesse: " Seul l'âne farnass". Serrer les lèvres 'avait donc rien à voir avec le froid! Cette attitude traduisait plutôt un certain un certain recroquevillement de l'être, une certaine absence de générosité au niveau du sentiment. A Fès, même un sourire doit être calculé, doit avoir un prix, une signification bien précise dans un réseau de comportements déterminés.... ~ Fatema Mernissi, #NFDB
213:Le triangle droit se rapporte proprement au Principe ; mais, quand il est inversé par reflet dans la manifestation, le regard de l’œil qu’il contient apparaît en quelque sorte comme dirigé « vers le bas », c’est-à-dire du Principe vers la manifestation elle-même, et, outre son sens général d’« omniprésence », il prend alors plus nettement la signification spéciale de « Providence ». D’autre part, si ce reflet est envisagé plus particulièrement dans l’être humain, on doit noter que la forme du triangle inversé n’est autre que le schéma géométrique du cœur* [*En arabe, le cœur est qalb, et « inversé » se dit maqlûb, mot qui est un dérivé de la même racine. ] ; l’œil qui est en son centre est alors proprement l’« œil du cœur » (aynul-qalb de l’ésotérisme islamique), avec toutes les significations qui y sont impliquées. De plus, il convient d’ajouter que c’est par là que, suivant une autre expression connue, le cœur est « ouvert » (el-qalbul-maftûh) ; cette ouverture, œil ou iod, peut être figurée symboliquement comme une « blessure ».
LXXII : L’Œil qui voit tout ~ Ren Gu non,#NFDB
214:Mais la chair et le sang qui est en elle sont arrosés de lait, en retour de ce qu'ils le produisent, et lui doivent une nouvelle reproduction. Car la formation de l'enfant, dans le sein de sa mère, a lieu par suite du mélange de la semence de l'homme avec le sang de la femme, après la purification mensuelle. Cette semence a la faculté de réunir le sang en globules autour d'elle, comme la presure fait coaguler le lait, et forme enfin une substance, qui devient le corps de l'enfant, ni trop froide, ni trop ardente ; une nature bien tempérée est généralement productive ; les tempéraments dont les qualités sont extrêmes, sont une cause de stérilité. C'est ainsi que le grain pourrit dans une terre trop délayée par les eaux, et qu'il se flétrit dans une terre excessivement sèche. Au contraire, une terre où les sucs abondent, ni trop humide, ni trop ferme, conserve le grain et le fait pousser. Quelques naturalistes établissent que la semence des animaux est l'écume de leur sang. Aussi Diogène Apolloniate a appelé ces opérations aphrodisia, mot qui veut dire provenant de l'écume. ~ Clement of Alexandria, #NFDB
215:Je dois dire un mot sur la peur. C'est le seul adversaire réel de la vie. Il n'y a que la peur qui puisse vaincre la vie. C'est une ennemie habile et perfide, et je le sais bien. Elle n'a aucune décence, ne respecte ni lois ni conventions, ne manifeste aucune clémence. Elle attaque votre point le plus faible, qu'elle trouve avec une facilité déconcertante. Elle naît d'abord et invariablement dans votre esprit. Un moment vous vous sentez calme, en plein contrôle, heureux. Puis la peur, déguisée en léger doute, s'immisce dans votre pensée comme un espion. Ce léger doute rencontre l'incrédulité et celle-ci tente de le repousser. Mais l'incrédulité est un simple fantassin. Le doute s'en débarrasse sans se donner de mal. Vous devenez inquiet. La raison vient à votre rescousse. Vous êtes rassuré. La raison dispose de tous les instruments de pointe de la technologie moderne. Mais, à votre surprise et malgré des tactiques supérieures et un nombre impressionnant de victoires, la raison est mise K.- O. Vous sentez que vous vous affaiblissez, que vous hésitez. Votre inquiétude devient frayeur. ~ Yann Martel, #NFDB
216:Il n'y a que les imbéciles qui ne soient pas gourmands. On est gourmand comme on est artiste, comme on est instruit, comme on est poète. Le goût, mon cher, c'est un organe délicat, perfectible et respectable comme l’œil et l'oreille. Manquer de goût, c'est être privé d'une faculté exquise, de la faculté de discerner la qualité des aliments, comme on peut être privé de celle de discerner les qualités d'un livre ou d'une oeuvre d'art ; c'est être privé d'un sens essentiel, d'une partie de la supériorité humaine ; c'est appartenir à une des innombrables classes d'infirmes, de disgraciés et de sots dont se compose notre race ; c'est avoir la bouche bête, en un mot, comme on a l'esprit bête. Un homme qui ne distingue pas une langouste d'un homard, d'un hareng, cet admirable poisson qui porte en lui toutes les saveurs, tous les arômes de la mer, d'un maquereau ou d'un merlan, et une poire crassane d'une duchesse, est comparable à celui qui cofonderait Balzac avec Eugène Sue, une symphonie de Beethoven avec une marche militaire d'un chef de musique de régiment, et l'Apollon du Belvédère avec la statue du général Blanmont ! ~ Guy de Maupassant, #NFDB
217:Le mot « philosophie », en lui-même, peut assurément être pris en un sens fort légitime, qui fut sans doute son sens primitif, surtout s’il est vrai que, comme on le prétend, c’est Pythagore qui l’employa le premier : étymologiquement, il ne signifie rien d’autre qu’« amour de la sagesse » ; il désigne donc tout d’abord une disposition préalable requise pour parvenir à la sagesse, et il peut désigner aussi, par une extension toute naturelle, la recherche qui, naissant de cette disposition même, doit conduire à la connaissance. Ce n’est donc qu’un stade préliminaire et préparatoire, un acheminement vers la sagesse, un degré correspondant à un état inférieur à celle-ci; la déviation qui s’est produite ensuite a consisté à prendre ce degré transitoire pour le but même, à prétendre substituer la « philosophie » à la sagesse, ce qui implique l’oubli ou la méconnaissance de la véritable nature de cette dernière. C’est ainsi que prit naissance ce que nous pouvons appeler la philosophie « profane », c’est-à-dire une prétendue sagesse purement humaine, donc d’ordre simplement rationnel, prenant la place de la vraie sagesse traditionnelle, supra-rationnelle et « non-humaine ». ~ Ren Gu non, #NFDB
218:Idel mekaniska fjädrar och hjul skapade de inre rörelserna hos vår urverksmänniska. Man skulle kunna kalla honom puritan. En grundläggande motvilja, formidabel i sin enkelhet, genomsyrade hans tröga själ: han avskydde bedrägeri och orättvisor. Han ogillade föreningen av dessa - de förekom ständigt i par - med träig lidelse som varken ägde eller krävde några ord för att uttryckas. En sådan motvilja skulle ha förtjänat beröm om den inte hade varit en biprodukt av mannens hopplösa stupiditet. Allt som överskred hans fattningsförmåga kallade han orättvist och bedrägligt. Han dyrkade allmänna föreställningar med pedantisk energi. Det allmänna var gudalikt, det specifika djävulskt. Var den ena människan fattig och den andra rik; själva skillnaden var orättvis, och den fattige som inte fördömde den var lika klandervärd som den rike som ignorerade den. Människor som visste för mycket - vetenskapsmän, författare, matematiker, kristallografer etc. - var inte bättre än kungar och präster: de ägde alla en orättvis andel av makten som de andra hade blivit lurade på. En vanlig hederlig person måste ständigt vara på sin vakt mot någon form av listig svindel från naturens och nästans sida. ~ Vladimir Nabokov, #NFDB
219:Que se serait-il passé ? Lol ne va pas loin dans l'inconnu sur lequel s'ouvre cet instant. Elle ne dispose d'aucun souvenir même imaginaire, elle n'a aucune idée sur cet inconnu. Mais ce qu'elle croit, c'est qu'elle devait y pénétrer, que c'était ce qu'il lui fallait faire, que ç'aurait été pour toujours, pour sa tête et pour son corps, leur plus grande douleur et leur plus grande joie confondues jusque dans leur définition devenue unique mais innommable faute d'un mot. J'aime à croire, comme je l'aime, que si Lol est silencieuse dans la vie c'est qu'elle a cru, l'espace d'un éclair, que ce mot pouvait exister. Faute de son existence, elle se tait. Ç'aurait été un mot-absence, un mot-trou, creusé en son centre d'un trou, de ce trou où tous les autres mots auraient été enterrés. On n'aurait pas pu le dire mais on aurait pu le faire résonner. Immense, sans fin, un gong vide, il aurait retenu ceux qui voulaient partir, il les aurait convaincus de l'impossible, il les aurait assourdis à tout autre vocable que lui-même, en une fois il les aurait nommés, eux, l'avenir et l'instant. Manquant, ce mot, il gâche tous les autres, les contamine, c'est aussi le chien mort de la plage en plein midi, ce trou de chair. ~ Marguerite Duras, #NFDB
220:Deter mulig at andre er helt klar over dette og har forsonet seg med det, men for meg ble det plutselig så tydelig at det alltid er natt og alltid dag og alltid morgen og kveld og alltid blir noen fodt mens andre dor og noen ligger med hverandre og noen ler og andre gråter og noen venter på ting eller arbeider. Alltid. Og i dag akkurat som i går og akkurat som en hvilken som helst annen dag i et hvilket som helst annet år. Og hvis jeg bryter det ned til mindre deler og tenker små oyeblikk, blir det svimlende, for da tenker jeg at akkurat nå, mens jeg ligger her og ser gjennom rommet og mot verandadoren som står på glott og solen som kommer inn i rommet, så opplever andre sine livs verste oyeblikk, noen er livredde og kommer til å bli drept på fryktelig vis i neste sekund, det vil si nå, eller nå, mens andre opplever fine ting og tar imot et lite barn eller blir stroket nedover ryggen av en de i går ikke trodde ville gjengjelde de sterke folelsene, og atter andre, sikkert de fleste, gjor ting som de i morgen på denne tiden vil ha problemer med å huske fordi det de gjorde ikke utgjor noen forskjell, men bare foyer seg inn i rekken av ting som vi hele tiden gjor og må gjore.
Idag er alle dager. Og alle oyeblikk er nå. ~ Erlend Loe,#NFDB
221:Quand Au Mouton Belant
Quand au mouton bêlant la sombre boucherie
Ouvre ses cavernes de mort,
Pâtres, chiens et moutons, toute la bergerie
Ne s'informe plus de son sort.
Les enfants qui suivaient ses ébats dans la plaine,
Les vierges aux belles couleurs
Qui le baisaient en foule, et sur sa blanche laine
Entrelaçaient rubans et fleurs,
Sans plus penser à lui, le mangent s'il est tendre.
Dans cet abîme enseveli
J'ai le même destin. Je m'y devais attendre.
Accoutumons-nous à l'oubli.
Oubliés comme moi dans cet affreux repaire,
Mille autres moutons, comme moi,
Pendus aux crocs sanglants du charnier populaire,
Seront servis au peuple-roi.
Que pouvaient mes amis? Oui, de leur main chérie
Un mot à travers ces barreaux
Eût versé quelque baume en mon âme flétrie;
De l'or peut-être à mes bourreaux...
Mais tout est précipice. Ils ont eu droit de vivre.
Vivez, amis; vivez contents.
En dépit de----soyez lents à me suivre.
Peut-être en de plus heureux temps
J'ai moi-même, à l'aspect des pleurs de l'infortune,
Détourné mes regards distraits;
A mon tour, aujourd'hui; mon malheur importune:
Vivez, amis, vivez en paix.
~ Andre Marie de Chenier,#NFDB
222:De nos jours, on vante l' "objectivité" d'un homme qui affirme calmement et froidement que deux et deux font cinq, et on accuse de subjectivité ou d'émotivité, l'homme qui réplique avec indignation que cela fait quatre (2) ; on ne veut pas admettre que l'objectivité c'est l'adéquation à l'objet et non le ton ni la mimique ; ni surtout une placidité factice, inhumaine et insolente. On oublie surtout aussi que l'émotion a ses droits dans l'arsenal de la dialectique humaine, et que ceux-ci -puisque ce sont des droits- ne sauraient être contraires à l'objectivité ; même la pensée la plus strictement objective -intellectuelle ou rationnelle- s'accompagne d'une facteur psychique, donc subjectif, à savoir le sentiment de certitude ; sans quoi l'homme ne serait pas homme. Or l'homme est fait « à l'image de Dieu », c'est toute sa raison d'être ; blâmer un trait naturel et foncier de l'homme reviendrait à blâmer non seulement l'intention créatrice », mais la nature même du Créateur.
(2)on connaît le dicton populaire : « un tel se fâche, donc il a tort » que l'on applique souvent de travers. En réalité, ce mot se réfère à des gens qui se mettent en colère parce que, dan leur tort, ils sont à court d'arguments ; la colère suppléant alors à la preuve ou au droit. ~ Frithjof Schuon,#NFDB
223:The first day we rode our bikes to Chelsey and parked them. It was a terrible feeling. Most of those kids, at least all the older ones, had their own automobiles, many of them new convertibles, and they weren't black or dark blue like most cars, they were bright yellow, green, orange, and red. The guys sat in them outside of the school and the girls gathered around and went for rides. Everybody was nicely dressed, the guys and the girls, they had pullover sweaters, wrist watches and the latest in shoes. They seemed very adult and poised and superior. And there I was in my homemade shirt, my one ragged pair of pants, my rundown shoes, and I was covered with boils. The guys with the cars didn't worry about acne. They were very handsome, they were tall and clean with bright teeth and they didn't wash their hair with hand soap. They seemed to know something I didn't know. I was at the bottom again.
Since all the guys had cars Baldy and I were ashamed of our bicycles. We left them home and walked to school and back, two-and-one-half miles each way. We carried brown bag lunches. But mot of the other students didn't even eat in the school cafeteria. They drove to malt shops with the girls, played the juke boxes and laughed. They were on their way to U.S.C. ~ Charles Bukowski,#NFDB
224:J’ai arpenté les galeries sans fin des grandes bibliothèque, les rues de cette ville qui fût la nôtre, celle où nous partagions presque tous nos souvenirs depuis l’enfance. Hier, j’ai marché le long des quais, sur les pavés du marché à ciel ouvert que tu aimais tant. Je me suis arrêté par-ci par-là, il me semblait que tu m’accompagnais, et puis je suis revenu dans ce petit bar près du port, comme chaque vendredi. Te souviendras-tu ?
Je ne sais pas où tu es. Je ne sais pas si tout ce que nous avons vécu avait un sens, si la vérité existe, mais si tu trouves ce petit mot un jour, alors tu sauras que j’ai tenu ma promesse, celle que je t’ai faite.
A mon tour de te demander quelque chose, tu me le dois bien. Oublie ce que je viens d’écrire, en amitié on ne doit rien. Mais voici néanmoins ma requête : Dis-lui, dis-lui que quelque part sur cette terre, loin de vous, de votre temps, j’ai arpenté les mêmes rues, ri avec toi autour des mêmes tables, et puisque les pierres demeurent, dis-lui que chacune de celles où nous avons posé nos mais et nos regards contient à jamais une part de notre histoire. Dis-lui, que j’étais ton ami, que tu étais mon frère, peut-être mieux encore puisque nous nous étions choisis, dis-lui que rien n’a jamais pu nous séparer, même votre départ si soudain. ~ Marc Levy,#NFDB
225:Skoppensboer
'n Druppel gal is in die soetste wyn;
'n traan is op elk' vrolik' snaar,
in elke lag 'n sug van pyn,
in elke roos 'n dowwe blaar.
Die een wat deur die nag
ons pret beloer
en laaste lag,
is Skoppensboer.
II
Gewis en seker is die woord:
die skatte wat ons opvergaar,
ondanks die sterkste slot en koord
word net vir mot en roes bewaar.
Net pagters ons
van stof en dons
om oor te voer
aan Skoppensboer.
III
Die heerlikheid van vlees en bloed;
die hare wat die sonlig vang
en weergee in 'n goue gloed;
die dagbreek op elk' sagte wang
en oë vol van sterreprag
is weerloos teen sy groter mag.
Alreeds begint die rimpel sny;
oor alles hou die wurm wag
en stof en as is al wat bly:
Want swart en droef,
die hoogste troef
oor ál wat roer,
is Skoppensboer.
IV L'ENVOI
Gewis is alles net 'n grap!
11
Ons speel in die komedie mee
geblinddoek met 'n lanferlap
wat selfs die son 'n skadu gee.
Wat treur ons tog?
Viool en fluit maak nog geluid,
en lank die nag wat voorlê nog.
Al kan ons nooit volmaaktheid raak,
nog blink die oog en gloei die huid
wat heel die winter blomtyd maak.
Dus onverlee
lag ons maar mee
met elke toer
van Skoppensboer!
~ Eugene Marais,#NFDB
226:La bourgeoisie a joué dans l'histoire un rôle éminemment révolutionnaire.
Partout où elle a conquis le pouvoir, elle a détruit les relations féodales, patriarcales et idylliques. Tous les liens variés qui unissent l'homme féodal à ses supérieurs naturels, elle les a brisés sans pitié pour ne laisser subsister d'autre lien, entre l'homme et l'homme, que le froid intérêt, les dures exigences du «paiement comptant». Elle a noyé les frissons sacrés de l'extase religieuse, de l'enthousiasme chevaleresque, de la sentimentalité petite-bourgeoise dans les eaux glacées du calcul égoïste. Elle a supprimé la dignité de l'individu devenu simple valeur d'échange; aux innombrables libertés dûment garanties et si chèrement conquises, elle a substitué l'unique et impitoyable liberté de commerce. En un mot, à l'exploitation que masquaient les illusions religieuses et politiques, elle a substitué une exploitation ouverte, éhontée, directe, brutale.
La bourgeoisie a dépouillé de leur auréole toutes les activités considérées jusqu'alors, avec un saint respect, comme vénérables. Le médecin, le juriste, le prêtre, le poète, l'homme de science, elle en a fait des salariés à ses gages.
La bourgeoisie a déchiré le voile de sentimentalité touchante qui recouvrait les rapports familiaux et les a réduits à de simples rapports d'argent. ~ Karl Marx,#NFDB
227:Un mot sur la « libre-pensée », ou plus précisément sur l’obligation quasi morale qui est faite à tout homme de « penser par lui-même » : cette exigence n’est nullement conforme à la nature humaine, car l’homme normal et vertueux, en tant que membre d’une collectivité sociale et traditionnelle, se rend compte en général des limites de sa compétence. De deux choses l’une : ou bien l’homme est exceptionnellement doué sur tel ou tel plan, et alors rien ne peut l’empêcher de penser d’une manière originale, ce qu’il fera d’ailleurs en accord avec la tradition — dans les mondes traditionnels qui seuls nous intéressent ici— précisément parce que son intelligence lui permet de saisir la nécessité de cet accord ; ou bien l’homme est d’intelligence moyenne ou médiocre, sur un plan quelconque ou d’une façon générale, et alors il s’en remettra aux jugements de ceux qui sont plus compétents que lui, et c’est là dans son cas la chose la plus intelligente à faire. La manie de détacher l’individu de la hiérarchie intellectuelle, c’est-à-dire de l’individualiser intellectuellement, est une violation de sa nature et équivaut pratiquement à l’abolition de l’intelligence, et aussi des vertus sans les quelles l’entendement réel ne saurait s’actualiser pleinement. On n’aboutit ainsi qu’à l’anarchie et à la codification de l’incapacité de penser. ~ Frithjof Schuon, #NFDB
228:Comme nous avons eu l’occasion de l’indiquer ailleurs11, une limitation de la Possibilité totale est, au sens propre du mot, une impossibilité, puisque, devant comprendre la Possibilité pour la limiter, elle ne pourrait y être comprise, et ce qui est en dehors du possible ne saurait être autre qu’impossible ; mais une impossibilité, n’étant rien qu’une négation pure et simple, un véritable néant, ne peut évidemment limiter quoi que ce soit, d’où il résulte immédiatement que la Possibilité universelle est nécessairement illimitée. Il faut bien prendre garde, d’ailleurs, que ceci n’est naturellement applicable qu’à la Possibilité universelle et totale, qui n’est ainsi que ce que nous pouvons appeler un aspect de l’Infini, dont elle n’est distincte en aucune façon ni dans aucune mesure ; il ne peut rien y avoir qui soit en dehors de l’Infini, puisque cela serait une limitation, et qu’alors il ne serait plus l’Infini. La conception d’une « pluralité d’infinis » est une absurdité, puisqu’ils se limiteraient réciproquement, de sorte que, en réalité, aucun d’eux ne serait infini12 ; donc, quand nous disons que la Possibilité universelle est infinie ou illimitée, il faut entendre par là qu’elle n’est pas autre chose que l’Infini même, envisagé sous un certain aspect, dans la mesure où il est permis de dire qu’il y a des aspects de l’Infini. ~ Ren Gu non, #NFDB
229:Varför skall kärleken vara trollguldet, som andra dagen blir vissna löv, eller smuts, eller ölsupa? Ur människornas längtan efter kärlek har ju hela den sidan av kulturen spirat upp, som icke direkt syftar till hungerns stillande eller försvar mot fiender. Vårt skönhetssinne har ingen annan källa. All konst, all dikt, all musik har druckit ur den. Den tarvligaste moderna historiemålning likaväl som Rafaels madonnor och Steinlens små parisiska arbeterskor, "Dödens ängel" likaväl som Höga visan och Buch der Lieder, koralen och Wienervalsen, ja varje gipsornament på det tarvliga hus där jag bor, varje figur i tapeten, formen på porslinsvasen där och mönstret i min halsduk, allt som vill pryda och försköna, det må nu lyckas eller misslyckas, stammar därifrån, fast på mycket långa omvägar ibland. Och det är intet nattligt hugskott av mig, utan bevisat hundra gånger.
Men den källan heter icke kärleken, utan den heter: drömmen om kärlek.
Och å andra sidan är allt, som står i samband med drömmens fullbordan, med driftens tillfredsställelse, och som följer av den, inför vår djupaste instinkt något oskönt och oanständigt. Detta kan icke bevisas, det är bara en känsla: min känsla, och jag tror egentligen allas. Människorna behandla alltid varandras kärlekshistorier som något lågt eller komiskt och göra ofta icke ens undantag för sina egna. ~ Hjalmar S derberg,#NFDB
230:Que la langue du génocide ne doive, à aucun prix, se galvauder ; que veiller sur la probité des mots en général et de celui-ci en particulier soit une tâche intellectuelle et politique prioritaire ; qu'il se soit produit à Auschwitz, un événement sans précédent, incomparable à tout autre et que la lutte contre la banalisation, et de la chose, et du mot qui la désigne, soit un impératif, non seulement pour les Juifs, mais pour tous ceux que lèse ce crime (autrement dit, l'humain comme tel ; l'humain en chaque homme, chaque femme, d'aujourd'hui) ; que la Shoah soit le génocide absolu, l'étalon du genre, la mesure même du non-humain ; que cette singularité tienne tant à l'effroyable rationalité des méthodes (bureaucratie, industrie du cadavre, chambre à gaz) qu'à sa non moins terrible part d'irrationalité (l'histoire folle, souvent notée, des trains de déportés qui avaient, jusqu'au dernier jour, priorité sur les convois d'armes et de troupes), à sa systématicité (des armées de tueurs lâchés, dans toute l'Europe, à la poursuite de Juifs qui devaient être traqués, exterminés sans reste, jusqu'au dernier) ou à sa dimension, son intention métaphysique (par-delà les corps les âmes et, par-delà les âmes, la mémoire même des textes juifs et de la loi) - tout cela est évident ; c'est et ce sera de plus en plus difficile à faire entendre, mais c'est établi et évident...
(ch. 57
La Shoah au coeur et dans la tête) ~ Bernard Henri L vy,#NFDB
231:Les deux exemples suivants témoignent du même état d’esprit : tel croyant demande à Dieu diverses faveurs, non parce qu’il désire les obtenir, mais « pour obéir à l’ordre divin » exprimé par le Koran ; comme si Dieu, en ordonnant ou en permettant la prière personnelle, n’avait pas en vue le but de cette prière, et comme si Dieu pouvait apprécier une obéissance dédaigneuse de la raison suffisante de l’acte ordonné ou permis ! Dans le cas présent, « ordre » est d’ailleurs un bien grand mot ; en réalité, Dieu ne nous ordonne pas d’avoir des besoins ni de lui adresser des demandes, mais il nous invite par miséricorde à lui demander ce qui nous manque ; nous pouvons prier pour notre pain quotidien ou pour une guérison comme nous pouvons prier pour des grâces intérieures, mais il n’est pas question de prier pour prier parce que Dieu a ordonné pour ordonner. Le deuxième exemple que nous avons en vue est le suivant : inversement tel autre croyant, partant de l’idée que tout est prédestiné, s’abstient de formuler des prières - malgré « l’ordre divin » cette fois-ci ! - car « tout ce qui doit arriver, arrive de toutes façons » ; comme si Dieu se donnait la peine d’ordonner, ou de permettre, des attitudes superflues, et comme si la prière n’était pas prédestinée elle aussi ! Certes, l’homme est le « serviteur » (abd), et la servitude (ubûdiyah) comporte l’obéissance ; mais elle n’est pas de « l’art pour l’art », elle n’est que par ses contenus, d’autant que l’homme est « fait à l’image de Dieu » ; l’oublier, c’est vider la notion même de l’homme de toute sa substance. ~ Frithjof Schuon, #NFDB
232:L'attitude des modernes à l'égard du passé comporte en effet trop souvent une double erreur : d'une part, ils jugeront que telles formes ayant un contenu intemporel sont inconciliables avec les conditions mentales de ce qu'ils appellent « notre temps » ; d'autre part, ils se réfèrent volontiers, pour introduire telle réforme ou telle simplification, à ce qui a été fait dans l'Antiquité ou au Moyen Age, comme si les conditions cycliques étaient toujours les mêmes et qu'il n'y avait pas, du point de vue de la fluidité spirituelle et de l'inspiration, un appauvrissement — ou un abaissement — progressif des possibilités. La religion — car c'est d'elle qu'il s'agit dans la plupart des cas — est pareille à un arbre qui croît, qui a une racine, un tronc, des branches, des feuilles, où il n'y a pas de hasard — un chêne ne produisant jamais autre chose que des glands — et où on ne peut à l'aveuglette intervertir l'ordre de croissance ; celle-ci n'est point une « évolution » au sens progressiste du mot, bien qu'il y ait évidemment — parallèlement à la descente vers l'extériorisation et le durcissement — un déploiement sur le plan de la formulation mentale et des arts.
Le soi-disant retour à la simplicité originelle est l'antipode de cette simplicité, précisément parce que nous ne sommes plus à l'origine et que, en outre, l'homme moderne est affecté d'un singulier manque du sens des proportions ; nos ancêtres ne se seraient jamais doutés qu'il suffit de voir dans une erreur « notre temps » pour lui reconnaître des droits non seulement sur les choses, mais même sur l'intelligence. ~ Frithjof Schuon,#NFDB
233:Chaque jour, le maître se contentait de le saluer et commençait son cours. Puis il demeurait invisible le reste de la journée et restait muet lors du dîner.
Or, ce matin-là, debout près de la rivière argentée, le vieil aveugle lui dit :
— Yuko, tu deviendras un poète accompli lorsque, dans ton écriture, tu intégreras les notions de peinture, de calligraphie, de musique et de danse. Et surtout lorsque tu maîtriseras l’art du funambule.
Yuko se mit à sourire. Le maître n’avait pas oublié.
— Pourquoi l’art du funambule pourrait-il me servir ?
Soseki posa sa main sur l’épaule du jeune homme, comme il l’avait déjà fait un mois plus tôt.
— Pourquoi ? En vérité, le poète, le vrai poète, possède l’art du funambule. Écrire, c’est avancer mot à mot sur un fil de beauté, le fil d’un poème, d’une œuvre, d’une histoire couchée sur un papier de soie. Écrire, c’est avancer pas à pas, page après page, sur le chemin du livre. Le plus difficile, ce n’est pas de s’élever du sol et de tenir en équilibre, aidé du balancier de sa plume, sur le fil du langage. Ce n’est pas non plus d’aller tout droit, en une ligne continue parfois entrecoupée de vertiges aussi furtifs que la chute d’une virgule, ou que l’obstacle d’un point. Non, le plus difficile, pour le poète, c’est de rester continuellement sur ce fil qu’est l’écriture, de vivre chaque heure de sa vie à hauteur du rêve, de ne jamais redescendre, ne serait-ce qu’un instant, de la corde de son imaginaire. En vérité, le plus difficile, c’est de devenir un funambule du verbe.
Yuko remercia le maître de lui enseigner l’art d’une façon si subtile, si belle. ~ Maxence Fermine,#NFDB
234:Ja, jeg vil skrive en bok om det å gå, sier jeg. [...] Det er en god idé, sier jeg, og derfor står jeg fast, jeg klarer ikke å skrive når jeg har gode idéer. Gode idéer er det verste jeg vet. De byr meg imot. Gode idéer blir sjelden gode boker.
Men er det sånn at dårlige idéer blir gode boker? spor Elisabeth, hildegunnsosteren som alle sier ligner på Hildegunn, men hun har ikke det samme blikket; dette blikket som vi aldri vet hva ser når hun ser det samme som oss. Dikterens blikk. Hildegunns blikk. Elisabeth har oyne som ligner sosterens, en munn som ligner, et ansikt som ligner, men denne likheten er ikke annet enn en stor forskjell.
Det blir ikke gode boker verken av gode eller dårlige idéer, sier Hildegunn. Å skrive er å motarbeide sine egne idéer; hvis jeg vet hva jeg skal skrive, og hvordan, så orker jeg ikke å skrive det. Skrivearbeidet må være åpent, og så er det om å gjore å arbeide frem bokens strukturer, skrive frem diktets innhold som oftere går dypere enn det man selv vil med diktet.
Gjelder det også for prosa?
Det burde gjelde for all litteratur, sier Hildegunn. Det er historien om Tolstoj, han hadde en idé om å skrive en roman hvor han fordommer en kvinne som er umoralsk. Han ville vise hvor forferdelig galt det går med en kvinne og familien hennes når hun er utro, men romanen han skrev ble noe helt annet enn det han hadde tenkt. Selve skrivearbeidet forte, mot Tolstojs vilje, til den vakre og tragiske historien om Anna Karenina. Det er det som er litteratur, at vi skriver oss frem til noe vi ikke har onsket, et vakkert monster, som Mary Shelleys Frankenstein, noe vi ikke har klart å tenke ut på forhånd. ~ Tomas Espedal,#NFDB
235:Les Occidentaux, toujours animés par ce besoin de prosélytisme qui leur est si particulier, sont arrivés à faire pénétrer chez les autres, dans une certaine mesure, leur esprit antitraditionnel et matérialiste ; et, tandis que la première forme d’invasion n’atteignait en somme que les corps, celle-ci empoisonne les intelligences et tue la spiritualité ; l’une a d’ailleurs préparé l’autre et l’a rendue possible, de sorte que ce n’est en définitive que par la force brutale que l’Occident est parvenu à s’imposer partout, et il ne pouvait en être autrement, car c’est en cela que réside l’unique supériorité réelle de sa civilisation, si inférieure à tout autre point de vue. L’envahissement occidental, c’est l’envahissement du matérialisme sous toutes ses formes, et ce ne peut être que cela ; tous les déguisements plus ou moins hypocrites, tous les prétextes « moralistes », toutes les déclamations « humanitaires », toutes les habiletés d’une propagande qui sait à l’occasion se faire insinuante pour mieux atteindre son but de destruction, ne peuvent rien contre cette vérité, qui ne saurait être contestée que par des naïfs ou par ceux qui ont un intérêt quelconque à cette œuvre vraiment « satanique », au sens le plus rigoureux du mot(*).
(*)Satan, en hébreu, c’est l’« adversaire », c’est-à-dire celui qui renverse toutes choses et les prend en quelque sorte à rebours ; c’est l’esprit de négation et de subversion, qui s’identifie à la tendance descendante ou « infériorisante », « infernale » au sens étymologique, celle même que suivent les êtres dans ce processus de matérialisation suivant lequel s’effectue tout le développement de la civilisation moderne. ~ Ren Gu non,#NFDB
236:[...] contrairement à l’opinion courante, d’après laquelle l’analyse serait en quelque sorte préparatoire à la synthèse et conduirait à celle-ci, si bien qu’il faudrait toujours commencer par l’analyse, même quand on n’entend pas s’en tenir là, la vérité est qu’on ne peut jamais parvenir effectivement à la synthèse en partant de l’analyse ; toute synthèse, au vrai sens de ce mot, est pour ainsi dire quelque chose d’immédiat, qui n’est précédé d’aucune analyse et en est entièrement indépendant, comme l’intégration est une opération qui s’effectue d’un seul coup et qui ne présuppose nullement la considération d’éléments comparables à ceux d’une somme arithmétique ; et, comme cette somme arithmétique ne peut donner le moyen d’atteindre et d’épuiser l’indéfini, il est, dans tous les domaines, des choses qui résistent par leur nature même à toute analyse et dont la connaissance n’est possible que par la seule synthèse [1].
[1] Ici et dans ce qui va suivre, il doit être bien entendu que nous prenons les termes « analyse » et « synthèse » dans leur acception véritable et originelle, qu’il faut avoir bien soin de distinguer de celle, toute différente et assez impropre, dans laquelle on parle couramment de l’« analyse mathématique », et suivant laquelle l’intégration elle-même, en dépit de son caractère essentiellement synthétique, est regardée comme faisant partie de ce qu’on appelle l’ « analyse infinitésimale » ; c’est d’ailleurs pour cette raison que nous préférons éviter l’emploi de cette dernière expression, et nous servir seulement de celles de « calcul infinitésimal » et de « méthode infinitésimale », qui du moins ne sauraient prêter à aucune équivoque de ce genre. ~ Ren Gu non,#NFDB
237:J'etais arrete a regarder, dans une exposition d'oeuvres de Rodin, une enorme main de bronze, la ,,Main de Dieu''.La paume en etait a moitie fermee et dans cette paume, extatiques, enlaces, luttaient et se melaient un homme et une femme.
Une jeune fille s'approcha et s'arreta a cote de moi.Troublee elle aussi, elle regardait l'inquietant et eternel enlacement de l'homme et de la femme.Elle etait mince, bien habillee, avec d'epais cheveux blonds, un menton fort, des levres etroites.Elle avait quelque chose de decide et de viril.Et moi qui deteste engager des conversations faciles, je ne sais ce qui me poussa.Je me retournai:
-A quoi pensez-vous?
-Si on pouvait s'echapper! murmura-t-elle avec depit.
-Pour aller ou?La main de Dieu est partout.Pas de salut.Vous le regrettez?
-Non.Il se peut que l'amour soit la joie la plus intense sur cette terre.C'est possible.Mais maintenant que je vois cette main de bronze, je voudrais m'echapper.
-Vous preferez la liberte?
-Oui.
-Mais si ce n'est que lorsqu'on obeit a la main de bronze qu'on est libres?Si le mot "Dieu" n'avait pas le sens commode que lui donne la masse?
Elle me regarda,inquiete.Ses yeux etaient d'un gris metallique, ses levres seches et ameres.
-Je ne comprends pas, dit-elle, et elle s'eloigna, comme effrayee.
Elle disparut.[...]Oui , je m'etais mal conduit, Zorba avait raison.C'etait un bon pretexte que cette main de bronze, la premiere prise de contact etait reussie, les premieres douces paroles amorcees, et nous aurions pu, sans en prendre conscience ni l'un ni l'autre, noue etreindre et nous unir en toute tranquillite dans la paume de Dieu.Mais moi je m'etais elance brusquement de la terre vers le ciel et la femme effarouchee s'etait enfuie. ~ Nikos Kazantzakis,#NFDB
238:Quand il s’agit de se défendre contre un danger quelconque, on ne perd généralement pas son temps à rechercher des responsabilités ; si donc certaines opinions sont dangereuses intellectuellement, et nous pensons que c’est le cas ici [celles des orientalistes], on devra s’efforcer de les détruire sans se préoccuper de ceux qui les ont émises ou qui les défendent, et dont l’honorabilité n’est nullement en cause. Les considérations de personnes, qui sont bien peu de chose en regard des idées, ne sauraient légitimement empêcher de combattre les théories qui font obstacle à certaines réalisations ; d’ailleurs, comme ces réalisations, sur lesquelles nous reviendrons dans notre conclusion, ne sont point immédiatement possibles, et que tout souci de propagande nous est interdit, le moyen le plus efficace de combattre les théories en question n’est pas de discuter indéfiniment sur le terrain où elles se placent, mais de faire apparaître les raisons de leur fausseté tout en rétablissant la vérité pure et simple, qui seule importe essentiellement à ceux qui peuvent la comprendre. Là est la grande différence, sur laquelle il n’y a pas d’accord possible avec les spécialistes de l’érudition : quand nous parlons de vérité, nous n’entendons pas simplement par là une vérité de fait, qui a sans doute son importance, mais secondaire et contingente ; ce qui nous intéresse dans une doctrine, c’est la vérité, au sens absolu du mot, de ce qui y est exprimé. Au contraire, ceux qui se placent au point de vue de l’érudition ne se préoccupent aucunement de la vérité des idées ; au fond, ils ne savent pas ce que c’est, ni même si cela existe, et ils ne se le demandent point ; la vérité n’est rien pour eux, à part le cas très spécial où il s’agit exclusivement de vérité historique. ~ Ren Gu non, #NFDB
239:Quant aux chiffres indiqués dans divers textes pour la durée du Manvantara, et par suite pour celle des Yugas, il doit être bien entendu qu’il ne faut nullement les regarder comme constituant une « chronologie » au sens ordinaire de ce mot, nous voulons dire comme exprimant des nombres d’années devant être pris à la lettre ; c’est d’ailleurs pourquoi certaines variations apparentes dans ces données n’impliquent au fond aucune contradiction réelle. Ce qui est à considérer dans ces chiffres, d’une façon générale c’est seulement le nombre 4 320, pour la raison que nous allons expliquer par la suite, et non point les zéros plus ou moins nombreux dont il est suivi, et qui peuvent même être surtout destinés à égarer ceux qui voudraient se livrer à certains calculs. Cette précaution peut sembler étrange à première vue, mais elle est cependant facile à expliquer : si la durée réelle du Manvantara était connue, et si en outre, son point de départ était déterminé avec exactitude, chacun pourrait sans difficulté en tirer des déductions permettant de prévoir certains événements futurs ; or, aucune tradition orthodoxe n’a jamais encouragé les recherches au moyen desquelles l’homme peut arriver à connaître l’avenir dans une mesure plus ou moins étendue, cette connaissance présentant pratiquement beaucoup plus d’inconvénients que d’avantages véritables. C’est pourquoi le point de départ et la durée du Manvantara ont toujours été dissimulés plus ou moins soigneusement, soit en ajoutant ou en retranchant un nombre déterminé d’années aux dates réelles, soit en multipliant ou divisant les durées des périodes cycliques de façon à conserver seulement leurs proportions exactes ; et nous ajouterons que certaines correspondances ont parfois aussi été interverties pour des motifs similaires. ~ Ren Gu non, #NFDB
240:I, for example, quiet plainly and simply insist upon annihilation for myself. “No,” they say, “you must go on living, for without you there would be nothing. If everything on earth were reasonable, nothing would ever happen. Without you there would be no events, and it is necessary that there should be events.” Well, and so on I drudge with unwilling heart so that there be events, and bring about unreason by command. People think toute cette comedie is something serious, all there unquestionable intelligence notwithstanding. There lies there tragedy. Well, and they suffer, of course, but … al the same they live, they live in reality, not in fantasy; for suffering is also life. Without suffering what pleasure would there be in it? Everything would turn into one single, endless church service: much holy soaring, but rather boring. Well, and I? I suffer, but even so I do not live. I am the “x” in an indeterminate equation. I am one of life’s ghosts, who has lost all the ends and the beginnings, and even at last forgotten what to call myself. You are laughing . . . No, you are not laughing, you are angry again. You are eternally angry, you would like there to be nothing but intelligence, but I will tell you again that I would renounce all this empyrean existence, all these honours and ranks just in order to be able to take fleshy form in the person of a seven-pood merchant’s wife and set up candles to God in church.
‘So, you don’t believe in God either?’ Ivan said, smiling with hatred.
‘Well, how can I explain it to you, if you are serious, that is . . . ‘
‘Does God exist or not?’ Ivan barked, again with ferocious insistence.
‘Ah, so you are serious? My dear little dove, I swear to God I do not know, pour vous dire le grand mot. ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky,#NFDB
241:Mes amis, j'écris ce petit mot pour vous dire que je vous aime, que je pars avec la fierté de vous avoir connus, l'orgueil d'avoir été choisi et apprécié par vous, et que notre amitié fut sans doute la plus belle œuvre de ma vie. C'est étrange, l'amitié. Alors qu'en amour, on parle d'amour, entre vrais amis on ne parle pas d'amitié. L'amitié, on la fait sans la nommer ni la commenter. C'est fort et silencieux. C'est pudique. C'est viril. C'est le romantisme des hommes. Elle doit être beaucoup plus profonde et solide que l'amour pour qu'on ne la disperse pas sottement en mots, en déclarations, en poèmes, en lettres. Elle doit être beaucoup plus satisfaisante que le sexe puisqu'elle ne se confond pas avec le plaisir et les démangeaisons de peau. En mourant, c'est à ce grand mystère silencieux que je songe et je lui rends hommage.
Mes amis, je vous ai vus mal rasés, crottés, de mauvaise humeur, en train de vous gratter, de péter, de roter, et pourtant je n'ai jamais cessé de vous aimer. J'en aurais sans doute voulu à une femme de m'imposer toutes ses misères, je l'aurais quittée, insultée, répudiée. Vous pas. Au contraire. Chaque fois que je vous voyais plus vulnérables, je vous aimais davantage. C'est injuste n'est-ce pas? L'homme et la femme ne s'aimeront jamais aussi authentiquement que deux amis parce que leur relation est pourrie par la séduction. Ils jouent un rôle. Pire, ils cherchent chacun le beau rôle. Théâtre. Comédie. Mensonge. Il n'y a pas de sécurité en l'amour car chacun pense qu'il doit dissimuler, qu'il ne peut être aimé tel qu'il est. Apparence. Fausse façade. Un grand amour, c'est un mensonge réussi et constamment renouvelé. Une amitié, c'est une vérité qui s'impose. L'amitié est nue, l'amour fardé.
Mes amis, je vous aime donc tels que vous êtes. ~ ric Emmanuel Schmitt,#NFDB
242:L'Amour qui n'est pas un mot
Mon Dieu jusqu'au dernier moment
Avec ce coeur débile et blême
Quand on est l'ombre de soi-même
Comment se pourrait-il comment
Comment se pourrait-il qu'on aime
Ou comment nommer ce tourment
Suffit-il donc que tu paraisses
De l'air que te fait rattachant
Tes cheveux ce geste touchant
Que je renaisse et reconnaisse
Un monde habité par le chant
Elsa mon amour ma jeunesse
O forte et douce comme un vin
Pareille au soleil des fenêtres
Tu me rends la caresse d'être
Tu me rends la soif et la faim
De vivre encore et de connaître
Notre histoire jusqu'à la fin
C'est miracle que d'être ensemble
Que la lumière sur ta joue
Qu'autour de toi le vent se joue
Toujours si je te vois je tremble
Comme à son premier rendez-vous
Un jeune homme qui me ressemble
M'habituer m'habituer
Si je ne le puis qu'on m'en blâme
Peut-on s'habituer aux flammes
Elles vous ont avant tué
Ah crevez-moi les yeux de l'âme
S'ils s'habituaient aux nuées
Pour la première fois ta bouche
Pour la première fois ta voix
D'une aile à la cime des bois
L'arbre frémit jusqu'à la souche
C'est toujours la première fois
Quand ta robe en passant me touche
Prends ce fruit lourd et palpitant
Jettes-en la moitié véreuse
Tu peux mordre la part heureuse
Trente ans perdus et puis trente ans
Au moins que ta morsure creuse
C'est ma vie et je te la tends
Ma vie en vérité commence
Le jour que je t'ai rencontrée
Toi dont les bras ont su barrer
Sa route atroce à ma démence
Et qui m'as montré la contrée
Que la bonté seule ensemence
Tu vins au coeur du désarroi
Pour chasser les mauvaises fièvres
Et j'ai flambé comme un genièvre
A la Noël entre tes doigts
Je suis né vraiment de ta lèvre
Ma vie est à partir de toi ~ Louis Aragon,#NFDB
243:Faut-il regretter le temps des guerres "à sens" ? souhaiter que les guerres d'aujourd'hui "retrouvent" leur sens perdu ? le monde irait-il mieux, moins bien, indifféremment, si les guerres avaient, comme jadis, ce sens qui les justifiait ? Une part de moi, celle qui a la nostalgie des guerres de résistance et des guerres antifascistes, a tendance à dire : oui, bien sûr ; rien n'est plus navrant que la guerre aveugle et insensée ; la civilisation c'est quand les hommes, tant qu'à faire, savent à peu près pourquoi ils se combattent ; d'autant que, dans une guerre qui a du sens, quand les gens savent à peu près quel est leur but de guerre et quel est celui de leur adversaire, le temps de la raison, de la négociation, de la transaction finit toujours par succéder à celui de la violence ; et d'autant (autre argument) que les guerres sensées sont aussi celles qui, par principe, sont les plus accessibles à la médiation, à l'intervention - ce sont les seules sur lesquelles des tiers, des arbitres, des observateurs engagés, peuvent espérer avoir quelque prise...Une autre part hésite. L'autre part de moi, celle qui soupçonne les guerres à sens d'être les plus sanglantes, celle qui tient la "machine à sens" pour une machine de servitude et le fait de donner un sens à ce qui n'en a pas, c'est-à-dire à la souffrance des hommes, pour un des tours les plus sournois par quoi le Diabolique nous tient, celle qui sait, en un mot, qu'on n'envoie jamais mieux les pauvres gens au casse-pipe qu'en leur racontant qu'ils participent d'une grande aventure ou travaillent à se sauver, cette part-là, donc, répond : "non ; le pire c'était le sens"; le pire c'est, comme disait Blanchot, "que le désastre prenne sens au lieu de prendre corps" ; le pire, le plus terrible, c'est d'habiller de sens le pur insensé de la guerre ; pas question de regretter, non, le "temps maudit du sens". (ch. 10
De l'insensé, encore) ~ Bernard Henri L vy,#NFDB
244:si les sciences qui intéressent tant les Occidentaux n’avaient jamais acquis antérieurement un développement comparable à celui qu’ils leur ont donné, c’est qu’on n’y attachait pas une importance suffisante pour y consacrer de tels efforts. Mais, si les résultats sont valables lorsqu’on les prend chacun à part (ce qui concorde bien avec le caractère tout analytique de la science moderne), l’ensemble ne peut produire qu’une impression de désordre et d’anarchie ; on ne s’occupe pas de la qualité des connaissances qu’on accumule, mais seulement de leur quantité ; c’est la dispersion dans le détail indéfini. De plus, il n’y a rien au-dessus de ces sciences analytiques : elles ne se rattachent à rien et, intellectuellement, ne conduisent à rien ; l’esprit moderne se renferme dans une relativité de plus en plus réduite, et, dans ce domaine si peu étendu en réalité, bien qu’il le trouve immense, il confond tout, assimile les objet les plus distincts, veut appliquer à l’un les méthodes qui conviennent exclusivement à l’autre, transporte dans une science les conditions qui définissent une science différente, et finalement s’y perd et ne peut plus s’y reconnaître, parce qu’il lui manque les principes directeurs. De là le chaos des théories innombrables, des hypothèses qui se heurtent, s’entrechoquent, se contredisent, se détruisent et se remplacent les unes les autres, jusqu’à ce que, renonçant à savoir, on en arrive à déclarer qu’il ne faut chercher que pour chercher, que la vérité est inaccessible à l’homme, que peut-être même elle n’existe pas, qu’il n’y a lieu de se préoccuper que de ce qui est utile ou avantageux, et que, après tout, si l’on trouve bon de l’appeler vrai, il n’y a à cela aucun inconvénient. L’intelligence qui nie ainsi la vérité nie sa propre raison d’être, c’est-à-dire qu’elle se nie elle-même ; le dernier mot de la science et de la philosophie occidentales, c’est le suicide de l’intelligence ; ~ Ren Gu non, #NFDB
245:Devant eux, la nuit était sans limites. Rieux, qui sentait sous ses doigts le visage grêlé des rochers, était plein d'un étrange bonheur. Tourné vers Tarrou, il devina, sur le visage calme et grave de son ami, ce même bonheur qui n'oubliait rien, pas même l'assassinat.
Ils se déshabillèrent. Rieux plongea le premier. Froides d'abord, les eaux lui parurent tièdes quand il remonta. Au bout de quelques brasses, il savait que la mer, ce soir-là, était tiède, de la tiédeur des mers d'automne qui reprennent à la terre la chaleur emmagasinée pendant de longs mois. Il nageait régulièrement. Le battement de ses pieds laissait derrière lui un bouillonnement d'écume, l'eau fuyait le long de ses bras pour se coller à ses jambes. Un lourd clapotement lui apprit que Tarrou avait plongé. Rieux se mit sur le dos et se tint immobile, face au ciel renversé, plein de lune et d'étoiles. Il respira longuement. Puis il perçut de plus en plus distinctement un bruit d'eau battue, étrangement clair dans le silence et la solitude de la nuit. Tarrou se rapprochait, on entendit bientôt sa respiration. Rieux se retourna, se mit au niveau de son ami, et nagea dans le même rythme. Tarrou avançait avec plus de puissance que lui et il dut précipiter son allure. Pendant quelques minutes, ils avancèrent avec la même cadence et la même vigueur solitaires, loin du monde, libérés enfin de la ville et de la peste. Rieux s'arrêta le premier et ils revinrent lentement, sauf à un moment où ils entrèrent dans un courant glacé. Sans rien dire, ils précipitèrent tous deux leur mouvement, fouettés par cette surprise de la mer.
Habillés de nouveau, ils repartirent sans avoir prononcé un mot. Mais ils avaient le même cœur et le souvenir de cette nuit leur était doux. Quand ils aperçurent de loin la sentinelle de la peste, Rieux savait que Tarrou se disait, comme lui, que la maladie venait de les oublier, que cela était bien, et qu'il fallait maintenant recommencer. ~ Albert Camus,#NFDB
246:Mais il est des gens qui croient que la fiction est limitée par la fiction, et non par l'intelligence ; c'est-à-dire qu'après avoir feint une chose, et avoir affirmé, par un acte libre de la volonté, l'existence de cette chose, déterminée d'une certaine manière dans la nature, il ne nous est plus possible de la concevoir autrement. Par exemple, après avoir feint (pour parler leur langage) que la nature du corps est telle ou telle, il ne m'est plus permis de feindre une mouche infinie ; après avoir feint l'essence de l'âme, il ne m'est plus permis d'en faire un carré, etc.
Cela a besoin d'être examiné. D'abord, ou bien ils nient, ou bien ils accordent que nous pouvons comprendre quelque chose. L'accordent-ils ; ce qu'ils disent de la fiction, ils devront nécessairement le dire aussi de l'intelligence. Le nient-ils ; voyons donc, nous qui savons que nous savons quelque chose, ce qu'ils disent. Or, voici ce qu'ils disent : l'âme est capable de sentir et de percevoir de plusieurs manières, non pas elle-même, non pas les choses qui existent, mais seulement les choses qui ne sont ni en elle-même ni ailleurs : en un mot, l'âme, par sa seule vertu, peut créer des sensations, des idées, sans rapport avec les choses, à ce point qu'ils la considèrent presque comme un dieu. Ils disent donc que notre âme possède une telle liberté qu'elle a le pouvoir et de nous contraindre et de se contraindre elle-même et de contraindre jusqu'à sa liberté elle-même. En effet, lorsque l'âme a feint quelque chose et qu'elle a donné son assentiment à cette fiction, il ne lui est plus possible de se représenter ou de feindre la même chose d'une manière différente ; et en outre, elle se trouve condamnée à se représenter toutes choses de façon qu'elles soient en accord avec la fiction primitive. C'est ainsi que nos adversaires se trouvent obligés par leur propre fiction d'accepter toutes les absurdités qu'on vient d'énumérer, et que nous ne prendrons pas la peine de combattre par des démonstrations . ~ Baruch Spinoza,#NFDB
247:DÖDENS DAGBOK: PARISARNA
Sommaren kom.
För boktjuven var allt frid och fröjd.
Dör mig - var himlen judefärgad.
När deras kroppar hade slutat söka efter springor i dörren steg deras själar upp. När deras naglar hade klöst mot träet och i vissa fall satt fastnaglade i det av blotta kraften i desperationen, kom deras själar mot mig, in i min famn, och vi steg ut ur de där duschanläggningarna, upp på taket och vidare uppåt, in i evighetens absoluta vidder. De bara fortsatte att fylla på åt mig. Minut för minut. Dusch efter dusch.
Jag kommer aldrig att glömma den första dagen i Auschwitz, den första gången i Mauthausen. På det senare stället fick jag också med tiden plocka upp dem från stupet nedanför den väldiga klippan, när deras försök att undkomma störtat dem i avgrunden. Där låg brutna kroppar och döda ömma hjärtan. Men, det var ändå bättre än gasen. Några av dem fångade jag upp när de bara hunnit halvvägs ner. Där besparade jag dig något, tänkte jag, och höll själen mitt i luften medan resten av varelsen - det fysiska skalet - tumlade till marken. Alla var lätta, som tomma valnötsskal. Rökig himmel på de ställena. Luktade som en ugn men var ändå så kallt.
Jag ryser när jag minns det - medan jag försöker overkliggöra det.
Jag blåser varmluft i mina händer för att värma dem.
Men det är svårt att hålla dem varma när själarna fortfarande skälver.
Gud.
Jag säger alltid det namnet när jag tänker på det här.
Gud.
Två gånger säger jag det.
Jag säger hans namn i ett fåfängt försök att förstå. "Men det är inte ditt jobb att förstå." Det är jag själv som svarar. Gud säger aldrig något. Trodde du att du var den enda som han aldrig svarar? "Ditt jobb är att ...", och där slutar jag lyssna till mig själv, eftersom jag, om jag ska vara riktigt ärlig, gör mig själv alldeles trött. När jag börjar tänka på det sättet blir jag så utmattad, och jag har inte den lyxen att jag kan ge efter för trötthet. Jag är tvingad att fortsätta, för även om det inte gäller varenda person på jorden gäller det den stora majoriteten - att döden inte väntar på någon - och om han gör det brukar han inte vänta särskilt länge. ~ Markus Zusak,#NFDB
248:Finally, Europe’s post-war history is a story shadowed by silences; by absence. The continent of Europe was once an intricate, interwoven tapestry of overlapping languages, religions, communities and nations. Many of its cities—particularly the smaller ones at the intersection of old and new imperial boundaries, such as Trieste, Sarajevo, Salonika, Cernovitz, Odessa or Vilna—were truly multicultural societies avant le mot, where Catholics, Orthodox, Muslims, Jews and others lived in familiar juxtaposition. We should not idealise this old Europe. What the Polish writer Tadeusz Borowski called ‘the incredible, almost comical melting-pot of peoples and nationalities sizzling dangerously in the very heart of Europe’ was periodically rent with riots, massacres and pogroms—but it was real, and it survived into living memory.
Between 1914 and 1945, however, that Europe was smashed into the dust. The tidier Europe that emerged, blinking, into the second half of the twentieth century had fewer loose ends. Thanks to war, occupation, boundary adjustments, expulsions and genocide, almost everybody now lived in their own country, among their own people. For forty years after World War Two Europeans in both halves of Europe lived in hermetic national enclaves where surviving religious or ethnic minorities the Jews in France, for example—represented a tiny percentage of the population at large and were thoroughly integrated into its cultural and political mainstream. Only Yugoslavia and the Soviet Union—an empire, not a country and anyway only part-European, as already noted—stood aside from this new, serially homogenous Europe.
But since the 1980s, and above all since the fall of the Soviet Union and the enlargement of the EU, Europe is facing a multicultural future. Between them refugees; guest-workers; the denizens of Europe’s former colonies drawn back to the imperial metropole by the prospect of jobs and freedom; and the voluntary and involuntary migrants from failed or repressive states at Europe’s expanded margins have turned London, Paris, Antwerp, Amsterdam, Berlin, Milan and a dozen other places into cosmopolitan world cities whether they like it or not. ~ Tony Judt,#NFDB
249:— Je suis un demi-dieu, une divinité mineure, un archange… Choisis le terme que tu préfères. Tu peux t’adresser à moi en m’appelant « maître », car tu n’as pas le droit de connaître mon nom. (Il se laissa tomber en position assise.) J’ai choisi cette forme parce qu’elle m’amuse et ne t’effraie pas. Wallie ne fut pas impressionné. — Pourquoi jouer avec moi ? J’aurais pu croire en toi beaucoup plus tôt si tu t’étais présenté sous un aspect plus divin – ou même avec un simple halo… Il avait dépassé les bornes. Les joues de l’enfant se gonflèrent sous le coup de la colère. — Très bien, puisque c’est ton souhait. Voici un petit aperçu. Wallie cria et se couvrit les yeux, mais trop tard. La caverne était déjà brillante, mais elle s’enflamma soudain d’un éclat magnificent aussi aveuglant que celui d’un soleil. L’enfant était demeuré un enfant, mais une infime partie de sa divinité flamboya un bref instant – et ce fut assez pour plonger un simple mortel dans une terreur sans nom. Dans ce fragment de majesté, Wallie vit que l’âge de cet être dépassait l’imagination – il existait bien avant la formation des galaxies et perdurerait bien après la disparition de feux d’artifice aussi éphémères ; son quotient intellectuel se mesurait en trillions et il était capable de connaître chaque pensée de chaque créature dans l’univers ; sa puissance aurait pu détruire une planète aussi facilement qu’on se cure les ongles ; comparés à sa noblesse et à sa pureté, les êtres humains ressemblaient à des bêtes infâmes et inutiles ; rien n’était capable de résister à ses objectifs froids et inébranlables ; sa compassion dépassait l’entendement humain et connaissait la souffrance des mortels ainsi que leurs raisons d’être, mais il ne pouvait pas la supprimer sans supprimer l’essence mortelle à la base de cette douleur. Wallie sentit aussi quelque chose de plus profond et de plus terrible encore, une présence que nul mot ne pouvait décrire, mais qu’un mortel aurait apparentée à l’ennui ou à la résignation. Il y avait des côtés négatifs à l’immortalité : le fardeau de l’omniscience et l’absence de futur limité, plus la moindre surprise, plus de fin même après la fin des temps, à jamais et à jamais… Wallie réalisa qu’il était à plat ~ Dave Duncan, #NFDB
250:Une vue des plus contestables est celle qui consiste à expliquer les particularités de l’Islam en Perse par une sorte de survivance du Mazdéisme ; nous ne voyons, pour notre part, aucune trace un peu précise d’une telle influence, qui demeure purement hypothétique et même assez peu vraisemblable. Ces particularités s’expliquent suffisamment par les différences ethniques et mentales qui existent entre les Persans et les Arabes, comme celles qu’on peut remarquer dans l’Afrique du Nord s’expliquent par les caractères propres aux races berbères ; l’Islam, beaucoup plus « universaliste » qu’on ne le croit communément, porte en lui-même la possibilité de telles adaptations, sans qu’il y ait lieu de faire appel à des infiltrations étrangères. Du reste, la division des Musulmans en Sunnites et Shiites est fort loin d’avoir la rigueur que lui attribuent les conceptions simplistes qui ont cours en Occident ; le Shiisme a bien des degrés, et il est si loin d’être exclusivement propre à la Perse qu’on pourrait dire que, en un certain sens, tous les Musulmans sont plus ou moins shiites ; mais ceci nous entraînerait à de trop longs développements. Pour ce qui est du Soufisme, c’est-à-dire de l’ésotérisme musulman, il existe tout aussi bien chez les Arabes que chez les Persans, et, en dépit de toutes les assertions des « critiques » européens, il se rattache aux origines mêmes de l’Islam : il est dit, en effet, que le Prophète enseigna la « science secrète » à Abou-Bekr et à Ali, et c’est de ceux-ci que procèdent les différentes écoles. D’une façon générale, les écoles arabes se recommandent surtout d’Abou-Bekr, et les écoles persanes d’Ali ; et la principale différence que, dans celles-ci, l’ésotérisme revêt une forme plus « mystique », au sens que ce mot a pris en Occident, tandis que, dans les premières, il demeure plus purement intellectuel et métaphysique ; ici encore, les tendances de chacune des races suffisent à rendre compte d’une telle différence, qui, d’ailleurs, est beaucoup plus dans la forme que dans le fond même de l’enseignement, du moins tant que celui-ci demeure conforme à l’orthodoxie traditionnelle. »
[Compte-rendu de Joseph Arthur de Gobineau. Les religions et les philosophies dans l’Asie centrale] ~ Ren Gu non,#NFDB
251:Il faudrait pouvoir restituer au mot « philosophie » sa signification originelle : la philosophie — l'« amour de la sagesse » — est la science de tous les principes fondamentaux ; cette science opère avec l'intuition, qui « perçoit », et non avec la seule raison, qui « conclut ». Subjectivement parlant, l'essence de la philosophie est la certitude ; pour les modernes au contraire, l'essence de la philosophie est le doute : le philosophe est censé raisonner sans aucune prémisse (voraussetzungsloses Denken), comme si cette condition n'était pas elle-même une idée préconçue ; c'est la contradiction classique de tout relativisme. On doute de tout, sauf du doute(1).
La solution du problème de la connaissance — si problème il y a — ne saurait être ce suicide intellectuel qu'est la promotion du doute ; c'est au contraire le recours à une source de certitude qui transcende le mécanisme mental, et cette source — la seule qui soit — est le pur Intellect, ou l'Intelligence en soi. Le soi-disant « siècle des lumières » n'en soupçonnait pas l'existence ; tout ce que l'Intellect pouvait offrir — de Pythagore jusqu'aux scolastiques — n'était pour les encyclopédistes que dogmatisme naïf, voire « obscurantisme ». Fort paradoxalement, le culte de la raison a fini dans cet infra-rationalisme — ou dans cet « ésotérisme de la sottise » — qu'est l'existentialisme sous toutes ses formes ; c'est remplacer illusoirement l'intelligence par de l'« existence ».
D'aucuns ont cru pouvoir remplacer la prémisse de la pensée par cet élément arbitraire, empirique et tout subjectif qu'est la « personnalité » du penseur, ce qui est la destruction même de la notion de vérité ; autant renoncer à toute philosophie. Plus la pensée veut être « concrète », et plus elle est perverse ; cela a commencé avec l'empirisme, premier pas vers le démantèlement de l'esprit ; on cherche l'originalité, et périsse la vérité(2).
(...)
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Somme toute, la philosophie moderne est la codification d'une infirmité acquise ; l'atrophie intellectuelle de l'homme marqué par la « chute » avait pour conséquence une hypertrophie de l'intelligence pratique, d'où en fin de compte l'explosion des sciences physiques et l'apparition de pseudo-sciences telles que la psychologie et la sociologie. ~ Frithjof Schuon,#NFDB
252:L'Islam a perpétué jusqu'à nos jours le monde biblique, que le Christianisme, une fois européanisé, ne pouvait plus représenter ; sans islam, le Catholicisme eût vite fait d'envahir tout le Proche Orient, ce qui eût signifié la destruction de l'Orthodoxie et des autres Eglises d'Orient et la romanisation – donc l'européanisation – de notre monde jusqu'aux confins de l'Inde ; le monde biblique serait mort. On peut dire que l'Islam a eu le rôle providentiel d'arrêter le temps – donc d'exclure l'Europe – sur la partie biblique du globe et de stabiliser, tout en l'universalisant, le monde d'Abraham, qui fut aussi celui de Jésus ; le Judaïsme étant émigré et dispersé, et le Christianisme s'étant romanisé, hellénisé et germanisé, Dieu « se repentit » - pour employer le mot de la Genèse – de ce développement unilatéral et suscita l'Islam, qu'il fit surgir du désert, ambiance ou arrière-plan du Monothéisme originel. Il y a là un jeu d'équilibre et de compensation dont les exotérismes ne sauraient rendre compte, et il serait absurde de le leur demander (1).
(1) Titus Burckhardt, ayant lu ces lignes, nous a communiqué au sujet du cycle Abraham-Mohammed les réflexions suivantes : « Il est significatif que la langue arabe soit la plus archaïque de toutes les langues sémitiques vivantes : son phonétisme conserve, à un son près, tous les sons indiqués par les plus anciens alphabètes sémitiques, et sa morphologie se retrouve dans le célèbre code de Hammourabi, qui est à peu près contemporain d'Abraham. » - « En fait, la Mecque avec la Kaaba construite par Abraham et Ismaël, est la ville sacrée oubliée, - oubliée à la fois par le Judaïsme, qui ignore le rôle prophétique d'Ismaël, et par le Chrisianisme, qui a hérité le même point de vue. Le sanctuaire de la Mecque, lequel est au Prophète ce que le Temple de Jérusalem est au Christ, - en un certain sens tout au moins, - est comme la « pierre rejetée par les bâtisseurs » et qui devient la pierre d'angle. Cette oublie du sanctuaire ismaélien, en même temps que la continuité Abraham-Ismaël-Mohammed, - le Prophète arabe étant de descendance ismaélienne, - ce double facteur nous montre comment l'économie divine aime à combiner le géométrique avec l'imprévu. Sans aucune importance est ici l'opinion de ceux qui voient dans l'origine abrahamique de la Kaaba un mythe musulman rétrospectif, et qui perdent totalement de vue que les anciens Arabes possédaient une mémoire généalogique à la fois extraordinaire et méticuleuse, comme d'ailleurs la plupart des nomades ou semi-nomades. ~ Frithjof Schuon,#NFDB
253:Chap. II – Les origines du spiritisme :
« On sait que c’est en Amérique que le spiritisme, comme beaucoup d’autres mouvements analogues, eut son point de départ : les premiers phénomènes se produisirent en décembre 1847 à Hydesville, dans l’État de New-York, dans une maison où venait de s’installer la famille Fox, qui était d’origine allemande, et dont le nom était primitivement Voss. Si nous mentionnons cette origine allemande, c’est que, si l’on veut un jour établir complètement les causes réelles du mouvement spirite, on ne devra pas négliger de diriger certaines recherches du côté de l’Allemagne ; nous dirons pourquoi tout à l’heure. Il semble bien, d’ailleurs, que la famille Fox n’ait joué là-dedans, au début du moins, qu’un rôle tout involontaire, et que, même par la suite, ses membres n’aient été que des instruments passifs d’une force quelconque, comme le sont tous les médiums. Quoi qu’il en soit, les phénomènes en question, qui consistaient en bruits divers et en déplacements d’objets, n’avaient en somme rien de nouveau ni d’inusité ; ils étaient semblables à ceux que l’on a observés de tout temps dans ce qu’on appelle les « maisons hantées » ; ce qu’il y eut de nouveau, c’est le parti qu’on en tira ultérieurement. Au bout de quelques mois, on eut l’idée de poser au frappeur mystérieux quelques questions auxquelles il répondit correctement ; pour commencer, on ne lui demandait que des nombres, qu’il indiquait par des séries de coups réguliers ; ce fut un Quaker nommé Isaac Post qui s’avisa de nommer les lettres de l’alphabet en invitant l’« esprit » à désigner par un coup celles qui composaient les mots qu’il voulait faire entendre, et qui inventa ainsi le moyen de communication qu’on appela spiritual telegraph. L’« esprit » déclara qu’il était un certain Charles B. Rosna, colporteur de son vivant, qui avait été assassiné dans cette maison et enterré dans le cellier, où l’on trouva effectivement quelques débris d’ossements. D’autre part, on remarqua que les phénomènes se produisaient surtout en présence des demoiselles Fox, et c’est de là que résulta la découverte de la médiumnité ; parmi les visiteurs qui accouraient de plus en plus nombreux, il y en eut qui crurent, à tort ou à raison, constater qu’ils étaient doués du même pouvoir. Dès lors, le modern spiritualism, comme on l’appela tout d’abord, était fondé ; sa première dénomination était en somme la plus exacte, mais, sans doute pour abréger, on en est arrivé, dans les pays anglo-saxons, à employer le plus souvent le mot spiritualism sans épithète ; quant au nom de « spiritisme », c’est en France qu’il fut inventé un peu plus tard. ~ Ren Gu non,#NFDB
254:On nous dira sans doute que la réalité d'un Dieu créateur n'a pas été démontrée ; mais, outre qu'il n'est pas difficile de démontrer cette réalité avec des arguments proportionnés à sa nature, – mais inaccessible pour cette raison même à certains esprits, – le moins qu'on puisse dire est que l'évolution n'a jamais été démontrée par qui que ce soit, et pour cause ; on admet l'évolution transformante à titre de postulat utile et provisoire, comme on admettra n'importe quoi, pourvu qu'on ne se sente pas obligé d'admettre la primauté de l'Immatériel, puisque celui-ci échappe au contrôle de nos sens. Quand on part de la constatation de ce mystère immédiatement tangible qu'est la subjectivité ou l'intelligence, il est pourtant facile de concevoir que l'origine de l'Univers est, non la matière inerte et inconsciente mais une Substance spirituelle qui, de coagulation en coagulation et de segmentation en segmentation, – et autres projection à la fois manifestantes et limitatives, – produit en fin de compte la matière en la faisant émerger d'une substance plus subtile, mais déjà éloignée de la Substance principielle. On nous objectera qu'il n'y a là aucune preuve, à quoi nous répondons – outre que le phénomène de la subjectivité comporte précisément cette preuve, abstraction faite d'autres preuves intellectuelles possibles, mais dont l'Intellection n'a nul besoin, – à quoi nous répondons donc qu'il y a infiniment moins de preuve à cette absurdité inconcevable qu'est l'évolutionnisme, lequel fait sortir le miracle de la conscience d'un tas de terre ou de cailloux, métaphoriquement parlant.
[...] L'intelligence séparée de sa source supra-individuelle s'accompagne ipso facto de ce manque de sens des proportions qu'on appelle l'orgueil ; inversement, l'orgueil empêche l'intelligence devenue rationalisme de remonter à sa source ; il ne peut que nier l'Esprit et le remplacer par la matière ; c'est de celle-ci qu'il fait jaillir la conscience, dans la mesure où il ne peut la nier en la réduisant -- et les essais ne manquent pas -- à une sorte de matière particulièrement raffinée ou "évoluée"(1).(...)
(1) Que l'on parle d' "énergie" plutôt que de "matière" -- et autres subtilités de ce genre -- ne change rien au fond du problème et ne fait que reculer les limites de la difficulté. Notons qu'un soi-disant "sociobiologiste"-- ce mot est tout un programme -- a poussé l'ingéniosité jusqu'à remplacer la matière par des "gênes" dont l'égoïsme aveugle, combiné avec un instinct de fournis ou d'abeilles, aurait fini par constituer non seulement les corps mais aussi la conscience et en fin de compte l'intelligence humaine, miraculeusement capable de disserter sur les gênes qui se sont amusés à la produire. » ~ Frithjof Schuon,#NFDB
255:Bloed op ’n blom. Goed. Om ’n lang storie kort te maak. Ek staan hier met my hakke teen die voetenent van haar graf en die kort loop teen my voorkop. My duim is op die sneller. My wysvinger op die hamer. My hand ruk onder die gewig. Maar ek hou hom lynreg gerig. Solank Moses sy hand opgehou het, was Israel die sterkste en wanneer hy sy hand laat sak het, die Amalekiete. Is dit U sagte hand hier onder my elmboog vandag? Want dit help net mooi niks. Die dêm ding raak swaar. Hoe lank staan ek al hier? Hoeveel vrae gevra? Hoeveel antwoorde gekry? Niks. Time-fokken-out. Tyd het nog nooit so min beteken, na so min geruik of so sag geklink nie. Tyd was nog nooit so ontydig nie. Dalk proe tyd na die binnekant van jou mond, na die laaste ding wat daar deur is. Soos ’n vloekwoord. ’n Sug. Of ’n naam. Ek rol my tong een keer deur. Nog ’n sintuig klok uit. As ek haar naam net mag proe. Maar dis nie meer daar nie. Daar is niemand wat sal kom as ek haar naam roep nie. En dis my skuld. En ek kan net nie daardie kruis alleen dra nie. Ek is nie Job nie, Ma. Ek kan nie toekyk terwyl die gode deals maak onder my neus nie. Die lyn wat Goed en Kwaad skei loop eintlik dwarsdeur elke mens. Deur my ook, sê jy. Maar links hou op ’n tiekie is sommer baie inspanning vir ’n ou sonder ’n plan B. Ek wil nie meer nie. Beproewinge bevry my nie soos vir Job nie. Dit beleër my. Rampe maak my nie sterker nie. Dit troef my. Ondervinding bevry ander, maar maak my swaarder. En ek voel my omsingel vandag. Fyngedruk soos ’n mot. Die gode het gewen. Ek glo nie meer in dinge-sal-regkom nie. Ek het my geloof in God en goeie vooruitsigte so saam-saam verloor. My verhemelte wil die heil en onheil nie meer onderskei nie. My hemele stuur die Eliaswolke en reënnewels tegelyk. Ek kyk nie eers meer op nie. Dis nie dat ek nie weet nie. Dis dat ek te veel weet maar die deugde nie uitmekaar kan ken nie. Om jouself om die lewe te bring is soveel anders as om iemand anders dood te maak. Soveel moeiliker. Jy weet, selfmoord is sneaky. Die een helfte van jou brein probeer jou oorreed dat die ander helfte lieg. Links priem jou met redes om te gaan en regs por jou om te vertoef, soos vir ’n loopdop. Maar dié koeël sal my kwytskeld. As jy in die kort loop van ’n .38 Special staar, kan jy die merkies op die stomp loodpunte van die ander vier patrone sien. Nie dat ek hulle ooit nodig sal kry nie. Op hierdie afstand sal een koeël meer as genoeg wees. Ek kyk vir oulaas om. Ag. Die blomme. Ek laat sak die rewolwer, draai om en haal die mooi ruikers van die groot grafsteen af. Ek kyk rond. Daar is niemand nie. Net die denne. En ’n duif wat roekoek. Dis jammer. Ek wil vir iemand sê mens bloei nie op blomme nie. Wat ’n gedagte moes bly, glip toe uit. Die duif vlieg met trae vlerkslae weg. Mens bloei nie op blomme nie. ~ Steve Hofmeyr, #NFDB
256:Téměř všichni jsou obyčejného původu, prostí muži, kteří se nikdy nevzdálili víc než míli od domu, kde se narodili, a to až do dne, kdy přišel nějaký pán, aby si je odvedl do války. Špatně obutí a bídně oblečení pochodují pod svými praporci, často s žádnými lepšími zbraněmi než se srpem či nabroušenou motykou nebo s kyjem, který si sami vyrobili tak, že připevnili kámen ke klacku proužky kůže. Bratři pochodují s bratry, synové s otci, přátelé s přáteli. Slyšeli písně a příběhy, a tak odcházejí s dychtivými srdci a sní o divech, které ve světě uvidí, o bohatství a slávě, které získají. Válka jim připadá jako nádherné dobrodružství, to největší, jaké většina z nich kdy zažije. Pak poznají chuť bitvy. Pro některé je jedno ochutnání vším, co postačí k tomu, aby je to zlomilo. Ostatní pokračují celé roky, dokud neztratí přehled o všech bitvách, ve kterých bojovali, ale dokonce i muž, který přežil stovku bojů, se může zhroutit ve stém a prvním. Bratři se dívají, jak umírají jejich bratři, otcové ztrácejí své syny, přátelé vidí své přátele, jak se snaží udržet v břiše vnitřnosti vykuchané sekerou. Vidí, jak zabíjejí pána, který je tam přivedl, a nějaký jiný pán křičí, že odteď jsou jeho. Jsou zraněni, a když se jim rána teprve napůl zhojí, utrží další. Věčně trpí nedostatkem jídla, jejich boty se rozpadají od ustavičného pochodu, šaty, co mají na sobě, jsou potrhané a ztrouchnivělé a polovina z nich trpí průjmy a kálí si do kaťat, jak pijí špatnou vodu. Když chtějí nové boty nebo teplejší plášť nebo možná jen zrezivělou polopřílbu, musí si ji vzít od mrtvoly, a netrvá dlouho a začnou krást i živým, prostým lidem, v jejichž zemi bojují, lidem úplně stejným, jako byli dřív sami. Zabíjejí jejich ovce a kradou jim slepice a od toho už je jen krůček k tomu, aby začali unášet také jejich dcery. A jednoho dne se rozhlédnou a uvědomí si, že všichni jejich přátelé a příbuzní jsou pryč, že bojují vedle cizinců pod praporcem, který stěží poznávají. Nevědí, kde jsou, nebo jak se dostanou zpátky domů, a pán, za kterého bojují, nezná jejich jména, a přece k nim přijíždí, křičí na ně, aby se zformovali. Aby vytvořili linii s kopími a kosami a naostřenými motykami, aby si hájili své území. A pak se na ně již řítí rytíři, muži bez tváří odění v oceli, a železný hřmot jejich útoku jako by plnil celičký svět… A tehdy se muž zlomí. Otočí se a utíká nebo se plazí přes mrtvoly těch, které zabil, nebo se krade pryč v černi noci a hledá si místo, kde by se mohl ukrýt. Veškeré myšlenky na domov se do té doby vytratí a všichni králové a lordi a bohové pro něj znamenají méně než kus zkaženého masa, který mu umožní přežít další den, nebo měch špatného vína, ve kterém by mohl na pár hodin utopit svůj strach. Dezertér žije ze dne na den, od jednoho jídla ke druhému, spíš jako zvíře než jako člověk. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
257:On a coutume, dans le monde occidental, de considérer l’islamisme comme une tradition essentiellement guerrière et, par suite, lorsqu’il y est question notamment du sabre ou de l’épée (es-sayf), de prendre ce mot uniquement dans son sens le plus littéral, sans même penser jamais à se demander s’il n’y a pas là en réalité quelque chose d’autre. Il n’est d’ailleurs pas contestable qu’un certain côté guerrier existe dans l’islamisme, et aussi que, loin de constituer un caractère particulier à celui-ci, il se retrouve tout aussi bien dans la plupart des autres traditions, y compris le christianisme. Sans même rappeler que le Christ lui-même a dit : « Je ne suis pas venu apporter la paix, mais l’épée », ce qui peut en somme s’entendre figurativement, l’histoire de la Chrétienté au moyen âge, c’est-à-dire à l’époque où elle eut sa réalisation effective dans les institutions sociales, en fournit des preuves largement suffisantes ; et, d’autre part, la tradition hindoue elle-même, qui certes ne saurait passer pour spécialement guerrière, puisqu’on tend plutôt en général à lui reprocher de n’accorder que peu de place à l’action, contient pourtant aussi cet aspect, comme on peut s’en rendre compte en lisant la Bhagavadgîtâ.
À moins d’être aveuglé par certains préjugés, il est facile de comprendre qu’il en soit ainsi, car dans le domaine social, la guerre, en tant qu’elle est dirigée contre ceux qui troublent l’ordre et qu’elle a pour but de les y ramener, constitue une fonction légitime, qui n’est au fond qu’un des aspects de la fonction de « justice » entendue dans son acception la plus générale. Cependant, ce n’est là que le côté le plus extérieur des choses, donc le moins essentiel : au point de vue traditionnel, ce qui donne à la guerre ainsi comprise toute sa valeur, c’est qu’elle symbolise la lutte que l’homme doit mener contre les ennemis qu’il porte en lui-même, c’est-à-dire contre tous les éléments qui, en lui, sont contraires à l’ordre et à l’unité. Dans les deux cas, du reste, et qu’il s’agisse de l’ordre extérieur et social ou de l’ordre intérieur et spirituel, la guerre doit toujours tendre également à établir l’équilibre et l’harmonie (et c’est pourquoi elle se rapporte proprement à la « justice »), et à unifier par là d’une certaine façon la multiplicité des éléments en opposition entre eux. Cela revient à dire que son aboutissement normal, et qui est en définitive son unique raison d’être, c’est la paix (es-salâm), laquelle ne peut être obtenue véritablement que par la soumission à la volonté divine (el-islâm), mettant chacun des éléments à sa place pour les faire tous concourir à la réalisation consciente d’un même plan ; et il est à peine besoin de faire remarquer combien, dans la langue arabe, ces deux termes, el-islâm et es-salâm, sont étroitement apparentés l’un à l’autre. ~ Ren Gu non,#NFDB
258:L’homme est le seul être, dans le monde terrestre, à pouvoir se purifier consciemment des taches de son existence, et c’est pour cela qu’il est dit que « l’homme est le seul animal qui sacrifie » (Shatapatha-Brâhmana, VII, 5) ; en d’autres termes, la vie étant un don du Créateur, les êtres conscients et responsables doivent, afin de réaliser spirituellement le sens de ce don en se référant à sa qualité symbolique, et afin de rendre ce don, par là même, plus prospère et plus durable, sacrifier au Créateur une partie de ce qu’il a donné. Ce sacrifice peut avoir des formes soit sanglantes, soit non sanglantes : ainsi, pour ne citer que ces exemples parmi une multitude d’autres, les Hindous, comme beaucoup de peuples, ne mangent qu’après avoir offert une part aux divinités, de sorte qu’ils ne se nourrissent au fond que de restes sacrificiels ; de même encore, les Musulmans et les Juifs versent tout le sang de la viande destinée à la consommation. Dans un sens analogue, les guerriers de certaines tribus de l’Amérique du Nord sacrifiaient, au moment de leur initiation guerrière, un doigt au « Grand- Esprit » ; il est à retenir que les doigts sont sous un certain rapport ce qu’il y a de plus précieux pour le guerrier, homme d’action, et d’autre part, le fait que l’on possède dix doigts et que l’on en sacrifie un, c’est-à-dire un dixième de ce qui représente notre activité, est fort significatif, d’abord parce que le nombre dix est celui du cycle accompli ou entièrement réalisé, et ensuite à cause de l’analogie qui existe entre le sacrifice dont nous venons de parler et la dîme (décima, dixième).
Celle-ci est du reste l’équivalent exact de la zakkât musulmane, l’aumône ordonnée par la Loi qoranique : afin de conserver et d’augmenter les biens, on empêche le cycle de prospérité de se fermer et cela en sacrifiant le dixième, c’est-à-dire la partie qui constituerait précisément l’achèvement et la fin du cycle. Le mot zakkât a le double sens de « purification » et de « croissance », termes dont le rapport étroit apparaît très nettement dans l’exemple de la taille des plantes ; ce mot zakkât vient étymologiquement du verbe zakâ qui veut dire « prospérer » ou « purifier », ou encore, dans une autre acception, « lever » ou « payer » la contribution sacrée, ou encore « augmenter ». Rappelons aussi, dans cet ordre d’idées, l’expression arabe dîn, qui signifie non seulement « tradition », selon l’acception la plus courante, mais aussi « jugement », et, avec une voyellisation un peu différente qui fait que le mot se prononce alors dayn, « dette » ; ici encore, les sens respectifs du mot se tiennent, la tradition étant considérée comme la dette de l’homme vis-à-vis de Dieu ; et le « Jour du Jugement » (Yawm ed-Dîn) — « Jour » dont Allâh est appelé le « Roi » (Mâlik) — n’est autre que le jour du « paiement de la dette » de l’individu envers Celui à qui il doit tout et qui est son ultime raison suffisante. ~ Frithjof Schuon,#NFDB
259:Lancan Vei Per Mei La Landa
Lancan vei per mei la landa
dels arbres chazer la fòlha,
ans frejura s'espanda
ni.l gens termini s'esconda,
m'es bel que si' auzitz mos chans,
qu'estat n' aurai mais de dos ans,
e cové que.n fass' esmenda.
Mout m'es greu que ja reblanda
celeis que vas me s'orgòlha
car si mos cors demanda,
platz que mot m'i responda.
Be m'auci mos nescis talans,
car sec d' amor los bels semblans
e no ve c' amors lh' atenda.
Deus, que tot lo mon garanda,
li met' en cor que m'acòlha,
c' a me no te pro vianda
ni negus bes no.m aonda.
Tan sui vas la bela doptans,
per qu' e.m ren a leis merceyans:
platz, que.m don o que.m venda!
Mal o fara, si no.m manda
venir lai on se despòlha,
qu'eu sia per sa comanda
pres del leih, josta l'esponda,
sotlars be chaussans,
a genolhs e umilians,
platz que sos pes me tenda.
Faihz es lo vers tot a randa,
si que motz no.i deschapdòlha,
outra la terra normanda,
part la fera mar prionda;
e si.m sui de midons lonhans,
vas se.m tira com azimans
la bela cui Deus defenda.
17
Si.l reis engles e.l ducs normans
o vol, eu la veira abans
que l'iverns nos sobreprenda.
(parlé)Pel rei sui engles e normans,
e si no fos Mos Azimans,
restera tro part calenda.
(When I see the leaves of the trees fall off in the middle of the fields, before the
cold spreads and the good season disappears, it seems good to me that my song
be heard, for I have not done so in over two years, and I should atone for that.
It is painful for me to serve still the one who is so haughty towards me, for if my
heart demands something of her she doesn't wish to speak even a word. My
foolish desire kills me, because it pursues the fair appearance of love, and does
not see that love awaits.
May God, who guards the universe, place in her heart a welcome for me, for no
food is of benefit to me, and no bounty consoles me. I am so uncertain
concerning the fair one that I deliver myself, pleading for mercy, to her. So if she
wishes, she can give me away, or sell me.
She would do a wrong if she did not invite me to come to the place where she
undresses, so that I may be at her command, next to her, at the edge of the
bed, and I would take off her graceful slippers, on my knees and humble, if it
pleased her to extend to me her feet.
This poem is perfectly made, without a single badly-made word, beyond the land
of Normandy, beyound the wild and deep sea. And although I am far from my
lady, I am drawn to her like a magnet, she whom God may protect.
If the English king and the Norman duke wish it, I shall see her before the winter
takes us by surprise. By grace of the king I am English, and Norman, and if it
were not for My Magnet, I would remain here until after Christmas.)
~ Bernard de Ventadorn,#NFDB
260:[...] Pourtant, s’il n’existe pas de moyen infaillible pour permettre au futur disciple d’identifier un Maître authentique par une procédure mentale uniquement, il existe néanmoins cette maxime ésotérique universelle (127) que tout aspirant trouvera un guide authentique s’il le mérite. De même que cette autre maxime qu’en réalité, et en dépit des apparences, ce n’est pas celui qui cherche qui choisit la voie, mais la voie qui le choisit. En d’autres termes, puisque le Maître incarne la voie, il a, mystérieusement et providentiellement, une fonction active à l’égard de celui qui cherche, avant même que l’initiation établisse la relation maître-disciple. Ce qui permet de comprendre l’anecdote suivante, racontée par le Shaykh marocain al-’Arabî ad-Darqâwî (mort en 1823), l’un des plus grands Maîtres soufis de ces derniers siècles. Au moment en question, il était un jeune homme, mais qui représentait déjà son propre Shaykh, ’Alî al-Jamal, à qui il se plaignit un jour de devoir aller dans tel endroit où il craignait de ne trouver aucune compagnie spirituelle. Son Shaykh lui coupa la parole : « Engendre celui qu’il te faut! » Et un peu plus tard, il lui réitéra le même ordre, au pluriel : « Engendre-les! »(128) Nous avons vu que le premier pas dans la voie spirituelle est de « renaître »; et toutes ces considérations laissent entendre que nul ne « mérite » un Maître sans avoir éprouvé une certaine conscience d’« inexistence » ou de vide, avant-goût de la pauvreté spirituelle (faqr) d’où le faqîr tire son nom. La porte ouverte est une image de cet état, et le Shaykh ad-Darqâwî déclare que l’un des moyens les plus puissants pour obtenir la solution à un problème spirituel est de tenir ouverte « la porte de la nécessité »(129) et de prendre garde qu’elle ne se referme. On peut ainsi en déduire que ce « mérite » se mesurera au degré d’acuité du sens de la nécessité chez celui qui cherche un Maître, ou au degré de vacuité de son âme, qui doit être en effet suffisamment vide pour précipiter l’avènement de ce qui lui est nécessaire. Et soulignons pour terminer que cette « passivité » n’est pas incompatible avec l’attitude plus active prescrite par le Christ : « Cherchez et vous trouverez; frappez et l’on vous ouvrira », puisque la manière la plus efficace de « frapper » est de prier, et que supplier est la preuve d’un vide et l’aveu d’un dénuement, d’une « nécessité » justement. En un mot, le futur disciple a, aussi bien que le Maître, des qualifications à actualiser.
127. Voir, dans le Treasury of Traditional Wisdom de Whitall Perry, à la section réservée au Maître spirituel, pp. 288-95, les citations sur ce point particulier, de même que sur d’autres en rapport avec cet appendice.
128. Lettres d'un Maître soufi, pp. 27-28.
129. Ibid., p. 20. - Le texte dit : « porte de la droiture », erreur de traduction corrigée par l’auteur, le terme arabe ayant bien le sens de « nécessité », et même de « besoin urgent ». (NdT) ~ Martin Lings,#NFDB
261:… Le Bouddha ne fut tout d’abord figuré que par des empreintes de pieds, ou par des symboles tels que l’arbre ou la roue (et il est remarquable que, de la même façon, le Christ aussi ne fut représenté pendant plusieurs siècles que par des figurations purement symboliques) ; comment et pourquoi en vint-on à admettre par la suite une image anthropomorphique ? Il faut voir là comme une concession aux besoins d’une époque moins intellectuelle, où la compréhension doctrinale était déjà affaiblie ; les « supports de contemplation », pour être aussi efficaces que possible, doivent en effet être adaptés aux conditions de chaque époque ; mais encore convient-il de remarquer que l’image humaine elle-même, ici comme dans le cas des « déités » hindoues, n’est réellement « anthropomorphique » que dans une certaine mesure, en ce sens qu’elle n’est jamais « naturaliste » et qu’elle garde toujours, avant tout et dans tous ses détails, un caractère essentiellement symbolique. Cela ne veut d’ailleurs point dire qu’il s’agisse d’une représentation « conventionnelle » comme l’imaginent les modernes, car un symbole n’est nullement le produit d’une invention humaine ; « le symbolisme est un langage hiératique et métaphysique, non un langage déterminé par des catégories organiques ou psychologiques ; son fondement est dans la correspondance analogique de tous les ordres de réalité, états d’être ou niveaux de référence ». La forme symbolique « est révélée » et « vue » dans le même sens que les incantations vêdiques ont été révélées et « entendues », et il ne peut y avoir aucune distinction de principe entre vision et audition, car ce qui importe n’est pas le genre de support sensible qui est employé, mais la signification qui y est en quelque sorte « incorporée ». L’élément proprement « surnaturel » est partie intégrante de l’image, comme il l’est des récits ayant une valeur « mythique », au sens originel de ce mot ; dans les deux cas, il s’agit avant tout de moyens destinés, non à communiquer, ce qui est impossible, mais à permettre de réaliser le « mystère », ce que ne saurait évidemment faire ni un simple portrait ni un fait historique comme tel. C’est donc la nature même de l’art symbolique en général qui échappe inévitablement au point de vue « rationaliste » des modernes, comme lui échappe, pour les mêmes raisons, le sens transcendant des « miracles » et le caractère « théophanique » du monde manifesté lui-même ; l’homme ne peut comprendre ces choses que s’il est à la fois sensitif et spirituel, et s’il se rend compte que « l’accès à la réalité ne s’obtient pas en faisant un choix entre la matière et l’esprit supposés sans rapports entre eux, mais plutôt en voyant dans les choses matérielles et sensibles une similitude formelle des prototypes spirituels que les sens ne peuvent atteindre directement » ; il s’agit là « d’une réalité envisagée à différents niveaux de référence, ou, si l’on préfère, de différents ordres de réalité, mais qui ne s’excluent pas mutuellement. ~ Ren Gu non, #NFDB
262:J’ai remarqué souvent que quand deux amis pétersbourgeois se rencontrent quelque part, après s’être salués, ils demandent en même temps : Quoi de neuf ? il y a une tristesse particulière dans leurs voix, quelle qu’ait été l’intonation initiale de leur conversation. En effet, une désespérance totale est liée à cette question à Pétersbourg. Mais le plus agaçant c’est que, très souvent, l’homme qui la pose est tout à fait indifférent, un Pétersbourgeois de naissance, qui connaît très bien la coutume, sait d’avance qu’on ne lui répondra rien, qu’il n’y a rien de nouveau, qu’il a posé cette question peut-être mille fois sans aucun succès ; cependant, il la pose, et il a l’air de s’y intéresser, comme si les convenances l’obligeaient de participer lui aussi à la vie publique, d’avoir des intérêts publics. Mais les intérêts publics... C’est-à-dire nous ne nions pas que nous ayons des intérêts publics ; nous tous aimons ardemment la patrie, nous aimons notre cher Pétersbourg, nous aimons jouer si l’occasion se présente. En un mot il y a beaucoup d’intérêts publics. Mais ce qu’il y a surtout chez nous, ce sont les groupes. On sait que Pétersbourg n’est que la réunion d’un nombre considérable de petits groupes dont chacun a ses statuts, ses conventions, ses lois, sa logique et son oracle. C’est en quelque sorte le produit de notre caractère national qui a encore peur de la vie publique et tient plutôt au foyer. En outre, la vie publique exige un certain art ; il faut s’y préparer ; il faut beaucoup de conditions. Aussi, l’on préfère la maison. Là, tout est plus simple ; il ne faut aucun art ; on est plus tranquille. Dans le groupe, on vous répondra bravement à la question : Quoi de neuf ? La question reçoit tout de suite un sens particulier, et l’on vous répond ou par un potin, ou par un bâillement, ou par quelque chose qui vous force vous-même à bâiller cyniquement, magistralement. Dans le groupe, on peut traîner de la façon la meilleure et la plus douce une vie utile entre le bâillement et le ragot, jusqu’au moment où la grippe, ou bien la fièvre chaude, visite votre demeure ; et vous quittez alors la vie stoïquement, avec indifférence, sans savoir comment et pourquoi tout cela était avec vous jusqu’alors. Aujourd’hui, dans l’obscurité, au crépuscule, après une triste journée, plein d’étonnement que tout se soit arrangé ainsi, il semble qu’on ait vécu, qu’on ait atteint quelque chose, et tout à coup, on ne sait pas pourquoi, il faut quitter ce monde agréable et sans soucis pour émigrer dans un monde meilleur. Dans certains groupes, d’ailleurs, on parle fortement de la cause. Quelques personnes instruites et bien intentionnées se réunissent. On bannit sévèrement tous les plaisirs innocents, comme les potins et la préférence, et, avec un entrain incompréhensible, on parle de différents sujets très importants. Enfin, après avoir bavardé, parlé, résolu quelques questions d’utilité générale, et après avoir réussi à imposer aux uns et aux autres une opinion sur toutes choses, le groupe est saisi d’une irritation quelconque et commence à s’affaiblir considérablement. Finalement, tous se fâchent les uns contre les autres. On se dit quelques dures vérités. Quelques caractères tranchants se font jour et tout se termine par la dislocation totale. Ensuite on se calme ; on fait provision de bon sens et, peu à peu, l’on se réunit de nouveau dans le groupe décrit ci-dessus. Sans doute il est agréable de vivre ainsi. Mais à la longue cela devient irritant ; cela irrite fortement. ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky, #NFDB
263:Les deux femmes, vêtues de noir, remirent le corps dans le lit de ma sœur, elles jetèrent dessus des fleurs et de l’eau bénite, puis, lorsque le soleil eut fini de jeter dans l’appartement sa lueur rougeâtre et terne comme le regard d’un cadavre, quand le jour eut disparu de dessus les vitres, elles allumèrent deux petites bougies qui étaient sur la table de nuit, s’agenouillèrent et me dirent de prier comme elles.
Je priai, oh ! bien fort, le plus qu’il m’était possible ! mais rien… Lélia ne remuait pas !
Je fus longtemps ainsi agenouillé, la tête sur les draps du lit froids et humides, je pleurais, mais bas et sans angoisses ; il me semblait qu’en pensant, en pleurant, en me déchirant l’âme avec des prières et des vœux, j’obtiendrais un souffle, un regard, un geste de ce corps aux formes indécises et dont on ne distinguait rien si ce n’est, à une place, une forme ronde qui devait être La tête, et plus bas une autre qui semblait être les pieds. Je croyais, moi, pauvre naïf enfant, je croyais que la prière pouvait rendre la vie à un cadavre, tant j’avais de foi et de candeur !
Oh ! on ne sait ce qu’a d’amer et de sombre une nuit ainsi passée à prier sur un cadavre, à pleurer, à vouloir faire renaître le néant ! On ne sait tout ce qu’il y a de hideux et d’horrible dans une nuit de larmes et de sanglots, à la lueur de deux cierges mortuaires, entouré de deux femmes aux chants monotones, aux larmes vénales, aux grotesques psalmodies ! On ne sait enfin tout ce que cette scène de désespoir et de deuil vous remplit le cœur : enfant, de tristesse et d’amertume ; jeune homme, de scepticisme ; vieillard, de désespoir !
Le jour arriva.
Mais quand le jour commença à paraître, lorsque les deux cierges mortuaires commençaient à mourir aussi, alors ces deux femmes partirent et me laissèrent seul. Je courus après elles, et me traînant à leurs pieds, m’attachant à leurs vêtements :
— Ma sœur ! leur dis-je, eh bien, ma sœur ! oui, Lélia ! où est-elle ?
Elles me regardèrent étonnées.
— Ma sœur ! vous m’avez dit de prier, j’ai prié pour qu’elle revienne, vous m’avez trompé !
— Mais c’était pour son âme !
Son âme ? Qu’est-ce que cela signifiait ? On m’avait souvent parlé de Dieu, jamais de l’âme.
Dieu, je comprenais cela au moins, car si l’on m’eût demandé ce qu’il était, eh bien, j’aurais pris La linotte de Lélia, et, lui brisant la tête entre mes mains, j’aurais dit : « Et moi aussi, je suis Dieu ! » Mais l’âme ? l’âme ? qu’est-ce cela ?
J’eus la hardiesse de le leur demander, mais elles s’en allèrent sans me répondre.
Son âme ! eh bien, elles m’ont trompé, ces femmes. Pour moi, ce que je voulais, c’était Lélia, Lélia qui jouait avec moi sur le gazon, dans les bois, qui se couchait sur la mousse, qui cueillait des fleurs et puis qui les jetait au vent ; c’était Lelia, ma belle petite sœur aux grands yeux bleus, Lélia qui m’embrassait le soir après sa poupée, après son mouton chéri, après sa linotte. Pauvre sœur ! c’était toi que je demandais à grands cris, en pleurant, et ces gens barbares et inhumains me répondaient : « Non, tu ne la reverras pas, tu as prié non pour elle, mais tu as prié pour son âme ! quelque chose d’inconnu, de vague comme un mot d’une langue étrangère ; tu as prié pour un souffle, pour un mot, pour le néant, pour son âme enfin ! »
Son âme, son âme, je la méprise, son âme, je la regrette, je n’y pense plus. Qu’est-ce que ça me fait à moi, son âme ? savez-vous ce que c’est que son âme ? Mais c’est son corps que je veux ! c’est son regard, sa vie, c’est elle enfin ! et vous ne m’avez rien rendu de tout cela.
Ces femmes m’ont trompé, eh bien, je les ai maudites.
Cette malédiction est retombée sur moi, philosophe imbécile qui ne sais pas comprendre un mot sans L’épeler, croire à une âme sans la sentir, et craindre un Dieu dont, semblable au Prométhée d’Eschyle, je brave les coups et que je méprise trop pour blasphémer. ~ Gustave Flaubert,#NFDB
264:To Music (À La Musique)
On the square which is chopped into mean little plots of grass,
The square where all is just so, both the trees and the flowers,
All the wheezy townsfolk whom the heat chokes bring
Each Thursday evening, their envious silliness.
- The military band, in the middle of the gardens,
Swing their shakos in the Waltz of the Fifes :
Round about, near the front rows, the town dandy struts ;
- The notary hangs like a charm from his own watch chain.
Private incomes in pince-nez point out all false notes :
Great counting-house desks, bloated, drag their stout spouses
Close by whom, like bustling elephant keepers,
Walk females whose flounces remind you of sales ;
On the green benches, retired grocers' clubs,
Poking the sand with their knobbed walking canes,
Gravely discuss trade agreements,
And then take snuff from silver boxes, and resume : 'In short !…'
Spreading over his bench all the fat of his rump,
A pale-buttoned burgher, a Flemish corporation,
Savours his Onnaing, whence shreds of tobacco hang loose
You realize, it's smuggled, of course ;Along the grass borders yobs laugh in derision ;
And, melting to love at the sound of trombones,
Very simple, and sucking at roses, the little foot-soldiers
Fondle the babies to get round their nurses..
- As for me, I follow, dishevelled like a student,
Under the green chestnuts, the lively young girls :
Which they know very well, and they turn to me,
Laughing, eyes which are full of indiscreet things.
I don't say a word : I just keep on looking at
The skin of their white necks embroidered with stray locks :
I go hunting, beneath bodices and thin attire,
The divine back below the curve of the shoulders.
212
Soon I've discovered the boot and the stocking…
- I re-create their bodies, burning with fine fevers.
They find me absurd, and talk together in low voices…
- And my savage desires fasten on to their lips…
Original French
À la Musique.
Sur la place taillée en mesquines pelouses,
Square où tout est correct, les arbres et les fleurs,
Tous les bourgeois poussifs qu'étranglent les chaleurs
Portent, les jeudis soirs, leurs bêtises jalouses
- L'orchestre militaire, au milieu du jardin,
Balance ses schakos dans la Valse des fifres :
- Autour, aux premiers rangs, parade le gandin ;
Le notaire pend à ses breloques à chiffres
Des rentiers à lorgnons soulignent tous les couacs :
Les gros bureaux bouffis traînent leurs grosses dames
Auprès desquelles vont, officieux cornacs,
Celles dont les volants ont des airs de réclames ;
Sur les bancs verts, des clubs d'épiciers retraités
Qui tisonnent le sable avec leur canne à pomme,
Fort sérieusement discutent les traités,
Puis prisent en argent, et reprennent : 'En somme !...'
Épatant sur son banc les rondeurs de ses reins,
Un bourgeois à boutons clairs, bedaine flamande,
Savoure son onnaing d'où le tabac par brins
Déborde - vous savez, c'est de la contrebande ; Le long des gazons verts ricanent les voyous ;
Et rendus amoureux par le chant des trombones,
Très naïfs, et fumant des roses, les pioupious
Caressent les bébés pour enjôler les bonnes..
213
- Moi, je suis, débraillé comme un étudiant
Sous les marronniers verts les alertes fillettes :
Elles le savent bien ; et tournent en riant,
Vers moi, leurs yeux tout pleins de choses indiscrètes
Je ne dit pas un mot : je regarde toujours
La chair de leurs cous blancs brodés de mèches folles :
Je suis, sous le corsage et les frêles atours,
Le dos divin après la courbe des épaules
J'ai bientôt déniché la bottine, le bas...
- Je reconstruis les corps, brûlé de belles fièvres.
Elles me trouvent drôle et se parlent tout bas...
- Et mes désirs brutaux s'accrochent à leurs lèvres...
~ Arthur Rimbaud,#NFDB
265:La Liberte
UN CHEVRIER, UN BERGER
LE CHEVRIER
Berger, quel es-tu donc? qui t'agite? et quels dieux
De noirs cheveux épars enveloppent tes yeux?
LE BERGER
Blond pasteur de chevreaux, oui, tu veux me l'apprendre:
Oui, ton front est plus beau, ton regard est plus tendre.
LE CHEVRIER
Quoi! tu sors de ces monts où tu n'as vu que toi,
Et qu'on n'approche point sans peine et sans effroi?
LE BERGER
Tu te plais mieux sans doute au bois, à la prairie;
Tu le peux. Assieds-toi parmi l'herbe fleurie:
Moi, sous un antre aride, en cet affreux séjour,
Je me plais sur le roc à voir passer le jour.
LE CHEVRIER
Mais Cérès a maudit cette terre âpre et dure;
Un noir torrent pierreux y roule une onde impure;
Tous ces rocs, calcinés sous un soleil rongeur,
Brûlent et font hâter les pas du voyageur.
Point de fleurs, point de fruits, nul ombrage fertile
N'y donne au rossignol un balsamique asile.
Quelque olivier au loin, maigre fécondité,
Y rampe et fait mieux voir leur triste nudité.
Comment as-tu donc su d'herbes accoutumées
Nourrir dans ce désert tes brebis affamées?
LE BERGER
88
Que m'importe! est-ce à moi qu'appartient ce troupeau?
Je suis esclave.
LE CHEVRIER
Au moins un rustique pipeau
A-t-il chassé l'ennui de ton rocher sauvage?
Tiens, veux-tu cette flûte? Elle fut mon ouvrage.
Prends: sur ce buis, fertile en agréables sons,
Tu pourras des oiseaux imiter les chansons.
LE BERGER
Non, garde tes présents. Les oiseaux de ténèbres,
La chouette et l'orfraie, et leurs accents funèbres,
Voilà les seuls chanteurs que je veuille écouter;
Voilà quelles chansons je voudrais imiter.
Ta flûte sous mes pieds serait bientôt brisée:
Je hais tous vos plaisirs. Les fleurs et la rosée,
Et de vos rossignols les soupirs caressants,
Rien ne plaît à mon coeur, rien ne flatte mes sens.
Je suis esclave.
LE CHEVRIER
Hélas! que je te trouve à plaindre!
Oui, l'esclavage est dur; oui, tout mortel doit craindre
De servir, de plier sous une injuste loi,
De vivre pour autrui, de n'avoir rien à soi.
Protège-moi toujours, ô liberté chérie!
O mère des vertus, mère de la patrie!
LE BERGER
Va, patrie et vertu ne sont que de vains noms.
Toutefois tes discours sont pour moi des affronts:
Ton prétendu bonheur et m'afflige et me brave;
Comme moi, je voudrais que tu fusses esclave.
LE CHEVRIER
89
Et moi, je te voudrais libre, heureux comme moi.
Mais les dieux n'ont-ils point de remède pour toi?
Il est des baumes doux, des lustrations pures
Qui peuvent de notre âme assoupir les blessures,
Et de magiques chants qui tarissent les pleurs.
LE BERGER
Il n'en est point; il n'est pour moi que des douleurs:
Mon sort est de servir, il faut qu'il s'accomplisse.
Moi, j'ai ce chien aussi qui tremble à mon service;
C'est mon esclave aussi. Mon désespoir muet
Ne peut rendre qu'à lui tous les maux qu'on me fait.
LE CHEVRIER
La terre, notre mère, et sa douce richesse,
Ne peut-elle, du moins, égayer ta tristesse?
Vois combien elle est belle! et vois l'été vermeil,
Prodigue de trésors, brillants fils du soleil,
Qui vient, fertile amant d'une heureuse culture,
Varier du printemps l'uniforme verdure;
Vois l'abricot naissant, sous les yeux d'un beau ciel,
Arrondir son fruit doux et blond comme le miel;
Vois la pourpre des fleurs dont le pêcher se pare
Nous annoncer l'éclat des fruits qu'il nous prépare.
Au bord de ces prés verts regarde ces guérets,
De qui les blés touffus, jaunissantes forêts,
Du joyeux moissonneur attendent la faucille.
D'agrestes déités quelle noble famille!
La Récolte et la Paix, aux yeux purs et sereins,
Les épis sur le front, les épis dans les mains,
Qui viennent, sur les pas de la belle Espérance,
Verser la corne d'or où fleurit l'abondance.
LE BERGER
Sans doute qu'à tes yeux elles montrent leurs pas;
Moi, j'ai des yeux d'esclave, et je ne les vois pas.
Je n'y vois qu'un sol dur, laborieux, servile,
Que j'ai, non pas pour moi, contraint d'être fertile;
Où, sous un ciel brûlant, je moissonne le grain
90
Qui va nourrir un autre, et me laisse ma faim.
Voilà quelle est la terre. Elle n'est point ma mère,
Elle est pour moi marâtre; et la nature entière
Est plus nue à mes yeux, plus horrible à mon coeur
Que ce vallon de mort qui te fait tant d'horreur.
LE CHEVRIER
Le soin de tes brebis, leur voix douce et paisible,
N'ont-ils donc rien qui plaise à ton âme insensible?
N'aimes-tu point à voir les jeux de tes agneaux?
Moi, je me plais auprès de mes jeunes chevreaux;
Je m'occupe à leurs jeux, j'aime leur voix bêlante;
Et quand sur la rosée et sur l'herbe brillante
Vers leur mère en criant je les vois accourir,
Je bondis avec eux de joie et de plaisir.
LE BERGER
Ils sont à toi: mais moi, j'eus une autre fortune;
Ceux-ci de mes tourments sont la cause importune
Deux fois, avec ennui, promenés chaque jour,
Un maître soupçonneux nous attend au retour
Rien ne le satisfait: ils ont trop peu de laine;
Ou bien ils sont mourants, ils se traînent à peine;
En un mot, tout est mal. Si le loup quelquefois
En saisit un, l'emporte et s'enfuit dans les bois,
C'est ma faute; il fallait braver ses dents avides.
Je dois rendre les loups innocents et timides!
Et puis, menaces, cris, injure, emportements,
Et lâches cruautés qu'il nomme châtiments.
LE CHEVRIER
Toujours à l'innocent les dieux sont favorables:
Pourquoi fuir leur présence, appui des misérables?
Autour de leurs autels, parés de nos festons,
Que ne viens-tu danser, offrir de simples dons,
Du chaume, quelques fleurs, et, par ces sacrifices,
Te rendre Jupiter et les nymphes propices?
LE BERGER
91
Non; les danses, les jeux, les plaisirs des bergers
Sont à mon triste coeur des plaisirs étrangers.
Que parles-tu de dieux, de nymphes et d'offrandes?
Moi, je n'ai pour les dieux ni chaume ni guirlandes;
Je les crains, car j'ai vu leur foudre et leurs éclairs;
Je ne les aime pas: ils m'ont donné des fers.
LE CHEVRIER
Eh bien, que n'aimes-tu? Quelle amertume extrême
Résiste aux doux souris d'une vierge qu'on aime?
L'autre jour, à la mienne, en ce bois fortuné,
Je vins offrir le don d'un chevreau nouveau-né.
Son oeil tomba sur moi, si doux, si beau, si tendre!...
Sa voix prit un accent!... Je crois toujours l'entendre.
LE BERGER
Eh! quel oeil virginal voudrait tomber sur moi?
Ai-je, moi, des chevreaux à donner comme toi?
Chaque jour, par ce maître inflexible et barbare,
Mes agneaux sont comptés avec un soin avare.
Trop heureux quand il daigne à mes cris superflus
N'en pas redemander plus que je n'en reçus!
O juste Némésis! si jamais je puis être
Le plus fort à mon tour, si je puis me voir maître,
Je serai dur, méchant, intraitable, sans foi,
Sanguinaire, cruel, comme on l'est avec moi!
LE CHEVRIER
Et moi, c'est vous qu'ici pour témoins j'en appelle,
Dieux! de mes serviteurs la cohorte fidèle
Me trouvera toujours humain, compatissant,
A leurs justes désirs facile et complaisant,
Afin qu'ils soient heureux et qu'ils aiment leur maître
Et bénissent en paix l'instant qui les vit naître.
LE BERGER
Et moi, je le maudis, cet instant douloureux
92
Qui me donna le jour pour être malheureux;
Pour agir quand un autre exige, veut, ordonne;
Pour n'avoir rien à moi, pour ne plaire à personne;
Pour endurer la faim, quand ma peine et mon deuil
Engraissent d'un tyran l'indolence et l'orgueil.
LE CHEVRIER
Berger infortuné! ta plaintive détresse
De ton coeur dans le mien fait passer la tristesse.
Vois cette chèvre mère et ces chevreaux, tous deux
Aussi blancs que le lait qu'elle garde pour eux;
Qu'ils aillent avec toi, je te les abandonne.
Adieu, puisse du moins ce peu que je te donne
De ta triste mémoire effacer tes malheurs,
Et, soigné par tes mains, distraire tes douleurs!
LE BERGER
Oui, donne et sois maudit; car, si j'étais plus sage,
Ces dons sont pour mon coeur d'un sinistre présage:
De mon despote avare ils choqueront les yeux.
Il ne croit pas qu'on donne; il est fourbe, envieux;
Il dira que chez lui j'ai volé le salaire
Dont j'aurai pu payer les chevreaux et la mère;
Et, d'un si bon prétexte ardent à se servir,
C'est à moi que lui-même il viendra les ravir.
~ Andre Marie de Chenier,#NFDB
266:Hermes
FRAGMENT I.--PROLOGUE.
Dans nos vastes cités, par le sort partagés,
Sous deux injustes lois les hommes sont rangés:
Les uns, princes et grands, d'une avide opulence
Étalent sans pudeur la barbare insolence;
Les autres, sans pudeur, vils clients de ces grands,
Vont ramper sous les murs qui cachent leurs tyrans.
Admirer ces palais aux colonnes hautaines
Dont eux-mêmes ont payé les splendeurs inhumaines,
Qu'eux-mêmes ont arrachés aux entrailles des monts,
Et tout trempés encor des sueurs de leurs fronts.
Moi, je me plus toujours, client de la nature,
A voir son opulence et bienfaisante et pure,
Cherchant loin de nos murs les temples, les palais
Où la Divinité me révèle ses traits,
Ces monts, vainqueurs sacrés des fureurs du tonnerre,
Ces chênes, ces sapins, premiers-nés de la terre.
Les pleurs des malheureux n'ont point teint ces lambris.
D'un feu religieux le saint poète épris
Cherche leur pur éther et plane sur leur cime.
Mer bruyante, la voix du poète sublime
Lutte contre les vents; et tes flots agités
Sont moins forts, moins puissants que ses vers indomptés.
A l'aspect du volcan, aux astres élancée,
Luit, vole avec l'Etna, la bouillante pensée.
Heureux qui sait aimer ce trouble auguste et grand!
Seul, il rêve en silence à la voix du torrent
Qui le long des rochers se précipite et tonne;
Son esprit en torrent et s'élance et bouillonne.
Là, je vais dans mon sein méditant à loisir
Des chants à faire entendre aux siècles à venir;
Là, dans la nuit des coeurs qu'osa sonder Homère,
Cet aveugle divin et me guide et m'éclaire.
Souvent mon vol, armé des ailes de Buffon,
Franchit avec Lucrèce, au flambeau de Newton,
La ceinture d'azur sur le globe étendue.
Je vois l'être et la vie et leur source inconnue,
50
Dans les fleuves d'éther tous les mondes roulants.
Je poursuis la comète aux crins étincelants,
Les astres et leurs poids, leurs formes, leurs distances;
Je voyage avec eux dans leurs cercles immenses.
Comme eux, astre, soudain je m'entoure de feux;
Dans l'éternel concert je me place avec eux:
En moi leurs doubles lois agissent et respirent:
Je sens tendre vers eux mon globe qu'ils attirent;
Sur moi qui les attire ils pèsent à leur tour.
Les éléments divers, leur haine, leur amour,
Les causes, l'infini s'ouvre à mon oeil avide.
Bientôt redescendu sur notre fange humide,
J'y rapporte des vers de nature enflammés,
Aux purs rayons des dieux dans ma course allumés.
Écoutez donc ces chants d'Hermès dépositaires,
Où l'homme antique, errant dans ses routes premières,
Fait revivre à vos yeux l'empreinte de ses pas.
Mais dans peu, m'élançant aux armes, aux combats,
Je dirai l'Amérique à l'Europe montrée;
J'irai dans cette riche et sauvage contrée
Soumettre au Mançanar le vaste Maragnon.
Plus loin dans l'avenir je porterai mon nom,
Celui de cette Europe en grands exploits féconde,
Que nos jours ne sont loin des premiers jours du monde.
FRAGMENT II
Chassez de vos autels, juges vains et frivoles,
Ces héros conquérants, meurtrières idoles;
Tous ces grands noms, enfants des crimes, des malheurs,
De massacres fumants, teints de sang et de pleurs.
Venez tomber aux pieds de plus nobles images:
Voyez ces hommes saints, ces sublimes courages,
Héros dont les vertus, les travaux bienfaisants,
Ont éclairé la terre et mérité l'encens;
Qui, dépouillés d'eux-mêmes et vivant pour leurs frères,
Les ont soumis au frein des règles salutaires,
Au joug de leur bonheur; les ont faits citoyens;
En leur donnant des lois leur ont donné des biens,
Des forces, des parents, la liberté, la vie;
Enfin qui d'un pays ont fait une patrie.
Et que de fois pourtant leurs frères envieux
51
Ont d'affronts insensés, de mépris odieux,
Accueilli les bienfaits de ces illustres guides,
Comme dans leurs maisons ces animaux stupides
Dont la dent méfiante ose outrager la main
Qui se tendait vers eux pour apaiser leur faim!
Mais n'importe; un grand homme au milieu des supplices
Goûte de la vertu les augustes délices.
Il le sait: les humains sont injustes, ingrats.
Que leurs yeux un moment ne le connaissent pas;
Qu'un jour entre eux et lui s'élève avec murmure
D'insectes ennemis une nuée obscure;
N'importe, il les instruit, il les aime pour eux.
Même ingrats, il est doux d'avoir fait des heureux.
Il sait que leur vertu, leur bonté, leur prudence,
Doit être son ouvrage et non sa récompense,
Et que leur repentir, pleurant sur son tombeau,
De ses soins, de sa vie, est un prix assez beau,
An loin dans l'avenir sa grande âme contemple
Les sages opprimés que soutient son exemple;
Des méchants dans soi-même il brave la noirceur:
C'est là qu'il sait les fuir; son asile est son coeur.
De ce faîte serein, son Olympe sublime,
Il voit, juge, connaît. Un démon magnanime
Agite ses pensers, vit dans son coeur brûlant,
Travaille son sommeil actif et vigilant,
Arrache au long repos sa nuit laborieuse,
Allume avant le jour sa lampe studieuse,
Lui montre un peuple entier, par ses nobles bienfaits,
Indompté dans la guerre, opulent dans la paix,
Son beau nom remplissant leur coeur et leur histoire,
Les siècles prosternés au pied de sa mémoire.
Par ses sueurs bientôt l'édifice s'accroît.
En vain l'esprit du peuple est rampant, est étroit,
En vain le seul présent les frappe et les entraîne,
En vain leur raison faible et leur vue incertaine
Ne peut de ses regards suivre les profondeurs,
De sa raison céleste atteindre les hauteurs;
Il appelle les dieux à son conseil suprême.
Ses décrets, confiés à la voix des dieux même,
Entraînent sans convaincre, et le monde ébloui
Pense adorer les dieux en n'adorant que lui.
52
Il fait honneur aux dieux de son divin ouvrage.
C'est alors qu'il a vu tantôt à son passage
Un buisson enflammé recéler l'Éternel;
C'est alors qu'il rapporte, en un jour solennel,
De la montagne ardente et du sein du tonnerre,
La voix de Dieu lui-même écrite sur la pierre;
Ou c'est alors qu'au fond de ses augustes bois
Une nymphe l'appelle et lui trace des lois,
Et qu'un oiseau divin, messager de miracles,
A son oreille vient lui dicter des oracles.
Tout agit pour lui seul, et la tempête et l'air,
Et le cri des forêts, et la foudre et l'éclair;
Tout. Il prend à témoin le monde et la nature.
Mensonge grand et saint! glorieuse imposture,
Quand au peuple trompé ce piège généreux
Lui rend sacré le joug qui doit le rendre heureux!
FRAGMENT III
Du temps et du besoin l'inévitable empire
Dut avoir aux humains enseigné l'art d'écrire.
D'autres arts l'ont poli; mais aux arts, le premier,
Lui seul des vrais succès put ouvrir le sentier,
Sur la feuille d'Égypte ou sur la peau ductile,
Même un jour sur le dos d'un albâtre docile,
Au fond des eaux formé des dépouilles du lin,
Une main éloquente, avec cet art divin,
Tient, fait voir l'invisible et rapide pensée,
L'abstraite intelligence et palpable et tracée;
Peint des sons à nos yeux, et transmet à la fois
Une voix aux couleurs, des couleurs à la voix.
Quand des premiers traités la fraternelle chaîne
Commença d'approcher, d'unir la race humaine,
La terre et de hauts monts, des fleuves, des forêts,
Des contrats attestés garants sûrs et muets,
Furent le livre auguste et les lettres sacrées
Qui faisaient lire aux yeux les promesses jurées.
Dans la suite peut-être ils voulurent sur soi
L'un de l'autre emporter la parole et la foi;
Ils surent donc, broyant de liquides matières,
53
L'un sur l'autre imprimer leurs images grossières,
Ou celle du témoin, homme, plante ou rocher,
Qui vit jurer leur bouche et leurs mains se toucher.
De là dans l'Orient ces colonnes savantes,
Rois, prêtres, animaux peints en scènes vivantes,
De la religion ténébreux monuments,
Pour les sages futurs laborieux tourments,
Archives de l'État, où les mains politiques
Traçaient en longs tableaux les annales publiques.
De là, dans un amas d'emblèmes captieux,
Pour le peuple ignorant monstre religieux,
Des membres ennemis vont composer ensemble
Un seul tout, étonné du noeud qui les rassemble:
Un corps de femme au front d'un aigle enfant des airs
Joint l'écaille et les flancs d'un habitant des mers.
Cet art simple et grossier nous a suffi peut-être
Tant que tous nos discours n'ont su voir ni connaître
Que les objets présents dans la nature épars,
Et que tout notre esprit était dans nos regards.
Mais on vit, quand vers l'homme on apprit à descendre,
Quand il fallut fixer, nommer, écrire, entendre,
Du coeur, des passions les plus secrets détours,
Les espaces du temps ou plus longs ou plus courts,
Quel cercle étroit bornait cette antique écriture.
Plus on y mit de soins, plus incertaine, obscure,
Du sens confus et vague elle épaissit la nuit.
Quelque peuple à la fin, par le travail instruit,
Compte combien de mots l'héréditaire usage
A transmis jusqu'à lui pour former un langage.
Pour chacun de ces mots un signe est inventé,
Et la main qui l'entend des lèvres répété
Se souvient d'en tracer cette image fidèle;
Et sitôt qu'une idée inconnue et nouvelle
Grossit d'un mot nouveau ces mots déjà nombreux,
Un nouveau signe accourt s'enrôler avec eux.
C'est alors, sur des pas si faciles à suivre,
Que l'esprit des humains est assuré de vivre.
C'est alors que le fer à la pierre, aux métaux,
Livre, en dépôt sacré pour les âges nouveaux,
Nos âmes et nos moeurs fidèlement gardées;
Et l'oeil sait reconnaître une forme aux idées.
54
Dès lors des grands aïeux les travaux, les vertus
Ne sont point pour leurs fils des exemples perdus.
Le passé du présent est l'arbitre et le père,
Le conduit par la main, l'encourage, l'éclaire.
Les aïeux, les enfants, les arrière-neveux,
Tous sont du même temps, ils ont les mêmes voeux,
La patrie, au milieu des embûches, des traîtres,
Remonte en sa mémoire, a recours aux ancêtres,
Cherche ce qu'ils feraient en un danger pareil,
Et des siècles vieillis assemble le conseil.
~ Andre Marie de Chenier,#NFDB
267:Robin Hood And The Potter
In schomer, when the leves spryng,
The bloschems on every bowe,
So merey doyt the berdys syng
Yn wodys merey now.
Herkens, god yemen,
Comley, corteysse, and god,
On of the best that yever bar bou,
Hes name was Roben Hode.
Roben Hood was the yemans name,
That was boyt corteys and fre;
For the loffe of owr ladey,
All wemen werschep he.
Bot as the god yemen stod on a day,
Among hes mery maney,
He was war of a prowd potter,
Cam dryfyng owyr the ley.
'Yonder comet a prod potter,' seyde Roben,
'That long hayt hantyd this wey;
He was never so corteys a man
On peney of pawage to pay.'
'Y met hem bot at Wentbreg,' seyde Lytyll John,
'And therfor yeffell mot he the,
Seche thre strokes he me gafe,
Yet they cleffe by my seydys.
'Y ley forty shillings,' seyde Lytyll John,
'To pay het thes same day,
Ther ys nat a man arnong hus all
A wed schall make hem ley.'
'Her ys forty shillings,' seyde Roben,
'Mor, and thow dar say,
That y schall make that prowde potter,
A wed to me schall he ley.'
153
Ther thes money they leyde,
They toke bot a yeman to kepe;
Roben befor the potter he breyde,
And bad hem stond stell.
Handys apon hes horse he leyde,
And bad the potter stonde foll stell;
The potter schorteley to hem seyde,
'Felow, what ys they well?'
'All thes thre yer, and mor, potter,' he seyde,
'Thow hast hantyd thes wey,
Yet wer tow never so cortys a man
One peney of pauage to pay.'
'What ys they name,' seyde the potter,
'For pauage thow ask of me?'
'Roben Hod ys mey name,
A wed schall thow leffe me.'
'Well well y non leffe,' seyde the potter,
'Nor pavag well y non pay;
Away they honde fro mey horse,
Y well the tene eyls, be me fay.'
The potter to hes cart he went,
He was not to seke;
A god to-hande staffe therowt he hent,
Befor Roben he lepe.
Roben howt with a swerd bent,
A bokeler en hes honde [therto];
The potter to Roben he went,
And seyde, 'Felow, let mey horse go.'
Togeder then went thes two yemen,
Het was a god seyt to se;
Therof low Robyn hes men,
Ther they stod onder a tre.
Leytell John to hes felowhes seyde,
154
'Yend potter welle steffeley stonde:'
The potter, with an acward stroke,
Smot the bokeler owt of hes honde;
And ar Roben meyt get hem agen
Hes bokeler at hes fette,
The potter yn the neke hem toke,
To the gronde sone he yede.
That saw Roben hes men,
As they stode ender a bow;
'Let us helpe owr master,' seyed Lytell John,
'Yonder potter els well hem sclo.'
Thes yemen went with a breyde,
To ther master they cam.
Leytell John to hes master seyde,
'He haet the wager won?
'Schall y haff yowr forty shillings,' seyde Lytel John,
'Or ye, master, schall haffe myne?'
'Yeff they wer a hundred,' seyde Roben,
'Y feythe, they ben all theyne.'
'Het ys fol leytell cortesey,' seyde the potter,
'As y haffe harde weyse men saye,
Yeff a por yeman com drywyng ower the wey,
To let hem of hes gorney.'
'Be mey trowet, thow seys soyt,' seyde Roben,
'Thow seys god yemenrey;
And thow dreyffe forthe yevery day,
Thow schalt never be let for me.
'Y well prey the, god potter,
A felischepe well thow haffe?
Geffe me they clothyng, and thow schalt hafe myne;
Y well go to Notynggam.'
'Y grant therto,' seyde the potter,
'Thow schalt feynde me a felow gode;
But thow can sell mey pottes well,
155
Come ayen as thow yode.'
'Nay, be mey trowt,' seyde Roben,
'And then y bescro mey hede
Yeffe y bryng eney pottes ayen,
And eney weyffe well hem chepe.'
Than spake Leytell John,
And all hes felowhes heynd,
'Master, be well war of the screffe of Notynggam,
For he ys leytell howr frende.'
'Heyt war howte,' seyde Roben,
'Felowhes, let me alone;
Thorow the helpe of howr ladey,
To Notynggam well y gon.'
Robyn went to Notynggam,
Thes pottes for to sell;
The potter abode with Robens men,
Ther he fered not eylle.
Tho Roben droffe on hes wey,
So merey ower the londe:
Heres mor and affter ys to saye,
The best ys beheynde.
[THE SECOND FIT.]
When Roben cam to Netynggam,
The soyt yef y scholde saye,
He set op hes horse anon,
And gaffe hem hotys and haye.
Yn the medys of the towne,
Ther he schowed hes war;
'Pottys! pottys!' he gan crey foll sone,
'Haffe hansell for the mar.'
Foll effen agenest the screffeys gate
156
Schowed he hes chaffar;
Weyffes and wedowes abowt hem drow,
And chepyd fast of hes war.
Yet, 'Pottys, gret chepe!' creyed Robyn,
'Y loffe yeffell thes to stonde;'
And all that saw hem sell,
Seyde he had be no potter long.
The pottys that wer werthe pens feyffe,
He sold tham for pens thre;
Preveley seyde man and weyffe,
'Ywnder potter schall never the.'
Thos Roben solde foll fast,
Tell he had pottys bot feyffe;
On he hem toke of his car,
And sende hem to the screffeys weyffe.
Therof sche was foll fayne,
'Gramarsey, sir,' than seyde sche;
'When ye com to thes contre ayen,
Y schall bey of they pottys, so mot y the.'
'Ye schall haffe of the best,' seyde Roben,
And swar be the treneyte;
Foll corteysley she gan hem call,
'Com deyne with the screfe and me.'
'Godamarsey,' seyde Roben,
'Yowr bedyng schalle be doyn;'
A mayden yn the pottys gan ber,
Roben and the screffe weyffe folowed anon.
Whan Roben ynto the hall cam,
The screffe sone he met;
The potter cowed of corteysey,
And sone the screffe he gret.
'Loketh what thes potter hayt geffe yow and me;
Feyffe pottys smalle and grete!'
'He ys fol wellcom, seyd the screffe,
157
'Let os was, and go to mete.'
As they sat at her methe,
With a nobell cher,
Two of the screffes men gan speke
Off a gret wager,
Was made the thother daye,
Off a schotyng was god and feyne,
Off forty shillings, the soyt to saye,
Who scholde thes wager wen.
Styll than sat thes prowde po,
Thos than thowt he;
'As y am a trow Cerstyn man,
Thes schotyng well y se.'
Whan they had fared of the best,
With bred and ale and weyne,
To the bottys they made them prest,
With bowes and boltys full feyne.
The screffes men schot foll fast,
As archares that weren godde;
Ther cam non ner ney the marke
Bey halfe a god archares bowe.
Stell then stod the prowde potter,
Thos than seyde he;
'And y had a bow, be the rode,
On schot scholde yow se.'
'Thow schall haffe a bow,' seyde the screffe,
'The best that thow well cheys of thre;
Thou semyst a stalward and a stronge,
Asay schall thow be.'
The screffe commandyd a yeman that stod hem bey
Affter bowhes to wende;
The best bow that the yeman browthe
Roben set on a stryng.
158
'Now schall y wet and thow be god,
And polle het op to they ner;'
'So god me helpe,' seyde the prowde potter,
'Thys ys bot rygzt weke ger.'
To a quequer Roben went,
A god bolt owthe he toke;
So ney on to the marke he went,
He fayled not a fothe.
All they schot abowthe agen,
The screffes men and he;
Off the marke he welde not fayle,
He cleffed the preke on thre.
The screffes men thowt gret schame,
The potter the mastry wan;
The screffe lowe and made god game,
And seyde, 'Potter, thow art a man;
Thow art worthey to ber a bowe,
Yn what plas that thow gang.'
'Yn mey cart y haffe a bowe,
Forsoyt,' he seyde, 'and that a godde;
Yn mey cart ys the bow
That I had of Robyn Hode.'
'Knowest thow Robyn Hode?' seyde the screffe,
'Potter, y prey the tell thou me;'
'A hundred torne y haffe schot with hem,
Under hes tortyll tree.'
'Y had lever nar a hundred ponde,' seyde the screffe,
And swar be the trenite,
['Y had lever nar a hundred ponde,' he seyde,]
'That the fals owtelawe stod be me.
'And ye well do afftyr mey red,' seyde the potter,
'And boldeley go with me,
And to morow, or we het bred,
Roben Hode wel we se.'
159
'Y well queyt the,' kod the screffe,
And swer be god of meythe;
Schetyng thay left, and hom they went,
Her scoper was redey deythe.
Upon the morow, when het was day,
He boskyd hem forthe to reyde;
The potter hes carte forthe gan ray,
And wolde not [be] leffe beheynde.
He toke leffe of the screffys wyffe,
And thankyd her of all thyng:
'Dam, for mey loffe, and ye well thys wer,
Y geffe yow her a golde ryng.'
'Gramarsey,' seyde the weyffe,
'Sir, god eylde het the;'
The screffes hart was never so leythe,
The feyr forest to se.
And when he cam ynto the foreyst,
Yonder the leffes grene,
Berdys ther sange on bowhes prest,
Het was gret joy to sene.
'Her het ys mercy to be,' seyde Roben,
'For a man that had hawt to spende;
Be mey horne we schall awet
Yeff Roben Hode be ner hande.'
Roben set hes horne to hes mowthe,
And blow a blast that was full god,
That herde hes men that ther stode,
Fer downe yn the wodde;
'I her mey master,' seyde Leytell John;
They ran as thay wer wode.
Whan thay to thar master cam,
Leytell John wold not spar;
'Master, how haffe yow far yn Notynggam?
How haffe yow solde yowr war?'
160
'Ye, be mey trowthe, Leytyll John,
Loke thow take no car;
Y haffe browt the screffe of Notynggam,
For all howr chaffar.'
'He ys foll wellcom,' seyde Lytyll John,
'Thes tydyng ys foll godde;'
The screffe had lever nar a hundred ponde
[He had never sene Roben Hode.]
'Had I west that beforen,
At Notynggam when we wer,
Thow scholde not com yn feyr forest
Of all thes thowsande eyr.'
'That wot y well,' seyde Roben,
'Y thanke god that ye be her;
Therfor schall ye leffe yowr horse with hos,
And all your hother ger.'
'That fend I godys forbode,' kod the screffe,
'So to lese mey godde;'
'Hether ye cam on horse foll hey,
And hom schall ye go on fote;
And gret well they weyffe at home,
The woman ys foll godde.
'Y schall her sende a wheyt palffrey,
Het hambellet as the weynde;
Ner for the loffe of yowr weyffe,
Off mor sorow scholde yow seyng.'
Thes parted Robyn Hode and the screffe,
To Notynggam he toke the waye;
Hes weyffe feyr welcomed hem hom,
And to hem gan sche saye:
'Seyr, how haffe yow fared yn grene foreyst?
Haffe ye browt Roben hom?'
'Dam, the deyell spede him, bothe bodey and bon,
Y haffe hade a foll grete skorne.
161
'Of all the god that y haffe lade to grene wod,
He hayt take het fro me,
All bot this feyr palffrey,
That he hayt sende to the.'
With that sche toke op a lowde lawhyng,
And swhar be hem that deyed on tre,
'Now haffe yow payed for all the pottys
That Roben gaffe to me.
'Now ye be corn hom to Notynggam,
Ye schall haffe god ynowe;'
Now speke we of Roben Hode,
And of the pottyr onder the grene bowhe.
'Potter, what was they pottys worthe
To Notynggam that y ledde with me?'
'They wer worth two nobellys,' seyd he,
'So mot y treyffe or the;
So cowde y had for tham,
And y had ther be.'
'Thow schalt hafe ten ponde,' seyde Roben,
'Of money feyr and fre;
And yever whan thou comest to grene wod,
Wellcom, potter to me.'
Thes partyd Robyn, the screffe, and the potter,
Ondernethe the grene-wod tre;
God haffe mersey on Robyn Hodys solle,
And saffe all god yemanrey!
~ Andrew Lang,#NFDB
268:Robin Hood And The Potter
Fitt I.
In schomer, when the leves spryng,
The bloschoms on every bowe,
So merey doyt the berdys syng
Yn wodys merey now.
Herkens, god yemen,
Comley, corteys, and god,
On of the best that yever bare bowe,
Hes name was Roben Hode.
Roben Hood was the yemans name,
That was boyt corteys and fre;
For the loffe of owre ladey,
All wemen werschepyd he.
Bot as the god yeman stod on a day,
Among hes mery maney,
He was ware of a prowd potter,
Cam dryfyng owyr the leye.
'Yonder comet a prod potter,' seyde Roben,
'That long hayt hantyd this wey;
He was never so corteys a man
On peney of pawage to pay.'
'Y met hem bot at Wentbreg,' seyde Lytyll John,
'And therefore yeffell mot he the!
Seche thre strokes he me gafe,
Yet by my seydys cleffe they.
Y ley forty shillings,' seyde Lytyll John,
'To pay het thes same day,
Ther ys nat a man among hus all
A wed schall make hem leye.'
'Here ys forty shillings,' seyde Roben,
'More, and thow dar say,
That Y schall make that prowde potter,
573
A wed to me schall he ley.'
There thes money they leyde,
They toke het a yeman to kepe;
Roben beffore the potter he breyde,
And bad hem stond stell.
Handys apon hes hors he leyde,
And bad the potter stonde foll stell;
The potter schorteley to hem seyde,
'Felow, what ys they well?'
'All thes thre yer, and more, potter,' he seyde,
'Thow hast hantyd thes wey,
Yet were tow never so cortys a man
On peney of pavage to pay.'
'What ys they name,' seyde the potter,
'For pavage thow aske of me?'
'Roben Hod ys mey name,
A wed schall thow leffe me.'
'Wed well y non leffe,' seyde the potter,
'Nor pavag well Y non pay;
Awey they honde fro mey hors!
Y well the tene eyls, be mey fay.'
The potter to hes cart he went,
He was not to seke;
A god to-hande staffe therowt he hent,
Beffore Roben he leppyd.
Roben howt with a swerd bent,
A bokeler en hes honde;
The potter to Roben he went,
And seyde, 'Felow, let mey hors go.'
Togeder then went thes to yemen,
Het was a god seyt to se;
Thereof low Robyn hes men,
There they stod onder a tre.
574
Leytell John to hes felow he seyde,
'Yend potter well steffeley stonde':
The potter, with an acward stroke,
Smot the bokeler owt of hes honde.
And ar Roben meyt get het agen
Hes bokeler at hes fette,
The potter yn the neke hem toke,
To the gronde sone he yede.
That saw Roben hes men,
As they stod onder a bow;
'Let us helpe owre master,' seyde Lytell John,
'Yonder potter,' seyde he, 'els well hem slo.'
Thes wight yemen with a breyde,
To thes master they cam.
Leytell John to hes master seyde,
'Ho haet the wager won?
'Schall Y haffe yowre forty shillings,' seyde Lytl John,
'Or ye, master, schall haffe myne?'
'Yeff they were a hundred,' seyde Roben,
'Y feythe, they ben all theyne.'
'Het ys fol leytell cortesey,' seyde the potter,
'As I hafe harde weyse men sye,
Yeffe a pore yeman com drywyng over the way,
To let hem of hes gorney.'
'Be mey trowet, thow seys soyt,' seyde Roben,
'Thow seys god yemenrey;
And thow dreyffe forthe yevery day,
Thow schalt never be let for me.'
'Y well prey the, god potter,
A felischepe well thow haffe?
Geffe me they clothyng, and thow schalt hafe myne;
Y well go to Notynggam.'
'Y grant thereto,' seyde the potter,
'Thow schalt feynde me a felow gode;
575
Bot thow can sell mey pottys well,
Com ayen as thow yede.'
'Nay, be mey trowt,' seyde Roben,
'And then Y bescro mey hede,
Yeffe Y bryng eney pottys ayen,
And eney weyffe well hem chepe.'
Than spake Leytell John,
And all hes felowhes heynd,
'Master, be well ware of the screffe of Notynggam,
For he ys leytell howr frende.'
'Thorow the helpe of Howr Ladey,
Felowhes, let me alone.
Heyt war howte!' seyde Roben,
'To Notynggam well Y gon.'
Robyn went to Notynggam,
Thes pottys for to sell;
The potter abode with Robens men,
There he fered not eylle.
Tho Roben droffe on hes wey,
So merey ower the londe:
Her es more, and affter ys to saye,
The best ys beheynde.
Fitt 2
When Roben cam to Notynggam,
The soyt yef Y scholde saye,
He set op hes hors anon,
And gaffe hem hotys and haye.
Yn the medys of the towne,
There he schowed hes ware;
'Pottys! pottys!' he gan crey foll sone,
'Haffe hansell for the mare!'
Foll effen agenest the screffeys gate
576
Schowed he hes chaffare;
Weyffes and wedowes abowt hem drow,
And chepyd fast of hes ware.
Yet 'Pottys, gret chepe!' creyed Robyn,
'Y loffe yeffell thes to stonde.'
And all that say hem sell
Seyde he had be no potter long.
The pottys that were worthe pens feyffe,
He solde tham for pens thre;
Preveley seyde man and weyffe,
'Ywnder potter schall never the.'
Thos Roben solde foll fast,
Tell he had pottys bot feyffe;
Op he hem toke of hes car,
And sende hem to the screffeys weyfe.
Thereof sche was foll fayne,
'Gereamarsey,' seyde sche, 'sir, than,
When ye com to thes contré ayen,
Y schall bey of the pottys, so mo Y the.'
'Ye schall haffe of the best,' seyde Roben,
And sware be the Treneyté';
Foll corteysley sche gan hem call,
'Com deyne with the screfe and me.'
'God amarsey,' seyde Roben,
'Yowre bedyng schall be doyn.'
A mayden yn the pottys gan bere,
Roben and the screffe weyffe folowed anon.
Whan Roben yn to the hall cam,
The screffe sone he met;
The potter cowed of corteysey,
And sone the screffe he gret.
'Lo, ser, what thes potter hayt geffe yow and me,
Feyffe pottys smalle and grete!'
'He ys foll wellcom,' seyd the screffe,
577
'Let os was, and to mete.'
As they sat at her methe,
With a nobell chere,
To of the screffes men gan speke
Of a gret wager,
Of a schotyng, was god and feyne,
Was made the tother daye,
Of forty shillings, the soyt to saye,
Who scholde thes wager gayne.
Styll than sat thes prowde potter,
Thos than thowt he,
As Y am a trow Cerstyn man,
Thes schotyng well Y se.
Whan they had fared of the best,
With bred and ale and weyne,
To the bottys the made them prest,
With bowes and boltys foll feyne.
The screffes men schot foll fast,
As archares that weren prowe,
There cam non ner ney the marke
Bey halffe a god archares bowe.
Stell then stod the prowde potter,
Thos than seyde he;
'And Y had a bow, be the Rode,
On schot scholde yow se.'
'Thow schall haffe a bow,' seyde the screffe,
'The best that thow well cheys of thre;
Thou semyst a stalward and a stronge,
Asay schall thow be.'
The screffe commandyd a yeman that stod hem bey
After bowhes to weynde;
The best bow that the yeman browthe
Roben set on a stryng.
578
'Now schall Y wet and thow be god,
And polle het op to they nere.'
'So god me helpe,' seyde the prowde potter,
'Thys ys bot ryght weke gere.'
To a quequer Roben went,
A god bolt owthe he toke;
So ney on to the marke he went,
He fayled not a fothe.
All they schot a bowthe agen,
The screffes men and he;
Off the marke he welde not fayle,
He cleffed the preke on thre.
The screffes men thowt gret schame
The potter the mastry wan;
The screffe lowe and made god game,
And seyde, 'Potter, thow art a man.
Thow art worthey to bere a bowe
Yn what plas that thow goe.'
'Yn mey cart Y haffe a bow,
For soyt,' he seyde, 'and that a godde;
Yn mey cart ys the bow
That gaffe me Robyn Hode.'
'Knowest thow Robyn Hode?' seyde the screffe,
'Potter, Y prey the tell thow me.'
'A hundred torne Y haffe schot with hem,
Under hes tortyll-tre.'
'Y had lever nar a hundred ponde,' seyde the screffe,
And sware be the Trinity,
'That the fals outelawe stod be me.'
'And ye well do afftyr mey red,' seyde the potter,
'And boldeley go with me,
And to morow, or we het bred,
Roben Hode well we se.'
'Y well queyt the,' kod the screffe,
'And swere be God of meythe.'
579
Schetyng thay left, and hom they went,
Her soper was reddy deythe.
Fitt 3
Upon the morrow, when het was day,
He boskyd hem forthe to reyde;
The potter hes cart forthe gan ray,
And wolde not leffe beheynde.
He toke leffe of the screffys wyffe,
And thankyd her of all thyng:
'Dam, for mey loffe and ye well thys were,
Y geffe yow here a golde ryng.'
'Gramarsey,' seyde the weyffe,
'Sir, God eylde het the.'
The screffes hart was never so leythe,
The feyre foreyst to se.
And when he cam yn to the foreyst,
Under the leffes grene,
Berdys there sange on bowhes prest,
Het was gret goy to se.
'Here het ys merey to be,' seyde Roben,
'For a man that had hawt to spende;
Be mey horne ye schall awet
Yeff Roben Hode be here.'
Roben set hes horne to hes mowthe,
And blow a blast that was foll god;
That herde hes men that there stode,
Fer downe yn the wodde.
'I her mey master blow,' seyde Leytell John,
They ran as thay were wode.
Whan thay to thar master cam,
Leytell John wold not spare;
'Master, how haffe yow fare yn Notynggam?
How haffe yow solde yowre ware?'
580
'Ye, be mey trowthe, Leytyll John,
Loke thow take no care;
Y haffe browt the screffe of Notynggam,
For all howre chaffare.'
'He ys foll wellcom,' seyde Lytyll John,
'Thes tydyng ys foll godde.'
The screffe had lever nar a hundred ponde
He had never seen Roben Hode.
'Had I west that befforen,
At Notynggam when we were,
Thow scholde not com yn feyre forest
Of all thes thowsande eyre.'
'That wot Y well,' seyde Roben,
'Y thanke God that ye be here;
Thereffore schall ye leffe yowre hors with hos,
And all yowre hother gere.'
'That fend I Godys forbod,' kod the screffe,
'So to lese mey godde.'
'Hether ye cam on hors foll hey,
And hom schall ye go on fote;
And gret well they weyffe at home,
The woman ys foll godde.
'Y schall her sende a wheyt palffrey,
Het hambellet as the weynde,
Nere for the loffe of yowre weyffe,
Off more sorow scholde yow seyng.'
Thes parted Robyn Hode and the screffe;
To Notynggam he toke the waye;
Hes weyffe feyre welcomed hem hom,
And to hem gan sche saye:
'Seyr, how haffe yow fared yn grene foreyst?
Haffe ye browt Roben hom?'
'Dam, the deyell spede hem, bothe bodey and bon;
Y haffe hade a foll gret skorne.
581
'Of all the god that Y haffe lade to grene wod,
He hayt take het fro me;
All bot thes feyre palffrey,
That he hayt sende to the.'
With that sche toke op a lowde lawhyng,
And swhare be Hem that deyed on tre,
'Now haffe yow payed for all the pottys
That Roben gaffe to me.
'Now ye be com hom to Notynggam.
Ye schall haffe god ynowe.'
Now speke we of Roben Hode,
And of the pottyr ondyr the grene bowhe.
'Potter, what was they pottys worthe
To Notynggam that Y ledde with me?'
'They wer worthe to nobellys,' seyde he,
'So mot Y treyffe or the;
So cowde Y had for tham,
And Y had be there.'
'Thow schalt hafe ten ponde,' seyde Roben,
'Of money feyre and fre;
And yever whan thow comest to grene wod,
Wellcom, potter, to me.'
Thes partyd Robyn, the screffe, and the potter,
Ondernethe the grene wod tre;
God haffe mersey on Roben Hodys solle,
And saffe all god yemanrey!
~ Anonymous Olde English,#NFDB
269:Robin Hood And The Monk
In somer, when the shawes be sheyne,
And leves be large and long,
Hit is full mery in feyre foreste
To here the foulys song,
To se the dere draw to the dale,
And leve the hilles hee,
And shadow hem in the leves grene,
Under the grene wode tre.
Hit befel on Whitson
Erly in a May mornyng,
The son up feyre can shyne,
And the briddis mery can syng.
'This is a mery mornyng,' seid Litull John,
'Be Hym that dyed on tre;
A more mery man then I am one
Lyves not in Cristianté.
'Pluk up thi hert, my dere mayster,'
Litull John can sey,
'And thynk hit is a full fayre tyme
In a mornyng of May.'
'Ye, on thyng greves me,' seid Robyn,
'And does my hert mych woo:
That I may not no solem day
To mas nor matyns goo.
'Hit is a fourtnet and more,' seid he,
'Syn I my Savyour see;
To day wil I to Notyngham,' seid Robyn,
'With the myght of mylde Marye.'
Than spake Moche, the mylner sun,
Ever more wel hym betyde!
'Take twelve of thi wyght yemen,
Well weppynd, be thi side.
562
Such on wolde thi selfe slon,
That twelve dar not abyde.'
'Of all my mery men,' seid Robyn,
'Be my feith I wil non have,
But Litull John shall beyre my bow,
Til that me list to drawe.'
'Thou shall beyre thin own,' seid Litull Jon,
'Maister, and I wyl beyre myne,
And we well shete a peny,' seid Litull Jon,
Under the grene wode lyne.'
'I wil not shete a peny,' seyd Robyn Hode,
'In feith, Litull John, with the,
But ever for on as thou shetis,' seide Robyn,
'In feith I holde the thre.'
Thus shet thei forth, these yemen too,
Bothe at buske and brome,
Til Litull John wan of his maister
Five shillings to hose and shone.
A ferly strife fel them betwene,
As they went bi the wey;
Litull John seid he had won five shillings,
And Robyn Hode seid schortly nay.
With that Robyn Hode lyed Litul Jon,
And smote hym with his hande;
Litul Jon waxed wroth therwith,
And pulled out his bright bronde.
'Were thou not my maister,' seid Litull John,
'Thou shuldis by hit ful sore;
Get the a man wher thou wille,
For thou getis me no more.'
Then Robyn goes to Notyngham,
Hym selfe mornyng allone,
And Litull John to mery Scherwode,
The pathes he knew ilkone.
563
Whan Robyn came to Notyngham,
Sertenly withouten layn,
He prayed to God and myld Mary
To bryng hym out save agayn.
He gos in to Seynt Mary chirch,
And knelyd down before the rode;
Alle that ever were the church within
Beheld wel Robyn Hode.
Beside hym stod a gret-hedid munke,
I pray to God woo he be!
Ful sone he knew gode Robyn,
As sone as he hym se.
Out at the durre he ran,
Ful sone and anon;
Alle the gatis of Notyngham
He made to be sparred everychon.
'Rise up,' he seid, 'thou prowde schereff,
Buske the and make the bowne;
I have spyed the kynggis felon,
For sothe he is in this town.
'I have spyed the false felon,
As he stondis at his masse;
Hit is long of the,' seide the munke,
'And ever he fro us passe.
'This traytur name is Robyn Hode,
Under the grene wode lynde;
He robbyt me onys of a hundred pound,
Hit shalle never out of my mynde.'
Up then rose this prowde schereff,
And radly made hym yare;
Many was the moder son
To the kyrk with hym can fare.
In at the durres thei throly thrast,
564
With staves ful gode wone;
'Alas, alas!' seid Robyn Hode,
'Now mysse I Litull John.'
But Robyn toke out a too-hond sworde,
That hangit down be his kne;
Ther as the schereff and his men stode thyckust
Thedurwarde wolde he.
Thryes thorow at them he ran then,
For sothe as I yow sey,
And woundyt mony a moder son,
And twelve he slew that day.
His sworde upon the schireff hed
Sertanly he brake in too;
'The smyth that the made,' seid Robyn,
'I pray to God wyrke hym woo!
'For now am I weppynlesse,' seid Robyn,
'Alasse! agayn my wyll;
But if I may fle these traytors fro,
I wot thei wil me kyll.'
Robyn in to her churche ran,
Thro out hem everilkon,
......................................
Sum fel in swonyng as thei were dede,
And lay stil as any stone;
Non of theym were in her mynde
But only Litull Jon.
'Let be your rule,' seid Litull Jon,
'For His luf that dyed on tre,
Ye that shulde be dughty men;
Het is gret shame to se.
'Oure maister has bene hard bystode
And yet scapyd away;
Pluk up your hertis, and leve this mone,
And harkyn what I shal say.
565
'He has servyd Oure Lady many a day,
And yet wil, securly;
Therfor I trust in hir specialy
No wyckud deth shal he dye.
'Therfor be glad,' seid Litul John,
'And let this mournyng be;
And I shal be the munkis gyde,
With the myght of mylde Mary,
And I mete hym,' seid Litul John
'We will go but we too.
'Loke that ye kepe wel owre tristil-tre,
Under the levys smale,
And spare non of this venyson,
That gose in thys vale.'
Forthe then went these yemen too,
Litul John and Moche on fere,
And lokid on Moch emys hows;
The hye way lay full nere.
Litul John stode at a wyndow in the mornyng,
And lokid forth at a stage;
He was war wher the munke came ridyng,
And with hym a litul page.
'Be my feith,' seid Litul John to Moch,
'I can the tel tithyngus gode;
I se wher the munke cumys rydyng,
I know hym be his wyde hode.'
They went in to the way, these yemen bothe,
As curtes men and hende;
Thei spyrred tithyngus at the munke,
As they hade bene his frende.
'Fro whens come ye?' seid Litull Jon,
'Tel us tithyngus, I yow pray,
Of a false owtlay,
Was takyn yisterday.
566
'He robbyt me and my felowes bothe
Of twenti marke in serten;
If that false owtlay be takyn,
For sothe we wolde be fayn.'
'So did he me,' seid the munke,
Of a hundred pound and more;
I layde furst hande hym apon,
Ye may thonke me therfore.'
'I pray God thanke you,' seid Litull John,
'And we wil when we may;
We wil go with you, with your leve,
And bryng yow on your way.
'For Robyn Hode hase many a wilde felow,
I tell you in certen;
If thei wist ye rode this way,
In feith ye shulde be slayn.'
As thei went talking be the way,
The munke and Litull John,
John toke the munkis horse be the hede,
Ful sone and anon.
Johne toke the munkis horse be the hed,
For sothe as I yow say;
So did Much the litull page,
For he shulde not scape away.
Be the golett of the hode
John pulled the munke down;
John was nothyng of hym agast,
He lete hym falle on his crown.
Litull John was so agrevyd,
And drew owt his swerde in hye;
The munke saw he shulde be ded,
Lowd mercy can he crye.
'He was my maister,' seid Litull John,
567
'That thou hase browght in bale;
Shalle thou never cum at oure kyng,
For to telle hym tale.'
John smote of the munkis hed,
No longer wolde he dwell;
So did Moch the litull page,
For ferd lest he wolde tell.
Ther thei beryed hem bothe,
In nouther mosse nor lyng,
And Litull John and Much in fere
Bare the letturs to oure kyng.
Litull John cam in unto the kyng
He knelid down upon his kne:
'God yow save, my lege lorde,
Jhesus yow save and se!
'God yow save, my lege kyng!'
To speke John was full bolde;
He gaf hym the letturs in his hand,
The kyng did hit unfold.
The kyng red the letturs anon,
And seid, 'So mot I the,
Ther was never yoman in mery Inglond
I longut so sore to se.
'Wher is the munke that these shuld have brought?'
Oure kyng can say.
'Be my trouth,' seid Litull John,
'He dyed after the way.'
The kyng gaf Moch and Litul Jon
Twenti pound in sertan,
And made theim yemen of the crown,
And bade theim go agayn.
He gaf John the seel in hand,
The scheref for to bere,
To bryng Robyn hym to,
568
And no man do hym dere.
John toke his leve at oure kyng,
The sothe as I yow say;
The next way to Notyngham
To take he yede the way.
Whan John came to Notyngham
The gatis were sparred ychon;
John callid up the porter,
He answerid sone anon.
'What is the cause,' seid Litul Jon,
'Thou sparris the gates so fast?'
'Because of Robyn Hode,' seid porter,
'In depe prison is cast.
'John and Moch and Wyll Scathlok,
For sothe as I yow say,
Thei slew oure men upon oure wallis,
And sawten us every day.'
Litull John spyrred after the schereff,
And sone he hym fonde;
He oppyned the kyngus privé seell,
And gaf hym in his honde.
Whan the scheref saw the kyngus seell,
He did of his hode anon:
'Wher is the munke that bare the letturs?'
He seid to Litull John.
'He is so fayn of hym,' seid Litul John,
'For sothe as I yow say,
He has made hym abot of Westmynster,
A lorde of that abbay.'
The scheref made John gode chere,
And gaf hym wyne of the best;
At nyght thei went to her bedde,
And every man to his rest.
569
When the scheref was on slepe,
Dronken of wyne and ale,
Litul John and Moch for sothe
Toke the way unto the gale.
Litul John callid up the jayler,
And bade hym rise anon;
He seyd Robyn Hode had brokyn the prison,
And out of hit was gon.
The porter rose anon sertan,
As sone as he herd John calle;
Litul John was redy with a swerd,
And bare hym throw to the walle.
'Now wil I be jayler,' seid Litul John,
And toke the keyes in honde;
He toke the way to Robyn Hode,
And sone he hym unbonde.
He gaf hym a gode swerd in his hond,
His hed ther with to kepe,
And ther as the wallis were lowyst
Anon down can thei lepe.
Be that the cok began to crow,
The day began to spryng;
The scheref fond the jaylier ded,
The comyn bell made he ryng.
He made a crye thoroout al the town,
Wheder he be yoman or knave,
That cowthe bryng hym Robyn Hode,
His warison he shuld have.
'For I dar never,' seid the scheref,
'Cum before oure kyng;
For if I do, I wot serten
For sothe he wil me heng.'
The scheref made to seke Notyngham,
Bothe be strete and styne,
570
And Robyn was in mery Scherwode,
As light as lef on lynde.
Then bespake gode Litull John,
To Robyn Hode can he say,
'I have done the a gode turne for an ill,
Quit me whan thou may.
'I have done the a gode turne,' seid Litull John,
'For sothe as I the say;
I have brought the under the grene-wode lyne;
Fare wel, and have gode day.'
'Nay, be my trouth,' seid Robyn,
'So shall hit never be;
I make the maister,' seid Robyn,
'Of alle my men and me.'
'Nay, be my trouth,' seid Litull John,
'So shalle hit never be;
But lat me be a felow,' seid Litull John,
'No noder kepe I be.'
Thus John gate Robyn Hod out of prison,
Sertan withoutyn layn;
Whan his men saw hym hol and sounde,
For sothe they were full fayne.
They filled in wyne and made hem glad,
Under the levys smale,
And yete pastes of venyson,
That gode was with ale.
Than worde came to oure kyng
How Robyn Hode was gon,
And how the scheref of Notyngham
Durst never loke hym upon.
Then bespake oure cumly kyng,
In an angur hye:
'Litull John hase begyled the schereff,
In faith so hase he me.
571
'Litul John has begyled us bothe,
And that full wel I se;
Or ellis the schereff of Notyngham
Hye hongut shulde he be.
'I made hem yemen of the crowne,
And gaf hem fee with my hond;
I gaf hem grith,' seid oure kyng,
'Thorowout all mery Inglond.
'I gaf theym grith,' then seid oure kyng;
'I say, so mot I the,
For sothe soch a yeman as he is on
In all Inglond ar not thre.
'He is trew to his maister,' seid oure kyng;
'I sey, be swete Seynt John,
He lovys better Robyn Hode
Then he dose us ychon.
'Robyn Hode is ever bond to hym,
Bothe in strete and stalle;
Speke no more of this mater,' seid oure kyng,
'But John has begyled us alle.'
Thus endys the talkyng of the munke
And Robyn Hode I wysse;
God, that is ever a crowned kyng,
Bryng us alle to His blisse!
~ Anonymous Olde English,#NFDB
270:Robin Hood And The Monk
In somer when the shawes be sheyne,
And leves be large and longe,
Hit is full mery in feyre foreste
To here the foulys song.
To se the dere draw to the dale,
And leve the hilles hee,
And shadow hem in the leves grene,
Vndur the grene-wode tre.
Hit befell on Whitsontide,
Erly in a may mornyng,
The son vp fayre can shyne,
And the briddis mery can syng.
'This is a mery mornyng,' seid Litulle Johne,
'Be hym that dyed on tre;
A more mery man than I am one
Lyves not in Cristiante.'
'Pluk vp thi hert, my dere mayster,'
Litulle Johne can sey,
'And thynk hit is a fulle fayre tyme
In a mornynge of may.'
'Ze on thynge greves me,' seid Robyne,
'And does my hert mych woo,
That I may not so solem day
To mas nor matyns goo.
'Hit is a fourtnet and more,' seyd hee,
'Syn I my Sauyour see;
To day will I to Notyngham,' seid Robyn,
'With the myght of mylde Mary.'
Then spake Moche the mylner sune,
Euer more wel hym betyde,
'Take xii thi wyght zemen
Well weppynd be thei side.
142
Such on wolde thi selfe slon
That xii dar not abyde.'
'Off alle my mery men,' seid Robyne,
'Be my feithe I wil non haue;
But Litulle Johne shall beyre my bow
Til that me list to drawe.'
*****
'Thou shalle beyre thin own,' seid Litulle Jon,
'Maister, and I wil beyre myne,
And we wille shete a peny,' seid Litulle Jon,
'Vnder the grene wode lyne.'
'I wil not shete a peny,' seyde Robyn Hode,
'In feith, Litulle Johne, with thee,
But euer for on as thou shetes,' seid Robyn,
'In feith I holde the thre.'
Thus shet thei forthe, these zemen too,
Bothe at buske and brome,
Til Litulle Johne wan of his maister
V s. to hose and shone.
A ferly strife fel them betwene,
As they went bi the way;
Litull Johne seid he had won v shyllyngs,
And Robyn Hode seid schortly nay.
With that Robyn Hode lyed Litul Jone,
And smote him with his honde;
Litul John waxed wroth therwith,
And pulled out his bright bronde.
'Were thou not my maister,' seid Litulle Johne,
'Thou shuldis by hit ful sore;
Get the a man where thou wilt, Robyn,
For thou getes me no more.'
Then Robyn goes to Notyngham,
Hymselfe mornynge allone,
143
And Litulle Johne to mery Scherewode,
The pathes he knowe alkone.
Whan Robyn came to Notyngham,
Sertenly withoutene layne,
He prayed to God and myld Mary
To brynge hym out saue agayne.
He gos into seynt Mary chirche,
And knelyd downe before the rode;
Alle that euer were the churche within
Beheld wel Robyne Hode.
Beside hym stode a gret-hedid munke,
I pray to God woo he be;
Full sone he knew gode Robyn
As sone as he hym se.
Out at the durre he ran
Ful sone and anon;
Alle the zatis of Notyngham
He made to be sparred euerychone.
'Rise vp,' he seid, 'thou prowde schereff,
Buske the and make the bowne;
I haue spyed the kynges felone,
For sothe he is in this towne.
'I haue spyed the false felone,
As he stondes at his masse;
Hit is longe of the,' seide the munke,
'And euer he fro vs passe.
'This traytur[s] name is Robyn Hode;
Vnder the grene wode lynde,
He robbyt me onys of a C pound,
Hit shalle neuer out of my mynde.'
Vp then rose this prowd schereff,
And zade towarde hym zare;
Many was the modur son
To the kyrk with him can fare.
144
In at the durres thei throly thrast
With staves ful gode ilkone,
'Alas, alas,' seid Robin Hode,
'Now mysse I Litulle Johne.'
But Robyne toke out a too-hond sworde
That hangit down be his kne;
Ther as the schereff and his men stode thyckust,
Thidurward wold he.
Thryes thorow at them he ran,
Then for sothe as I yow say,
And woundyt many a modur sone,
And xii he slew that day.
Hys sworde vpon the schireff hed
Sertanly he brake in too;
'The smyth that the made,' seid Robyn,
'I pray God wyrke him woo.
'For now am I weppynlesse,' seid Robyne,
'Alasse, agayn my wylle;
But if I may fle these traytors fro,
I wot thei wil me kylle.'
Robyns men to the churche ran
Throout hem euerilkon;
Sum fel in swonyng as thei were dede,
And lay still as any stone.
*****
Non of theym were in her mynde
But only Litulle Jon.
'Let be your dule,' seid Litulle Jon,
'For his luf that dyed on tre;
Ze that shulde be duzty men,
Hit is gret shame to se.
'Oure maister has bene hard bystode,
145
And zet scapyd away;
Pluk up your hertes and leve this mone,
And herkyn what I shal say.
'He has seruyd our lady many a day,
And zet wil securly;
Therefore I trust in her specialy
No wycked deth shal he dye.
'Therfor be glad,' seid Litul Johne,
'And let this mournyng be,
And I shall be the munkes gyde,
With the myght of mylde Mary.
'And I mete hym,' seid Litull Johne,
'We will go but we too
*****
'Loke that ze kepe wel our tristil tre
Vnder the levys smale,
And spare non of this venyson
That gose in thys vale.'
Forthe thei went these zemen too,
Litul Johne and Moche onfere,
And lokid on Moche emys hows
The hyeway lay fulle nere.
Litul John stode at a window in the mornynge,
And lokid forth at a stage;
He was war wher the munke came ridynge,
And with him a litul page.
'Be my feith,' said Litul Johne to Moche,
'I can the tel tithyngus gode;
I se wher the munk comys rydyng,
I know hym be his wyde hode.'
Thei went into the way these zemen bothe
As curtes men and hende,
Thei spyrred tithyngus at the munke,
146
As thei hade bene his frende.
'Fro whens come ze,' seid Litul Johne,
'Tel vs tithyngus, I yow pray,
Off a false owtlay [called Robyn Hode],
Was takyn zisturday.
'He robbyt me and my felowes bothe
Of xx marke in serten;
If that false owtlay be takyn,
For sothe we wolde be fayne.'
'So did he me,' seid the munke,
'Of a C pound and more;
I layde furst hande hym apon,
Ze may thonke me therefore.'
'I pray God thanke yow,' seid Litulle Johne,
'And we wil when we may;
We wil go with yow, with your leve,
And brynge yow on your way.
'For Robyn Hode hase many a wilde felow,
I telle yow in certen;
If thei wist ze rode this way,
In feith ze shulde be slayn.'
As thei went talkyng be the way,
The munke an Litulle Johne,
Johne toke the munkes horse be the hede
Ful sone and anone.
Johne toke the munkes horse be the hed,
For sothe as I yow say,
So did Muche the litulle page,
For he shulde not stirre away.
Be the golett of the hode
Johne pulled the munke downe;
Johne was nothynge of hym agast,
He lete hym falle on his crowne.
147
Litulle Johne was sore agrevyd,
And drew out his swerde in hye;
The munke saw he shulde be ded,
Lowd mercy can he crye.
'He was my maister,' said Litulle Johne,
'That thou hase browzt in bale;
Shalle thou neuer cum at our kynge
For to telle hym tale.'
John smote of the munkes hed,
No longer wolde he dwelle;
So did Moche the litulle page,
For ferd lest he wold tell.
Ther thei beryed hem both
In nouther mosse nor lynge,
And Litulle Johne and Muche infere
Bare the letturs to oure kyng.
*****
He kneled down vpon--his kne,
'God zow sane, my lege lorde,
Jesus yow saue and se.
'God yow saue, my lege kyng,'
To speke Johne was fulle bolde;
He gaf hym tbe letturs in his hond,
The kyng did hit unfold.
The kyng red the letturs anon,
And seid, 'so met I the,
Ther was neuer zoman in mery Inglond
I longut so sore to see.
'Wher is the munke that these shuld haue browzt?'
Oure kynge gan say;
'Be my trouthe,' seid Litull Jone,
'He dyed aftur the way.'
The kyng gaf Moche and Litul Jon
148
xx pound in sertan,
And made theim zemen of the crowne,
And bade theim go agayn.
He gaf Johne the seel in hand,
The scheref for to bere,
To brynge Robyn hym to,
And no man do hym dere.
Johne toke his leve at cure kyng,
The sothe as I yow say;
The next way to Notyngham
To take he zede the way.
When Johne came to Notyngham
The zatis were sparred ychone;
Johne callid vp the porter,
He answerid sone anon.
'What is the cause,' seid Litul John,
'Thou sparris the zates so fast?'
'Because of Robyn Hode,' seid [the] porter,
'In depe prison is cast.
'Johne, and Moche, and Wylle Scathlok,
For sothe as I yow say,
Thir slew oure men vpon oure wallis,
And sawtene vs euery day.'
Litulle Johne spyrred aftur the schereff,
And sone he hym fonde;
He oppyned the kyngus prive seelle,
And gaf hyn in his honde.
When the schereft saw the kyngus seelle,
He did of his hode anon;
'Wher is the munke that bare the letturs?'
He said to Litulle Johne.
'He is so fayn of hym,' seid Litulle Johne,
'For sothe as I yow sey,
He has made hym abot of Westmynster,
149
A lorde of that abbay.'
The scheref made John gode chere,
And gaf hym wine of the best;
At nyzt thei went to her bedde,
And euery man to his rest.
When the scheref was on-slepe
Dronken of wine and ale,
Litul Johne and Moche for sothe
Toke the way vnto the jale.
Litul Johne callid vp the jayler,
And bade him ryse anon;
He seid Robyn Hode had brokyn preson,
And out of hit was gon.
The portere rose anon sertan,
As sone as he herd John calle;
Litul Johne was redy with a swerd,
And bare hym to the walle.
'Now will I be porter,' seid Litul Johne,
'And take the keyes in honde;'
He toke the way to Robyn Hode,
And sone he hym vnbonde.
He gaf hym a gode swerd in his hond,
His hed with for to kepe,
And ther as the walle was lowyst
Anon down can thei lepe.
Be that the cok began to crow,
The day began to sprynge,
The scheref fond the jaylier ded,
The comyn belle made he rynge.
He made a crye thoroowt al the tow[n],
Whedur he be zoman or knave,
That cowthe brynge hyrn Robyn Hode,
His warisone he shuld haue.
150
'For I dar neuer,' said the scheref,
'Cum before oure kynge,
For if I do, I wot serten,
For sothe he wil me henge.'
The scheref made to seke Notyngham,
Bothe be strete and stye,
And Robyn was in mery Scherwode
As lizt as lef on lynde.
Then bespake gode Litulle Johne,
To Robyn Hode can he say,
'I haue done the a gode turne for an euylle,
Quyte me whan thou may.
'I haue done the a gode turne,' said Litulle Johne,
'For sothe as I you saie;
I haue brouzt the vnder grene wode lyne;
Fare wel, and haue gode day.'
'Nay, be my trouthe,' seid Robyn Hode,
'So shalle hit neuer be;
I make the maister,' seid Robyn Hode,
'Off alle my men and me.'
'Nay, be my trouthe,' seid Litulle Johne,
'So shall hit neuer be,
But lat me be a felow,' seid Litulle Johne,
'Non odur kepe I'll be.'
Thus Johne gate Robyn Hode out of prisone,
Sertan withoutyn layne;
When his men saw hym hol and sounde,
For sothe they were ful fayne.
They filled in wyne, and made him glad,
Vnder the levys smale,
And zete pastes of venysone,
That gode was with ale.
Than worde came to oure kynge,
How Robyn Hode was gone,
151
And how the scheref of Notyngham
Durst neuer loke hyme vpone.
Then bespake oure cumly kynge,
In an angur hye,
'Litulle Johne hase begyled the schereff,
In faith so hase he me.
'Litulle Johne has begyled vs bothe,
And that fulle wel I se,
Or ellis the schereff of Notyngham
Hye hongut shuld he be.
'I made hem zemen of the crowne,
And gaf hem fee with my hond,
I gaf hem grithe,' seid oure kyng,
'Thorowout alle mery Inglond.
'I gaf hem grithe,' then seide oure kyng,
'I say, so mot I the,
For sothe soche a zeman as he is on
In alle Ingland ar not thre.
'He is trew to his maister,' seide oure kynge,
'I say, be swete seynt Johne;
He louys bettur Robyn Hode,
Then he dose vs ychone.
'Robyne Hode is euer bond to him,
Bothe in strete and stalle;
Speke no more of this matter,' seid oure kynge,
'But John has begyled vs alle.'
Thus endys the talkyng of the munke
And Robyne Hode i-wysse;
God, that is euer a crowned kyng,
Bryng vs alle to his blisse.
~ Andrew Lang,#NFDB
271:Lay le Freine
We redeth oft and findeth ywrite And this clerkes wele it wite Layes that ben in harping
Ben yfounde of ferli thing.
Sum bethe of wer and sum of wo,
And sum of joie and mirthe also,
And sum of trecherie and of gile,
Of old aventours that fel while;
And sum of bourdes and ribaudy,
And mani ther beth of fairy.
Of al thinges that men seth,
Mest o love for sothe thai beth.
In Breteyne bi hold time
This layes were wrought, so seith this rime.
When kinges might our yhere
Of ani mervailes that ther were,
Thai token an harp in gle and game,
And maked a lay and gaf it name.
Now of this aventours that weren yfalle,
Y can tel sum ac nought alle.
Ac herkneth lordinges, sothe to sain,
Ichil you telle Lay le Frayn.
Bifel a cas in Breteyne
Whereof was made Lay le Frain.
In Ingliche for to tellen ywis
Of an asche for sothe it is;
On ensaumple fair with alle
That sum time was bifalle.
In the west cuntré woned tuay knightes,
And loved hem wele in al rightes;
Riche men in her best liif,
And aither of hem hadde wedded wiif.
That o knight made his levedi milde
That sche was wonder gret with childe.
And when hir time was comen tho,
She was deliverd out of wo.
The knight thonked God almight,
And cleped his messanger an hight.
'Go,' he seyd, 'to mi neighebour swithe,
137
And say y gret him fele sithe,
And pray him that he com to me,
And say he schal mi gossibbe be.'
The messanger goth, and hath nought forgete,
And fint the knight at his mete.
And fair he gret in the halle
The lord, the levedi, the meyné alle.
And seththen on knes doun him sett,
And the Lord ful fair he gret:
'He bad that thou schust to him te,
And for love his gossibbe be.'
'Is his levedi deliverd with sounde?'
'Ya, sir, ythonked be God the stounde.'
'And whether a maidenchild other a knave?'
'Tuay sones, sir, God hem save.'
The knight therof was glad and blithe,
And thonked Godes sond swithe,
And graunted his erand in al thing,
And gaf him a palfray for his tiding.
Than was the levedi of the hous
A proude dame and an envieous,
Hokerfulliche missegging,
Squeymous and eke scorning.
To ich woman sche hadde envie;
Sche spac this wordes of felonie:
'Ich have wonder, thou messanger,
Who was thi lordes conseiler,
To teche him about to send
And telle schame in ich an ende,
That his wiif hath to childer ybore.
Wele may ich man wite therfore
That tuay men hir han hadde in bour;
That is hir bothe deshonour.' 1
The messanger was sore aschamed;
The knight himself was sore agramed,
And rebouked his levedy
To speke ani woman vilaynie.
And ich woman therof might here
Curssed hir alle yfere,
And bisought God in heven
For His holy name seven
That yif hye ever ani child schuld abide
138
A wers aventour hir schuld bitide.
Sone therafter bifel a cas
That hirself with child was.
When God wild, sche was unbounde
And deliverd al with sounde.
To maidenchilder sche hadde ybore.
When hye it wist, wo hir was therefore.
'Allas,' sche seyd, 'that this hap come!
Ich have ygoven min owen dome.
Forboden bite ich woman
To speken ani other harm opon.
Falsliche another y gan deme;
The selve happe is on me sene.
Allas,' sche seyd, 'that y was born!
Withouten ende icham forlorn.
Or ich mot siggen sikerly
That tuay men han yly me by;
Or ich mot sigge in al mi liif
That y bileighe mi neghbours wiif;
Or ich mot - that God it schilde! Help to sle min owhen child.
On of this thre thinges ich mot nede
Sigge other don in dede.
'Yif ich say ich hadde a bileman,
Than ich leighe meselve opon;
And eke thai wil that me se
Held me wer than comoun be.
And yif ich knaweleche to ich man
That ich leighe the levedi opon,
Than ich worth of old and yong
Behold leighster and fals of tong.
Yete me is best take mi chaunce,
And sle mi childe, and do penaunce.'
Hir midwiif hye cleped hir to:
'Anon,' sche seyd, 'this child fordo.
And ever say thou wher thou go
That ich have o child and namo.'
The midwiif answerd thurchout al
That hye nil, no hye ne schal. 2
[The levedi hadde a maiden fre,
Who ther ynurtured hade ybe,
And fostered fair ful mony a yere;
139
Sche saw her kepe this sori chere,
And wepe, and syke, and crye, 'Alas!'
And thoghte to helpen her in this cas.
And thus sche spake, this maiden ying,
'So n'olde y wepen for no kind thing: 3
But this o child wol I of-bare
And in a covent leve it yare.
Ne schalt thou be aschamed at al;
And whoso findeth this childe smal,
By Mary, blissful quene above,
May help it for Godes love.'
The levedi graunted anon therto,
And wold wele that it were ydo.
Sche toke a riche baudekine
That hir lord brought from Costentine
And lapped the litel maiden therin,
And toke a ring of gold fin,
And on hir right arm it knitt,
With a lace of silke therin plit;
And whoso hir founde schuld have in mende
That it were comen of riche kende.
The maide toke the child hir mide
And stale oway in an eventide,
And passed over a wild heth.
Thurch feld and thurch wode hye geth
Al the winterlong night The weder was clere, the mone was light So that hye com bi a forest side;
Sche wax al weri and gan abide.
Sone after sche gan herk
Cokkes crowe and houndes berk.
Sche aros and thider wold.
Ner and nere sche gan bihold.
Walles and hous fele hye seighe,
A chirche with stepel fair and heighe.
Than nas ther noither strete no toun,
Bot an hous of religioun,
An order of nonnes wele ydight
To servy God bothe day and night.
The maiden abod no lengore,
Bot yede hir to the chirche dore,
And on knes sche sat adoun,
140
And seyd wepeand her orisoun:
'O Lord,' she seyd, 'Jesu Crist,
That sinful man bedes herst,
Underfong this present,
And help this seli innocent
That it mot ycristned be,
For Marie love, thi moder fre.'
Hye loked up and bi hir seighe
An asche bi hir fair and heighe,
Wele ybowed, of michel priis;
The bodi was holow as mani on is.
Therin sche leyd the child for cold,
In the pel as it was bifold,
And blisced it with al hir might.
With that it gan to dawe light.
The foules up and song on bough,
And acremen yede to the plough.
The maiden turned ogain anon,
And toke the waye he hadde er gon.
The porter of the abbay aros,
And dede his ofice in the clos,
Rong the belles and taperes light,
Leyd forth bokes and al redi dight.
The chirche dore he undede,
And seighe anon in the stede
The pel liggen in the tre,
And thought wele that it might be
That theves hadde yrobbed sumwhare,
And gon ther forth and lete it thare.
Therto he yede and it unwond,
And the maidenchild therin he fond.
He tok it up betwen his hond,
And thonked Jesu Cristes sond;
And hom to his hous he it brought,
And tok it his douhter and hir bisought
That hye schuld kepe it as sche can,
For sche was melche and couthe theran.
Sche bad it souke and it nold,
For it was neighe ded for cold.
Anon fer sche alight
And warmed it wele aplight.
Sche gaf it souke opon hir barm,
141
And sethen laid it to slepe warm.
And when the masse was ydon,
The porter to the abbesse com ful son
'Madame, what rede ye of this thing?
Today right in the morning,
Sone after the first stounde,
A litel maidenchild ich founde
In the holwe assche ther out,
And a pel him about.
A ring of gold also was there.
Hou it com thider y not nere.'
The abbesse was awonderd of this thing.
'Go,' hye seyd, 'on heighing,
And feche it hider, y pray the.
It is welcom to God and to me.
Ichil it help as y can
And sigge it is mi kinswoman.'
The porter anon it gan forth bring
With the pal and with the ring.
The abbesse lete clepe a prest anon,
And lete it cristin in funston.
And for it was in an asche yfounde,
Sche cleped it Frain in that stounde.
(The Freyns of the 'asche' is a freyn
After the language of Breteyn;
Forthe Le Frein men clepeth this lay
More than Asche in ich cuntray).
This Frein thrived fram yer to yer.
The abbesse nece men wend it were.
The abbesse hir gan teche and beld.
Bi that hye was of twelve winter eld,
In al Inglond ther nas non
A fairer maiden than hye was on.
And when hye couthe ought of manhed,
Hye bad the abbesse hir wis and rede
Whiche were her kin, on or other,
Fader or moder, soster or brother.
The abbesse hir in conseyl toke,
To tellen hir hye nought forsoke,
Hou hye was founden in al thing,
And tok hir the cloth and the ring,
And bad hir kepe it in that stede;
142
And ther whiles sche lived so sche dede.
Than was ther in that cuntré
A riche knight of lond and fe,
Proud and yong and jolive,
And had nought yete ywedded wive.
He was stout, of gret renoun,
And was ycleped Sir Guroun.
He herd praise that maiden fre,
And seyd he wald hir se.
He dight him in the way anon,
And joliflich thider he come;
And bad his man sigge verrament
He schuld toward a turnament.
The abbesse and the nonnes alle
Fair him gret in the gest halle,
And damisel Freyn, so hende of mouth,
Gret him faire as hye wele couthe;
And swithe wele he gan devise
Her semblaunt and her gentrise,
Her lovesum eighen, her rode so bright,
And comced to love hir anon right,
And thought hou he might take on
To have hir to his leman.
He thought, 'Yif ich com hir to
More than ichave ydo,
The abbesse wil souchy gile
And voide hir in a litel while.'
He compast another enchesoun:
To be brother of that religioun. 4
'Madame,' he seyd to the abbesse,
'Y lovi wele in al godenisse,
Ichil give on and other,
Londes and rentes, to bicom your brother,
That ye schul ever fare the bet
When y com to have recet.'
At few wordes thai ben at on.
He graythes him and forth is gon.
Oft he come bi day and night
To speke with that maiden bright.
So that with his fair bihest,
And with his gloseing atte lest,
Hye graunted him to don his wille
143
When he wil, loude and stille.
'Leman,' he seyd, 'thou most lat be
The abbesse, thi nece, and go with me.
For icham riche, of swich pouwere,
The finde bet than thou hast here.' 5
The maiden grant, and to him trist,
And stale oway that no man wist.
With hir tok hye no thing
Bot hir pel and hir ring.
When the abbesse gan aspie
That hye was with the knight owy,
Sche made morning in hir thought,
And hir biment and gained nought.
So long sche was in his castel
That al his meyné loved hir wel.
To riche and pouer sche gan hir dresse,
That al hir loved, more and lesse.
And thus sche lad with him hir liif
Right as sche hadde ben his wedded wiif.
His knightes com and to him speke,
And Holy Chirche comandeth eke,
Sum lordes douhter for to take,
And his leman al forsake;
And seyd him were wel more feir
In wedlok to geten him an air
Than lede his liif with swiche on
Of was kin he knewe non.
And seyd, 'Here bisides is a knight
That hath a douhter fair and bright
That schal bere his hiritage;
Taketh hir in mariage!'
Loth him was that dede to do,
Ac atte last he graunt therto.
The forward was ymaked aright,
And were at on, and treuthe plight.
Allas, that he no hadde ywite,
Er the forward were ysmite
That hye and his leman also
Sostren were and twinnes to!
Of o fader bigeten thai were,
Of o moder born yfere.
That hye so ware nist non,
144
For soth y say, bot God alon. 6
The newe bride was grayd with alle
And brought hom to the lordes halle.
Hir fader com with hir, also
The levedi, hir moder, and other mo.
The bischop of the lond withouten fail
Com to do the spusseayl.
[That maiden bird in bour bright,
Le Codre sche was yhight.
And ther the guestes had gamen and gle,
And sayd to Sir Guroun joyfully:
'Fairer maiden nas never seen,
Better than Ash is Hazle y ween!'
(For in Romaunce Le Frain 'ash' is,
And Le Codre 'hazle,' y-wis.)
A gret fest than gan they hold
With gle and pleasaunce manifold.
And mo than al servauntes, the maid,
Yhight Le Frain, as servant sped.
Albe her herte wel nigh tobroke,
No word of pride ne grame she spoke.
The levedi marked her simple chere,
And gan to love her, wonder dere.
Scant could sche feel more pine or reuth
War it hir owen childe in sooth.
Than to the bour the damsel sped,
Whar graithed was the spousaile bed;
Sche demed it was ful foully dight,
And yll besemed a may so bright;
So to her coffer quick she cam,
And her riche baudekyn out nam,
Which from the abbesse sche had got;
Fayrer mantel nas ther not;
And deftly on the bed it layd;
Her lord would thus be well apayd.
Le Codre and her mother, thare,
Ynsame unto the bour gan fare,
But whan the levedi that mantyll seighe,
Sche wel neighe swoned oway.
The chamberleynt sche cleped tho,
But he wist of it no mo.
Then came that hendi maid Le Frain,
145
And the levedi gan to her sain,
And asked whose mantyll it ware.
Then answered that maiden fair:
'It is mine without lesing;
Y had it together with this ringe.
Myne aunte tolde me a ferli cas
Hou in this mantyll yfold I was,
And hadde upon mine arm this ring,
Whanne I was ysent to norysching.'
Then was the levedi astonied sore:
'Fair child! My doughter, y the bore!'
Sche swoned and was wel neighe ded,
And lay sikeand on that bed.
Her husbond was fet tho,
And sche told him al her wo,
Hou of her neighbour sche had missayn,
For sche was delyvered of childre twain;
And hou to children herself sche bore;
'And that o child I of sent thore,
In a convent yfostered to be;
And this is sche, our doughter free;
And this is the mantyll, and this the ring
You gaf me of yore as a love-tokening.'
The knight kissed his daughter hende
Oftimes, and to the bisschop wende:
And he undid the mariage strate,
And weddid Sir Guroun alsgate
To Le Frain, his leman, so fair and hend.
With them Le Codre away did wend,
And sone was spousyd with game and gle,
To a gentle knight of that countré.
Thus ends the lay of tho maidens bright,
Le Frain and Le Codre yhight.]
~ Anonymous,#NFDB
272:Les Heures Claires
O la splendeur de notre joie,
Tissée en or dans l'air de soie!
Voici la maison douce et son pignon léger,
Et le jardin et le verger.
Voici le banc, sous les pommiers
D'où s'effeuille le printemps blanc,
A pétales frôlants et lents.
Voici des vols de lumineux ramiers
Plânant, ainsi que des présages,
Dans le ciel clair du paysage.
Voici--pareils à des baisers tombés sur terre
De la bouche du frêle azur-Deux bleus étangs simples et purs,
Bordés naïvement de fleurs involontaires.
O la splendeur de notre joie et de nous-mêmes,
En ce jardin où nous vivons de nos emblèmes!
Là-bas, de lentes formes passent,
Sont-ce nos deux âmes qui se délassent,
Au long des bois et des terrasses?
Sont-ce tes seins, sont-ce tes yeux
Ces deux fleurs d'or harmonieux?
Et ces herbes--on dirait des plumages
Mouillés dans la source qu'ils plissent-Sont-ce tes cheveux frais et lisses?
Certes, aucun abri ne vaut le clair verger,
Ni la maison au toit léger,
Ni ce jardin, où le ciel trame
Ce climat cher à nos deux âmes.
Quoique nous le voyions fleurir devant nos yeux,
Ce jardin clair où nous passons silencieux,
C'est plus encore en nous que se féconde
186
Le plus joyeux et le plus doux jardin du monde.
Car nous vivons toutes les fleurs,
Toutes les herbes, toutes les palmes
En nos rires et en nos pleurs
De bonheur pur et calme.
Car nous vivons toutes les transparences
De l'étang bleu qui reflète l'exubérance
Des roses d'or et des grands lys vermeils:
Bouches et lèvres de soleil.
Car nous vivons toute la joie
Dardée en cris de fête et de printemps,
En nos aveux, où se côtoient
Les mots fervents et exaltants.
Oh! dis, c'est bien en nous que se féconde
Le plus joyeux et clair jardin du monde.
Ce chapiteau barbare, où des monstres se tordent,
Soudés entre eux, à coups de griffes et de dents,
En un tumulte fou de sang, de cris ardents,
De blessures et de gueules qui s'entre-mordent,
C'était moi-même, avant que tu fusses la mienne,
O toi la neuve, ô toi l'ancienne!
Qui vins à moi des loins d'éternité,
Avec, entre tes mains, l'ardeur et la bonté.
Je sens en toi les mêmes choses très profondes
Qu'en moi-même dormir
Et notre soif de souvenir
Boire l'écho, où nos passés se correspondent.
Nos yeux ont dû pleurer aux mêmes heures,
Sans le savoir, pendant l'enfance:
Avoir mêmes effrois, mêmes bonheurs,
Mêmes éclairs de confiance:
Car je te suis lié par l'inconnu
Qui me fixait, jadis au fond des avenues
Par où passait ma vie aventurière,
Et, certes, si j'avais regardé mieux,
187
J'aurais pu voir s'ouvrir tes yeux
Depuis longtemps en ses paupières.
Le ciel en nuit s'est déplié
Et la lune semble veiller
Sur le silence endormi.
Tout est si pur et clair,
Tout est si pur et si pâle dans l'air
Et sur les lacs du paysage ami,
Qu'elle angoisse, la goutte d'eau
Qui tombe d'un roseau
Et tinte et puis se tait dans l'eau.
Mais j'ai tes mains entre les miennes
Et tes yeux sûrs, qui me retiennent,
De leurs ferveurs, si doucement;
Et je te sens si bien en paix de toute chose,
Que rien, pas même un fugitif soupçon de crainte,
Ne troublera, fût-ce un moment,
La confiance sainte
Qui dort en nous comme un enfant repose.
Chaque heure, où je pense à ta bonté
Si simplement profonde,
Je me confonds en prières vers toi.
Je suis venu si tard
Vers la douceur de ton regard
Et de si loin, vers tes deux mains tendues,
Tranquillement, par à travers les étendues!
J'avais en moi tant de rouille tenace
Qui me rongeait, à dents rapaces,
La confiance;
J'étais si lourd, j'étais si las,
J'étais si vieux de méfiance,
J'étais si lourd, j'étais si las
Du vain chemin de tous mes pas.
Je méritais si peu la merveilleuse joie
188
De voir tes pieds illuminer ma voie,
Que j'en reste tremblant encore et presqu'en pleurs,
Et humble, à tout jamais, en face du bonheur.
Tu arbores parfois cette grâce bénigne
Du matinal jardin tranquille et sinueux
Qui déroule, là-bas, parmi les lointains bleus,
Ses doux chemins courbés en cols de cygne.
Et, d'autres fois, tu m'es le frisson clair
Du vent rapide et miroitant
Qui passe, avec ses doigts d'éclair,
Dans les crins d'eau de l'étang blanc.
Au bon toucher de tes deux mains,
Je sens comme des feuilles
Me doucement frôler;
Que midi brûle le jardin.
Les ombres, aussitôt recueillent
Les paroles chères dont ton être a tremblé.
Chaque moment me semble, grâce à toi,
Passer ainsi divinement en moi.
Aussi, quand l'heure vient de la nuit blême,
Où tu te cèles en toi-même,
En refermant les yeux,
Sens-tu mon doux regard dévotieux,
Plus humble et long qu'une prière,
Remercier le tien sous tes closes paupières?
Oh! laisse frapper à la porte
La main qui passe avec ses doigts futiles;
Notre heure est si unique, et le reste qu'importe,
Le reste, avec ses doigts futiles.
Laisse passer, par le chemin,
La triste et fatigante joie,
Avec ses crécelles en mains.
Laisse monter, laisse bruire
Et s'en aller le rire;
Laisse passer la foule et ses milliers de voix.
189
L'instant est si beau de lumière,
Dans le jardin, autour de nous,
L'instant est si rare de lumière trémière,
Dans notre coeur, au fond de nous.
Tout nous prêche de n'attendre plus rien
De ce qui vient ou passe,
Avec des chansons lasses
Et des bras las par les chemins.
Et de rester les doux qui bénissons le jour.
Même devant la nuit d'ombre barricadée,
Aimant en nous, par dessus tout, l'idée
Que bellement nous nous faisons de notre amour.
Comme aux âges naïfs, je t'ai donné mon coeur,
Ainsi qu'une ample fleur
Qui s'ouvre, au clair de la rosée;
Entre ses plis frêles, ma bouche s'est posée.
La fleur, je la cueillis au pré des fleurs en flamme;
Ne lui dis rien: car la parole entre nous deux
Serait banale, et tous les mots sont hasardeux.
C'est à travers les yeux que l'âme écoute une âme.
La fleur qui est mon coeur et mon aveu,
Tout simplement, à tes lèvres confie
Qu'elle est loyale et claire et bonne, et qu'on se fie
Au vierge amour, comme un enfant se fie à Dieu.
Laissons l'esprit fleurir sur les collines,
En de capricieux chemins de vanité;
Et faisons simple accueil à la sincérité
Qui tient nos deux coeurs clairs, en ses mains cristallines;
Et rien n'est beau comme une confession d'âmes,
L'une à l'autre, le soir, lorsque la flamme
Des incomptables diamants
Brûle, comme autant d'yeux
Silencieux,
Le silence des firmaments.
190
Le printemps jeune et bénévole
Qui vêt le jardin de beauté
Elucide nos voix et nos paroles
Et les trempe dans sa limpidité.
La brise et les lèvres des feuilles
Babillent--et effeuillent
En nous les syllabes de leur clarté.
Mais le meilleur de nous se gare
Et fuit les mots matériels;
Un simple et doux élan muet
Mieux que tout verbe amarre
Notre bonheur à son vrai ciel:
Celui de ton âme, à deux genoux,
Tout simplement, devant la mienne,
Et de mon âme, à deux genoux,
Très doucement, devant la tienne.
Viens lentement t'asseoir
Près du parterre, dont le soir
Ferme les fleurs de tranquille lumière,
Laisse filtrer la grande nuit en toi:
Nous sommes trop heureux pour que sa mer d'effroi
Trouble notre prière.
Là-haut, le pur cristal des étoiles s'éclaire.
Voici le firmament plus net et translucide
Qu'un étang bleu ou qu'un vitrail d'abside;
Et puis voici le ciel qui regarde à travers.
Les mille voix de l'énorme mystère
Parlent autour de toi.
Les mille lois de la nature entière
Bougent autour de toi,
Les arcs d'argent de l'invisible
Prennent ton âme et son élan pour cible,
Mais tu n'as peur, oh! simple coeur,
Mais tu n'as peur, puisque ta foi
Est que toute la terre collabore
A cet amour que fit éclore
La vie et son mystère en toi.
191
Joins donc les mains tranquillement
Et doucement adore;
Un grand conseil de pureté
Et de divine intimité
Flotte, comme une étrange aurore,
Sous les minuits du firmament.
Combien elle est facilement ravie,
Avec ses yeux d'extase ignée,
Elle, la douce et résignée
Si simplement devant la vie.
Ce soir, comme un regard la surprenait fervente,
Et comme un mot la transportait
Au pur jardin de joie, où elle était
Tout à la fois reine et servante.
Humble d'elle, mais ardente de nous,
C'était à qui ploierait les deux genoux,
Pour recueillir le merveilleux bonheur
Qui, mutuel, nous débordait du coeur.
Nous écoutions se taire, en nous, la violence
De l'exaltant amour qu'emprisonnaient nos bras
Et le vivant silence
Dire des mots que nous ne savions pas.
Au temps où longuement j'avais souffert
Où les heures m'étaient des pièges,
Tu m'apparus l'accueillante lumière
Qui luit, aux fenêtres, l'hiver,
Au fonds des soirs, sur de la neige.
Ta clarté d'âme hospitalière
Frôla, sans le blesser, mon coeur,
Comme une main de tranquille chaleur;
Un espoir tiède, un mot clément,
Pénétrèrent en moi très lentement;
Puis vint la bonne confiance
Et la franchise et la tendresse et l'alliance,
192
Enfin, de nos deux mains amies,
Un soir de claire entente et de douce accalmie.
Depuis, bien que l'été ait succédé au gel,
En nous-mêmes et sous le ciel,
Dont les flammes éternisées
Pavoisent d'or tous les chemins de nos pensées,
Et que l'amour soit devenu la fleur immense,
Naissant du fier désir,
Qui, sans cesse, pour mieux encor grandir,
En notre coeur, se recommence,
Je regarde toujours la petite lumière
Qui me fut douce, la première.
Je ne détaille pas, ni quels nous sommes
L'un pour l'autre, ni les pourquois, ni les raisons:
Tout doute est mort, en ce jardin de floraisons
Qui s'ouvre en nous et hors de nous, si loin des hommes.
Je
Et
Et
Et
ne raisonne pas, et ne veux pas savoir,
rien ne troublera ce qui n'est que mystère
qu'élans doux et que ferveur involontaire
que tranquille essor vers nos parvis d'espoir.
Je te sens claire avant de te comprendre telle;
Et c'est ma joie, infiniment,
De m'éprouver si doucement aimant,
Sans demander pourquoi ta voix m'appelle.
Soyons simples et bons--et que le jour
Nous soit tendresse et lumière servies,
Et laissons dire que la vie
N'est point faite pour un pareil amour.
A ces reines qui lentement descendent
Les escaliers en ors et fleurs de la légende,
Dans mon rêve, parfois, je t'apparie;
Je te donne des noms qui se marient
A la clarté, à la splendeur et à la joie,
Et bruissent en syllabes de soie,
Au long des vers bâtis comme une estrade
Pour la danse des mots et leurs belles parades.
193
Mais combien vite on se lasse du jeu,
A te voir douce et profonde et si peu
Celle dont on enjolive les attitudes;
Ton front si clair et pur et blanc de certitude,
Tes douces mains d'enfant en paix sur tes genoux,
Tes seins se soulevant au rythme de ton pouls
Qui bat comme ton coeur immense et ingénu,
Oh! comme tout, hormis cela et ta prière,
Oh! comme tout est pauvre et vain, hors la lumière
Qui me regarde et qui m'accueille en tes yeux nus.
Je dédie à tes pleurs, à ton sourire,
Mes plus douces pensées,
Celles que je te dis, celles aussi
Qui demeurent imprécisées
Et trop profondes pour les dire.
Je dédie à tes pleurs, à ton sourire
A toute ton âme, mon âme,
Avec ses pleurs et ses sourires
Et son baiser.
Vois-tu, l'aurore naît sur la terre effacée,
Des liens d'ombre semblent glisser
Et s'en aller, avec mélancolie;
L'eau des étangs s'écoule et tamise son bruit,
L'herbe s'éclaire et les corolles se déplient,
Et les bois d'or se désenlacent de la nuit.
Oh! dis, pouvoir un jour,
Entrer ainsi dans la pleine lumière;
Oh! dis, pouvoir un jour
Avec toutes les fleurs de nos âmes trémières,
Sans plus aucun voile sur nous,
Sans plus aucun mystère en nous,
Oh dis, pouvoir, un jour,
Entrer à deux dans le lucide amour!
Je noie en tes deux yeux mon âme toute entière
Et l'élan fou de cette âme éperdue,
Pour que, plongée en leur douceur et leur prière,
194
Plus claire et mieux trempée, elle me soit rendue.
S'unir pour épurer son être,
Comme deux vitraux d'or en une même abside
Croisent leurs feux différemment lucides
Et se pénètrent!
Je suis parfois si lourd, si las,
D'être celui qui ne sait pas
Etre parfait, comme il se veut!
Mon coeur se bat contre ses voeux,
Mon coeur dont les plantes mauvaises,
Entre des rocs d'entêtement,
Dressent, sournoisement,
Leurs fleurs d'encre ou de braise;
Mon coeur si faux, si vrai, selon les jours,
Mon coeur contradictoire,
Mon coeur exagéré toujours
De joie immense ou de crainte attentatoire.
Pour nous aimer des yeux,
Lavons nos deux regards, de ceux
Que nous avons croisés, par milliers, dans la vie
Mauvaise et asservie.
L'aube est en fleur et en rosée
Et en lumière tamisée
Très douce:
On croirait voir de molles plumes
D'argent et de soleil, à travers brumes,
Frôler et caresser, dans le jardin, les mousses.
Nos bleus et merveilleux étangs
Tremblent et s'animent d'or miroitant,
Des vols émeraudés, sous les arbres, circulent;
Et la clarté, hors des chemins, des clos, des haies,
Balaie
La cendre humide, où traîne encor le crépuscule.
Au clos de notre amour, l'été se continue:
Un paon d'or, là-bas traverse une avenue;
Des pétales pavoisent,
195
--Perles, émeraudes, turquoises-L'uniforme sommeil des gazons verts;
Nos étangs bleus luisent, couverts
Du baiser blanc des nénuphars de neige;
Aux quinconces, nos groseillers font des cortèges;
Un insecte de prisme irrite un coeur de fleur;
De merveilleux sous-bois se jaspent de lueurs;
Et, comme des bulles légères, mille abeilles
Sur des grappes d'argent, vibrent, au long des treilles.
L'air est si beau qu'il paraît chatoyant;
Sous les midis profonds et radiants,
On dirait qu'il remue en roses de lumière;
Tandis qu'au loin, les routes coutumières,
Telles de lents gestes qui s'allongent vermeils,
A l'horizon nacré, montent vers le soleil.
Certes, la robe en diamants du bel été
Ne vêt aucun jardin d'aussi pure clarté;
Et c'est la joie unique éclose en nos deux âmes
Qui reconnait sa vie en ces bouquets de flammes.
Que tes yeux clairs, tes yeux d'été,
Me soient, sur terre,
Les images de la bonté.
Laissons nos âmes embrasées
Exalter d'or chaque flamme de nos pensées.
Que mes deux mains contre ton coeur
Te soient, sur terre,
Les emblèmes de la douceur.
Vivons pareils à deux prières éperdues
L'une vers l'autre, à toute heure, tendues.
Que nos baisers sur nos bouches ravies
Nous soient sur terre,
Les symboles de notre vie.
Dis-moi, ma simple et ma tranquille amie,
196
Dis, combien l'absence, même d'un jour,
Attriste et attise l'amour
Et le réveille, en ses brûlures endormies.
Je m'en vais au devant de ceux
Qui reviennent des lointains merveilleux,
Où, dès l'aube, tu es allée;
Je m'assieds sous un arbre, au détour de l'allée,
Et, sur la route, épiant leur venue,
Je regarde et regarde, avec ferveur, leurs yeux
Encore clairs de t'avoir vue.
Et je voudrais baiser leurs doigts qui t'ont touchée,
Et leur crier des mots qu'ils ne comprendraient pas,
Et j'écoute longtemps se cadencer leurs pas
Vers l'ombre, où les vieux soirs tiennent la nuit penchée.
En ces heures où nous sommes perdus
Si loin de tout ce qui n'est pas nous-mêmes.
Quel sang lustral ou quel baptême
Baigne nos coeurs vers tout l'amour tendus?
Joignant les mains, sans que l'on prie,
Tendant les bras, sans que l'on crie,
Mais adorant on ne sait quoi
De plus lointain et de plus pur que soi,
L'esprit fervent et ingénu,
Dites, comme on se fond, comme on se vit dans l'inconnu.
Comme on s'abîme en la présence
De ces heures de suprême existence,
Comme l'âme voudrait des cieux
Pour y chercher de nouveaux dieux,
Oh! l'angoissante et merveilleuse joie
Et l'espérance audacieuse
D'être, un jour, à travers la mort même, la proie
De ces affres silencieuses.
Oh! ce bonheur
Si rare et si frêle parfois
Qu'il nous fait peur!
197
Nous avons beau taire nos voix,
Et nous faire comme une tente,
Avec toute ta chevelure,
Pour nous créer un abri sûr,
Souvent l'angoisse en nos âmes fermente.
Mais notre amour étant comme un ange à genoux,
Prie et supplie,
Que l'avenir donne à d'autres que nous
Même tendresse et même vie,
Pour que leur sort de notre sort ne soit jaloux.
Et puis, aux jours mauvais, quand les grands soirs
Illimitent, jusques au ciel, le désespoir,
Nous demandons pardon à la nuit qui s'enflamme
De la douceur de notre âme.
Vivons, dans notre amour et notre ardeur,
Vivons si hardiment nos plus belles pensées
Qu'elles s'entrelacent, harmonisées
A l'extase suprême et l'entière ferveur.
Parce qu'en nos âmes pareilles,
Quelque chose de plus sacré que nous
Et de plus pur et de plus grand s'éveille,
Joignons les mains pour l'adorer à travers nous.
Il n'importe que nous n'ayons que cris ou larmes
Pour humblement le définir,
Et que si rare et si puissant en soit le charme,
Qu'à le goûter, nos coeurs soient prêts à défaillir.
Restons quand même et pour toujours, les fous
De cet amour presqu'implacable,
Et les fervents, à deux genoux,
Du Dieu soudain qui règne en nous,
Si violent et si ardemment doux
Qu'il nous fait mal et nous accable.
Sitôt que nos bouches se touchent,
Nous nous sentons tant plus clairs de nous-mêmes
198
Que l'on dirait des Dieux qui s'aiment
Et qui s'unissent en nous-mêmes;
Nous nous sentons le coeur si divinement frais
Et si renouvelé par leur lumière
Première
Que l'univers, sous leur clarté, nous apparaît.
La joie est à nos yeux l'unique fleur du monde
Qui se prodigue et se féconde,
Innombrable, sur nos routes d'en bas;
Comme là haut, par tas,
En des pays de soie où voyagent des voiles
Brille la fleur myriadaire des étoiles.
L'ordre nous éblouit, comme les feux, la cendre,
Tout nous éclaire et nous paraît: flambeau;
Nos plus simples mots ont un sens si beau
Que nous les répétons pour les sans cesse entendre.
Nous sommes les victorieux sublimes
Qui conquérons l'éternité,
Sans nul orgueil et sans songer au temps minime:
Et notre amour nous semble avoir toujours été.
Pour que rien de nous deux n'échappe à notre étreinte,
Si profonde qu'elle en est sainte
Et qu'à travers le corps même, l'amour soit clair,
Nous descendons ensemble au jardin de ta chair.
Tes seins sont là, ainsi que des offrandes,
Et tes deux mains me sont tendues;
Et rien ne vaut la naïve provende
Des paroles dites et entendues.
L'ombre des rameaux blancs voyage
Parmi ta gorge et ton visage
Et tes cheveux dénouent leur floraison,
En guirlandes, sur les gazons.
La nuit est toute d'argent bleu,
La nuit est un beau lit silencieux,
199
La nuit douce, dont les brises vont, une à une,
Effeuiller les grands lys dardés au clair de lune.
Bien que déjà, ce soir,
L'automne
Laisse aux sentes et aux orées,
Comme des mains dorées,
Lentes, les feuilles choir;
Bien que déjà l'automne,
Ce soir, avec ses bras de vent,
Moissonne
Sur les rosiers fervents,
Les pétales et leur pâleur,
Ne laissons rien de nos deux âmes
Tomber soudain avec ces fleurs.
Mais tous les deux autour des flammes
De l'âtre en or du souvenir,
Mais tous les deux blottissons-nous,
Les mains au feu et les genoux.
Contre les deuils à craindre ou à venir,
Contre le temps qui fixe à toute ardeur sa fin,
Contre notre terreur, contre nous-mêmes, enfin,
Blottissons-nous, près du foyer,
Que la mémoire en nous fait flamboyer.
Et si l'automne obère
A grands pans d'ombre et d'orages plânants,
Les bois, les pelouses et les étangs,
Que sa douleur du moins n'altère
L'intérieur jardin tranquillisé,
Où s'unissent, dans la lumière,
Les pas égaux de nos pensées.
Le don du corps, lorsque l'âme est donnée
N'est rien que l'aboutissement
De deux tendresses entraînées
L'une vers l'autre, éperdûment.
Tu n'es heureuse de ta chair
Si simple, en sa beauté natale,
200
Que pour, avec ferveur, m'en faire
L'offre complète et l'aumône totale.
Et je me donne à toi, ne sachant rien
Sinon que je m'exalte à te connaître,
Toujours meilleure et plus pure peut-être
Depuis que ton doux corps offrit sa fête au mien.
L'amour, oh! qu'il nous soit la clairvoyance
Unique, et l'unique raison du coeur,
A nous, dont le plus fol bonheur
Est d'être fous de confiance.
Fût-il en nous une seule tendresse,
Une pensée, une joie, une promesse,
Qui n'allât, d'elle-même, au devant de nos pas?
Fût-il une prière en secret entendue,
Dont nous n'ayons serré les mains tendues
Avec douceur, sur notre sein?
Fût-il un seul appel, un seul dessein,
Un voeu tranquille ou violent
Dont nous n'ayons épanoui l'élan?
Et, nous aimant ainsi,
Nos coeurs s'en sont allés, tels des apôtres,
Vers les doux coeurs timides et transis
Des autres:
Ils les ont conviés, par la pensée,
A se sentir aux nôtres fiancés,
A proclamer l'amour avec des ardeurs franches,
Comme un peuple de fleurs aime la même branche
Qui le suspend et le baigne dans le soleil;
Et notre âme, comme agrandie, en cet éveil,
S'est mise à célébrer tout ce qui aime,
Magnifiant l'amour pour l'amour même,
Et à chérir, divinement, d'un désir fou,
Le monde entier qui se résume en nous.
Le beau jardin fleuri de flammes
Qui nous semblait le double ou le miroir,
201
Du jardin clair que nous portions dans l'âme,
Se cristallise en gel et or, ce soir.
Un grand silence blanc est descendu s'asseoir
Là-bas, aux horizons de marbre,
Vers où s'en vont, par défilés, les arbres
Avec leur ombre immense et bleue
Et régulière, à côté d'eux.
Aucun souffle de vent, aucune haleine.
Les grands voiles du froid,
Se déplient seuls, de plaine en plaine,
Sur des marais d'argent ou des routes en croix.
Les étoiles paraissent vivre.
Comme l'acier, brille le givre,
A travers l'air translucide et glacé.
De clairs métaux pulvérisés
A l'infini, semblent neiger
De la pâleur d'une lune de cuivre.
Tout est scintillement dans l'immobilité.
Et c'est l'heure divine, où l'esprit est hanté
Par ces mille regards que projette sur terre,
Vers les hasards de l'humaine misère,
La bonne et pure et inchangeable éternité.
S'il arrive jamais
Que nous soyons, sans le savoir,
Souffrance ou peine ou désespoir,
L'un pour l'autre; s'il se faisait
Que la fatigue ou le banal plaisir
Détendissent en nous l'arc d'or du haut désir;
Si le cristal de la pure pensée
De notre amour doit se briser,
Si malgré tout, je me sentais
Vaincu pour n'avoir pas été
Assez en proie à la divine immensité
De la bonté;
Alors, oh! serrons-nous comme deux fous sublimes
Qui sous les cieux cassés, se cramponnent aux cimes
202
Quand même.--Et d'un unique essor
L'âme en soleil, s'exaltent dans la mort.
~ Emile Verhaeren,#NFDB
273:Sir Gowther
God, that art of myghtis most,
Fader and Sone and Holy Gost,
That bought man on Rode so dere,
Shilde us from the fowle fende,
That is about mannys sowle to shende
All tymes of the yere!
Sumtyme the fende hadde postee
For to dele with ladies free
In liknesse of here fere,
So that he bigat Merlyng and mo,
And wrought ladies so mikil wo
That ferly it is to here.
A selcowgh thyng that is to here,
That fend nyeght wemen nere
And makyd hom with chyld;
Tho kynde of men wher thei hit tane, 1
For of hom selfe had thei nan,
Be meydon Maré mylde,
Therof seyus clerkus, y wotte how;
That schall not be rehersyd now,
As Cryst fro schame me schyld.
Bot y schall tell yow of a warlocke greytt,
What sorow at his modur hart he seyt
With his warcus wylde.
Jesu Cryst, that barne blythe,
Gyff hom joy, that lovus to lythe
Of ferlys that befell.
A law of Breyten long y soghht,
And owt ther of a tale ybroghht,
That lufly is to tell.
Ther wonde a Duke in Estryke,
He weddyt a ladé non hur lyke
For comly undur kell;
To tho lyly was likened that lady clere,
Hur rod reyde as blosmes on brere,
That ylke dere damsell.
219
When he had weddyd that meydyn schene
And sche Duches withowt wene,
A mangere con thei make;
Knyghtus of honowr tho furst dey
Justyd gently hom to pley
Here shaftes gan thei shake.
On the morow the lordes gente
Made a riall tournement
For that lady sake;
Tho Duke hym selfe wan stedys ten.
And bare don full doghty men,
And mony a cron con crake.
When this turment was y-ses,
Tho ryche Duke and tho Duches
Lad hor lyfe with wyn;
Ten yer and sum dele mare
He chylde non geyt ne sche non bare,
Ther joy began to tyne;
To is ladé sone con he seyn,
'Y tro thu be sum baryn,
Hit is gud that we twyn;
Y do bot wast my tyme on the,
Eireles mon owre londys bee';
For gretyng he con not blyn.
Tho ladé sykud and made yll chere
That all feylyd hur whyte lere,
For scho conseyvyd noght;
Scho preyd to God and Maré mylde
Schuld gyffe hur grace to have a chyld,
On what maner scho ne roghth.
In hur orchard apon a day
Ho meyt a mon, tho sothe to say,
That hur of luffe besoghth,
As lyke hur lorde as he myght be;
He leyd hur down undur a tre,
With hur is wyll he wroghtth.
When he had is wylle all don
A felturd fende he start up son,
And stode and hur beheld;
220
He seyd, 'Y have geyton a chylde on the
That in is yothe full wylde schall bee,
And weppons wyghtly weld.'
Sche blessyd hur and fro hym ran,
Into hur chambur fast ho wan,
That was so bygly byld.
Scho seyd to hur lord, that ladé myld,
'Tonyght we mon geyt a chyld
That schall owre londus weld.'
'A nangell com fro hevon bryght
And told me so this same nyght,
Y hope was Godus sond;
Then wyll that stynt all owr stryfe.'
Be tho lappe he laght his wyfe
And seyd, 'Dame, we schall fonde.'
At evon to beyd thei hom ches,
Tho ryche Duke and tho Duches,
And wold no lengur wonde;
He pleyd hym with that ladé hende,
And ei yode scho bownden with tho fende,
To God wold losse hur bonde.
This chyld within hur was no nodur,
Bot eyvon Marlyon halfe brodur,
For won fynd gatte hom bothe;
Thei sarvyd never of odyr thyng
But for to tempe wemen yon.
To deyle with hom was wothe.
Ylke a day scho grette fast
And was delyverid at tho last
Of won that coth do skathe;
Tho Duke hym gard to kyrke beyre,
Crystond hym and cald hym Gwother,
That sythyn wax breme and brathe.
Tho Duke comford that Duches heynde,
And aftur melche wemen he sende,
Tho best in that cuntré,
That was full gud knyghttys wyffys.
He sowkyd hom so thei lost ther lyvys,
Sone had he sleyne three!
221
Tho chyld was yong and fast he wex The Duke gard prycke aftur sex Hende harkons yee:
Be twelfe monethys was gon
Nine norsus had he slon
Of ladys feyr and fre.
Knyghtus of that cuntré geydyrd hom samun
And seyd to tho Duke hit was no gamun
To lose hor wyffus soo;
Thei badde hym orden for is son
He geytys no more is olde won,
Norsus now no moo.
His modur fell afowle unhappe,
Upon a day bad hym tho pappe,
He snaffulld to hit soo
He rofe tho hed fro tho brest Scho fell backeward and cald a prest,
To chambur fled hym froo.
Lechus helud that ladé yare,
Wemen durst gyffe hym souke no mare,
That yong chyld Gowther,
Bot fed hym up with rych fode
And that full mych as hym behovyd,
Full safly mey y sweyre.
Be that he was fifteen yere of eld
He made a wepon that he schuld weld,
No nodur mon myght hit beyr;
A fachon bothe of stylle and yron,
Wytte yow wyll he wex full styron
And fell folke con he feyr.
In a twelmond more he wex
Then odur chyldur in seyvon or sex,
Hym semyd full well to ryde;
He was so wekyd in all kyn wyse
Tho Duke hym myght not chastyse,
Bot made hym knyght that tyde,
With cold brade bronde;
Ther was non in that londe
That dynt of hym durst byde.
222
For sorro tho Duke fell don ded;
His modur was so wo of red
Hur care scho myght not hyde.
Mor sorro for hym sche myght have non,
Bot to a castyll of lyme and ston
Frely then scho fled;
Scho made hit strong and held hur thare,
Hor men myght tell of sorro and care,
Evyll thei wer bested,
For wher he meyt hom be tho way,
'Evyll heyle!' myght thei say
That ever modur hom fed;
For with his fachon he wold hom slo
And gurde hor horssus backus in too All seche parellys thei dred.
Now is he Duke of greyt renown,
And men of holy kyrke dynggus down
Wher he myght hom mete.
Masse ne matens wold he non here
Nor no prechyng of no frere,
That dar I heyly hette;
Erly and late, lowde and styll,
He wold wyrke is fadur wyll
Wher he stod or sete.
Hontyng lufde he aldur best,
Parke, wodd and wylde forest,
Bothe be weyus and strete.
He went to honte apon a day,
He see a nonry be tho way
And thedur con he ryde;
Tho pryorys and hur covent
With presescion ageyn hym went
Full hastely that tyde;
Thei wer full ferd of his body,
For he and is men bothe leyn hom by Tho sothe why schuld y hyde?
And sythyn he spard hom in hor kyrke
And brend hom up, thus con he werke;
Then went his name full wyde.
223
All that ever on Cryst con lefe,
Yong and old, he con hom greve
In all that he myght doo:
Meydyns maryage wolde he spyll
And take wyffus ageyn hor wyll,
And sley hor husbondus too,
And make frerus to leype at kraggus
And parsons for to heng on knaggus,
And odur prestys sloo;
To bren armettys was is dyssyre,
A powre wedow to seyt on fyre,
And werke hom mykyll woo.
A nolde erle of that cuntré
Unto tho Duke then rydys hee
And seyd, 'Syr, why dose thu soo?
We howpe thu come never of Cryston stryn,
Bot art sum fendys son, we weyn,
That werkus hus this woo.
Thu dose never gud, bot ey tho ylle We hope thu be full syb tho deyll.'
Syr Gowther wex then throo;
Hee seyd, 'Syr, and thu ly on mee,
Hongud and drawon schall thu bee
And never qwycke heythyn goo.'
He gard to putte tho erle in hold
And to his modur castyll he wold
As fast as he myght ryde;
He seyd, 'Dame, tell me in hye,
Who was my fadur, withowt lye,
Or this schall thoro the glyde';
He sette his fachon to hur hart:
'Have done, yf thu lufe thi qwart!'
Ho onswarde hym that tyde 'My lord,' scho seyd, 'that dyed last.'
'Y hope,' he seyd, 'thou lyus full fast';
Tho teyrus he lett don glyde.
'Son, sython y schall tho sothe say:
In owre orcharde apon a day
224
A fende gat the thare,
As lyke my lorde as he myght be,
Undurneyth a cheston tre';
Then weppyd thei bothe full sare.
'Go schryfe the, modur, and do tho best,
For y wyll to Rome or that y rest
To lerne anodur lare.'
This thoght come on hym sodenly:
'Lorde, mercy!' con he cry
To God that Maré bare,
To save hym fro is fadur tho fynde;
He preyd to God and Maré hynde,
That most is of posté,
To bryng is sowle to tho blys
That He boght to all His
Apon tho Rode tre.
Sythyn he went hym hom ageyn
And seyd to tho erle, withowt leyn,
Tho sothe tale tolde thu mee;
Y wyll to Rome to tho apostyll,
That he mey schryfe me and asoyll;
Kepe thu my castyll free.'
This old erle laft he theyr
For to be is stydfast heyre,
Syr Gwother forthe con glyde;
Toward Rome he radly ranne,
Wold he nowdur hors ne man
With hym to ren ne ryde;
His fauchon con he with hym take,
He laft hit not for weyle ne wrake,
Hyt hong ei be his syde.
Toward Rome cety con hee seche;
Or he come to tho Powpe speche
Full long he con abyde.
As sone has he the Pope con see,
He knelys adown apon is kne
And heylst hym full sone;
He preyd hym with mylde devocyon
Bothe of schryfte and absolyscion;
225
He granttyd hym is bone.
'Whethon art thu and of what cuntré?'
'Duke of Estryke, lorde,' quod hee,
'Be tru God in trone;
Ther was y geyton with a feynde
And borne of a Duches hende;
My fadur has frenchypus fone.'
'Y wyll gladly, be my fey!
Art thou Crystond?' He seyd, 'Yey,
My name it is Gwother;
Now y lowve God.' 'Thu art commun hedur,
For ellus y most a traveld thedur
Apon the for to weyre,
For thu hast Holy Kyrke destryed.'
'Nay, holy fadur, be thu noght agrevyd,
Y schall the truly swere
At thi byddyng beyn to be,
And hald tho penans that thu leys to me,
And never Cryston deyre.'
'Lye down thi fachon then the fro;
Thou schallt be screvon or y goo,
And asoylyd or y blyn.'
'Nay, holy fadur,' seyd Gwother,
'This bous me nedus with mee beyr,
My frendys ar full thyn.'
'Wherser thu travellys, be northe or soth,
Thu eyt no meyt bot that thu revus of howndus mothe
Cum thy body within;
Ne no worde speke for evyll ne gud,
Or thu reyde tokyn have fro God,
That forgyfyn is thi syn.'
He knelyd down befor tho Pope stole,
And solemly he con hym asoyle,
Tho sarten sothe to sey.
Meyte in Rome gatte he non
Bot of a dog mothe a bon,
And wyghttly went is wey;
He went owt of that ceté
Into anodur far cuntré,
226
Tho testamentys thus thei sey;
He seyt hym down undur a hyll,
A greyhownde broght hym meyt untyll
Or evon yche a dey.
Thre neythtys ther he ley:
Tho grwhownd ylke a dey
A whyte lofe he hym broghht;
On tho fort day come hym non,
Up he start and forthe con gon,
And lovyd God in his thoght.
Besyde ther was a casstell,
Therein an emperowr con dwell,
And thedurwarde he soghht;
He seyt hym down withowt the yate
And durst not entur in ther atte,
Thof he wer well wroght.
Tho weytus blu apon tho wall,
Knyghttus geydert into tho hall,
Tho lord buskyd to his saytte;
Syr Gwother up and in con gwon,
At tho dor uschear fond he non,
Ne porter at tho yatte,
Bot gwosse prystely thoro tho pres,
Unto tho hye bord he chesse,
Ther undur he made is seytt.
Tho styward come with yarde in honde,
To geyt hym thethyn fast con he fonde
And throly hym con threyt
To beyt hym, bot he wende awey.
'What is that?' tho Emperour con sey.
'My lord,' he seyd, 'a mon,
And that tho feyryst that ever y sye;
Cum loke on hym, it is no lye,'
And thedur wyghtly he wan.
Won word of hym he myght not geyt;
Thei lette hym sytt and gafe hym meyt.
'Full lytyll gud he can,
And yett mey happon thoro sum chans
That it wer gyffon hym in penans,'
227
Tho lord thus onsward than.
When tho Emperowr was seyt and sarvyd
And knyghttus had is breyd karvyd,
He sent tho dompmon parte;
He lette hit stond and wold ryght non.
Ther come a spanyell with a bon,
In his mothe he hit bare,
Syr Gwother hit fro hym droghhe,
And gredely on hit he gnofe,
He wold nowdur curlu ne tartte.
Boddely sustynans wold he non
Bot what so he fro tho howndus wan,
If it wer gnaffyd or mard.
Tho Emperowre and tho Emperrys
And knyghttys and ladys at tho des
Seyt and hym behelld;
Thei gaffe tho hondus meyt ynoghhe,
Tho dompe Duke to hom he droghhe,
That was is best beld.
Among tho howndys thus was he fed,
At evon to a lytyll chambur led
And hyllyd undur teld;
At none come into tho hall,
Hob hor fole thei con hym call;
To God he hym con yelde.
But now this ylke Emperowre
Had a doghtur whyte as flowre,
Was too soo dompe as hee;
Scho wold have spokyn and myght noght.
That meydon was worthely wroght,
Bothe feyr, curteys and free.
A messynger come apon a dey,
Tyll her fadur con he sey,
'My lord wele gretys the;
Tho Sawdyn, that is of mykyll myght
Wyll wer apon the dey and nyghtt
And bren thi bowrus free,
And sley thi men bot thu hym sende
228
Thi doghttur that is so feyr and heynde,
That he mey hur wedde.'
Tho Emperowr seyd, 'Y have bot won,
And that is dompe as any ston,
Feyrur thar non be feyd;
And y wyll not, be Cryst wonde,
Gyffe hor to no hethon hownde,
Then wer my bale bredde.
Yet mey God thoro Is myght
Ageyn to geyt hur spech ryght.'
Tho messynger ageyn hym spedde
To tho Sadyn and told hym soo.
Then wakynd ey more wo and wo,
He toke is oste and come nere.
Tho Emperowr, doghtty undur schyld,
With anodur kepped hym in tho fyld,
Eydur had batell sere.
Syr Gwother went to a chambur smart,
And preyd to God in his hart
On Rode that boghtt Hym dere,
Schuld sende hym armur, schyld and speyr,
And hors to helpe is lord in weyr
That wyll susstand hym thare.
He had no ner is preyr made,
Bot hors and armur bothe he hade,
Stode at his chambur dor;
His armur, is sted was blacke color;
He leypus on hors, that stythe in stowr,
That stalworthe was and store;
His scheld apon his schuldur hong,
He toke his speyre was large and long
And spard nodur myre ne more;
Forthe at tho yatus on hors he went,
Non hym knew bot that meydyn gent,
And aftur hur fadur he fore.
Tho Emperour had a batell kene,
Tho Sawden anodur, withowt wene,
Assemuld, as was hor kast;
Bot fro Syr Gwother comun were,
229
Mony a crone con he stere
And hew apon full fast;
He gard stedus for to stakur
And knyghttus hartys for to flakur
When blod and brenus con brast;
And mony a heython hed of smott,
And owt of hor sadyls, wylle y wott,
Thei tombull at tho last.
He putte tho Sawden to tho flyghth
And made tho chasse to it was nyghth,
And sluye tho Sarsyns kene;
Sython rode before tho Emperowr.
Non hym knew bot that bryghtt in bowr,
Tho dompe meydon schene.
To chambur he went, dysharnest hym sone,
His hors, is armur awey wer done,
He ne wyst wher hit myght bene.
In hall he fond his lorde at meyt;
He seytt hym down and made is seytt
Too small raches betwene.
Tho meydon toke too gruhowndus fyn
And waschyd hor mowthus cleyn with wyn
And putte a lofe in tho ton;
And in tho todur flesch full gud;
He raft bothe owt with eyggur mode,
That doghty of body and bon.
He seytt, made hym wyll at es,
Sythyn to chambur con he ches,
In that worthely won.
On tho morne cum a messengere
Fro tho Sawdyn with store chere,
To tho Emperowr sone he come;
He seyd: 'Syr, y bryng yow a lettur:
My lord is commun, wyll take hym bettur,
Yesturdey ye slo his men;
Todey he is commun into tho feyld
With knyghtys that beyrus speyr and schyld,
Thowsandus mo then ten;
On the he will avenied be.'
230
'Hors and armour,' than said he,
'Hastly had we thenne.'
God sende Syr Gwother thro Is myghth
A reyd hors and armur bryght,
He fowlyd thro frythe and fen.
When bothe batels wer areyd,
Truly, as tho romandys seyd,
Syr Gwother rode betwene;
Mony a sturdy gard he stombull,
Toppe over teyle hor horssus to tombull,
For to wytte withowt wene;
He hewde insondur helme and schelde,
He feld tho baner in tho feld
That schon so bryght and schene;
He leyd apon tho Sarsyns blake
And gard hor basnettus in too crake;
He kyd that he was kene.
'A, Lord God!' seyd tho Emperowre,
'What knyght is yondur so styffe in stowr
And all areyd in red,
Bothe his armur and his sted,
Mony a hethon he gars to bled
And dynggus hom to tho deyd,
And hedur come to helpe me?
Anodur in blacke yesturdey had we
That styrd hym wyll in this styd,
Dyscomfytt the Sawden and mony a Sarsyn;
So wyll yondur do, as y wene,
His dyntys ar heyve as leyde;
His fochon is full styffe of stele Loke, he warus his dyntus full wele,
And wastus of hom never won.'
Tho Emperowr pryckus into tho pres,
Tho doghtty knyght with hym he ches,
And byrkons hom flesche and bon.
Tho Sawdyn to a forest fled,
And his ost with hym he led
That laft wer onslon.
Syr Gwother turnyd is brydyll bryght
231
And rode befor is lorde full ryghtt,
To chambur then he hym cheys.
When his armur of wer don,
His hors and hit away wer son,
That he wyst not whare.
When he come into tho hall,
He fond tho Emperour and is men all
To meyt was gwon full yare;
Among tho howndus down he hym seytt,
Tho meydon forthe tho greyhondus feytt,
And leytt as noghtt ware;
Fedde Hob tho fole, for sothe to sey
Lyke as sche dyd tho forme dey;
To chambur sython con fare.
Tho Emperour thonkud God of hevun,
That schope tho nyght and tho deyus seyvun,
That he had soo sped;
Dyscomfyd tho Sawdyn thwys,
And slen is men most of prys,
Save thos that with hym fled.
'Anturus knyghtus come us too,
Aydur dey won of thoo,
Y ne wyst wher thei wer bred;
Tho ton in reyd, tho todur in blacke Had eydur of hom byn to lacke
Full evyll we had ben steyd.'
They pypud and trompud in tho hall,
Knyghtus and ladys dancyd all
Befor that mynstralsy;
Syr Gwother in his chambur ley,
He lyst nowdur dance ne pley,
For he was full wery,
Bryssud for strokus that he had laghtth
When he in tho batell faghtth,
Amonghe that carefull cry.
He had no thoght bot of is syn,
And how he myght is soule wyn
To tho blys that God con hym by.
232
Thes lordys to bed con hom bown,
And knyghttys and ladys of renown,
Thus this romans told.
On tho morne come a messynger
And seyd to tho Emperour, 'Now is wer,
Thi care mey be full cold;
My lord is comun with his powyr,
Bot yf thu gyff hym thi doghttur dere
He wyll hampur the in hold,
And byrkon the bothe blod and bon,
And leyve on lyfe noght won
Off all thi barons bold.'
'Y count hym noght,' quod tho Emperour;
'Y schall gare sembull as styff in stour,
And meyt hym yf y mey.'
Tho doghtty men that to hym dyd long
Anon wer armyd, old and yong,
Be undur of tho dey.
Thei leype on hors, toke schyld and speyr,
Then tho gud knyght Gwotheyr
To God in hart con prey,
Schulde sende hym hors and armur tyte;
Sone he had bothe, mylke whyte,
And rod aftur in gud arey.
Hys to commyngus tho dompe meydon had sene,
And to tho thryd went with wene,
No mon hit knew bot God,
For he fard nodur with brag ne bost,
Bot preystely pryckys aftur tho ost,
And foloud on hor trowd.
Tho Emperour was in tho voward,
And Gowther rode befor is lord,
Of knyghttys was he odde.
Tho berons wer to tho dethe dongon
And baners bryght in sladus slongon,
With strokus greyt and lowd.
Tho Sawdyn bare in sabull blacke,
Three lyons rampand, withowt lacke,
That all of silver schon;
233
Won was corvon with golys redde,
Anodur with gold in that steyd,
Tho thryde with aser, y wene;
And his helmyt full rychely frett,
With charbuckolus stonus suryly sett
And dyamondus betwene;
And his batell wele areyd,
And his baner brodly dyspleyd;
Sone aftur tyde hom tene.
Tho gud knyght, Syr Gowtheyr,
He styrd hym styfly in his geyr,
Ther levyd non doghttear, y wene;
Ylke a dyntte that he smotte
Throowt steyll helmus it boott,
He felld bothe hors and mon,
And made hom tombull to tho gronde;
Tho fote men on tho feld con stonde
And then ward radly ranne.
Tho Sawdyn for tho Emperourus doghttur
Gard Cryston and hethon to dye in slaghttur:
That tyme hym burd wele ban.
To whyle Syr Gwother freschely faghtte
Mony a doghtté hors is deythe ther kaghtte,
That he myghtte over reche;
All that he with his fawchon hytte
Thei fell to tho ground and ross not yette,
Nor lokyd aftur no leyche.
Bot he wold not for yre ne tene
No worde speyke, withowt wene,
For dowtte of Godus wreke;
If all he hongurt, noght he dyd eytte
Bot what he myght fro tho howndus geyt;
He dyd as tho Pwope con hym teche.
Syr Gwother, that stythe in stowre,
Rydys ey with tho Emperour
And weyrus hym fro wothe;
Ther was no Sarsyn so mykull of strenthe,
That durst come within is speyre lenthe,
So doghttey wer thei bothe.
234
With his fachon large and long
Syche dyntus on them he dong
Hor lyfus myghtte thei lothe;
All that ever abode that becur
Of hor deythus meghtt be secur,
He styrd his hondus so rathe.
That dey he tent noght bot is fyght;
Tho Emperour faght with all his myght,
Bot radly was he takon,
And with tho Sawdyn awey was led;
Tho dompe Duke gard hym ley a wed,
Stroke of his hed anon,
Rescowyd is lord, broght hym ageyn,
Lovyd be God in hart was ful feyn,
That formod bothe blod and bon.
Ther come a Sarsyn with a speyre,
Thro tho scholdur smott Gotheyr.
Then made the dompe meydon mon;
For sorro fell owt of hur toure,
Tho doghtur of tho Emperour,
To whyte withowt wene.
A doghtty sqwyer in hur bare;
Of all too deyus hoo styrd no mare
Then ho deyd had ben.
Tho lord come hom, to meyt was seytt,
And tho doghtty knyght, withowt leytt,
That had in tho batell byn,
To chambur he went, dyd of is geyre,
This gud knyght Syr Gwothere,
Then myssyd he that meydon schene.
Emong tho howndus is meyt he wan;
Tho Emperour was a drury man
For his doghttur gent;
He gard erlys and barons go to Rome
Aftur tho Pope, and he come sone
To hur enterment,
And cardynals to tho beryng
To assoyle that swett thyng.
Syche grace God hur sentt
235
That scho raxeld hur and rase,
And spake wordus that wyse was
To Syr Gwother, varement.
Ho seyd, 'My lord of heyvon gretys the well,
And forgyffeus the thi syn yche a dell,
And grantys the tho blys;
And byddus the speyke on hardely,
Eyte and drynke and make mery;
Thu schallt be won of His.'
Scho seyd to hur fadur, 'This is he
That faght for yow deys thre
In strong batell, ywys.'
Tho Pope had schryvon Syr Gother He lovyd God and Maré ther And radly hym con kys,
And seyd, 'Now art thu Goddus chyld;
The thar not dowt tho warlocke wyld,
Ther waryd mot he bee.'
Thro tho Pope and tho Emperour asent
Ther he weyd that meydyn gent,
That curtesse was and fre.
And scho a lady gud and feyr,
Of all hur fadur londus eyr;
Beyttur thurte non bee.
Tho Pope toke his leyfe to weynde,
With tham he laft his blessyng,
Ageyn to Rome went hee.
When this mangeyre was broght to ende,
Syr Gwother con to Estryke wende
And gaff tho old erle all;
Made hym Duke of that cuntré,
And lett hym wed his modur fre,
That ladé gent and small;
And ther he made an abbey
And gaff therto rent for ey,
'And here lye y schall';
And putte therin monkus blake
To rede and syng for Godys sake,
And closyd hit with gud wall.
236
All yf tho Pope had hym schryvyn
And God is synnus clene forgevon,
Yett was his hart full sare
That ever he schuld so yll wyrke
To bren tho nunnus in hor kyrke,
And made hor plasse so bare.
For hom gard he make that abbey
And a covent therin for ey
That mekull cowde of lare,
For them unto tho wordus end
For hor soulus that he had brend
And all that Cryston ware.
And then he went hym hom ageyn,
And be that he come in Allmeyn
His fadur tho Emperour was deyd,
And he lord and emperowr,
Of all Cryston knyghttus tho flowre,
And with tho Sarsyns dredde.
What mon so bydus hym for Godys loffe doo
He was ey redy bown thertoo,
And stod pore folke in styd,
And ryche men in hor ryght,
And halpe holy kyrke in all is myght;
Thus toke he bettur reyd.
Furst he reynod mony a yere,
An emperour of greyt power,
And whysyle con he wake;
And when he dyed, tho sothe to sey,
Was beryd at tho same abbey
That hymselfe gart make;
And he is a varré corsent parfett,
And with Cryston pepull wele belovyd;
God hase done for his sake
Myrrakull, for he has hym hold;
Ther he lyse in schryne of gold
That suffurd for Goddus sake.
Who so sechys Hym with hart fre,
Of hor bale bote mey bee,
237
For so God hase hym hyght;
Thes wordus of hym thar no mon wast,
For he is inspyryd with tho Holy Gost,
That was tho cursod knyght;
For he garus tho blynd to see
And tho dompe to speyke, pardé,
And makus tho crokyd ryght,
And gyffus to tho mad hor wytte,
And mony odur meracullus yette,
Thoro tho grace of God allmyght.
Thus Syr Gwother coverys is care,
That fyrst was ryche and sython bare,
And effte was ryche ageyn,
And geyton with a felteryd feynd;
Grace he had to make that eynd
That God was of hym feyn.
This is wreton in parchemeyn,
A story bothe gud and fyn
Owt off a law of Breyteyn.
Jesu Cryst, Goddys son,
Gyff us myght with Hym to won,
That Lord that is most of meyn. Amen
~ Anonymous,#NFDB
274:Patience
Pacience is a poynt, þa33e,
& quo for þro may no3t þole, þe þikker he sufferes.
&Thorn;en is better to abyde þe bur vmbestoundes
&Thorn;en ay þrow forth my þro, þa33e masse,
How Mathew melede þat his Mayster His meyny con teche.
A3t happes He hem hy3t & vcheon a mede,
Sunderlupes, for hit dissert, vpon a ser wyse:
Thay arn happen þat han in hert pouerte,
For hores is þe heuen-ryche to holde for euer;
&Thorn;ay ar happen also þat haunte mekenesse,
For þay schal welde þis worlde & alle her wylle haue;
Thay ar happen also þat for her harme wepes,
For þay schal comfort encroche in kythes ful mony;
&Thorn;ay ar happen also þat hungeres after ry3t,
For þay schal frely be refete ful of alle gode;
Thay ar happen also þat han in hert rauþe,
For mercy in alle maneres her mede schal worþe;
&Thorn;ay ar happen also þat arn of hert clene,
For þay her Sauyour in sete schal se with her y3en;
Thay ar happen also þat halden her pese,
For þay þe gracious Godes sunes schal godly be called;
&Thorn;ay ar happen also þat con her hert stere,
For hores is þe heuen-ryche, as I er sayde.
These arn þe happes alle a3t þat vus bihy3t weren,
If we þyse ladyes wolde lof in lyknyng of þewes:
Dame Pouert, Dame Pitee, Dame Penaunce þe þrydde,
Dame Mekenesse, Dame Mercy, & miry Clannesse,
& þenne Dame Pes, & Pacyence put in þerafter.
He were happen þat hade one; alle were þe better.
Bot [s]yn I am put to a poynt þat pouerte hatte,
I schal me poruay pacyence & play me with boþe,
For in þe tyxte þere þyse two arn in teme layde,
Hit arn fettled in on forme, þe forme & þe laste,
& by quest of her quoyntyse enquylen on mede.
& als, in myn vpynyoun, hit arn of on kynde:
For þeras pouert hir proferes ho nyl be put vtter,
Bot lenge wheresoeuer hir lyst, lyke oþer greme;
& þereas pouert enpresses, þa33tloker hit lyke & her lotes prayse,
&Thorn;enne wyþer wyth & be wroth & þe wers haue.
225
3if me be dy3t a destyne due to haue,
What dowes me þe dedayn, oþer dispit make?
Oþer 3if my lege lorde lyst on lyue me to bidde
Oþer to ryde oþer to renne to Rome in his ernde,
What grayþed me þe grychchyng bot grame more seche?
Much 3if he me ne made, maugref my chekes,
& þenne þrat moste I þole & vnþonk to mede,
&Thorn;e had bowed to his bode bongre my hyure.
Did not Jonas in Jude suche jape sumwhyle?
To sette hym to sewrte, vnsounde he hym feches.
Wyl 3e tary a lyttel tyne & tent me a whyle,
I schal wysse yow þerwyth as holy wryt telles.
Hit bitydde sumtyme in þe termes of Jude,
Jonas joyned watz þerinne Jentyle prophete;
Goddes glam to hym glod þat hym vnglad made,
With a roghlych rurd rowned in his ere:
'Rys radly,' He says, '& rayke forth euen;
Nym þe way to Nynyue wythouten oþer speche,
& in þat cete My sa3es soghe alle aboute,
&Thorn;at in þat place, at þe poynt, I put in þi hert.
For iwysse hit arn so wykke þat in þat won dowellez
& her malys is so much, I may not abide,
Bot venge Me on her vilanye & venym bilyue;
Now swe3e Me þider swyftly & say Me þis arende.'
When þat steuen watz stynt þat stown[e]d his mynde,
Al he wrathed in his wyt, & wyþerly he þo3t:
'If I bowe to His bode & bryng hem þis tale,
& I be nummen in Nuniue, my nyes begynes:
He telles me þose traytoures arn typped schrewes;
I com wyth þose tyþynges, þay ta me bylyue,
Pynez me in a prysoun, put me in stokkes,
Wryþe me in a warlok, wrast out myn y3en.
&Thorn;is is a meruayl message a man for to preche
Amonge enmyes so mony & mansed fendes,
Bot if my gaynlych God such gref to me wolde,
Fo[r] desert of sum sake þat I slayn were.
At alle peryles,' quoþ þe prophete, 'I aproche hit no nerre.
I wyl me sum oþer waye þat He ne wayte after;
I schal tee into Tarce & tary þere a whyle,
& ly3tly when I am lest He letes me alone.'
&Thorn;enne he ryses radly & raykes bilyue,
Jonas toward port Japh, ay janglande for tene
226
&Thorn;at he nolde þole for noþyng non of þose pynes,
&Thorn;a33e
In His g[lo]wande glorye, & gloumbes ful lyttel
&Thorn;a33t.
Then he tron on þo tres, & þay her tramme ruchen,
Cachen vp þe crossayl, cables þay fasten,
Wi3t at þe wyndas we3en her ankres,
Spende spak to þe sprete þe spare bawelyne,
Gederen to þe gyde-ropes, þe grete cloþ falles,
&Thorn;ay layden in on laddeborde, & þe lofe wynnes,
&Thorn;e blyþe breþe at her bak þe bosum he fyndes;
He swenges me þys swete schip swefte fro þe hauen.
Watz neuer so joyful a Jue as Jonas watz þenne,
&Thorn;at þe daunger of Dry3tyn so derfly ascaped;
He wende wel þat þat Wy33t in þat mere no man for to
greue.
Lo, þe wytles wrechche! For he wolde no3t suffer,
Now hatz he put hym in plyt of peril wel more.
Hit watz a wenyng vnwar þat welt in his mynde,
&Thorn;a33t fro Samarye, þat God se33ise, He blusched ful brode:
þat burde hym by sure;
&Thorn;at ofte kyd hym þe carpe þat kyng sayde,
Dyngne Dauid on des þat demed þis speche
In a psalme þat he set þe sauter withinne:
'O folez in folk, felez oþerwhyle
& vnderstondes vmbestounde, þa33e þat He heres not þat
eres alle made?
Hit may not be þat He is blynde þat bigged vche y3e.'
Bot he dredes no dynt þat dotes for elde.
For he watz fer in þe flod foundande to Tarce,
Bot I trow ful tyd ouertan þat he were,
So þat schomely to schort he schote of his ame.
For þe Welder of wyt þat wot alle þynges,
&Thorn;at ay wakes & waytes, at wylle hatz He sly3tes.
He calde on þat ilk crafte He carf with His hondes;
&Thorn;ay wakened wel þe wroþeloker for wroþely He
cleped:
'Ewrus & Aquiloun þat on est sittes
Blowes boþe at My bode vpon blo watteres.'
&Thorn;enne watz no tom þer bytwene His tale & her dede,
So bayn wer þay boþe two His bone for to wyrk.
227
Anon out of þe norþ-est þe noys bigynes,
When boþe breþes con blowe vpon blo watteres.
Ro33ed ful sore, gret selly to here;
&Thorn;e wyndes on þe wonne water so wrastel togeder
&Thorn;at þe wawes ful wode waltered so hi3e
& efte busched to þe abyme, þat breed fysches
Durst nowhere for ro33e yþes.
&Thorn;e bur ber to hit baft, þat braste alle her gere,
&Thorn;en hurled on a hepe þe helme & þe sterne;
Furst tomurte mony rop & þe mast after;
&Thorn;e sayl sweyed on þe see, þenne suppe bihoued
&Thorn;e coge of þe [co]lde water, & þenne þe cry ryses.
3et coruen þay þe cordes & kest al þeroute;
Mony ladde þer forth lep to laue & to kest,
Scopen out þe scaþel water þat fayn scape wolde,
For be monnes lode neuer so luþer, þe lyf is ay swete.
&Thorn;er watz busy ouer borde bale to kest,
Her bagges & her feþer-beddes & her bry3t wedes,
Her kysttes & her coferes, her caraldes alle,
& al to ly3ten þat lome, 3if leþe wolde schape.
Bot euer watz ilyche loud þe lot of þe wyndes,
& euer wroþer þe water & wodder þe stremes.
&Thorn;en þo wery forwro3t wyst no bote,
Bot vchon glewed on his god þat gayned hym beste:
Summe to Vernagu þer vouched avowes solemne,
Summe to Diana deuout & derf Nepturne,
To Mahoun & to Mergot, þe mone & þe sunne,
& vche lede as he loued & layde had his hert.
&Thorn;enne bispeke þe spakest, dispayred wel nere:
'I leue here be sum losynger, sum lawles wrech,
&Thorn;at hatz greued his god & gotz here amonge vus.
Lo, al synkes in his synne & for his sake marres.
I lovue þat we lay lotes on ledes vchone,
& whoso lympes þe losse, lay hym þeroute;
& quen þe gulty is gon, what may gome trawe
Bot He þat rules þe rak may rwe on þose oþer?'
&Thorn;is watz sette in asent, & sembled þay were,
Her3ed out of vche hyrne to hent þat falles.
A lodesmon ly3tly lep vnder hachches,
For to layte mo ledes & hem to lote bryng.
Bot hym fayled no freke þat he fynde my3t,
Saf Jonas þe Jwe, þat jowked in derne.
228
He watz flowen for ferde of þe flode lotes
Into þe boþem of þe bot, & on a brede lyggede,
Onhelde by þe hurrok, for þe heuen wrache,
Slypped vpon a sloumbe-selepe, & sloberande he routes.
&Thorn;e freke hym frunt with his fot & bede hym ferk vp:
&Thorn;er Ragnel in his rakentes hym rere of his dremes!
Bi þe haspede he hentes hym þenne,
& bro3t hym vp by þe brest & vpon borde sette,
Arayned hym ful runyschly what raysoun he hade
In such sla3tes of sor3e to slepe so faste.
Sone haf þay her sortes sette & serelych deled,
& ay þe lote vpon laste lymped on Jonas.
&Thorn;enne ascryed þay hym sckete & asked ful loude:
'What þe deuel hatz þou don, doted wrech?
What seches þou on see, synful schrewe,
With þy lastes so luþer to lose vus vchone?
Hatz þou, gome, no gouernour ne god on to calle,
&Thorn;at þou þus slydes on slepe when þou slayn
worþes?
Of what londe art þou lent, what laytes þou here,
Whyder in worlde þat þou wylt, & what is þyn arnde?
Lo, þy dom is þe dy3t, for þy dedes ille.
Do gyf glory to þy godde, er þou glyde hens.'
'I am an Ebru,' quoþ he, 'of Israyl borne;
&Thorn;at Wy3e I worchyp, iwysse, þat wro3t alle þynges,
Alle þe worlde with þe welkyn, þe wynde & þe sternes,
& alle þat wonez þer withinne, at a worde one.
Alle þis meschef for me is made at þys tyme,
For I haf greued my God & gulty am founden;
Forþy berez me to þe borde & baþeþes me
þeroute,
Er gete 3e no happe, I hope forsoþe.'
He ossed hym by vnnynges þat þay vndernomen
&Thorn;at he watz flawen fro þe face of frelych Dry3tyn:
&Thorn;enne such a ferde on hem fel & flayed hem withinne
&Thorn;at þay ruyt hym to rowwe, & letten þe rynk one.
Haþeles hy3ed in haste with ores ful longe,
Syn her sayl watz hem aslypped, on sydez to rowe,
Hef & hale vpon hy3t to helpen hymseluen,
Bot al watz nedles note: þat nolde not bityde.
In bluber of þe blo flod bursten her ores.
&Thorn;enne hade þay no3t in her honde þat hem help my3t;
229
&Thorn;enne nas no coumfort to keuer, ne counsel non oþer,
Bot Jonas into his juis jugge bylyue.
Fryst þay prayen to þe Prynce þat prophetes seruen
&Thorn;at He gef hem þe grace to greuen Hym neuer,
&Thorn;at þay in balelez blod þer blenden her handez,
&Thorn;a33e þay luche hym sone.
He watz no tytter outtulde þat tempest ne sessed:
&Thorn;e se sa3tled þerwith as sone as ho mo3t.
&Thorn;enne þa33t hem strayned a whyle,
&Thorn;at drof hem dry3lych adoun þe depe to serue,
Tyl a swetter ful swyþe hem swe3ed to bonk.
&Thorn;er watz louyng on lofte, when þay þe londe wonnen,
To oure mercyable God, on Moyses wyse,
With sacrafyse vpset, & solempne vowes,
& graunted Hym vn to be God & graythly non oþer.
&Thorn;a33et dredes;
&Thorn;a33e fro he in water dipped,
Hit were a wonder to wene, 3if holy wryt nere.
Now is Jonas þe Jwe jugged to drowne;
Of þat schended schyp men schowued hym sone.
A wylde walterande whal, as Wyrde þen schaped,
&Thorn;at watz beten fro þe abyme, bi þat bot flotte,
& watz war of þat wy3e þat þe water so3te,
& swyftely swenged hym to swepe, & his swol33et haldande his fete, þe
fysch hym tyd hentes;
Withouten towche of any tothe he tult in his þrote.
Thenne he swengez & swayues to þe se boþem,
Bi mony rokkez ful ro3e & rydelande strondes,
Wyth þe mon in his mawe malskred in drede,
As lyttel wonder hit watz, 3if he wo dre3ed,
For nade þe hy3e Heuen-Kyng, þur33t,
Warded þis wrech man in warlowes guttez,
What lede mo3t lyue bi lawe of any kynde,
&Thorn;at any lyf my3t be lent so longe hym withinne?
Bot he watz sokored by þat Syre þat syttes so hi3e,
&Thorn;a3333t,
Ay hele ouer hed hourlande aboute,
Til he blunt in a blok as brod as a halle;
& þer he festnes þe fete & fathmez aboute,
& stod vp in his stomak þat stank as þe deuel.
&Thorn;er in saym & in sor3e þat sauoured as helle,
&Thorn;er watz bylded his bour þat wyl no bale suffer.
230
& þenne he lurkkes & laytes where watz le best,
In vche a nok of his nauel, bot nowhere he fyndez
No rest ne recouerer, bot ramel ande myre,
In wych gut so euer he gotz, bot euer is God swete;
& þer he lenged at þe last, & to þe Lede called:
'Now, Prynce, of &Thorn;y prophete pite &Thorn;ou haue.
&Thorn;a3333tly a Lorde in londe & in water.'
With þat he hitte to a hyrne & helde hym þerinne,
&Thorn;er no defoule of no fylþe watz fest hym abute;
&Thorn;er he sete also sounde, saf for merk one,
As in þe bulk of þe bote þer he byfore sleped.
So in a bouel of þat best he bidez on lyue,
&Thorn;re dayes & þ[r]e ny3t, ay þenkande on Dry3tyn,
His my3t & His merci, His mesure þenne.
Now he knawez Hym in care þat couþe not in sele.
Ande euer walteres þis whal bi wyldren depe,
&Thorn;ur33e, þur333et I say as I seet in þe se boþem:
"Careful am I, kest out fro &Thorn;y cler y3en
& deseuered fro &Thorn;y sy3t; 3et surely I hope
Efte to trede on &Thorn;y temple & teme to &Thorn;yseluen."
I am wrapped in water to my wo stoundez;
&Thorn;e abyme byndes þe body þat I byde inne;
&Thorn;e pure poplande hourle playes on my heued;
To laste mere of vche a mount, Man, am I fallen;
&Thorn;e barrez of vche a bonk ful bigly me haldes,
&Thorn;at I may lachche no lont, & &Thorn;ou my lyf weldes.
&Thorn;ou schal releue me, Renk, whil &Thorn;y ry3t slepez,
&Thorn;ur33t of &Thorn;y mercy þat mukel is to tryste.
For when þ'acces of anguych watz hid in my sawle,
&Thorn;enne I remembred me ry3t of my rych Lorde,
Prayande Him for pete His prophete to here,
&Thorn;at into His holy hous myn orisoun mo3t entre.
I haf meled with &Thorn;y maystres mony longe day,
Bot now I wot wyterly þat þose vnwyse ledes
&Thorn;at affyen hym in vanyte & in vayne þynges
For þink þat mountes to no3t her mercy forsaken;
Bot I dewoutly awowe, þat verray betz halden,
Soberly to do &Thorn;e sacrafyse when I schal saue worþe,
& offer &Thorn;e for my hele a ful hol gyfte,
& halde goud þat &Thorn;ou me hetes: haf here my trauthe.'
Thenne oure Fader to þe fysch ferslych biddez
&Thorn;at he hym sput spakly vpon spare drye.
231
&Thorn;er whal wendez at His wylle & a warþe fyndez,
& þer he brakez vp þe buyrne as bede hym oure Lorde.
&Thorn;enne he swepe to þe sonde in sluchched cloþes:
Hit may wel be þat mester were his mantyle to wasche.
&Thorn;e bonk þat he blosched to & bode hym bisyde
Wern of þe regiounes ry3t þat he renayed hade.
&Thorn;enne a wynde of Goddez worde efte þe wy3e bruxlez:
'Nylt þou neuer to Nuniue bi no kynnez wayez?'
'3isse, Lorde,' quoþ þe lede, 'lene me &Thorn;y grace
For to go at &Thorn;i gre: me gaynez [n]on oþer.'
'Ris, aproche þen to prech, lo, þe place here.
Lo, My lore is in þe loke, lauce hit þerinne.'
&Thorn;enne þe renk radly ros as he my3t,
& to Niniue þat na3t he ne3ed ful euen;
Hit watz a cete ful syde & selly of brede;
On to þrenge þerþur3e watz þre dayes dede.
&Thorn;at on journay ful joynt Jonas hym 3ede,
Er euer he warpped any worde to wy3e þat he mette,
& þenne he cryed so cler þat kenne my3t alle
&Thorn;e trwe tenor of his teme; he tolde on þis wyse:
'3et schal forty dayez fully fare to an ende,
& þenne schal Niniue be nomen & to no3t worþe;
Truly þis ilk toun schal tylte to grounde;
Vp-so-doun schal 3e dumpe depe to þe abyme,
To be swol3ed swyftly wyth þe swart erþe,
& alle þat lyuyes hereinne lose þe swete.'
&Thorn;is speche sprang in þat space & spradde alle aboute,
To borges & to bacheleres þat in þat bur33et, bot sayde euer
ilyche:
'&Thorn;e verray vengaunce of God schal voyde þis place!'
&Thorn;enne þe peple pitosly pleyned ful stylle,
& for þe drede of Dry3tyn doured in hert;
Heter hayrez þay hent þat asperly bited,
& þose þay bounden to her bak & to her bare sydez,
Dropped dust on her hede, & dymly biso3ten
&Thorn;at þat penaunce plesed Him þat playnez on her wronge.
& ay he cryes in þat kyth tyl þe kyng herde,
& he radly vpros & ran fro his chayer,
His ryche robe he torof of his rigge naked,
& of a hep of askes he hitte in þe myddez.
He askez heterly a hayre & hasped hym vmbe,
Sewed a sekke þerabof, & syked ful colde;
232
&Thorn;er he dased in þat duste, with droppande teres,
Wepande ful wonderly alle his wrange dedes.
&Thorn;enne sayde he to his serjauntes: 'Samnes yow bilyue;
Do dryue out a decre, demed of myseluen,
&Thorn;at alle þe bodyes þat ben withinne þis bor33if
þe Wy3e lykes,
&Thorn;at is hende in þe hy3t of His gentryse?
I wot His my3t is so much, þa33e He sty3tlez Hymseluen,
He wyl wende of His wodschip & His wrath leue,
& forgif vus þis gult, 3if we Hym God leuen.'
&Thorn;enne al leued on His lawe & laften her synnes,
Parformed alle þe penaunce þat þe prynce radde;
& God þur333t, withhelde His vengaunce.
Muche sor3e þenne satteled vpon segge Jonas;
He wex as wroth as þe wynde towarde oure Lorde.
So hatz anger onhit his hert, [h]e callez
A prayer to þe hy3e Prynce, for pyne, on þys wyse:
'I biseche &Thorn;e, Syre, now &Thorn;ou self jugge;
Watz not þis ilk my worde þat worþen is nouþe,
&Thorn;at I kest in my cuntre, when &Thorn;ou &Thorn;y carp sendez
&Thorn;at I schulde tee to þys toun &Thorn;i talent to preche?
Wel knew I &Thorn;i cortaysye, &Thorn;y quoynt soffraunce,
&Thorn;y bounte of debonerte & &Thorn;y bene grace,
&Thorn;y longe abydyng wyth lur, &Thorn;y late vengaunce;
& ay &Thorn;y mercy is mete, be mysse neuer so huge.
I wyst wel, when I hade worded quatsoeuer I cowþe
To manace alle þise mody men þat in þis mote dowellez,
Wyth a prayer & a pyne þay my3t her pese gete,
& þerfore I wolde haf flowen fer into Tarce.
Now, Lorde, lach out my lyf, hit lastes to longe.
Bed me bilyue my bale-stour & bryng me on ende,
For me were swetter to swelt as swyþe, as me þynk,
&Thorn;en lede lenger &Thorn;i lore þat þus me les makez.'
&Thorn;e soun of oure Souerayn þen swey in his ere,
&Thorn;at vpbraydes þis burne vpon a breme wyse:
'Herk, renk, is þis ry3t so ronkly to wrath
For any dede þat I haf don oþer demed þe 3et?'
Jonas al joyles & janglande vpryses,
& haldez out on est half of þe hy3e place,
& farandely on a felde he fettelez hym to bide,
For to wayte on þat won what schulde worþe after.
&Thorn;er he busked hym a bour, þe best þat he my3t,
233
Of hay & of euer-ferne & erbez a fewe,
For hit watz playn in þat place for plyande greuez,
For to schylde fro þe schene oþer any schade keste.
He bowed vnder his lyttel boþe, his bak to þe sunne,
& þer he swowed & slept sadly al ny3t,
&Thorn;e whyle God of His grace ded growe of þat soyle
&Thorn;e fayrest bynde hym abof þat euer burne wyste.
When þe dawande day Dry3tyn con sende,
&Thorn;enne wakened þe wy33ted on lofte,
Happed vpon ayþer half, a hous as hit were,
A nos on þe norþ syde & nowhere non ellez,
Bot al schet in a scha3e þat schaded ful cole.
&Thorn;e gome gly3t on þe grene graciouse leues,
&Thorn;at euer wayued a wynde so wyþe & so cole;
&Thorn;e schyre sunne hit vmbeschon, þa33t
&Thorn;e mountaunce of a lyttel mote vpon þat man schyne.
&Thorn;enne watz þe gome so glad of his gay logge,
Lys loltrande þerinne lokande to toune;
So blyþe of his wodbynde he balteres þervnde[r],
&Thorn;at of no diete þat day þe deuel haf he ro3t.
& euer he la3ed as he loked þe loge alle aboute,
& wysched hit were in his kyth þer he wony schulde,
On he3e vpon Effraym oþer Ermonnes hillez:
'Iwysse, a worþloker won to welde I neuer keped.'
& quen hit ne3ed to na3t nappe hym bihoued;
He slydez on a sloumbe-slep sloghe vnder leues,
Whil God wayned a worme þat wrot vpe þe rote,
& wyddered watz þe wodbynde bi þat þe wy3e wakned;
& syþen He warnez þe west to waken ful softe,
& sayez vnte Zeferus þat he syfle warme,
&Thorn;at þer quikken no cloude bifore þe cler sunne,
& ho schal busch vp ful brode & brenne as a candel.
&Thorn;en wakened þe wy3e of his wyl dremes,
& blusched to his wodbynde þat broþely watz marred,
Al welwed & wasted þo worþelych leues;
&Thorn;e schyre sunne hade hem schent er euer þe schalk wyst.
& þen hef vp þe hete & heterly brenned;
&Thorn;e warm wynde of þe weste, wertes he swyþez.
&Thorn;e man marred on þe molde þat mo3t hym not hyde
His wodbynde watz away, he weped for sor3e;
With hatel anger & hot, heterly he callez:
'A, &Thorn;ou Maker of man, what maystery &Thorn;e þynkez
234
&Thorn;us &Thorn;y freke to forfare forbi alle oþer?
With alle meschef þat &Thorn;ou may, neuer &Thorn;ou me sparez;
I keuered me a cumfort þat now is ca3t fro me,
My wodbynde so wlonk þat wered my heued.
Bot now I se &Thorn;ou art sette my solace to reue;
Why ne dy3ttez &Thorn;ou me to di3e? I dure to longe.'
3et oure Lorde to þe lede laused a speche:
'Is þis ry3twys, þou renk, alle þy ronk noyse,
So wroth for a wodbynde to wax so sone?
Why art þou so waymot, wy3e, for so lyttel?'
'Hit is not lyttel,' quoþ þe lede, 'bot lykker to ry3t;
I wolde I were of þis worlde wrapped in moldez.'
'&Thorn;enne byþenk þe, mon, if þe forþynk sore,
If I wolde help My hondewerk, haf þou no wonder;
&Thorn;ou art waxen so wroth for þy wodbynde,
& trauayledez neuer to tent hit þe tyme of an howre,
Bot at a wap hit here wax & away at anoþer,
& 3et lykez þe so luþer, þi lyf woldez þou tyne.
&Thorn;enne wyte not Me for þe werk, þat I hit wolde help,
& rwe on þo redles þat remen for synne;
Fyrst I made hem Myself of materes Myn one,
& syþen I loked hem ful longe & hem on lode hade.
& if I My trauayl schulde tyne of termes so longe,
& type doun 3onder toun when hit turned were,
&Thorn;e sor of such a swete place burde synk to My hert,
So mony malicious mon as mournez þerinne.
& of þat soumme 3et arn summe, such sottez formadde,
As lyttel barnez on barme þat neuer bale wro3t,
& wymmen vnwytte þat wale ne couþe
&Thorn;at on hande fro þat oþer, fo[r] alle þis hy3e worlde.
Bitwene þe stele & þe stayre disserne no3t cunen,
What rule renes in roun bitwene þe ry3t hande
& his lyfte, þa333ez wyl torne,
& cum & cnawe Me for Kyng & My carpe leue?
Wer I as hastif a[s] þou heere, were harme lumpen;
Couþe I not þole bot as þou, þer þryued ful
fewe.
I may not be so mal[i]cious & mylde be halden,
For malyse is no3[t] to mayntyne boute mercy withinne.'
Be no3t so gryndel, godman, bot go forth þy wayes,
Be preue & be pacient in payne & in joye;
For he þat is to rakel to renden his cloþez
235
Mot efte sitte with more vnsounde to sewe hem togeder.
Forþy when pouerte me enprecez & paynez inno3e
Ful softly with suffraunce sa3ttel me bihouez;
Forþy penaunce & payne topreue hit in sy3t
&Thorn;at pacience is a nobel poynt, þa3
~ Anonymous Americas,#NFDB
275:Emare
Jhesu, that ys kyng in trone,
As Thou shoope bothe sonne and mone,
And all that shalle dele and dyghte,
Now lene us grace such dedus to done,
In Thy blys that we may wone Men calle hyt heven lyghte;
And Thy modur Mary, hevyn qwene,
Bere our arunde so bytwene, 1
That semely ys of syght,
To thy Sone that ys so fre,
In heven wyth Hym that we may be,
That lord ys most of myght.
Menstrelles that walken fer and wyde,
Her and ther in every a syde,
In mony a dyverse londe,
Sholde, at her bygynnyng,
Speke of that ryghtwes kyng
That made both see and sonde.
Whoso wyll a stounde dwelle, 2
Of mykyll myrght y may you telle,
And mornyng ther amonge;
Of a lady fayr and fre,
Her name was called Emaré,
As I here synge in songe.
Her fadyr was an emperour
Of castell and of ryche towre;
Syr Artyus was hys nome.
He hadde bothe hallys and bowrys,
Frythes fayr, forestes wyth flowrys;
So gret a lord was none.
Weddedde he had a lady
That was both fayr and semely,
Whyte as whales bone:
Dame Erayne hette that emperes;
She was full of love and goodnesse;
So curtays lady was none.
50
Syr Artyus was the best manne
In the worlde that lyvede thanne,
Both hardy and therto wyght;
He was curtays in all thyng,
Bothe to olde and to yynge,
And well kowth dele and dyght. 3
He hadde but on chyld in hys lyve
Begeten on hys weddedde wyfe,
And that was fayr and bryght;
For sothe, as y may telle the,
They called that chyld Emaré,
That semely was of syght.
When she was of her modur born,
She was the fayrest creature borne
That yn the lond was thoo.
The emperes, that fayr ladye,
Fro her lord gan she dye,
Or hyt kowthe speke or goo.
The chyld, that was fayr and gent,
To a lady was hyt sente,
That men kalled Abro.
She thawghth hyt curtesye and thewe,
Golde and sylke for to sewe,
Amonge maydenes moo.
Abro tawghte thys mayden small,
Nortur that men useden in sale,
Whyle she was in her bowre.
She was curtays in all thynge,
Bothe to olde and to yynge,
And whyte as lylye-flowre.
Of her hondes she was slye;
All her loved that her sye,
Wyth menske and mychyl honour.
At the mayden leve we,
And at the lady fayr and fre,
And speke we of the Emperour.
The Emperour of gentyll blode
Was a curteys lorde and a gode,
In all maner of thynge.
51
Aftur, when hys wyf was dede,
And ledde hys lyf yn weddewede,
And myche loved playnge.
Sone aftur, yn a whyle,
The ryche Kynge of Cesyle
To the Emperour gan wende;
A ryche present wyth hym he browght,
A cloth that was wordylye wroght.
He wellcomed hym as the hende.
Syr Tergaunte, that nobyll knyght,
He presented the Emperour ryght,
And sette hym on hys kne,
Wyth that cloth rychyly dyght,
Full of stones ther hyt was pyght,
As thykke as hyt myght be:
Off topaze and rubyes
And othur stones of myche prys,
That semely wer to se;
Of crapowtes and nakette,
As thykke ar they sette,
For sothe, as y say the.
The cloth was dysplayed sone;
The Emperour lokede therupone
And myght hyt not se,
For glysteryng of the ryche ston;
Redy syght had he non,
And sayde, 'How may thys be?'
The Emperour sayde on hygh,
'Sertes, thys ys a fayry,
Or ellys a vanyté!'
The Kyng of Cysyle answered than,
'So ryche a jwell ys ther non
In all Crystyanté.'
The Emerayle dowghter of hethenes
Made thys cloth wythouten lees,
And wrowghte hyt all wyth pryde;
And purtreyed hyt wyth gret honour,
Wyth ryche golde and asowr
And stones on ylke a syde.
52
And, as the story telles in honde,
The stones that yn thys cloth stonde,
Sowghte they wer full wyde.
Seven wynter hyt was yn makynge,
Or hyt was browght to endynge,
In herte ys not to hyde.
In that on korner made was
Ydoyne and Amadas,
Wyth love that was so trewe;
For they loveden hem wyth honour,
Portrayed they wer wyth trewe-love-flour,
Of stones bryght of hewe:
Wyth carbunkull and safere,
Kassydonys and onyx so clere
Sette in golde newe,
Deamondes and rubyes,
And othur stones of mychyll pryse,
And menstrellys wyth her glewe.
In that othur corner was dyght
Trystram and Isowde so bryght,
That semely wer to se;
And for they loved hem ryght,
As full of stones ar they dyght,
As thykke as they may be:
Of topase and of rubyes,
And othur stones of myche pryse,
That semely wer to se;
Wyth crapawtes and nakette,
Thykke of stones ar they sette,
For sothe, as y say the.
In the thyrdde korner, wyth gret honour,
Was Florys and Dam Blawncheflour,
As love was hem betwene;
For they loved wyth honour,
Purtrayed they wer wyth trewe-love-flour,
Wyth stones bryght and shene:
Ther wer knyghtus and senatowres,
Emerawdes of gret vertues,
To wyte wythouten wene;
53
Deamoundes and koralle,
Perydotes and crystall,
And gode garnettes bytwene.
In the fowrthe korner was oon,
Of Babylone the Sowdan sonne,
The Amerayles dowghtyr hym by.
For hys sake the cloth was wrowght;
She loved hym in hert and thowght,
As testymoyeth thys storye.
The fayr mayden her byforn
Was portrayed an unykorn,
Wyth hys horn so hye;
Flowres and bryddes on ylke a syde,
Wyth stones that wer sowght wyde,
Stuffed wyth ymagerye.
When the cloth to ende was wrowght,
To the Sowdan sone hyt was browght,
That semely was of syghte.
'My fadyr was a nobyll man;
Of the Sowdan he hyt wan
Wyth maystrye and wyth myghth.
For gret love he gaf hyt me;
I brynge hyt the in specyalté;
Thys cloth ys rychely dyght.'
He gaf hyt the emperour;
He receyved hyt wyth gret honour,
And thonkede hym fayr and ryght.
The Kyng of Cesyle dwelled ther
As long as hys wyll wer,
Wyth the Emperour for to play;
And when he wolde wende,
He toke hys leve at the hende,
And wente forth on hys way.
Now remeveth thys nobyll kyng.
The Emperour aftur hys dowghtur hadde longyng,
To speke wyth that may.
Messengeres forth he sent
Aftyr the mayde fayr and gent,
That was bryght as someres day.
54
Messengeres dyghte hem in hye;
Wyth myche myrthe and melodye,
Forth gon they fare,
Both by stretes and by stye,
Aftur that fayr lady,
Was godely unthur gare.
Her norysse, that hyghte Abro,
Wyth her she goth forth also,
And wer sette in a chare.
To the Emperour gan they go;
He come ayeyn hem a myle or two;
A fayr metyng was there.
The mayden, whyte as lylye flour,
Lyghte ayeyn her fadyr the Emperour;
Two knyghtes gan her lede.
Her fadyr that was of gret renowne,
That of golde wered the crowne,
Lyghte of hys stede.
When they wer bothe on her fete,
He klypped her and kyssed her swete,
And bothe on fote they yede.
They wer glad and made good chere;
To the palys they yede in fere,
In romans as we rede.
Then the lordes that wer grete,
They wesh and seten doun to mete,
And folk hem served swythe.
The mayden that was of sembelant swete,
Byfore her owene fadur sete,
The fayrest wommon on lyfe;
That all hys hert and all hys thowghth
Her to love was yn browght:
He byhelde her ofte sythe.
So he was anamored hys thowghtur tyll,
Wyth her he thowghth to worche hys wyll,
And wedde her to hys wyfe.
And when the metewhyle was don,
Into hys chambur he wente son
55
And called hys counseyle nere.
He bad they shulde sone go and come,
And gete leve of the Pope of Rome
To wedde that mayden clere.
Messengeres forth they wente.
They durste not breke hys commandement,
And erles wyth hem yn fere.
They wente to the courte of Rome,
And browghte the Popus bullus sone,
To wedde hys dowghter dere.
Then was the Emperour gladde and blythe,
And lette shape a robe swythe
Of that cloth of golde;
And when hyt was don her upon,
She semed non erthely wommon,
That marked was of molde.
Then seyde the Emperour so fre,
'Dowghtyr, y woll wedde the,
Thow art so fresh to beholde.'
Then sayde that wordy unthur wede,
'Nay syr, God of heven hyt forbede,
That ever do so we shulde!
'Yyf hyt so betydde that ye me wedde
And we shulde play togedur in bedde,
Bothe we were forlorne!
The worde shulde sprynge fer and wyde;
In all the worlde on every syde
The worde shulde be borne.
Ye ben a lorde of gret pryce,
Lorde, lette nevur such sorow aryce:
Take God you beforne!
That my fadur shulde wedde me,
God forbede that I hyt so se,
That wered the crowne of thorne!'
The Emperour was ryght wrothe,
And swore many a gret othe,
That deed shulde she be.
He lette make a nobull boot,
And dede her theryn, God wote,
56
In the robe of nobull ble.
She moste have wyth her no spendyng,
Nothur mete ne drynke,
But shate her ynto the se.
Now the lady dwelled thore,
Wythowte anker or ore,
And that was gret pyté!
Ther come a wynd, y unthurstonde,
And blewe the boot fro the londe,
Of her they lost the syght.
The Emperour hym bethowght
That he hadde all myswrowht,
And was a sory knyghte.
And as he stode yn studyynge,
He fell down in sowenynge,
To the erthe was he dyght.
Grete lordes stode therby,
And toke yn the Emperour hastyly,
And comforted hym fayr and ryght.
When he of sownyng kovered was,
Sore he wepte and sayde, 'Alas,
For my dowhter dere!
Alas, that y was made man,
Wrecched kaytyf that I hyt am!'
The teres ronne by hys lere.
'I wrowght ayeyn Goddes lay
To her that was so trewe of fay.
Alas, why ner she here!'
The teres lasshed out of hys yghen;
The grete lordes that hyt syghen
Wepte and made yll chere.
Ther was nothur olde ny yynge
That kowthe stynte of wepynge,
For that comely unthur kelle.
Into shypys faste gan they thrynge,
Forto seke that mayden yynge,
That was so fayr of flesh and fell.
They her sowght ovurall yn the see
And myghte not fynde that lady fre,
57
Ayeyn they come full snell.
At the Emperour now leve we,
And of the lady yn the see,
I shall begynne to tell.
The lady fleted forth alone;
To God of heven she made her mone,
And to Hys modyr also.
She was dryven wyth wynde and rayn,
Wyth stronge stormes her agayn,
Of the watur so blo.
As y have herd menstrelles syng yn sawe,
Hows ny lond myghth she non knowe,
Aferd she was to go.
She was so dryven fro wawe to wawe,
She hyd her hede and lay full lowe,
For watyr she was full woo.
Now thys lady dwelled thore
A good seven nyghth and more,
As hyt was Goddys wylle;
Wyth carefull herte and sykyng sore,
Such sorow was here yarked yore,
And ever lay she styll.
She was dryven ynto a lond,
Thorow the grace of Goddes sond,
That all thyng may fulfylle.
She was on the see so harde bestadde,
For hungur and thurste almost madde.
Woo worth wederus yll!
She was dryven into a lond
That hyghth Galys, y unthurstond,
That was a fayr countré.
The kyngus steward dwelled ther bysyde,
In a kastell of mykyll pryde;
Syr Kadore hyght he.
Every day wolde he go,
And take wyth hym a sqwyer or two,
And play hym by the see.
On a tyme he toke the eyr
Wyth two knyghtus gode and fayr;
58
The wedur was lythe of le.
A boot he fond by the brym,
And a glysteryng thyng theryn,
Therof they hadde ferly.
They went forth on the sond
To the boot, y unthurstond,
And fond theryn that lady.
She hadde so longe meteles be
That hym thowht gret dele to se;
She was yn poynt to dye.
They askede her what was her name:
She chaunged hyt ther anone,
And sayde she hette Egaré.
Syr Kadore hadde gret pyté;
He toke up the lady of the see,
And hom gan her lede.
She hadde so longe meteles be,
She was wax lene as a tre,
That worthy unthur wede.
Into hys castell when she came,
Into a chawmbyr they her namm,
And fayr they gan her fede,
Wyth all delycyus mete and drynke
That they myghth hem on thynke,
That was yn all that stede.
When that lady, fayr of face,
Wyth mete and drynke kevered was,
And had colour agayne,
She tawghte hem to sewe and marke
All maner of sylkyn werke;
Of her they wer full fayne.
She was curteys yn all thyng,
Bothe to olde and to yynge,
I say yow for certeyne.
She kowghthe werke all maner thyng
That fell to emperour or to kyng,
Erle, barown or swayne.
Syr Kadore lette make a feste
59
That was fayr and honeste,
Wyth hys lorde, the kynge.
Ther was myche menstralsé,
Trommpus, tabours and sawtré,
Bothe harpe and fydyllyng.
The lady that was gentyll and small
In kurtull alone served yn hall,
Byfore that nobull kyng.
The cloth upon her shone so bryghth
When she was theryn ydyghth,
She semed non erthly thyng.
The kyng loked her upon,
So fayr a lady he sygh nevur non:
Hys herte she hadde yn wolde.
He was so anamered of that syghth,
Of the mete non he myghth,
But faste gan her beholde.
She was so fayr and gent,
The kynges love on her was lent,
In tale as hyt ys tolde.
And when the metewhyle was don,
Into the chambur he wente son,
And called hys barouns bolde.
Fyrst he called Syr Kadore,
And othur knyghtes that ther wore,
Hastely come hym tyll.
Dukes and erles, wyse of lore,
Hastely come the kyng before
And askede what was hys wyll.
Then spakke the ryche yn ray,
To Syr Kadore gan he say
Wordes fayr and stylle:
'Syr, whenns ys that lovely may
That yn the halle served thys day?
Tell my yyf hyt be thy wyll.'
Then sayde syr Kadore, y unthurstonde,
'Hyt ys an erles thowghtur of ferre londe,
That semely ys to sene.
I sente aftur her certeynlye
60
To teche my chylderen curtesye,
In chambur wyth hem to bene.
She ys the konnyngest wommon,
I trowe, that be yn Crystendom,
Of werke that y have sene.'
Then sayde that ryche raye,
'I wyll have that fayr may
And wedde her to my quene.'
The nobull kyng, verament,
Aftyr hys modyr he sent
To wyte what she wolde say.
They browght forth hastely
That fayr mayde Egarye;
She was bryghth as someres day.
The cloth on her shon so bryght
When she was theryn dyght,
And herself a gentell may,
The olde qwene sayde anon,
'I sawe never wommon
Halvendell so gay!'
The olde qwene spakke wordus unhende
And sayde, 'Sone, thys ys a fende,
In thys wordy wede!
As thou lovest my blessynge,
Make thou nevur thys weddynge,
Cryst hyt the forbede!'
Then spakke the ryche ray,
'Modyr, y wyll have thys may!'
And forth gan her lede.
The olde qwene, for certayne,
Turnede wyth ire hom agayne,
And wolde not be at that dede.
The kyng wedded that lady bryght;
Grete purvyance ther was dyghth,
In that semely sale.
Grete lordes wer served aryght,
Duke, erle, baron and knyghth,
Both of grete and smale.
Myche folke, forsothe, ther was,
61
And therto an huge prese,
As hyt ys tolde yn tale.
Ther was all maner thyng
That fell to a kyngus weddyng,
And mony a ryche menstralle.
When the mangery was done,
Grete lordes departed sone,
That semely were to se.
The kynge belafte wyth the qwene;
Moch love was hem betwene,
And also game and gle.
She was curteys and swete,
Such a lady herde y nevur of yete;
They loved both wyth herte fre.
The lady that was both meke and mylde
Conceyved and wente wyth chylde,
As God wolde hyt sholde be.
The kyng of France yn that tyme
Was besette wyth many a Sarezyne,
And cumbered all in tene;
And sente aftur the kyng of Galys,
And othur lordys of myche prys,
That semely were to sene.
The kyng of Galys, in that tyde,
Gedered men on every syde,
In armour bryght and shene.
Then sayde the kyng to Syr Kadore
And othur lordes that ther wore,
'Take good hede to my qwene.'
The kyng of Fraunce spared none,
But sent for hem everychone,
Both kyng, knyghth and clerke.
The steward bylaft at home
To kepe the qwene whyte as fome,
He come not at that werke.
She wente wyth chylde yn place,
As longe as Goddus wyll was,
That semely unthur serke;
Thyll ther was of her body
62
A fayr chyld borne and a godele;
Hadde a dowbyll kyngus marke. 4
They hyt crystened wyth grete honour
And called hym Segramour:
Frely was that fode.
Then the steward, Syr Kadore,
A nobull lettur made he thore,
And wrowghte hyt all wyth gode.
He wrowghte hyt yn hyghynge
And sente hyt to hys lorde the kynge,
That gentyll was of blode.
The messenger forth gan wende,
And wyth the kyngus modur gan lende,
And ynto the castell he yode.
He was resseyved rychely,
And she hym askede hastyly
How the qwene hadde spedde.
'Madame, ther ys of her yborne
A fayr man-chylde, y tell you beforne,
And she lyth in her bedde.'
She gaf hym for that tydynge
A robe and fowrty shylynge,
And rychely hym cladde.
She made hym dronken of ale and wyne,
And when she sawe that hyt was tyme,
Tho chambur she wolde hym lede.
And when he was on slepe browght,
The qwene that was of wykked thowght,
Tho chambur gan she wende.
Hys letter she toke hym fro,
In a fyre she brente hyt tho;
Of werkes she was unhende.
Another lettur she made wyth evyll,
And sayde the qwene had born a devyll;
Durste no mon come her hende.
Thre heddes hadde he there,
A lyon, a dragon, and a beere:
A fowll feltred fende.
63
On the morn when hyt was day,
The messenger wente on hys way,
Bothe by stye and strete;
In trwe story as y say,
Tyll he come theras the kynge laye,
And speke wordus swete.
He toke the kyng the lettur yn honde,
And he hyt redde, y unthurstonde,
The teres downe gan he lete.
And as he stode yn redyng,
Downe he fell yn sowenyng,
For sorow hys herte gan blede.
Grete lordes that stode hym by
Toke up the kyng hastely;
In herte he was full woo.
Sore he grette and sayde, 'Alas,
That y evur man born was!
That hyt evur shullde be so.
Alas, that y was made a kynge,
And sygh wedded the fayrest thyng
That on erthe myght go.
That evur Jesu hymself wolde sende
Such a fowle, lothly fende
To come bytwene us too.'
When he sawe hyt myght no bettur be,
Anothur lettur then made he,
And seled hyt wyth hys sele.
He commanded yn all thynge
To kepe well that lady yynge
Tyll she hadde her hele;
Bothe gode men and ylle
To serve her at her wylle,
Bothe yn wo and wele.
He toke thys lettur of hys honde,
And rode thorow the same londe,
By the kyngus modur castell.
And then he dwelled ther all nyght;
He was resseyved and rychely dyght
And wyst of no treson.
64
He made hym well at ese and fyne,
Bothe of brede, ale and wyne,
And that berafte hym hys reson.
When he was on slepe browght,
The false qwene hys lettur sowghte.
Into the fyre she kaste hyt downe:
Another lettur she lette make,
That men sholde the lady take,
And lede her owt of towne,
And putte her ynto the see,
In that robe of ryche ble,
The lytyll chylde her wyth;
And lette her have no spendyng,
For no mete ny for drynke,
But lede her out of that kyth.
'Upon payn of chylde and wyfe
And also upon your owene lyfe, 5
Lette her have no gryght!'
The messenger knewe no gyle,
But rode hom mony a myle,
By forest and by fryght.
And when the messenger come home,
The steward toke the lettur sone,
And bygan to rede.
Sore he syght and sayde, 'Alas,
Sertes thys ys a fowle case,
And a delfull dede!'
And as he stode yn redyng,
He fell downe yn swonygne;
For sorow hys hert gan blede.
Ther was nothur olde ny yynge,
That myghte forbere of wepynge
For that worthy unthur wede.
The lady herde gret dele yn halle;
On the steward gan she calle,
And sayde, 'What may thys be?'
Yyf anythyng be amys,
Tell me what that hyt ys,
And lette not for me.'
65
Then sayde the steward, verament,
'Lo, her a lettur my lord hath sente,
And therfore woo ys me!'
She toke the lettur and bygan to rede;
Then fonde she wryten all the dede,
How she moste ynto the see.
'Be stylle, syr,' sayde the qwene,
'Lette syche mornynge bene;
For me have thou no kare.
Loke thou be not shente,
But do my lordes commaundement,
God forbede thou spare.
For he weddede so porely
On me, a sympull lady,
He ys ashamed sore.
Grete well my lord fro me,
So gentyll of blode yn Cristyanté,
Gete he nevur more!'
Then was ther sorow and myche woo,
When the lady to shype shulde go;
They wepte and wronge her hondus.
The lady that was meke and mylde,
In her arme she bar her chylde,
And toke leve of the londe.
When she wente ynto the see
In that robe of ryche ble,
Men sowened on the sonde.
Sore they wepte and sayde, 'Alas,
Certys thys ys a wykked kase!
Wo worth dedes wronge!'
The lady and the lytyll chylde
Fleted forth on the watur wylde,
Wyth full harde happes.
Her surkote that was large and wyde,
Therwyth her vysage she gan hyde,
Wyth the hynthur lappes;
She was aferde of the see,
And layde her gruf uponn a tre,
The chylde to her pappes.
66
The wawes that were grete and strong,
On the bote faste they thonge,
Wyth mony unsemely rappes.
And when the chyld gan to wepe,
Wyth sory herte she songe hyt aslepe,
And putte the pappe yn hys mowth,
And sayde, 'Myghth y onus gete lond,
Of the watur that ys so stronge,
By northe or by sowthe,
Wele owth y to warye the, see,
I have myche shame yn the!'
And evur she lay and growht;
Then she made her prayer
To Jhesu and Hys modur dere,
In all that she kowthe.
Now thys lady dwelled thore
A full sevene nyght and more,
As hyt was Goddys wylle;
Wyth karefull herte and sykyng sore,
Such sorow was her yarked yore,
And she lay full stylle.
She was dryven toward Rome,
Thorow the grace of God yn trone,
That all thyng may fulfylle.
On the see she was so harde bestadde,
For hungur and thurste allmost madde,
Wo worth chawnses ylle!
A marchaunte dwelled yn that cyté,
A ryche mon of golde and fee,
Jurdan was hys name.
Every day wolde he
Go to playe hym by the see,
The eyer forto tane.
He wente forth yn that tyde,
Walkynge by the see syde,
All hymselfe alone.
A bote he fonde by the brymme
And a fayr lady therynne,
That was ryght wo-bygone.
67
The cloth on her shon so bryght,
He was aferde of that syght,
For glysteryng of that wede;
And yn hys herte he thowghth ryght
That she was non erthyly wyght;
He sawe nevur non such yn leede. 6
He sayde, 'What hette ye, fayr ladye?'
'Lord,' she sayde, 'y hette Egarye,
That lye her, yn drede.'
Up he toke that fayre ladye
And the yonge chylde her by,
And hom he gan hem lede.
When he come to hys byggynge,
He welcomed fayr that lady yynge
That was fayr and bryght;
And badde hys wyf yn all thynge,
Mete and drynke forto brynge
To the lady ryght.
'What that she wyll crave,
And her mowth wyll hyt have,
Loke hyt be redy dyght.
She hath so longe meteles be,
That me thynketh grette pyté;
Conforte her yyf thou myght.'
Now the lady dwelles ther,
Wyth alle metes that gode were,
She hedde at her wylle.
She was curteys yn all thyng,
Bothe to olde and to yynge;
Her loved bothe gode and ylle.
The chylde bygan forto thryfe;
He wax the fayrest chyld on lyfe,
Whyte as flour on hylle.
And she sewed sylke werk yn bour,
And tawghte her sone nortowre,
But evyr she mornede stylle.
When the chylde was seven yer olde,
He was bothe wyse and bolde,
68
And wele made of flesh and bone;
He was worthy unthur wede
And ryght well kowthe pryke a stede;
So curtays a chylde was none.
All men lovede Segramowre,
Bothe yn halle and yn bowre,
Whersoevur he gan gone.
Leve we at the lady clere of vyce,
And speke of the kyng of Galys,
Fro the sege when he come home.
Now the sege broken ys,
The kyng come home to Galys,
Wyth mykyll myrthe and pryde;
Dukes and erles of ryche asyce,
Barones and knyghtes of mykyll pryse,
Come rydynge be hys syde.
Syr Kadore, hys steward thanne,
Ayeyn hym rode wyth mony a man,
As faste as he myght ryde.
He tolde the kyng aventowres
Of hys halles and hys bowres,
And of hys londys wyde.
The kyng sayde, 'By Goddys name,
Syr Kadore, thou art to blame
For thy fyrst tellynge!
Thow sholdest fyrst have tolde me
Of my lady Egaré,
I love most of all thyng!'
Then was the stewardes herte wo,
And sayde, 'Lorde, why sayst thou so?
Art not thou a trewe kynge?
Lo her, the lettur ye sente me,
Yowr owene self the sothe may se;
I have don your byddynge.'
The kyng toke the lettur to rede,
And when he sawe that ylke dede,
He wax all pale and wanne.
Sore he grette and sayde, 'Alas,
That evur born y was,
69
Or evur was made manne!
Syr Kadore, so mot y the,
Thys lettur come nevur fro me;
I telle the her anone!'
Bothe they wepte and yaf hem ylle.
'Alas!' he sayde, 'Saf Goddys wylle!'
And both they sowened then.
Grete lordes stode by,
And toke up the kyng hastyly;
Of hem was grete pyté;
And when they both kevered were,
The kyng toke hym the letter ther
Of the heddys thre.
'A, lord,' he sayde, 'be Goddus grace,
I sawe nevur thys lettur yn place!
Alas, how may thys be?'
Aftur the messenger ther they sente,
The kyng askede what way he went:
'Lord, be your modur fre.'
'Alas!' then sayde the kynge,
'Whethur my modur wer so unhende
To make thys treson?
By my krowne she shall be brent,
Wythowten any othur jugement;
That thenketh me best reson!'
Grete lordes toke hem betwene
That they wolde exyle the qwene
And berefe her hyr renowne.
Thus they exiled the false qwene
And byrafte her hyr lyflothe clene:
Castell, towre and towne.
When she was fled ovur the see fome,
The nobull kyng dwelled at hom,
Wyth full hevy chere;
Wyth karefull hert and drury mone,
Sykynges made he many on
For Egarye the clere.
And when he sawe chylderen play,
He wepte and sayde, 'Wellawey,
70
For my sone so dere!'
Such lyf he lyved mony a day,
That no mon hym stynte may,
Fully seven yere.
Tyll a thowght yn hys herte come,
How hys lady whyte as fome,
Was drowned for hys sake.
'Thorow the grace of God yn trone,
I woll to the Pope of Rome,
My penans for to take!'
He lette ordeyne shypus fele
And fylled hem full of wordes wele,
Hys men mery wyth to make.
Dolys he lette dyghth and dele,
For to wynnen hym sowles hele;
To the shyp he toke the gate.
Shypmen that wer so mykyll of pryce,
Dyght her takull on ryche acyse,
That was fayr and fre.
They drowgh up sayl and leyd out ore;
The wynde stode as her lust wore,
The wethur was lythe on le.
They sayled over the salt fome,
Thorow the grace of God in trone,
That most ys of powsté.
To that cyté, when they come,
At the burgeys hous hys yn he nome,
Theras woned Emarye.
Emaré called her sone
Hastely to here come
Wythoute ony lettynge,
And sayde, 'My dere sone so fre,
Do a lytull aftur me,
And thou shalt have my blessynge.
Tomorowe thou shall serve yn halle,
In a kurtyll of ryche palle,
Byfore thys nobull kyng.
Loke, sone, so curtays thou be,
That no mon fynde chalange to the
71
In no manere thynge!
When the kyng ys served of spycerye,
Knele thou downe hastylye,
And take hys hond yn thyn.
And when thou hast so done,
Take the kuppe of golde sone,
And serve hym of the wyne.
And what that he speketh to the,
Cum anon and tell me,
On Goddus blessyng and myne!'
The chylde wente ynto the hall,
Among the lordes grete and small,
That lufsumme wer unthur lyne.
Then the lordes that wer grete,
Wysh and wente to her mete;
Menstrelles browght yn the kowrs.
The chylde hem served so curteysly,
All hym loved that hym sy,
And spake hym gret honowres.
Then sayde all that loked hym upon,
So curteys a chylde sawe they nevur non,
In halle ny yn bowres.
The kynge sayde to hym yn game,
'Swete sone, what ys thy name?'
'Lorde,' he seyd, 'y hyghth Segramowres.'
Then that nobull kyng
Toke up a grete sykynge,
For hys sone hyght so;
Certys, wythowten lesynge,
The teres out of hys yen gan wryng;
In herte he was full woo.
Neverthelese, he lette be,
And loked on the chylde so fre,
And mykell he lovede hym thoo.
The kyng sayde to the burgeys anon,
'Swete syr, ys thys thy sone?'
The burgeys sayde, 'Yoo.'
Then the lordes that wer grete
72
Whesshen ayeyn aftyr mete,
And then come spycerye.
The chylde that was of chere swete,
On hys kne downe he sete,
And served hym curteyslye.
The kynge called the burgeys hym tyll,
And sayde, 'Syr, yf hyt be thy wyll,
Yyf me thys lytyll body!
I shall hym make lorde of town and towr;
Of hye halles and of bowre,
I love hym specyally.'
When he had served the kyng at wylle,
Fayr he wente hys modyr tyll
And tellys her how hyt ys.
'Soone, when he shall to chambur wende,
Take hys hond at the grete ende,
For he ys thy fadur, ywysse;
And byd hym come speke wyth Emaré,
That changed her name to Egaré,
In the londe of Galys.'
The chylde wente ayeyn to halle,
Amonge the grete lordes alle,
And served on ryche asyse.
When they wer well at ese afyne,
Bothe of brede, ale and wyne,
They rose up, more and myn.
When the kyng shulde to chambur wende,
He toke hys hond at the grete ende,
And fayre he helpe hym yn;
And sayde, 'Syr, yf your wyll be,
Take me your honde and go wyth me,
For y am of yowr kynne!
Ye shull come speke wyth Emaré
That chaunged her nome to Egaré,
That berys the whyte chynne.'
The kyng yn herte was full woo
When he herd mynge tho
Of her that was hys qwene;
And sayde, 'Sone, why sayst thou so?
73
Wherto umbraydest thou me of my wo?
That may never bene!'
Nevurtheles wyth hym he wente;
Ayeyn hem come the lady gent,
In the robe bryght and shene.
He toke her yn hys armes two,
For joye they sowened, both to,
Such love was hem bytwene.
A joyfull metyng was ther thore,
Of that lady, goodly unthur gore,
Frely in armes to folde.
Lorde, gladde was Syr Kadore,
And othur lordes that ther wore,
Semely to beholde.
Of the lady that was put yn the see,
Thorow grace of God in Trinité,
That was kevered of cares colde.
Leve we at the lady whyte as flour,
And speke we of her fadur the emperour,
That fyrste thys tale of ytolde.
The Emperour her fadyr then
Was woxen an olde man,
And thowght on hys synne:
Of hys thowghtyr Emaré
That was putte ynto the see,
That was so bryght of skynne.
He thowght that he wolde go,
For hys penance to the Pope tho
And heven for to wynne.
Messengeres he sente forth sone,
And they come to the kowrt of Rome
To take her lordes inne.
Emaré prayde her lord, the kyng,
'Syr, abyde that lordys komyng
That ys so fayr and fre.
And, swete syr, yn all thyng,
Aqweynte you wyth that lordyng,
Hyt ys worshyp to the.'
The kyng of Galys seyde than,
74
'So grete a lord ys ther non,
Yn all Crystyanté.'
'Now, swete syr, whatevur betyde,
Ayayn that grete lord ye ryde,
And all thy knyghtys wyth the.'
Emaré tawghte her sone yynge,
Ayeyn the Emperour komynge,
How that he sholde done:
'Swete sone, yn all thyng
Be redy wyth my lord the kyng,
And be my swete sone!
When the Emperour kysseth thy fadur so fre,
Loke yyf he wyll kysse the,
Abowe the to hym sone;
And bydde hym come speke wyth Emaré,
That was putte ynto the see,
Hymself yaf the dome.'
Now kometh the Emperour of pryse;
Ayeyn hym rode the kyng of Galys,
Wyth full mykull pryde.
The chyld was worthy unthur wede,
A satte upon a nobyll stede,
By hys fadyr syde;
And when he mette the Emperour,
He valed hys hode wyth gret honour
And kyssed hym yn that tyde;
And othur lordys of gret valowre,
They also kessed Segramowre;
In herte ys not to hyde.
The Emperours hert anamered gretlye
Of the chylde that rode hym by
Wyth so lovely chere.
Segramowre he stayde hys stede;
Hys owene fadur toke good hede,
And othur lordys that ther were.
The chylde spake to the Emperour,
And sayde, 'Lord, for thyn honour,
My worde that thou wyll here:
Ye shull come speke wyth Emaré
75
That changede her name to Egaré,
That was thy thowghthur dere.'
The Emperour wax all pale,
And sayde, 'Sone, why umbraydest me of bale,
And thou may se no bote?'
'Syr, and ye wyll go wyth me,
I shall the brynge wyth that lady fre,
That ys lovesom on to loke.'
Nevurthelesse, wyth hym he wente;
Ayeyn hym come that lady gent,
Walkynge on her fote.
And the Emperour alyghte tho,
And toke her yn hys armes two,
And clypte and kyssed her sote.
Ther was a joyfull metynge
Of the Emperour and of the Kynge,
And also of Emaré;
And so ther was of Syr Segramour,
That aftyr was emperour:
A full gode man was he.
A grette feste ther was holde,
Of erles and barones bolde,
As testymonyeth thys story.
Thys ys on of Brytayne layes
That was used by olde dayes,
Men callys 'Playn d'Egarye.'
Jhesus, that settes yn Thy trone,
So graunte us wyth The to wone
In thy perpetuall glorye! Amen.
~ Anonymous,#NFDB
276:Sir Degare
Lysteneth, lordinges, gente and fre,
Ich wille you telle of Sire Degarre:
Knightes that were sometyme in londe
Ferli fele wolde fonde
And sechen aventures bi night and dai,
Hou thai mighte here strengthe asai;
So dede a knyght, Sire Degarree:
Ich wille you telle wat man was he.
In Litel Bretaygne was a kyng
Of gret poer in all thing,
Stif in armes under sscheld,
And mochel idouted in the feld.
Ther nas no man, verraiment,
That mighte in werre ne in tornament,
Ne in justes for no thing,
Him out of his sadel bring,
Ne out of his stirop bringe his fot,
So strong he was of bon and blod.
This Kyng he hadde none hair
But a maidenchild, fre and fair;
Here gentiresse and here beauté
Was moche renound in ich countré.
This maiden he loved als his lif,
Of hire was ded the Quene his wif:
In travailing here lif she les.
And tho the maiden of age wes
Kynges sones to him speke,
Emperours and Dukes eke,
To haven his doughter in mariage,
For love of here heritage;
Ac the Kyng answered ever
That no man sschal here halden ever
But yif he mai in turneying
Him out of his sadel bring,
And maken him lesen hise stiropes bayne.
Many assayed and myght not gayne.
That ryche Kynge every yere wolde
A solempne feste make and holde
On hys wyvys mynnyng day,
192
That was beryed in an abbay
In a foreste there besyde.
With grete meyné he wolde ryde,
Hire dirige do, and masse bothe,
Poure men fede, and naked clothe,
Offring brenge, gret plenté,
And fede the covent with gret daynté.
Toward the abbai als he com ride,
And mani knyghtes bi his side,
His doughter also bi him rod.
Amidde the forest hii abod.
Here chaumberleyn she clepede hire to
And other dammaiseles two
And seide that hii moste alighte
To don here nedes and hire righte; 1
Thai alight adoun alle thre,
Tweie damaiseles and ssche,
And longe while ther abiden,
Til al the folk was forht iriden.
Thai wolden up and after wolde,
And couthen nowt here way holde.
The wode was rough and thikke, iwis,
And thai token the wai amys.
Thai moste souht and riden west 2
Into the thikke of the forest.
Into a launde hii ben icome,
And habbeth wel undernome
That thai were amis igon.
Thai light adoun everichon
And cleped and criede al ifere,
Ac no man aright hem ihere.
Thai nist what hem was best to don; 3
The weder was hot bifor the non;
Hii leien hem doun upon a grene,
Under a chastein tre, ich wene,
And fillen aslepe everichone
Bote the damaisele alone.
She wente aboute and gaderede floures,
And herknede song of wilde foules.
So fer in the launde she goht, iwis,
That she ne wot nevere whare se is.
To hire maidenes she wolde anon.
193
Ac hi ne wiste never wat wei to gon.
Whenne hi wende best to hem terne,
Aweiward than hi goth wel yerne.
'Allas!' hi seide, 'that I was boren!
Nou ich wot ich am forloren!
Wilde bestes me willeth togrinde
Or ani man me sschulle finde!'
Than segh hi swich a sight:
Toward hire comen a knight,
Gentil, yong, and jolif man;
A robe of scarlet he hadde upon;
His visage was feir, his bodi ech weies;
Of countenaunce right curteis;
Wel farende legges, fot, and honde:
Ther nas non in al the Kynges londe
More apert man than was he.
'Damaisele, welcome mote thou be!
Be thou afered of none wihghte:
Iich am comen here a fairi knyghte;
Mi kynde is armes for to were,
On horse to ride with scheld and spere;
Forthi afered be thou nowt:
I ne have nowt but mi swerd ibrout.
Iich have iloved the mani a yer,
And now we beth us selve her,
Thou best mi lemman ar thou go,
Wether the liketh wel or wo.'
Tho nothing ne coude do she
But wep and criede and wolde fle;
And he anon gan hire at holde,
And dide his wille, what he wolde.
He binam hire here maidenhod,
And seththen up toforen hire stod.
'Lemman,' he seide, 'gent and fre,
Mid schilde I wot that thou schalt be;
Siker ich wot hit worht a knave; 4
Forthi mi swerd thou sschalt have,
And whenne that he is of elde
That he mai himself biwelde,
Tak him the swerd, and bidde him fonde
To sechen his fader in eche londe.
The swerd his god and avenaunt:
194
Lo, as I faugt with a geaunt,
I brak the point in his hed;
And siththen, when that he was ded,
I tok hit out and have hit er,
Redi in min aumener.
Yit paraventure time bith
That mi sone mete me with:
Be mi swerd I mai him kenne.
Have god dai! I mot gon henne.'
Thi knight passede as he cam.
Al wepende the swerd she nam,
And com hom sore sikend,
And fond here maidenes al slepend.
The swerd she hidde als she mighte,
And awaked hem in highte,
And doht hem to horse anon,
And gonne to ride everichon.
Thanne seghen hi ate last
Tweie squiers come prikend fast.
Fram the Kyng thai weren isent,
To white whider his doughter went.
Thai browt hire into the righte wai
And comen faire to the abbay,
And doth the servise in alle thingges,
Mani masse and riche offringes;
And whanne the servise was al idone
And ipassed over the none,
The Kyng to his castel gan ride;
His doughter rod bi his side.
And he yemeth his kyngdom overal
Stoutliche, as a god king sschal.
Ac whan ech man was glad an blithe,
His doughter siked an sorewed swithe;
Here wombe greted more and more;
Therwhile she mighte, se hidde here sore.
On a dai, as hi wepende set,
On of hire maidenes hit underyet.
'Madame,' she seide, 'par charité,
Whi wepe ye now, telleth hit me.'
'A! gentil maiden, kinde icoren,
Help me, other ich am forloren!
Ich have ever yete ben meke and milde:
195
Lo, now ich am with quike schilde!
Yif ani man hit underyete,
Men wolde sai bi sti and strete
That mi fader the King hit wan
And I ne was never aqueint with man!
And yif he hit himselve wite,
Swich sorewe schal to him smite
That never blithe schal he be,
For al his joie is in me,'
And tolde here al togeder ther
Hou hit was bigete and wher.
'Madame,' quad the maide, 'ne care thou nowt:
Stille awai hit sschal be browt.
No man schal wite in Godes riche
Whar hit bicometh, but thou and iche.'
Her time come, she was unbounde,
And delivred al mid sounde;
A knaveschild ther was ibore:
Glad was the moder tharfore.
The maiden servede here at wille,
Wond that child in clothes stille,
And laid hit in a cradel anon,
And was al prest tharwith to gon.
Yhit is moder was him hold:
Four pound she tok of gold,
And ten of selver also;
Under his fote she laid hit tho, For swich thing hit mighte hove;
And seththen she tok a paire glove
That here lemman here sente of fairi londe,
That nolde on no manne honde,
Ne on child ne on womman yhe nolde,
But on hire selve wel yhe wolde.
Tho gloven she put under his hade,
And siththen a letter she wrot and made,
And knit hit with a selkene thred
Aboute his nekke wel god sped
That who hit founde sscholde iwite.
Than was in the lettre thous iwrite:
'Par charité, yif ani god man
This helples child finde can,
Lat cristen hit with prestes honde, 5
196
And bringgen hit to live in londe,
For hit is comen of gentil blod.
Helpeth hit with his owen god,
With tresor that under his fet lis;
And ten yer eld whan that he his,
Taketh him this ilke gloven two,
And biddeth him, wharevere he go,
That he ne lovie no womman in londe
But this gloves willen on hire honde;
For siker on honde nelle thai nere
But on his moder that him bere.'
The maiden tok the child here mide,
Stille awai in aven tide,
Alle the winteres longe night.
The weder was cler, the mone light;
Than warhth she war anon
Of an hermitage in a ston:
An holi man had ther his woniyng.
Thider she wente on heying,
An sette the cradel at his dore,
And durste abide no lengore,
And passede forth anon right.
Hom she com in that other night,
And fond the levedi al drupni,
Sore wepinde, and was sori,
And tolde hire al togeder ther
Hou she had iben and wher.
The hermite aros erliche tho,
And his knave was uppe also,
An seide ifere here matines,
And servede God and Hise seins.
The litel child thai herde crie,
And clepede after help on hie;
The holi man his dore undede,
And fond the cradel in the stede;
He tok up the clothes anon
And biheld the litel grom;
He tok the letter and radde wel sone
That tolde him that he scholde done.
The heremite held up bothe his honde
An thonked God of al His sonde,
And bar that child in to his chapel,
197
And for joie he rong his bel.
He dede up the gloven and the tresour
And cristned the child with gret honour:
In the name of the Trinité,
He hit nemnede Degarre,
Degarre nowt elles ne is
But thing that not never what hit is,
Other thing that is neggh forlorn also; 6
Forthi the schild he nemnede thous tho.
The heremite that was holi of lif
Hadde a soster that was a wif;
A riche marchaunt of that countré
Hadde hire ispoused into that cité.
To hire that schild he sente tho
Bi his knave, and the silver also,
And bad here take gode hede
Hit to foster and to fede,
And yif God Almighti wolde
Ten yer his lif holde,
Ayen to him hi scholde hit wise:
He hit wolde tech of clergise.
The litel child Degarre
Was ibrout into that cité.
The wif and hire loverd ifere
Kept his ase hit here owen were.
Bi that hit was ten yer old,
Hit was a fair child and a bold,
Wel inorissched, god and hende;
Was non betere in al that ende.
He wende wel that the gode man
Had ben his fader that him wan,
And the wif his moder also,
And the hermite his unkel bo;
And whan the ten yer was ispent,
To the hermitage he was sent,
And he was glad him to se,
He was so feir and so fre.
He taughte him of clerkes lore
Other ten wynter other more;
And when he was of twenti yer,
Staleworth he was, of swich pouer
That ther ne wan man in that lond
198
That o breid him might astond.
Tho the hermite seth, withouten les,
Man for himself that he wes,
Staleworht to don ech werk,
And of his elde so god a clerk,
He tok him his florines and his gloves
That he had kept to hise bihoves.
Ac the ten pound of starlings
Were ispended in his fostrings.
He tok him the letter to rede,
And biheld al the dede.
'O leve hem, par charité,
Was this letter mad for me?'
'Ye, bi oure Lord, us helpe sschal!
Thus hit was,' and told him al.
He knelede adoun al so swithe,
And thonked the ermite of his live,
And swor he nolde stinte no stounde
Til he his kinrede hadde ifounde.
For in the lettre was thous iwrite,
That bi the gloven he sscholde iwite
Wich were his moder and who,
Yhif that sche livede tho,
For on hire honden hii wolde,
And on non other hii nolde.
Half the florines he gaf the hermite,
And halvendel he tok him mide,
And nam his leve an wolde go.
'Nai,' seide the hermite, 'schaltu no!
To seche thi ken mightou nowt dure
Withouten hors and god armure.'
'Nai,' quad he, 'bi Hevene Kyng,
Ich wil have first another thing!'
He hew adoun, bothe gret and grim,
To beren in his hond with him,
A god sapling of an ok;
Whan he tharwith gaf a strok,
Ne wer he never so strong a man
Ne so gode armes hadde upon,
That he ne scholde falle to grounde;
Swich a bourdon to him he founde.
Tho thenne God he him bitawt,
199
And aither fram other wepyng rawt.
Child Degarre wente his wai
Thourgh the forest al that dai.
No man he ne herd, ne non he segh,
Til hit was non ipassed hegh;
Thanne he herde a noise kete
In o valai, an dintes grete.
Blive thider he gan to te:
What hit ware he wolde ise.
An Herl of the countré, stout and fers,
With a knight and four squiers,
Hadde ihonted a der other two,
And al here houndes weren ago.
Than was thar a dragon grim,
Ful of filth and of venim,
With wide throte and teth grete,
And wynges bitere with to bete.
As a lyoun he hadde fet,
And his tail was long and gret.
The smoke com of his nose awai
Ase fer out of a chimenai.
The knyght and squiers he had torent,
Man and hors to dethe chent.
The dragon the Erl assaile gan,
And he defended him as a man,
And stoutliche leid on with his swerd,
And stronge strokes on him gerd;
Ac alle his dentes ne greved him nowt:
His hide was hard so iren wrout.
Therl flei fram tre to tre Fein he wolde fram him be And the dragon him gan asail;
The doughti Erl in that batail
Ofsegh this child Degarre;
'Ha! help!' he seide, 'par charité!'
The dragoun seth the child com;
He laft the Erl and to him nom
Blowinde and yeniend also
Als he him wolde swolewe tho.
Ac Degarre was ful strong;
He tok his bat, gret and long,
And in the forehefd he him batereth
200
That al the forehefd he tospatereth.
He fil adoun anon right,
And frapte his tail with gret might
Upon Degarres side,
That up-so-doun he gan to glide;
Ac he stert up ase a man
And with his bat leide upan,
And al tofrusst him ech a bon,
That he lai ded, stille as a ston.
Therl knelede adoun bilive
And thonked the child of his live,
And maked him with him gon
To his castel right anon,
And wel at hese he him made,
And proferd him al that he hade,
Rentes, tresor, an eke lond,
For to holden in his hond.
Thanne answerede Degarre,
'Lat come ferst bifor me
Thi levedi and other wimmen bold,
Maidenes and widues, yonge and olde,
And other damoiseles swete.
Yif mine gloven beth to hem mete
For to done upon here honde,
Thanne ich wil take thi londe;
And yif thai ben nowt so,
Iich wille take me leve and go.'
Alle wimman were forht ibrowt
In wide cuntries and forth isowt:
Ech the gloven assaie bigan,
Ac non ne mighte don hem on.
He tok his gloven and up hem dede,
And nam his leve in that stede.
The Erl was gentil man of blod,
And gaf him a stede ful god
And noble armure, riche and fin,
When he wolde armen him therin,
And a palefrai to riden an,
And a knave to ben his man,
And yaf him a swerd bright,
And dubbed him ther to knyght,
And swor bi God Almighti
201
That he was better worthi
To usen hors and armes also
Than with his bat aboute to go.
Sire Degarre was wel blithe,
And thanked the Erl mani a sithe,
And lep upon hiis palefrai,
And doht him forth in his wai;
Upon his stede righte his man,
And ledde his armes als he wel can;
Mani a jorné thai ride and sette.
So on a dai gret folk thei mette,
Erles and barouns of renoun,
That come fram a cité toun.
He asked a seriaunt what tiding,
And whennes hii come and what is this thing?
'Sire,' he seide, 'verraiment,
We come framward a parlement.
The King a gret counseil made
For nedes that he to don hade.
Whan the parlement was plener,
He lette crie fer and ner,
Yif ani man were of armes so bold
That with the King justi wold,
He sscholde have in mariage
His dowter and his heritage,
That is kingdom god and fair,
For he had non other hair.
Ac no man ne dar graunte therto,
For mani hit assaieth and mai nowt do:
Mani erl and mani baroun,
Knightes and squiers of renoun;
Ac ech man, that him justeth with, tit
Hath of him a foul despit:
Some he breketh the nekke anon,
And of some the rig-bon;
Some thourgh the bodi he girt,
Ech is maimed other ihirt;
Ac no man mai don him no thing
Swich wonder chaunce hath the King.
Sire Degarre thous thenche gan:
'Ich am a staleworht man,
And of min owen ich have a stede,
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Swerd and spere and riche wede;
And yif ich felle the Kyng adoun,
Evere ich have wonnen renoun;
And thei that he me herte sore,
No man wot wer ich was bore.
Whether deth other lif me bitide,
Agen the King ich wille ride!'
In the cité his in he taketh,
And resteth him and meri maketh.
On a dai with the King he mette,
And knelede adoun and him grette:
'Sire King,' he saide, 'of muchel might,
Mi loverd me sende hider anon right
For to warne you that he
Bi thi leve wolde juste with the,
And winne thi dowter, yif he mai;
As the cri was this ender dai,
Justes he had to the inome.'
'De par Deus!' quath the King, 'he is welcome.
Be he baroun, be he erl,
Be he burgeis, be he cherl,
No man wil I forsake.
He that winneth al sschal take.'
Amorewe the justes was iset;
The King him purveid wel the bet,
And Degarre ne knew no man,
Ac al his trust is God upon.
Erliche to churche than wente he;
The masse he herde of the Trinité.
To the Fader he offreth hon florine,
And to the Sone another al so fine,
And to the Holi Gost the thridde;
The prest for him ful yerne gan bidde.
And tho the servise was idon,
To his in he wente wel son
And let him armi wel afin,
In god armes to justi in.
His gode stede he gan bistride;
His squier bar his sschaft biside;
In the feld the King he abide gan,
As he com ridend with mani a man,
Stoutliche out of the cité toun,
203
With mani a lord of gret renoun;
Ac al that in the felde beth
That the justes iseth
Seide that hi never yit iseghe
So pert a man with here egye
As was this gentil Degarre,
Ac no man wiste whennes was he.
Bothe thai gonne to justi than,
Ac Degarre can nowt theron.
The King hath the gretter schaft
And kan inowgh of the craft.
To breke his nekke he had iment:
In the helm he set his dent,
That the schaft al tosprong;
Ac Degarre was so strong
That in the sadel stille he set,
And in the stiropes held his fet;
For sothe I seie, withoute lesing,
He ne couthe nammore of justing.
'Allas!' quath the King, 'allas!
Me ne fil nevere swich a cas,
That man that ich mighte hitte
After mi strok mighte sitte!'
He taketh a wel gretter tre
And swor so he moste ithe,
'Yif his nekke nel nowt atwo,
His rigg schal, ar ich hennes go!'
He rod eft with gret raundoun
And thought to beren him adoun,
And girt Degarre anon
Right agein the brest-bon
The schaft was stef and wonder god,
And Degarre stede astod,
And al biforen he ros on heghth,
And tho was he ifallen neghth;
But as God Almighti wold,
The schaft brak and might nowt hold,
And Degarre his cours out ritte,
And was agramed out of his witte.
'Allas!' quath he, 'for vilaynie!
The King me hath ismiten twie,
And I ne touchede him nowt yete.
204
Nou I schal avise me bette!'
He turned his stede with herte grim,
And rod to the King, and he to him,
And togider thai gert ful right,
And in the scheldes here strokes pight
That the speres al toriveth
And up right to here honde sliveth,
That alle the lordings that ther ben
That the justing mighte sen
Seiden hi ne seghe never with egye
Man that mighte so longe dreghye,
In wraththe for nothing,
Sitten a strok of here King;
'Ac he his doughti for the nones,
A strong man of bodi and bones.'
The King with egre mod gan speke:
'Do bring me a schaft that wil nowt breke!
A, be mi trewthe, he sschal adoun!
Thai he be strengere than Sampson;
And thei he be the bare qued,
He sschal adoun, maugré his heved!'
He tok a schaft was gret and long,
The schild another al so strong;
And to the King wel evene he rit;
The King faileth, and he him smit;
His schaft was strong and god withal,
And wel scharped the coronal.
He smot the Kyng in the lainer:
He might flit nother fer ne ner.
The King was strong and harde sat;
The stede ros up biforn with that,
And Sire Degarre so thriste him than
That, maugré whoso grochche bigan,
Out of the sadel he him cast,
Tail over top, right ate last.
Than was ther long houting and cri;
The King was sor asschamed forthi;
The lordinges comen with might and mein
And broughte the King on horse agein,
An seide with o criing, iwis,
'Child Degarre hath wonne the pris!'
Than was the damaisele sori,
205
For hi wist wel forwhi:
That hi scholde ispoused ben
To a knight that sche never had sen,
And lede here lif with swich a man
That sche ne wot who him wan,
No in what londe he was ibore;
Carful was the levedi therefore.
Than seide the King to Degarre,
'Min hende sone, com hider to me:
And thou were al so gentil a man
As thou semest with sight upan,
And ase wel couthest wisdomes do
As thou art staleworht man therto,
Me thouwte mi kingdoms wel biset:
Ac be thou werse, be thou bet,
Covenaunt ich wille the holde.
Lo, her biforn mi barons bolde,
Mi douwter I take the bi the hond,
And seise the her in al mi lond.
King thou scalt ben after me:
God graunte the god man for to be!'
Than was the child glad and blithe,
And thonked the Kyng mani a sithe.
Gret perveaunce than was ther iwrout:
To churche thai were togidere ibrout,
And spoused that levedi verraiment,
Under Holi Sacrement.
Lo, what chaunse and wonder strong
Bitideth mani a man with wrong,
That cometh into an uncouthe thede
And spouseth wif for ani mede
And knowes nothing of hire kin,
Ne sche of his, neither more ne min,
And beth iwedded togider to libbe
Par aventoure, and beth neghth sibbe!
So dede Sire Degarre the bold
Spoused ther is moder
And that hende levedi also
Here owene sone was spoused to,
That sche upon here bodi bar.
Lo, what aventoure fil hem thar!
But God, that alle thingge mai stere,
206
Wolde nowt that thai sinned ifere:
To chirche thai wente with barouns bolde;
A riche feste thai gonne to holde;
And wan was wel ipassed non
And the dai was al idon,
To bedde thai sscholde wende, that fre,
The dammaisele and Sire Degarre.
He stod stille and bithouwte him than
Hou the hermite, the holi man,
Bad he scholde no womman take
For faired ne for riches sake
But she mighte this gloves two
Lightliche on hire hondes do.
'Allas, allas!' than saide he,
'What meschaunce is comen to me?
A wai! witles wrechche ich am!
Iich hadde levere than this kingdam
That is iseised into min hond
That ich ware faire out of this lond!'
He wrang his hondes and was sori,
Ac no man wiste therefore wi.
The King parceyved and saide tho,
'Sire Degarre, wi farest thou so?
Is ther ani thing don ille,
Spoken or seid agen thi wille?'
'Ya, sire,' he saide, 'bi Hevene King!'
'I chal never, for no spousing,
Therwhiles I live, with wimman dele,
Widue ne wif ne dammeisele,
But she this gloves mai take and fonde
And lightlich drawen upon hire honde.'
His yonge bride that gan here,
And al for thout chaunged hire chere
And ate laste gan to turne here mod:
Here visage wex ase red ase blod:
She knew tho gloves that were hire.
'Schewe hem hider, leve sire.'
Sche tok the gloves in that stede
And lightliche on hire hondes dede,
And fil adoun, with revli crie,
And seide, 'God, mercy, mercie!
Thou art mi sone hast spoused me her,
207
And ich am, sone, thi moder der.
Ich hadde the loren, ich have the founde;
Blessed be Jhesu Crist that stounde!'
Sire Degarre tok his moder tho
And helde here in his armes two.
Keste and clepte here mani a sithe;
That hit was sche, he was ful blithe.
Than the Kyng gret wonder hadde
Why that noise that thai made,
And mervailed of hire crying,
And seide, 'Doughter, what is this thing?'
'Fader,' she seide, 'thou schalt ihere:
Thou wenest that ich a maiden were,
Ac certes, nay, sire, ich am non:
Twenti winter nou hit is gon
That mi maidenhed I les
In a forest as I wes,
And this is mi sone, God hit wot:
Bi this gloves wel ich wot.'
She told him al that sothe ther,
Hou the child was geten and wher;
And hou that he was boren also,
To the hermitage yhe sente him tho,
And seththen herd of him nothing;
'But thanked be Jhesu, Hevene King,
Iich have ifounde him alive!
Ich am his moder and ek his wive!'
'Leve moder,' seide Sire Degarre,
'Telle me the sothe, par charité:
Into what londe I mai terne
To seke mi fader, swithe and yerne?'
'Sone,' she saide, 'bi Hevene Kyng,
I can the of him telle nothing
But tho that he fram me raught,
His owen swerd he me bitaught,
And bad ich sholde take hit the forthan
Yif thou livedest and were a man.'
The swerd sche fet forht anon right,
And Degarre hit out plight.
Brod and long and hevi hit wes:
In that kyngdom no swich nes.
Than seide Degarre forthan,
208
'Whoso hit aught, he was a man!
Nou ich have that ikepe,
Night ne dai nel ich slepe
Til that I mi fader see,
Yif God wile that hit so be.'
In the cité he reste al night.
Amorewe, whan hit was dai-lit,
He aros and herde his masse;
He dighte him and forth gan passe.
Of al that cité than moste non
Neither with him riden ne gon
But his knave, to take hede
To his armour and his stede.
Forth he rod in his wai
Mani a pas and mani jurnai;
So longe he passede into west
That he com into theld forest
Ther he was bigeten som while.
Therinne he rideth mani a mile;
Mani a dai he ride gan;
No quik best he fond of man,
Ac mani wilde bestes he seghth
And foules singen on heghth.
So longe hit drouwth to the night,
The sonne was adoune right.
Toward toun he wolde ride,
But he nist never bi wiche side.
Thenne he segh a water cler,
And amidde a river,
A fair castel of lim and ston:
Other wonying was ther non.
To his knave he seide, 'Tide wat tide,
O fote forther nel I ride,
Ac here abide wille we,
And aske herberewe par charité,
Yif ani quik man be here on live.'
To the water thai come als swithe;
The bregge was adoune tho,
And the gate open also,
And into the castel he gan spede.
First he stabled up his stede;
He taiede up his palefrai.
209
Inough he fond of hote and hai;
He bad his grom on heying
Kepen wel al here thing.
He passed up into the halle,
Biheld aboute, and gan to calle;
Ac neither on lond ne on hegh
No quik man he ne segh.
Amidde the halle flore
A fir was bet, stark an store, 7
'Par fai,' he saide, 'ich am al sure
He that bette that fure
Wil comen hom yit tonight;
Abiden ich wille a litel wight.'
He sat adoun upon the dais,
And warmed him wel eche wais,
And he biheld and undernam
Hou in at the dore cam
Four dammaiseles, gent and fre;
Ech was itakked to the kne.
The two bowen an arewen bere,
The other two icharged were
With venesoun, riche and god.
And Sire Degarre upstod
And gret hem wel fair aplight,
Ac thai answerede no wight,
But yede into chaumbre anon
And barred the dore after son.
Sone therafter withalle
Ther com a dwerw into the halle.
Four fet of lengthe was in him;
His visage was stout and grim;
Bothe his berd and his fax
Was crisp an yhalew as wax;
Grete sscholdres and quarré;
Right stoutliche loked he;
Mochele were hise fet and honde
Ase the meste man of the londe;
He was iclothed wel aright,
His sschon icouped as a knight;
He hadde on a sorcot overt,
Iforred with blaundeuer apert.
Sire Degarre him biheld and lowggh,
210
And gret him fair inowggh,
Ac he ne answerede nevere a word,
But sette trestles and laid the bord,
And torches in the halle he lighte,
And redi to the soper dighte.
Than ther com out of the bour
A dammeisele of gret honour;
In the lond non fairer nas;
In a diapre clothed she was
With hire come maidenes tene,
Some in scarlet, some in grene,
Gent of bodi, of semblaunt swete,
And Degarre hem gan grete;
Ac hi ne answerede no wight,
But yede to the soper anon right.
'Certes,' quath Sire Degarre,
'Ich have hem gret, and hi nowt me;
But thai be domb, bi and bi
Thai schul speke first ar I.'
The levedi that was of rode so bright,
Amidde she sat anon right,
And on aither half maidenes five.
The dwerw hem servede al so blive
With riche metes and wel idight;
The coppe he filleth with alle his might.
Sire Degarre couthe of curteisie:
He set a chaier bifore the levedie,
And therin himselve set,
And tok a knif and carf his met;
At the soper litel at he,
But biheld the levedi fre,
And segh ase feir a wimman
Als he hevere loked an,
That al his herte and his thout
Hire to love was ibrowt.
And tho thai hadde souped anowgh,
The drew com, and the cloth he drough;
The levedis wessche everichon
And yede to chaumbre quik anon.
Into the chaumbre he com ful sone.
The levedi on here bed set,
And a maide at here fet,
211
And harpede notes gode and fine;
Another broughte spices and wine.
Upon the bedde he set adoun
To here of the harpe soun.
For murthe of notes so sschille,
He fel adoun on slepe stille;
So he slep al that night.
The levedi wreith him warm aplight,
And a pilewe under his heved dede,
And yede to bedde in that stede.
Amorewe whan hit was dai-light,
Sche was uppe and redi dight.
Faire sche waked him tho:
'Aris!' she seide, 'graith the, an go!'
And saide thus in here game:
'Thou art worth to suffri schame,
That al night as a best sleptest,
And non of mine maidenes ne keptest.'
'O gentil levedi,' seide Degarre,
'For Godes love, forgif hit me!
Certes the murie harpe hit made,
Elles misdo nowt I ne hade;
Ac tel me, levedi so hende,
Ar ich out of thi chaumber wende,
Who is louerd of this lond?
And who this castel hath in hond?
Wether thou be widue or wif,
Or maiden yit of clene lif?
And whi her be so fele wimman
Allone, withouten ani man?'
The dameisele sore sighte,
And bigan to wepen anon righte,
'Sire, wel fain ich telle the wolde,
Yif evere the better be me sscholde.
Mi fader was a riche baroun,
And hadde mani a tour and toun.
He ne hadde no child but me;
Ich was his air of his cuntré.
In mené ich hadde mani a knight
And squiers that were gode and light,
An staleworht men of mester,
To serve in court fer and ner;
212
Ac thanne is thar here biside
A sterne knight, iknawe ful wide.
Ich wene in Bretaine ther be non
So strong a man so he is on.
He had ilove me ful yore;
Ac in herte nevere more
Ne mighte ich lovie him agein;
But whenne he seghye ther was no gein,
He was aboute with maistri
For to ravisse me awai.
Mine knightes wolde defende me,
And ofte fowghten hi an he;
The beste he slowgh the firste dai,
And sethen an other, par ma fai,
And sethen the thridde and the ferthe, The beste that mighte gon on erthe!
Mine squiers that weren so stoute,
Bi foure, bi five, thai riden oute,
On hors armed wel anowgh:
His houen bodi he hem slough.
Mine men of mester he slough alle,
And other pages of mine halle.
Therfore ich am sore agast
Lest he wynne me ate last.'
With this word sche fil to grounde,
And lai aswone a wel gret stounde.
Hire maidenes to hire come
And in hire armes up hire nome.
He beheld the levedi with gret pité.
'Loveli madame,' quath he,
'On of thine ich am here:
Ich wille the help, be mi pouere.'
'Yhe, sire,' she saide, 'than al mi lond
Ich wil the give into thin hond,
And at thi wille bodi mine,
Yif thou might wreke me of hine.'
Tho was he glad al for to fighte,
And wel gladere that he mighte
Have the levedi so bright
Yif he slough that other knight.
And als thai stod and spak ifere,
A maiden cried, with reuful chere,
213
'Her cometh oure enemi, faste us ate!
Drauwe the bregge and sschet the gate,
Or he wil slen ous everichone!'
Sire Degarre stirt up anon
And at a window him segh,
Wel i-armed on hors hegh;
A fairer bodi than he was on
In armes ne segh he never non.
Sire Degarre armed him blive
And on a stede gan out drive.
With a spere gret of gayn,
To the knight he rit agein.
The knighte spere al tosprong,
Ac Degarre was so strong
And so harde to him thrast,
But the knight sat so fast,
That the stede rigge tobrek
And fel to grounde, and he ek;
But anon stirt up the knight
And drough out his swerd bright.
'Alight,' he saide, 'adoun anon;
To fight thou sschalt afote gon.
For thou hast slawe mi stede,
Deth-dint schal be thi mede;
Ac thine stede sle I nille,
Ac on fote fighte ich wille.'
Than on fote thai toke the fight,
And hewe togidere with brondes bright.
The knight gaf Sire Degarre
Sterne strokes gret plenté,
And he him agen also,
That helm and scheld cleve atwo.
The knight was agreved sore
That his armour toburste thore:
A strok he gaf Sire Degarre,
That to grounde fallen is he;
But he stirt up anon right,
And swich a strok he gaf the knight
Upon his heved so harde iset
Thurh helm and heved and bacinet
That ate brest stod the dent;
Ded he fil doun, verraiment.
214
The levedi lai in o kernel,
And biheld the batail everi del.
She ne was never er so blithe:
Sche thankede God fele sithe.
Sire Degarre com into castel;
Agein him com the dammaisel,
And thonked him swithe of that dede.
Into chaumber sche gan him lede,
And unarmed him anon,
And set him hire bed upon,
And saide, 'Sire, par charité,
I the prai dwel with me,
And al mi lond ich wil the give,
And miselve, whil that I live.'
'Grant merci, dame,' saide Degarre,
'Of the gode thou bedest me:
Wende ich wille into other londe,
More of haventours for to fonde;
And be this twelve moneth be go,
Agein ich wil come the to.'
The levedi made moche mourning
For the knightes departing,
And gaf him a stede, god and sur,
Gold and silver an god armur,
And bitaught him Jhesu, Hevene King.
And sore thei wepen at here parting.
Forht wente Sire Degarre
Thurh mani a divers cuntré;
Ever mor he rod west.
So in a dale of o forest
He mette with a doughti knight
Upon a stede, god and light,
In armes that were riche and sur,
With the sscheld of asur
And thre bor-hevedes therin
Wel ipainted with gold fin.
Sire Degarre anon right
Hendeliche grette the knight,
And saide, 'Sire, God with the be;'
And thous agein answered he:
'Velaun, wat dost thou here,
In mi forest to chase mi dere?'
215
Degarre answerede with wordes meke:
'Sire, thine der nougt I ne seke:
Iich am an aunterous knight,
For to seche werre and fight.'
The knight saide, withouten fail,
'Yif thou comest to seke batail,
Here thou hast thi per ifounde:
Arme the swithe in this stounde!'
Sire Degarre and his squier
Armed him in riche atir,
With an helm riche for the nones,
Was ful of precious stones
That the maide him gaf, saun fail,
For whom he did rather batail.
A sscheld he kest aboute his swere
That was of armes riche and dere,
With thre maidenes hevedes of silver bright,
With crounes of gold precious of sight.
A sschaft he tok that was nowt smal,
With a kene coronal.
His squier tok another spere;
Bi his louerd he gan hit bere.
Lo, swich aventoure ther gan bitide The sone agein the fader gan ride,
And noither ne knew other no wight! 8
Nou biginneth the firste fight.
Sire Degarre tok his cours thare;
Agen his fader a sschaft he bare;
To bere him doun he hadde imint.
Right in the sscheld he set his dint;
The sschaft brak to peces al,
And in the sscheld lat the coronal.
Another cours thai gonne take;
The fader tok, for the sones sake,
A sschaft that was gret and long,
And he another also strong.
Togider thai riden with gret raundoun,
And aither bar other adoun.
With dintes that thai smiten there,
Here stede rigges toborsten were.
Afote thai gonne fight ifere
And laiden on with swerdes clere.
216
The fader amerveiled wes
Whi his swerd was pointles,
And seide to his sone aplight,
'Herkne to me a litel wight:
Wher were thou boren, in what lond?'
'In Litel Bretaigne, ich understond:
Kingges doughter sone, witouten les,
Ac I not wo mi fader wes.'
'What is thi name?' than saide he.
'Certes, men clepeth me Degarre.'
'O Degarre, sone mine!
Certes ich am fader thine!
And bi thi swerd I knowe hit here:
The point is in min aumenere.'
He tok the point and set therto;
Degarre fel iswone tho,
And his fader, sikerli,
Also he gan swony;
And whan he of swone arisen were,
The sone cride merci there
His owen fader of his misdede,
And he him to his castel gan lede,
And bad him dwelle with him ai.
'Certes, sire,' he saide, 'nai;
Ac yif hit youre wille were,
To mi moder we wende ifere,
For she is in gret mourning.'
'Blethelich,' quath he, 'bi Hevene Kyng.'
Syr Degaré and hys father dere,
Into Ynglond they went in fere.
They were armyd and well dyghtt.
As sone as the lady saw that knyght,
Wonther wel sche knew the knyght;
Anon sche chaungyd hur colowr aryght,
And seyd, 'My dere sun, Degaré,
Now thou hast broughtt thy father wyth the!'
'Ye, madame, sekyr thow be!
Now well y wot that yt ys he.'
'I thank, by God,' seyd the kyng,
'Now y wot, wythowtt lesyng,
Who Syr Degaré his father was!'
The lady swounyd in that plass.
217
Then afterward, now sykyrly,
The knyghtt weddyd the lady.
Sche and hur sun were partyd atwynn,
For they were to nyghe off kyn.
Now went forth Syr Degaré;
Wyth the kyng and his meyné,
His father and his mother dere.
Unto that castel thei went infere
Wher that wonnyd that lady bryght
That he hadd wonne in gret fyght,
And weddyd hur wyth gret solempnité
Byfor all the lordis in that cuntré.
Thus cam the knyght outt of his care;
God yff us grace well to fare.
Amen
~ Anonymous,#NFDB
277:Erle of Tolous
Jhesu Cryste, yn Trynyté,
Oonly God and persons thre,
Graunt us wele to spede,
And gyf us grace so to do
That we may come thy blys unto,
On Rode as thou can blede!
Leve lordys, y schall you telle
Of a tale, some tyme befelle
Farre yn unknowthe lede:
How a lady had grete myschefe,
And how sche covyrd of hur grefe;
Y pray yow take hede!
Some tyme there was in Almayn
An Emperrour of moche mayn;
Syr Dyoclysyan he hyght;
He was a bolde man and a stowte;
All Chrystendome of hym had dowte,
So stronge he was in fyght;
He dysheryted many a man,
And falsely ther londys wan,
Wyth maystry and wyth myght,
Tyll hyt befelle upon a day,
A warre wakenyd, as y yow say,
Betwene hym and a knyght.
The Erle of Tollous, Syr Barnard,
The Emperrour wyth hym was harde,
And gretly was hys foo.
He had rafte owt of hys honde
Three hundred poundys worth be yere of londe:
Therfore hys herte was woo.
He was an hardy man and a stronge,
And sawe the Emperour dyd hym wronge,
And other men also;
He ordeyned hym for batayle
Into the Emperours londe, saun fayle;
And there he began to brenne and sloo.
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Thys Emperour had a wyfe,
The fayrest oon that evyr bare lyfe,
Save Mary mekyll of myght,
And therto gode in all thynge,
Of almesdede and gode berynge,
Be day and eke be nyght;
Of hyr body sche was trewe
As evyr was lady that men knewe,
And therto moost bryght.
To the Emperour sche can say:
'My dere lorde, y you pray,
Delyvyr the Erle hys ryght.'
'Dame,' he seyde, 'let that bee;
That day schalt thou nevyr see,
Yf y may ryde on ryght,
That he schall have hys londe agayne;
Fyrste schall y breke hys brayne,
Os y am trewe knyght!
He warryth faste in my londe;
I schall be redy at hys honde
Wythyn thys fourteen nyght!'
He sente abowte everywhare,
That all men schulde make them yare
Agayne the Erle to fyght.
He let crye in every syde,
Thorow hys londe ferre and wyde,
Bothe in felde and towne,
All that myght wepon bere,
Sworde, alablast, schylde, or spere,
They schoulde be redy bowne;
The Erle on hys syde also
Wyth forty thousand and moo
Wyth spere and schylde browne.
A day of batayle there was sett;
In felde when they togedur mett,
Was crakydde many a crowne.
The Emperour had bataylys sevyn;
He spake to them wyth sterne stevyn
And sayde, so mot he thryve,
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'Be ye now redy for to fyght,
Go ye and bete them downe ryght
And leveth non on lyve;
Loke that none raunsonyd bee
Nothyr for golde ne for fee,
But sle them wyth swerde and knyfe!'
For all hys boste he faylyd gyt;
The Erle manly hym mett,
Wyth strokys goode and ryfe.
They reryd batayle on every syde;
Bodely togedyr can they ryde,
Wyth schylde and many a spere;
They leyde on faste as they were wode,
Wyth swerdys and axes that were gode;
Full hedeous hyt was to here.
There were schyldys and schaftys schakydde,
Hedys thorogh helmys crakydde,
And hawberkys all totore.
The Erle hymselfe an axe drowe;
An hundred men that day he slowe,
So wyght he was yn were!
Many a stede there stekyd was;
Many a bolde baron in that place
Lay burlande yn hys own blode.
So moche blode there was spylte,
That the feld was ovyrhylte
Os hyt were a flode.
Many a wyfe may sytt and wepe,
That was wonte softe to slepe,
And now can they no gode.
Many a body and many a hevyd,
Many a doghty knyght there was levyd,
That was wylde and wode.
The Erle of Tollous wan the felde;
The Emperour stode and behelde:
Wele faste can he flee
To a castell there besyde.
Fayne he was hys hedde to hyde,
And wyth hym Erlys thre;
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No moo forsothe scapyd away,
But they were slayn and takyn that day:
Hyt myght non othyr bee.
The Erle tyll nyght folowed the chace,
And sythen he thanked God of hys grace,
That syttyth in Trynyté.
There were slayne in that batayle
Syxty thousand, wythowte fayle,
On the Emperours syde;
Ther was takyn thre hundred and fyfty
Of grete lordys, sekyrly,
Wyth woundys grymly wyde;
On the Erlys syde ther were slayne
But twenty, sothely to sayne,
So boldely they can abyde!
Soche grace God hym sende
That false quarell cometh to evell ende
For oght that may betyde.
Now the Emperour ys full woo:
He hath loste men and londe also;
Sore then syghed hee;
He sware be Hym that dyed on Rode,
Mete nor drynke schulde do hym no gode,
Or he vengedde bee.
The Emperes seyde, 'Gode lorde,
Hyt ys better ye be acorde
Be oght that y can see;
Hyt ys grete parell, sothe to telle,
To be agayne the ryght quarell;
Be God, thus thynketh me!'
'Dame,' seyde the Emperoure,
'Y have a grete dyshonoure;
Therfore myn herte ys woo;
My lordys be takyn, and some dede;
Therfore carefull ys my rede:
Sorowe nye wyll me sloo.'
Then seyde Dame Beulybon:
'Syr, y rede, be Seynt John,
Of warre that ye hoo;
82
Ye have the wronge and he the ryght,
And that ye may see in syght,
Be thys and othyr moo.'
The Emperour was evyll payde:
Hyt was sothe the lady sayde;
Therfore hym lykyd ylle,
He wente awey and syghed sore;
Oon worde spake he no more,
But held hym wonder stylle.
Leve we now the Emperour in thoght:
Game ne gle lyked hym noght,
So gretly can he grylle!
And to the Erle turne we agayn,
That thanked God wyth all hys mayn,
That grace had sende hym tylle.
The Erle Barnard of Tollous
Had fele men chyvalrous
Takyn to hys preson;
Moche gode of them he hadde;
Y can not telle, so God me gladde,
So grete was ther raunsome!
Among them alle had he oon,
Was grettest of them everychon,
A lorde of many a towne,
Syr Trylabas of Turky
The Emperour hym lovyd, sekurly,
A man of grete renowne.
So hyt befell upon a day
The Erle and he went to play
Be a rever syde.
The Erle seyde to Trylabas,
'Telle me, syr, for Goddys grace,
Of a thyng that spryngyth wyde,
That youre Emperour hath a wyfe,
The fayrest woman that ys on lyfe,
Of hewe and eke of hyde.
Y swere by boke and by belle,
Yf sche be so feyre as men telle,
Mekyll may be hys pryde.'
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Then sayde that lord anon ryght,
'Be the ordre y bere of knyght,
The sothe y schall telle the:
To seeke the worlde more and lesse,
Bothe Crystendome and hethynnesse,
Ther ys none so bryght of blee.
Whyte as snowe ys hur coloure;
Hur rudde ys radder then the rose-floure,
Yn syght who may hur see;
All men that evyr God wroght
Myght not thynke nor caste in thoght
A fayrer for to bee.'
Then seyde the Erle, 'Be Goddys grace,
Thys worde in mornyng me mas.
Thou seyest sche ys so bryght;
Thy raunsom here y the forgeve,
My helpe, my love, whyll y leve
Therto my trowthe y plyght,
So that thou wylt brynge me
Yn safegarde for to bee,
Of hur to have a syght,
An hundred pownde, wyth grete honoure,
To bye the horses and ryche armoure,
Os y am trewe knyght!'
Than answeryd Syr Trylabas,
'Yn that covenaunt in thys place
My trowthe y plyght thee;
Y schall holde thy forward gode
To brynge the, wyth mylde mode,
In syght hur for to see;
And therto wyll y kepe counsayle
And nevyr more, wythowte fayle,
Agayne yow to bee;
Y schall be trewe, be Goddys ore,
To lose myn own lyfe therfore;
Hardely tryste to mee!'
The Erle answeryd wyth wordys hende:
'Y tryste to the as to my frende,
84
Wythowte any stryfe;
Anon that we were buskyd yare,
On owre jurney for to fare,
For to see that wyfe;
Y swere be God and Seynt Andrewe,
Yf hyt be so y fynde the trewe,
Ryches schall be to the ryfe.'
They lettyd nothyr for wynde not wedur, 1
But forthe they wente bothe togedur,
Wythowte any stryfe.
These knyghtys nevyr stynte nor blanne,
Tyll to the cyté that they wan,
There the Emperes was ynne.
The Erle hymselfe for more drede
Cladde hym in armytes wede,
Thogh he were of ryche kynne,
For he wolde not knowen bee.
He dwellyd there dayes three
And rested hym in hys ynne.
The knyght bethoght hym, on a day,
The gode Erle to betray;
Falsely he can begynne.
Anone he wente in a rese
To chaumbur to the Emperes,
And sett hym on hys knee;
He seyde, 'Be Hym that harowed helle,
He kepe yow fro all parelle,
Yf that Hys wylle bee!'
'Madam,' he seyde, 'be Jhesus,
Y have the Erle of Tollous;
Oure moost enemye ys hee.'
'Yn what maner,' the lady can say,
'Ys he comyn, y the pray?
Anone telle thou me.'
'Madam, y was in hys preson;
He hath forgevyn me my raunsom,
Be God full of myght And all ys for the love of the!
The sothe ys, he longyth yow to see,
85
Madam, onys in syght!
And hundred pownde y have to mede,
And armour for a nobull stede;
Forsothe y have hym hyght
That he schall see yow at hys fylle,
Ryght at hys owne wylle;
Therto my trowthe y plyght.
Lady, he ys to us a foo;
Therfore y rede that we hym sloo;
He hath done us gret grylle.'
The lady seyde, 'So mut y goo,
Thy soule ys loste yf thou do so;
Thy trowthe thou schalt fulfylle,
Sythe he forgaf the thy raunsom
And lowsydd the owt of preson,
Do away thy wyckyd wylle!
To-morne when they rynge the masbelle,
Brynge hym into my chapelle,
And thynke thou on no false sleythe;
There schall he see me at hys wylle,
Thy covenaunt to fulfylle;
Y rede the holde thy trowthe!
Certys, yf thou hym begyle,
Thy soule ys in grete paryle,
Syn thou haste made hym othe;
Certys, hyt were a traytory,
For to wayte hym wyth velany;
Me thynkyth hyt were rowthe!'
The knyght to the Erle wente;
Yn herte he helde hym foule schente
For hys wyckyd thoght.
He seyde, 'Syr, so mote y the,
Tomorne thou schalt my lady see;
Therfore, dysmay the noght:
When ye here the masbelle,
Y schall hur brynge to the chapelle;
Thedur sche schall be broght.
Be the oryall syde stonde thou stylle;
Then schalt thou see hur at thy wylle,
86
That ys so worthyly wroght.'
The Erle sayde, 'Y holde the trewe,
And that schall the nevyr rewe,
As farre forthe as y may.'
Yn hys herte he waxe gladde:
'Fylle the wyne,' wyghtly he badde,
'Thys goyth to my pay!'
There he restyd that nyght;
On the morne he can hym dyght
Yn armytes array;
When they ronge to the masse,
To the chapell conne they passe,
To see that lady gay.
They had stonden but a whyle,
The mowntaunse of halfe a myle,
Then came that lady free;
Two erlys hur ladde;
Wondur rychely sche was cladde,
In golde and ryche perré.
Whan the Erle sawe hur in syght,
Hym thoght sche was as bryght
Os blossome on the tree;
Of all the syghtys that ever he sye,
Raysyd nevyr none hys herte so hye,
Sche was so bryght of blee!
Sche stode stylle in that place
And schewed opynly hur face
For love of that knyght.
He beheld ynly hur face;
He sware there be Goddys grace,
He sawe nevyr none so bryght.
Hur eyen were gray as any glas;
Mowthe and nose schapen was
At all maner ryght;
Fro the forhedde to the too,
Bettur schapen myght non goo,
Nor none semelyer yn syght.
Twyes sche turnyd hur abowte
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Betwene the Erlys that were stowte,
For the Erle schulde hur see.
When sche spake wyth mylde stevyn,
Sche semyd an aungell of hevyn,
So feyre sche was of blee!
Hur syde longe, hur myddyll small;
Schouldurs, armes therwythall,
Fayrer myght non bee;
Hur hondys whyte as whallys bonne,
Wyth fyngurs longe and ryngys upon;
Hur nayles bryght of blee.
When he had beholden hur welle,
The lady wente to hur chapell,
Masse for to here;
The Erle stode on that odur syde;
Hys eyen fro hur myght he not hyde,
So lovely sche was of chere!
He seyde, 'Lorde God, full of myght,
Leve y were so worthy a knyght,
That y myght be hur fere,
And that sche no husbonde hadde,
All the golde that evyr God made
To me were not so dere!'
When the masse come to ende,
The lady, that was feyre and hende,
To the chaumbur can sche fare;
The Erle syghed and was full woo
Owt of hys syght when sche schulde goo;
Hys mornyng was the mare.
The Erle seyde, 'So God me save,
Of hur almes y wolde crave,
Yf hur wylle ware;
Myght y oght gete of that free,
Eche a day hur to see
Hyt wolde covyr me of my care.' 2
The Erle knelyd down anon ryght
And askyd gode, for God allmyght,
That dyed on the tree.
The Emperes callyd a knyght:
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'Forty floranse that ben bryght,
Anone brynge thou mee.'
To that armyte sche hyt payde;
Of hur fyngyr a rynge she layde
Amonge that golde so free;
He thankyd hur ofte, as y yow say.
To the chaumbyr wente that lady gay,
There hur was leveste to bee.
The Erle wente home to hys ynnys,
And grete joye he begynnys
When he founde the rynge;
Yn hys herte he waxe blythe
And kyssyd hyt fele sythe,
And seyde, 'My dere derlynge,
On thy fyngyr thys was!
Wele ys me, y have thy grace
Of the to have thys rynge!
Yf evyr y gete grace of the Quene
That any love betwene us bene,
Thys may be our tokenyng.'
The Erle, also soone os hyt was day,
Toke hys leve and wente hys way
Home to hys cuntré;
Syr Trylabas he thanked faste:
'Of thys dede thou done me haste,
Well qwyt schall hyt bee.'
They kyssyd togedur as gode frende;
Syr Trylabas home can wende,
There evell mote he thee!
A traytory he thoght to doo
Yf he myght come thertoo;
So schrewde in herte was hee!
Anon he callyd two knyghtys,
Hardy men at all syghtys;
Bothe were of hys kynne.
'Syrs,' he seyde, 'wythowt fayle,
Yf ye wyl do be my counsayle,
Grete worschyp schulde ye wynne;
Knowe ye the Erle of Tollous?
89
Moche harme he hath done us;
Hys boste y rede we blynne;
Yf ye wyll do aftur my redde,
Thys day he schall be dedde,
So God save me fro synne!'
That oon knyght Kaunters, that odur Kaym;
Falser men myght no man rayme,
Certys, then were thoo;
Syr Trylabas was the thrydde;
Hyt was no mystur them to bydde
Aftur the Erle to goo.
At a brygge they hym mett;
Wyth harde strokes they hym besett,
As men that were hys foo;
The Erle was a man of mayn:
Faste he faght them agayne,
And soone he slew two.
The thrydde fledde and blewe owt faste;
The Erle ovyrtoke hym at the laste:
Hys hedd he clofe in three.
The cuntrey gedryrd abowte hym faste,
And aftur hym yorne they chaste:
An hundred there men myght see.
The Erle of them was agaste:
At the laste fro them he paste;
Fayne he was to flee;
Fro them he wente into a waste;
To reste hym there he toke hys caste:
A wery man was hee.
All the nyght in that foreste
The gentyll Erle toke hys reste:
He had no nodur woon.
When hyt dawed, he rose up soone
And thankyd God that syttyth in trone,
That he had scapyd hys foon;
That day he travaylyd many a myle,
And ofte he was in grete parylle,
Be the way os he can gone,
Tyll he come to a fayre castell,
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There hym was levyst to dwelle,
Was made of lyme and stone.
Of hys comyng hys men were gladde.
'Be ye mery, my men,' he badde,
'For nothyng ye spare;
The Emperour, wythowte lees,
Y trowe, wyll let us be in pees.
And warre on us no mare.'
Thus dwellyd the Erle in that place
Wyth game, myrthe, and grete solase,
Ryght os hym levyst ware.
Let we now the Erle alloon,
And speke we of Dame Beulyboon,
How sche was caste in care.
The Emperoure lovyd hys wyfe
Also so moche os hys own lyfe,
And more, yf he myght;
He chose two knyghtys that were hym dere,
Whedur that he were ferre or nere,
To kepe hur day and nyght.
That oon hys love on hur caste:
So dud the todur at the laste,
Sche was feyre and bryght!
Nothyr of othyr wyste ryght noght,
So derne love on them wroght,
To dethe they were nere dyght.
So hyt befell upon a day,
That oon can to that othyr say,
'Syr, also muste y thee,
Methynkyth thou fadyste all away,
Os man that ys clongyn in clay,
So pale waxeth thy blee!'
Then seyde that other, 'Y make avowe,
Ryght so, methynketh, fareste thou,
Whysoevyr hyt bee;
Tell me thy cawse, why hyt ys,
And y schall telle the myn, ywys:
My trouthe y plyght to thee.'
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'Y graunte,' he seyde, 'wythowt fayle,
But loke hyt be trewe counsayle!'
Therto hys trowthe he plyght.
He seyde, 'My lady the Emperes,
For love of hur y am in grete dystresse;
To dethe hyt wyll me dyght.'
Then seyde that othyr, 'Certenly,
Wythowte drede, so fare y
For that lady bryght;
Syn owre love ys on hur sett,
How myght owre bale beste be bett?
Canste thou rede on ryght?'
Then seyde that othyr, 'Be Seynt John,
Bettur counsayle can y noon,
Methynkyth, then ys thys:
Y rede that oon of us twoo
Prevely to hyr goo
And pray hur of hur blys;
Y myselfe wyll go hyr tylle;
Yn case y may gete hur wylle,
Of myrthe schalt thou not mys;
Thou schalt take us wyth the dede:
Leste thou us wrye sche wyll drede,
And graunte the thy wylle, ywys.'
Thus they were at oon assent;
Thys false thefe forthe wente
To wytt the ladyes wylle.
Yn chaumbyr he founde hyr so free;
He sett hym downe on hys knee,
Hys purpose to fulfylle.
Than spake that lady free,
'Syr, y see now well be the,
Thou haste not all thy wylle;
On thy sekeness now y see;
Telle me now thy prevyté,
Why thou mornyst so stylle.'
'Lady,' he seyde, 'that durste y noght
For all the gode that evyr was wroght,
Be grete God invysybylle,
92
But on a booke yf ye wyll swere
That ye schull not me dyskere,
Then were hyt possybyll.'
Then seyde the lady, 'How may that bee?
That thou darste not tryste to mee,
Hyt ys full orybylle.
Here my trowthe to the y plyght:
Y schall heyle the day and nyght,
Also trewe as boke or belle.'
'Lady, in yow ys all my tryste;
Inwardely y wolde ye wyste
What payne y suffur you fore;
Y drowpe, y dare nyght and day;
My wele, my wytt ys all away,
But ye leve on my lore;
Y have yow lovyd many a day,
But to yow durste y nevyr say My mornyng ys the more!
But ye do aftur my rede,
Certenly, y am but dede:
Of my lyfe ys no store.'
Than answeryd that lovely lyfe:
'Syr, wele thou wottyst y am a wyfe:
My lorde ys Emperoure;
He chase the for a trewe knyght,
To kepe me bothe day and nyght
Undur thy socowre.
To do that dede yf y assente,
Y were worthy to be brente
And broght in grete doloure;
Thou art a traytour in thy sawe,
Worthy to be hanged and to-drawe
Be Mary, that swete floure!'
'A, madam!' seyde the knyght,
'For the love of God almyght,
Hereon take no hede!
Yn me ye may full wele tryste ay;
Y dud nothyng but yow to affray,
Also God me spede!
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Thynke, madam, youre trowthe ys plyght
To holde counsayle bothe day and nyght
Fully, wythowte drede;
Y aske mercy for Goddys ore!
Hereof yf y carpe more,
Let drawe me wyth a stede!'
The lady seyde, 'Y the forgeve;
Also longe os y leve,
Counsayle schall hyt bee;
Loke thou be a trewe man
In all thyng that thou can,
To my lorde so free.'
'Yys, lady, ellys dyd y wronge,
For y have servyd hym longe,
And wele he hath qwytt mee.'
Hereof spake he no mare,
But to hys felowe can he fare,
There evyll must they the!
Thus to hys felowe ys he gon,
And he hym frayned anon,
'Syr, how haste thou spedde?'
'Ryght noght,' seyde that othyr:
'Syth y was borne, lefe brothyr,
Was y nevyr so adredde;
Certys, hyt ys a boteles bale
To hur to touche soche a tale
At borde or at bedde.'
Then sayde that odur, 'Thy wytt ys thynne:
Y myselfe schall hur wynne:
Y lay my hedde to wedde!'
Thus hyt passyd ovyr, os y yow say,
Tyl aftur on the thrydde day
Thys knyght hym bethoght:
'Certys, spede os y may,
My ladyes wylle, that ys so gay,
Hyt schall be thorowly soght.'
When he sawe hur in beste mode,
Sore syghyng to hur he yode,
Of lyfe os he ne roght.
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'Lady,' he seyde, 'wythowte fayle,
But ye helpe me wyth yowre counsayle,
Yn bale am y broght.'
Sche answeryd full curtesly,
'My counsayle schall be redy.
Telle me how hyt ys;
When y wott worde and ende,
Yf my counsayle may hyt mende,
Hyt schall, so have y blysse!'
'Lady,' he seyde, 'y undurstonde
Ye muste holde up yowre honde
To holde counsayle, ywys.'
'Yys,' seyde the lady free,
'Thereto my trouthe here to the,
And ellys y dudde amys.'
'Madam,' he seyde, 'now y am in tryste;
All my lyfe thogh ye wyste,
Ye wolde me not dyskevere;
For yow y am in so grete thoght,
Yn moche bale y am broght,
Wythowte othe y swere;
And ye may full wele see,
How pale y am of blee:
Y dye nere for dere;
Dere lady, graunt me youre love,
For the love of God, that sytteth above,
That stongen was wyth a spere.'
'Syr,' sche seyde, 'ys that youre wylle?
Yf hyt were myne, then dyd y ylle;
What woman holdyst thou me?
Yn thy kepeyng y have ben:
What haste thou herde be me or sene
That touchyth to any velanye,
That thou in herte art so bolde
Os y were a hore or a scolde?
Nay, that schall nevyr bee!
Had y not hyght to holde counsayle,
Thou schouldest be honged, wythowt fayle,
Upon a galowe tree.'
95
The knyght was nevyr so sore aferde
Sythe he was borne into myddyllerde,
Certys, os he was thoo.
'Mercy,' he seyde, 'gode madam!
Wele y wott y am to blame;
Therfore myn herte ys woo!
Lady, let me not be spylte;
Y aske mercy of my gylte!
On lyve ye let me goo.'
The lady seyde, 'Y graunte wele;
Hyt schall be counseyle, every dele,
But do no more soo.'
Now the knyght forthe yede
And seyde, 'Felowe, y may not spede.
What ys thy beste redde?
Yf sche telle my lorde of thys,
We be but dedde, so have y blys:
Wyth hym be we not fedde.
Womans tonge ys evell to tryste;
Certys, and my lorde hyt wyste,
Etyn were all owre bredde.
Felow, so mote y ryde or goo,
Or sche wayte us wyth that woo,
Hurselfe schall be dedde!'
'How myght that be?' that othur sayde;
'Yn herte y wolde be wele payde,
Myght we do that dede.'
'Yys, syr,' he seyde, 'so have y roo,
Y schall brynge hur wele thertoo;
Therof have thou no drede.
Or hyt passe dayes three,
In mekyll sorowe schall sche bee:
Thus y schall qwyte hur hur mede.'
Now are they bothe at oon assente
In sorow to brynge that lady gente:
The devell mote them spede!
Sone hyt drowe toward nyght;
To soper they can them dyght,
96
The Emperes and they all;
The two knyghtys grete yapys made,
For to make the lady glade,
That was bothe gentyll and small;
When the sopertyme was done,
To the chaumbyr they went soone,
Knyghtys cladde in palle
They daunsed and revelyd, os they noght dredde,
To brynge the lady to hur bedde:
There foule muste them falle!
That oon thefe callyd a knyght
That was carver to that lady bryght;
An Erleys sone was hee;
He was a feyre chylde and a bolde;
Twenty wyntur he was oolde:
In londe was none so free.
'Syr, wylt thou do os we the say?
And we schall ordeygne us a play,
That my lady may see.
Thou schalt make hur to lagh soo,
Thogh sche were gretly thy foo,
Thy frende schulde sche bee.'
The chylde answeryd anon ryght:
'Be the ordur y bere of knyght,
Therof wolde y be fayne,
And hyt wolde my lady plese,
Thogh hyt wolde me dysese,
To renne yn wynde and rayne.'
'Syr, make the nakyd save thy breke;
And behynde the yondur curtayn thou crepe,
And do os y schall sayne;
Then schalt thou see a joly play!'
'Y graunte,' thys yonge knyght can say,
'Be God and Seynte Jermayne.'
Thys chylde thoght on no ylle:
Of he caste hys clothys stylle;
And behynde the curtayn he went.
They seyde to hym, 'What so befalle,
Come not owt tyll we the calle.'
97
And he seyde, 'Syrs, y assente.'
They revelyd forthe a grete whyle;
No man wyste of ther gyle
Save they two, veramente.
They voyded the chaumber sone anon;
The chylde they lafte syttyng alone,
And that lady gente.
Thys lady lay in bedde on slepe;
Of treson toke sche no kepe,
For therof wyste sche noght.
Thys chylde had wonder evyr among
Why these knyghtys were so longe:
He was in many a thoght.
'Lorde, mercy! How may thys bee?
Y trowe they have forgeten me,
That me hedur broght;
Yf y them calle, sche wyll be adredd,
My lady lyeth here in hur bede,
Be Hym that all hath wroght!'
Thus he sate stylle as any stone:
He durste not store nor make no mone
To make the lady afryght.
Thes false men ay worthe them woo!,
To ther chaumbur can they goo
And armyd them full ryght;
Lordys owte of bedde can they calle
And badde arme them, grete and smalle:
'Anone that ye were dyght,
And helpe to take a false traytoure
That wyth my lady in hur bowre
Hath playde hym all thys nyght.'
Sone they were armyd everychone;
And wyth these traytours can they gone,
The lordys that there wore.
To the Emperes chaumber they cam ryght
Wyth torchys and wyth swerdys bryght
Brennyng them before.
Behynde the curtayne they wente;
The yonge knyght, verrament,
98
Nakyd founde they thore.
That oon thefe wyth a swerde of were
Thorow the body he can hym bere,
That worde spake he no more.
The lady woke and was afryght,
Whan sche sawe the grete lyght
Before hur beddys syde.
Sche seyde, 'Benedycyté!'
Syrs, what men be yee?'
And wonder lowde sche cryedd.
Hur enemyes mysansweryd thore
'We are here, thou false hore:
Thy dedys we have aspyedd!
Thou haste betrayed my lorde;
Thou schalt have wonduryng in thys worde:
Thy loos schall sprynge wyde!'
The lady seyde, 'Be Seynte John,
Hore was y nevyr none,
Nor nevyr thoght to bee.'
'Thou lyest,' they seyde, 'thy love ys lorne' The corse they leyde hur beforne 'Lo, here ys thy lemman free!
Thus we have for they hym hytt;
Thy horedam schall be wele quytte:
Fro us schalt thou not flee!'
They bonde the lady wondyr faste
And in a depe preson hur caste:
Grete dele hyt was to see!
Leve we now thys lady in care,
And to hur lorde wyll we fare,
That ferre was hur froo.
On a nyght, wythowt lette,
In hys slepe a swevyn he mett,
The story telleth us soo.
Hym thoght ther come two wylde borys
And hys wyfe all toterys
And rofe hur body in twoo;
Hymselfe was a wytty man,
And be that dreme he hopyd than
99
Hys lady was in woo.
Yerly, when the day was clere,
He bad hys men all in fere
To buske and make them yare.
Somer horsys he let go before
And charyettes stuffud wyth stoore
Wele twelve myle and mare.
He hopud wele in hys herte
That hys wyfe was not in querte;
Hys herte therfore was in care;
He styntyd not tyll he was dyght,
Wyth erlys, barons, and many a knyght;
Homeward can they fare.
Nyght ne day nevyr they blanne,
Tyll to that cyté they came
There the lady was ynne.
Wythowt the cyté lordys them kepyd;
For wo in herte many oon wepyd:
There teerys myght they not blynne.
They supposyd wele yf he hyt wyste
That hys wyfe had soche a bryste,
Hys yoye wolde be full thynne;
They ladden stedys to the stabyll,
And the lorde into the halle,
To worschyp hym wyth wynne.
Anon to the chaumbur wendyth he:
He longyd hys feyre lady to see,
That was so swete a wyght.
He callyd them that schoulde hur kepe:
'Where ys my wyfe? Ys sche on slepe?
How fareth that byrde bryght?'
The two traytours answeryd anone,
'Yf ye wyste how sche had done,
To dethe sche schulde be dyght.'
'A, devyll!' he seyde, 'how soo,
To dethe that sche ys worthy to go?
Tell me, in what manere.'
'Syr,' they seyd, 'be Goddys ore,
100
The yonge knyght Syr Antore,
That was hur kervere,
Be that lady he hath layne,
And therfore we have hym slayne;
We founde them in fere;
Sche ys in preson, verrament;
The lawe wyll that sche be brente,
Be God, that boght us dere.'
'Allas!' seyde the Emperoure,
'Hath sche done me thys dyshonoure?
And y lovyd hur so wele!
Y wende for all thys worldys gode
That sche wolde not have turned hur mode:
My joye begynnyth to kele.'
He hente a knyfe wyth all hys mayn;
Had not a knyght ben, he had hym slayn,
And that traytour have broght owt of heele.
For bale hys armes abrode he bredde
And fell in swowne upon hys bedde;
There myght men see grete dele.
On the morne be oon assente,
On hur they sett a perlyament
Be all the comyn rede.
They myght not fynde in ther counsayle
Be no lawe, wythowt fayle,
To save hur fro the dede.
Then bespake an olde knyght,
'Y have wondur, be Goddys myght,
That Syr Antore thus was bestedde,
In chaumbyr thogh he naked were;
They let hym gyf none answere,
But slowe hym, be my hedde!
Ther was nevyr man, sekurly,
That be hur founde any velany,
Save they two, y dar wele say;
Be some hatered hyt may be;
Therfore doyth aftur me
For my love, y yow pray.
No mo wyll preve hyt but they twoo;
101
Therfore we may not save hur fro woo,
For sothe, os y yow say,
In hyr quarell but we myght fynde
A man that were gode of kynde
That durste fyght agayn them tway.'
All they assentyd to the sawe:
They thoght he spake reson and lawe.
Then answeryd the Kyng wyth crowne,
'Fayre falle the for thyn avyse.'
He callyd knyghtys of nobyll pryce
And badde them be redy bowne
For to crye thorow all the londe,
Bothe be see and be sonde,
Yf they fynde mowne
A man that ys so moche of myght,
That for that lady dar take the fyght,
'He schall have hys warison.'
Messangerys, y undurstonde,
Cryed thorow all the londe
In many a ryche cyté,
Yf any man durste prove hys myght
In trewe quarell for to fyght,
Wele avaunsed schulde he bee.
The Erle of Tullous harde thys telle,
What anger the lady befell;
Thereof he thoght grete pyté.
Yf he wyste that sche had ryght,
He wolde aventure hys lyfe to fyght
For that lady free.
For hur he morned nyght and day,
And to hymselfe can he say
He wolde aventure hys lyfe:
'Yf y may wytt that sche be trewe,
They that have hur accused schull rewe,
But they stynte of ther stryfe.'
The Erle seyde, 'Be Seynte John,
Ynto Almayn wyll y goon,
Where y have fomen ryfe;
I prey to God full of myght
102
That y have trewe quarell to fyght,
Owt of wo to wynne that wyfe.'
He rode on huntyng on a day,
A marchand mett he be the way,
And asked hym of whens he was.
'Lorde,' he seyde, 'of Almayn.'
Anon the Erle can hym frayne
Of that ylke case:
'Wherefore ys yowre Emperes
Put in so grete dystresse?
Telle me, for Goddys grace.
Ys sche gylté, so mote thou the?'
'Nay, be Hym that dyed on tree,
That schope man aftur Hys face.'
Then seyde the Erle, wythowte lett,
'When ys the day sett
Brente that sche schulde bee?'
The marchande seyde sekyrlyke,
'Evyn thys day thre wyke,
And therfore wo ys mee.'
The Erle seyde, 'Y schall the telle:
Gode horsys y have to selle,
And stedys two or thre:
Certys, myght y selle them yare,
Thedur wyth the wolde y fare,
That syght for to see.'
The marchand seyd wordys hende:
'Into the londe yf ye wyll wende,
Hyt wolde be for yowre prowe,
There may ye selle them at your wylle.'
Anon the Erle seyde hym tylle,
'Syr, herkyn me nowe:
Thys jurney wylt thou wyth me dwelle
Twenty pownde y schall the telle
To mede, y make avowe!'
The marchand grauntyd anon;
The Erle seyde, 'Be Seynt John,
Thy wylle y alowe.'
103
The Erle tolde hym in that tyde
Where he schulde hym abyde,
And homeward wente hee.
He busked hym, that no man wyste,
For mekyll on hym was hys tryste.
He seyde, 'Syr, go wyth mee!'
Wyth them they toke stedys sevyn Ther were no fayre undyr hevyn
That any man myght see.
Into Almayn they can ryde:
As a coresur of mekyll pryde
He semyd for to bee.
The marchand was a trewe gyde;
The Erle and he togedur can ryde,
Tyll they came to that place.
A myle besyde the castell
There the Emperoure can dwelle,
A ryche abbey ther was;
Of the abbot leve they gatt
To sojorne and make ther horsys fatt;
That was a nobyll case!
The abbot was the ladyes eme;
For hur he was in grete wandreme,
And moche mornyng he mase.
So hyt befell upon a day,
To churche the Erle toke the way,
A masse for to here.
He was a feyre man and an hye;
When the abbot hym sye,
He seyde, 'Syr, come nere:
Syr, when the masse ys done,
Y pray yow, ete wyth me at noone,
Yf yowre wylle were.'
The Erle grauntyd all wyth game;
Afore mete they wysche all same,
And to mete they wente in fere.
Aftur mete, as y yow say,
Into an orchard they toke the way,
The abbot and the knyght.
104
The abbot seyde and syghed sare;
'Certys, Syr, y leve in care
For a lady bryght;
Sche ys accusyd - my herte ys woo! Therfore sche schall to dethe goo,
All agayne the ryght;
But sche have helpe, verrament,
In fyre sche schall be brente
Thys day sevenyght.'
The Erle seyde, 'So have y blysse,
Of hyr, methynkyth, grete rewthe hyt ys,
Trewe yf that sche bee!'
The abbot seyde, 'Be Seynte Poule,
For hur y dar ley my soule
That nevyr gylté was sche;
Soche werkys nevyr sche wroght
Neythyr in dede nor in thoght,
Save a rynge so free
To the Erle of Tullous sche gafe hyt wyth wynne,
Yn ese of hym and for no synne:
In schryfte thus tolde sche me.'
The Erle seyde, 'Syth hyt ys soo,
Cryste wreke hur of hur woo,
That boght hur wyth Hys bloode!
Wolde ye sekyr me, wythowt fayle,
For to holde trewe counsayle,
Hyt myght be for yowre gode.'
The abbot seyde be bokes fele
And be hys professyon, that he wolde hele,
And ellys he were wode.
'Y am he that sche gaf the rynge
For to be oure tokenynge.
Now heyle hyt, for the Rode!
Y am comyn, lefe syr,
To take the batyle for hyr,
There to stonde wyth ryght;
But fyrste myselfe y wole hur schryve,
And yf y fynde hur clene of lyve,
Then wyll my herte be lyght.
105
Let dyght me in monkys wede
To that place that men schulde hyr lede,
To dethe to be dyght;
When y have schrevyn hyr, wythowt fayle,
For hur y wyll take batayle,
As y am trewe knyght!'
The abbot was nevyr so gladde;
Nere for joye he waxe madde;
The Erle can he kysse;
They made meré and slewe care.
All that sevenyght he dwellyd thare
Yn myrthe wythowt mysse.
That day that the lady schulde be brent,
The Erle wyth the abbot wente
In monkys wede, ywys;
To the Emperour he knelys blyve,
That he myght that lady schryve:
Anon resceyved he ys.
He examyned hur, wyttyrly,
As hyt seythe in the story;
Sche was wythowte gylte.
Sche seyde, 'Be Hym that dyed on tree,
Trespas was nevyr none in me
Wherefore y schulde be spylte;
Save oonys, wythowte lesynge,
To the Erle of Tollous y gafe a rynge:
Assoyle me yf thou wylte;
But thus my destanye ys comyn to ende,
That in thys fyre y muste be brende;
There Goddys wylle be fulfyllyt.'
The Erle assoyled hur wyth hys honde,
And sythen pertely he can up stonde
And seyde, 'Lordyngys, pese!
Ye that have accused thys lady gente,
Ye be worthy to be brente.'
That oon knyght made a rees:
'Thou carle monke, wyth all thy gynne,
Thowe youre abbot be of hur kynne,
Hur sorowe schalt thou not cees;
106
Ryght so thou woldyst sayne
Thowe all youre covent had be hyr layne;
So are ye lythyr and lees!'
The Erle answeryd, wyth wordys free,
'Syr, that oon y trowe thou bee
Thys lady accused has.
Thowe we be men of relygyon,
Thou schalt do us but reson
For all the fare thou mas.
Y prove on hur thou sayst not ryght.
Lo, here my glove wyth the to fyght!
Y undyrtake thys case;
Os false men y schall yow kenne;
Yn redde fyre for to brenne;
Therto God gyf me grace!'
All that stoden in that place
Thankyd God of hys grace,
Wythowte any fayle.
The two knyghtys were full wrothe:
He schulde be dedde, they swere grete othe;
But hyt myght not avayle.
The Erle wente there besyde
And armyd hym wyth mekyll pryde,
Hys enemyes to assayle.
Manly when they togedur mett,
They hewe thorow helme and basenet
And martyrd many a mayle.
They redyn togedur, wythowt lakk,
That hys oon spere on hym brakk;
That othyr faylyd thoo;
The Erle smote hym wyth hys spere;
Thorow the body he can hym bere:
To grounde can he goo.
That sawe that odyr, and faste can flee;
The Erle ovyrtoke hym undur a tre
And wroght hym mekyll woo;
There thys traytour can hym yylde
Os recreaunt yn the fylde;
He myght not fle hym froo.
107
Before the Emperoure they wente
And there he made hym, verrament,
To telle for the noonys.
He seyde, 'We thoght hur to spylle,
For sche wolde not do oure wylle,
That worthy ys in wonnys.'
The Erle answeryd hym then,
'Therfore, traytours, ye schall brenne
Yn thys fyre, bothe at onys!'
The Erle anon them hente,
And in the fyre he them brente,
Flesche, felle, and boonys.
When they were brent bothe twoo,
The Erle prevely can goo
To that ryche abbaye.
Wyth joye and processyon
They fett the lady into the towne,
Wyth myrthe, os y telle may.
The Emperoure was full gladde:
'Fette me the monke!' anon he badde,
'Why wente he so awaye?
A byschoperyke y wyll hym geve,
My helpe, my love, whyll y leve,
Be God that owyth thys day!'
The abbot knelyd on hys knee
And seyde, 'Lorde, gone ys hee
To hys owne londe;
He dwellyth wyth the pope of Rome;
He wyll be glad of hys come,
Y do yow to undurstonde.'
'Syr abbot,' quod the Emperoure,
'To me hyt were a dyshonoure;
Soche wordes y rede thou wonde;
Anone yn haste that y hym see,
Or thou schalt nevyr have gode of me,
And therto here myn honde!'
'Lorde,' he seyde, 'sythe hyt ys soo
Aftur hym that y muste goo,
108
Ye muste make me sewrté,
Yn case he have byn youre foo,
Ye schall not do hym no woo;
And then, also mote y thee,
Aftur hym y wyll wynde,
So that ye wyll be hys frende,
Yf youre wylle bee.'
'Yys,' seyd the Emperoure full fayne,
'All my kynne thogh he had slayne,
He ys welcome to mee.'
Then spake the abbot wordys free:
'Lorde, y tryste now on thee:
Ye wyll do os ye sey;
Hyt ys Syr Barnard of Tollous,
A nobyll knyght and a chyvalrous,
That hath done thys jurney.'
'Now certys,' seyde the Emperoure,
'To me hyt ys grete dyshonoure;
Anon, Syr, y the pray
Aftur hym that thou wende:
We schall kysse and be gode frende,
Be God, that owyth thys day!'
The abbot seyde, 'Y assente.'
Aftur the Erle anon he wente,
And seyde, 'Syr, go wyth mee:
My lorde and ye, be Seynt John,
Schull be made bothe at oon,
Goode frendys for to bee.'
Therof the Erle was full fayne;
The Emperoure came hym agayne
And sayde, 'My frende so free,
My wrath here y the forgeve,
My helpe, my love, whyll y leve,
Be Hym that dyed on tree!'
Togedur lovely can they kysse;
Therof all men had grete blysse:
The romaunse tellyth soo.
He made hym steward of hys londe
And sesyd agayne into hys honde
109
That he had rafte hym froo.
The Emperoure levyd but yerys thre;
Be alexion of the lordys free,
The Erle toke they thoo.
They made hym ther Emperoure,
For he was styffe yn stoure
To fyght agayne hys foo.
He weddyd that lady to hys wyfe;
Wyth joye and myrthe they ladde ther lyfe
Twenty yere and three.
Betwene them had they chyldyr fifteen,
Doghty knyghtys all bedene,
And semely on to see.
Yn Rome thys geste cronyculyd ywys;
A lay of Bretayne callyd hyt ys,
And evyr more schall bee.
Jhesu Cryste to hevyn us brynge,
There to have owre wonnyng!
Amen, amen, for charytee!
~ Anonymous,#NFDB
278:1052
The Tale Of Gamelyn
Fitt 1
Lithes and listneth and harkeneth aright,
And ye shul here of a doughty knyght;
Sire John of Boundes was his name,
He coude of norture and of mochel game.
Thre sones the knyght had and with his body he wan,
The eldest was a moche schrewe and sone bygan.
His brether loved wel her fader and of hym were agast,
The eldest deserved his faders curs and had it atte last.
The good knight his fadere lyved so yore,
That deth was comen hym to and handled hym ful sore.
The good knyght cared sore sik ther he lay,
How his children shuld lyven after his day.
He had bene wide where but non husbonde he was,
Al the londe that he had it was purchas.
Fayn he wold it were dressed amonge hem alle,
That eche of hem had his parte as it myght falle.
Thoo sente he in to contrey after wise knyghtes
To helpen delen his londes and dressen hem to-rightes.
He sent hem word by letters thei shul hie blyve,
If thei wolle speke with hym whilst he was alyve.
Whan the knyghtes harden sik that he lay,
Had thei no rest neither nyght ne day,
Til thei come to hym ther he lay stille
On his dethes bedde to abide goddys wille.
Than seide the good knyght seke ther he lay,
'Lordes, I you warne for soth, without nay,
I may no lenger lyven here in this stounde;
For thorgh goddis wille deth droueth me to grounde.'
Ther nas noon of hem alle that herd hym aright,
That thei ne had routh of that ilk knyght,
And seide, 'Sir, for goddes love dismay you nought;
God may don boote of bale that is now ywrought.'
Than speke the good knyght sik ther he lay,
'Boote of bale God may sende I wote it is no nay;
But I beseche you knyghtes for the love of me,
Goth and dresseth my londes amonge my sones thre.
1053
And for the love of God deleth not amyss,
And forgeteth not Gamelyne my yonge sone that is.
Taketh hede to that oon as wel as to that other;
Seelde ye seen eny hier helpen his brother.'
Thoo lete thei the knyght lyen that was not in hele,
And wenten into counselle his londes for to dele;
For to delen hem alle to on that was her thought.
And for Gamelyn was yongest he shuld have nought.
All the londe that ther was thei dalten it in two,
And lete Gamelyne the yonge without londe goo,
And eche of hem seide to other ful loude,
His bretheren myght yeve him londe whan he good cowde.
And whan thei had deled the londe at her wille,
They commen to the knyght ther he lay stille,
And tolde him anoon how thei had wrought;
And the knight ther he lay liked it right nought.
Than seide the knyght, 'Be Seint Martyne,
For al that ye han done yit is the londe myne;
For Goddis love, neighbours stondeth alle stille,
And I wil delen my londe after myn owne wille.
John, myne eldest sone shal have plowes fyve,
That was my faders heritage whan he was alyve;
And my myddelest sone fyve plowes of londe,
That I halpe forto gete with my right honde;
And al myn other purchace of londes and ledes
That I biquethe Gamelyne and alle my good stedes.
And I biseche you, good men that lawe conne of londe,
For Gamelynes love that my quest stonde.'
Thus dalt the knyght his londe by his day,
Right on his deth bed sik ther he lay;
And sone afterward he lay stoon stille,
And deide whan tyme come as it was Cristes wille.
Anoon as he was dede and under gras grave,
Sone the elder brother giled the yonge knave;
He toke into his honde his londe and his lede,
And Gamelyne him selven to clothe and to fede.
He clothed him and fedde him evell and eke wroth,
And lete his londes forfare and his houses bothe,
His parkes and his wodes and did no thing welle;
1054
And sithen he it abought on his owne felle.
So longe was Gamelyne in his brothers halle,
For the strengest, of good will they douted hym alle;
Ther was noon therinne neither yonge ne olde,
That wolde wroth Gamelyne were he never so bolde.
Gamelyne stood on a day in his brotheres yerde,
And byganne with his hond to handel his berde;
He thought on his landes that lay unsowe,
And his fare okes that doune were ydrawe;
His parkes were broken and his deer reved;
Of alle his good stedes noon was hym byleved;
His hous were unhilled and ful evell dight;
Tho thought Gamelyne it went not aright.
Afterward come his brother walking thare,
And seide to Gamelyne, 'Is our mete yare?'
Tho wrathed him Gamelyne and swore by Goddys boke,
'Thow schalt go bake thi self I wil not be thi coke!'
'What? brother Gamelyne howe answerst thou nowe?
Thou spekest nevere such a worde as thou dost nowe.'
'By feithe,' seide Gamelyne 'now me thenketh nede;
Of al the harmes that I have I toke never yit hede.
My parkes bene broken and my dere reved,
Of myn armes ne my stedes nought is byleved;
Alle that my fader me byquathe al goth to shame,
And therfor have thou Goddes curs brother be thi name!'
Than spake his brother that rape was and rees,
'Stond stille, gadlynge and holde thi pees;
Thou shalt be fayn to have thi mete and thi wede;
What spekest thow, gadelinge of londe or of lede?'
Than seide Gamelyne the child so yinge,
'Cristes curs mote he have that me clepeth gadelinge!
I am no wors gadeling ne no wors wight,
But born of a lady and gete of a knyght.'
Ne dorst he not to Gamelyn never a foot goo,
But cleped to hym his men and seide to hem thoo,
'Goth and beteth this boye and reveth hym his witte,
And lat him lerne another tyme to answere me bette.'
Than seide the childe yonge Gamelyne,
1055
'Cristes curs mote thou have brother art thou myne!
And if I shal algates be beten anoon,
Cristes curs mote thou have but thou be that oon!'
And anon his brother in that grete hete
Made his men to fette staves Gamelyn to bete.
Whan every of hem had a staf ynomen,
Gamelyn was werre whan he segh hem comen;
Whan Gamelyne segh hem comen he loked overall,
And was ware of a pestel stode under the wall;
Gamelyn was light and thider gan he lepe,
And droof alle his brotheres men right sone on an hepe
And loked as a wilde lyon and leide on good wone;
And whan his brother segh that he byganne to gon;
He fley up into a loft and shette the door fast;
Thus Gamelyn with his pestel made hem al agast.
Some for Gamelyns love and some for eye,
Alle they droughen hem to halves whan he gan to pleye.
'What now!' seyde Gamelyne 'evel mot ye the!
Wil ye bygynne contecte and so sone flee?'
Gamelyn sought his brother whider he was flowe,
And seghe where he loked out a wyndowe.
'Brother,' sayde Gamelyne 'com a litel nere,
And I wil teche thee a play at the bokelere.'
His brother him answerde and seide by Seint Richere,
'The while that pestel is in thine honde I wil come no nere;
Brother, I will make thi pees I swer by Cristes oore;
Cast away the pestel and wrethe the no more.'
'I most nede,' seide Gamelyn, 'wreth me at onys,
For thou wold make thi men to breke my bonys,
Ne had I hadde mayn and myght in myn armes,
To han hem fro me thei wold have done me harmes.'
'Gamelyn,' seide his brother, 'be thou not wroth,
For to sene the han harme me were right loth;
I ne did it not, brother, but for a fondinge,
For to loken wher thou art stronge and art so yenge.'
'Come adoune than to me and graunt me my bone
Of oon thing I wil the axe and we shal saught sone.'
Doune than come his brother that fikel was and felle,
And was swith sore afeerd of the pestelle.
He seide, 'Brother Gamelyn axe me thi bone,
1056
And loke thou me blame but I it graunte sone.'
Than seide Gamelyn 'Brother, iwys,
And we shul be at one thou most graunte me this:
Alle that my fader me byquath whilst he was alyve,
Thow most do me it have if we shul not strive.'
'That shalt thou have, Gamelyn I swere be Cristes oore!
Al that thi fadere the byquathe, though thou wolde have more;
Thy londe that lith ley wel it shal be sawe,
And thine houses reised up that bene leide ful lawe.'
Thus seide the knyght to Gamelyn with mouthe,
And thought on falsnes as he wel couthe.
The knyght thought on tresoun and Gamelyn on noon,
And wente and kissed his brother and whan thei were at oon
Alas, yonge Gamelyne no thinge he ne wist
With such false tresoun his brother him kist!
Fitt 2
Lytheneth, and listeneth, and holdeth your tonge,
And ye shul here talking of Gamelyn the yonge.
Ther was there bisiden cride a wrastelinge,
And therfore ther was sette a ramme and a ringe;
And Gamelyn was in wille to wende therto,
Forto preven his myght what he coude doo.
'Brothere,' seide Gamelyn, 'by Seint Richere,
Thow most lene me tonyght a litel coursere
That is fresshe for the spore on forto ride;
I moste on an erande a litel here beside.'
'By god!' seide his brothere 'of stedes in my stalle
Goo and chese the the best spare noon of hem alle
Of stedes and of coursers that stoden hem byside;
And telle me, good brother, whider thou wilt ride.'
'Here beside, brother is cried a wrastelinge,
And therfore shal be sette a ram and a ringe;
Moche worschip it were brother to us alle,
Might I the ram and the ringe bringe home to this halle.'
A stede ther was sadeled smertly and skete;
Gamelyn did a peire spores fast on his fete.
He sette his foote in the stirop the stede he bistrode,
And towardes the wrastelinge the yonge childe rode.
1057
Whan Gamelyn the yonge was riden out atte gate,
The fals knyght his brother loked yit after thate,
And bysought Jesu Crist that is hevene kinge,
He myghte breke his necke in the wrestelinge.
As sone as Gamelyn come ther the place was,
He lighte doune of his stede and stood on the gras,
And ther he herde a frankeleyn 'weiloway' singe,
And bygonne bitterly his hondes forto wringe.
'Good man,' seide Gamelyn, 'whi mast thou this fare?
Is ther no man that may you helpen out of care?'
'Allas!' seide this frankeleyn, 'that ever was I bore!
For twey stalworth sones I wene that I have lore;
A champion is in the place that hath wrought me sorowe,
For he hath sclayn my two sones but if God hem borowe.
I will yeve ten pound by Jesu Christ! and more,
With the nones I fonde a man wolde handel hym sore.'
'Good man,' seide Gamelyn, 'wilt thou wele doon,
Holde my hors the whiles my man drowe of my shoon,
And helpe my man to kepe my clothes and my stede,
And I wil to place gon to loke if I may spede.'
'By God!' seide the frankleyn, 'it shal be doon;
I wil myself be thi man to drowe of thi shoon,
And wende thou into place, Jesu Crist the spede,
And drede not of thi clothes ne of thi good stede.'
Barefoot and ungirt Gamelyn inne came,
Alle that were in the place hede of him nam,
Howe he durst aventure him to doon his myght
That was so doghty a champion in wrasteling and in fight.
Up stert the champioun rapely anon,
And toward yonge Gamelyn byganne to gon,
And seide, 'Who is thi fadere and who is thi sire?
For sothe thou art a grete fool that thou come hire!'
Gamelyn answerde the champioun tho,
'Thowe knewe wel my fadere while he myght goo,
The whiles he was alyve, by seynt Martyn!
Sir John of Boundes was his name, and I am Gamelyne.'
'Felawe,' sayde the champion, 'so mot I thrive,
I knewe wel thi fadere the whiles he was alyve;
And thi silf, Gamelyn, I wil that thou it here,
While thou were a yonge boy a moche shrewe thou were.'
1058
Than seide Gamelyn and swore by Cristes ore,
'Now I am older wexe thou shalt finde me a more!'
'By God!' seide the champion 'welcome mote thou be!
Come thow onys in myn honde thou shalt nevere the.'
It was wel within the nyght and the mone shone,
Whan Gamelyn and the champioun togider gon gone.
The champion cast turnes to Gamelyne that was prest,
And Gamelyn stode and bad hym doon his best.
Than seide Gamelyn to the champioun,
'Thowe art fast aboute to bringe me adoun;
Now I have proved mony tornes of thine,
Thow most,' he seide, 'oon or two of myne.'
Gamelyn to the champioun yede smertely anoon,
Of all the turnes that he couthe he shewed him but oon,
And cast him on the lift side that thre ribbes to-brake,
And therto his owne arme that yaf a grete crake.
Than seide Gamelyn smertly anon,
'Shal it bi hold for a cast or ellis for non?'
'By God!' seide the champion, 'whedere it be,
He that cometh ones in thi honde shal he never the!'
Than seide the frankeleyn that had the sones there,
'Blessed be thou, Gamelyn, that ever thou bore were!'
The frankleyn seide to the champioun on hym stode hym noon eye,
'This is yonge Gamelyne that taught the this pleye.'
Agein answerd the champioun that liketh no thing wel,
'He is alther maister and his pley is right felle;
Sithen I wrasteled first it is goon yore,
But I was nevere in my lif handeled so sore.'
Gamelyn stode in the place anon without serk,
And seide, 'Yif ther be moo lat hem come to werk;
The champion that pyned him to worch sore,
It semeth by his countenance that he wil no more.'
Gamelyn in the place stode stille as stone,
For to abide wrastelinge but ther come none;
Ther was noon with Gamelyn that wold wrastel more,
For he handeled the champioun so wonderly sore.
Two gentile men that yemed the place,
Come to Gamelyn -- God yeve him goode grace! --
1059
And seide to him, 'Do on thi hosen and thi shoon,
For soth at this tyme this fare is doon.'
And than seide Gamelyn, 'So mot I wel fare,
I have not yete halvendele sold my ware.'
Thoo seide the champioun, 'So broke I my swere,
He is a fool that therof bieth thou selleth it so dere.'
Tho seide the frankeleyne that was in moche care,
'Felawe,' he saide 'whi lackest thou this ware?
By seynt Jame of Gales that mony man hath sought,
Yit is it to good chepe that thou hast bought.'
Thoo that wardeynes were of that wrastelinge
Come and brought Gamelyn the ramme and the rynge,
And Gamelyn bithought him it was a faire thinge,
And wente with moche joye home in the mornynge.
His brother see wher he came with the grete route,
And bad shitt the gate and holde hym withoute.
The porter of his lord was soor agaast,
And stert anoon to the gate and lokked it fast.
Fitt 3
Now lithenes and listneth both yonge and olde,
And ye schul here gamen of Gamelyn the bolde.
Gamelyn come to the gate forto have come inne,
And it was shette faste with a stronge pynne;
Than seide Gamelyn, 'Porter, undo the yate,
For good menys sones stonden ther ate.'
Than answerd the porter and swore by Goddys berd,
'Thow ne shalt, Gamelyne, come into this yerde.'
'Thow lixt,' seide Gamelyne 'so broke I my chyne!'
He smote the wikett with his foote and breke awaie the pyne.
The porter seie thoo it myght no better be,
He sette foote on erth and bygan to flee.
'By my feye,' seide Gamelyn 'that travaile is ylore,
For I am of fote as light as thou if thou haddest it swore.' 1
Gamelyn overtoke the porter and his tene wrake,
And girt him in the nek that the boon to-brake,
And toke hym by that oon arme and threwe hym in a welle,
Seven fadme it was depe as I have herde telle.
1060
Whan Gamelyn the yonge thus had plaied his playe,
Alle that in the yerde were drowen hem awaye;
Thei dredden him ful sore for werk that he wrought,
And for the faire company that he thider brought.
Gamelyn yede to the gate and lete it up wide;
He lete inne alle that gone wolde or ride,
And seide, 'Ye be welcome without eny greve,
For we wil be maisters here and axe no man leve.
Yusterday I lefte,' seide yonge Gamelyne,
'In my brothers seler fyve tonne of wyne;
I wil not this company partyn atwynne,
And ye wil done after me while sope is therinne;
And if my brother gruche or make foule chere,
Either for spence of mete and drink that we spende here,
I am oure catour and bere oure alther purs,
He shal have for his grucchinge Seint Maries curs.
My brother is a nigon, I swere be Cristes oore,
And we wil spende largely that he hath spared yore;
And who that make grucchinge that we here dwelle,
He shal to the porter into the drowe-welle.'
Seven daies and seven nyghtes Gamelyn helde his feest,
With moche solace was ther noon cheest;
In a litel torret his brother lay steke,
And see hem waast his good and dorst no worde speke.
Erly on a mornynge on the eight day,
The gestes come to Gamelyn and wolde gone her way.
'Lordes,' seide Gamelyn, 'will ye so hie?
Al the wyne is not yit dronke so brouke I myn ye.'
Gamelyn in his herte was ful woo,
Whan his gestes toke her leve fro hym for to go;
He wolde thei had dwelled lenger and thei seide nay,
But bytaught Gamelyn, 'God and good day.'
Thus made Gamelyn his feest and brought wel to ende,
And after his gestes toke leve to wende.
Fitt 4
Lithen and listen and holde your tunge,
And ye shal here game of Gamelyn the yonge;
Harkeneth, lordingges and listeneth aright,
1061
Whan alle gestis were goon how Gamelyn was dight.
Alle the while that Gamelyn heeld his mangerye,
His brothere thought on hym be wroke with his trecherye.
Whan Gamylyns gestes were riden and goon,
Gamelyn stood anon allone frend had he noon;
Tho aftere felle sone within a litel stounde,
Gamelyn was taken and ful hard ybounde.
Forth come the fals knyght out of the solere,
To Gamelyn his brother he yede ful nere,
And saide to Gamelyn, 'Who made the so bold
For to stroien the stoor of myn household?'
'Brother,' seide Gamelyn, 'wreth the right nought,
For it is many day gon sith it was bought;
For, brother, thou hast had by Seint Richere,
Of fiftene plowes of londe this sixtene yere,
And of alle the beestes thou hast forth bredde,
That my fader me byquath on his dethes bedde;
Of al this sixtene yere I yeve the the prowe,
For the mete and the drink that we han spended nowe.'
Than seide the fals knyght (evel mote he thee!)
'Harken, brothere Gamelyn what I wil yeve the;
For of my body, brother here geten have I none,
I wil make the myn here I swere by Seint John.'
'Par fay!' seide Gamelyn 'and if it so be,
And thou thenk as thou seist God yeelde it the!'
Nothinge wiste Gamelyn of his brother gile;
Therfore he hym bygiled in a litel while.
'Gamelyn,' seyde he, 'oon thing I the telle;
Thoo thou threwe my porter in the drowe-welle,
I swore in that wrethe and in that grete moote,
That thou shuldest be bounde bothe honde and fote;
This most be fulfilled my men to dote,
For to holden myn avowe as I the bihote.'
'Brother,' seide Gamelyn, 'as mote I thee!
Thou shalt not be forswore for the love of me.'
Tho maden thei Gamelyn to sitte and not stonde,
To thei had hym bounde both fote and honde.
The fals knyght his brother of Gamelyn was agast,
And sente efter fetters to fetter hym fast.
His brother made lesingges on him ther he stode,
1062
And tolde hem that commen inne that Gamelyn was wode.
Gamelyn stode to a post bounden in the halle,
Thoo that commen inne loked on hym alle.
Ever stode Gamelyn even upright!
But mete and drink had he noon neither day ne nyght.
Than seide Gamelyn, 'Brother, be myn hals,
Now have I aspied thou art a party fals;
Had I wist the tresoun that thou hast yfounde,
I wold have yeve strokes or I had be bounde!'
Gamelyn stode bounde stille as eny stone;
Two daies and two nyghtes mete had he none.
Than seide Gamelyn that stood ybounde stronge,
'Adam Spencere me thenketh I faste to longe;
Adam Spencere now I biseche the,
For the moche love my fadere loved the,
If thou may come to the keys lese me out of bonde,
And I wil part with the of my free londe.'
Than seide Adam that was the spencere,
'I have served thi brother this sixtene yere,
Yif I lete the gone out of his boure,
He wold saye afterwardes I were a traitour.'
'Adam,' seide Gamelyn, 'so brouke I myn hals!
Thow schalt finde my brother at the last fals;
Therfore brother Adam lose me out of bondes,
And I wil parte with the of my free londes.'
'Up such forward,' seide Adam, 'ywis,
I wil do therto al that in me is.'
'Adam,' seide Gamelyn 'as mote I the,
I wil holde the covenaunt and thou wil me.'
Anoon as Adams lord to bed was goon,
Adam toke the kayes and lete Gamelyn out anoon;
He unlocked Gamelyn both hondes and fete,
In hope of avauncement that he hym byhete.
Than seide Gamelyn, 'Thonked be Goddis sonde!
Nowe I am lose both fote and honde;
Had I nowe eten and dronken aright,
Ther is noon in this hous shuld bynde me this nyght.'
Adam toke Gamelyn as stille as eny stone,
And ladde him into the spence raply anon,
And sette him to sopere right in a privey styde,
1063
He bad him do gladly and so he dide.
Anoon as Gamelyn had eten wel and fyne,
And therto y-dronken wel of the rede wyne,
'Adam,' seide Gamelyn, 'what is nowe thi rede?
Or I go to my brother and gerd of his heed?'
'Gamelyn,' seide Adam, 'it shal not be so.
I can teche the a rede that is worth the twoo.
I wote wel for soth that this is no nay,
We shul have a mangerye right on Sonday;
Abbotes and priours mony here shul be,
And other men of holy chirch as I telle the;
Thou shal stonde up by the post as thou were bounde fast,
And I shal leve hem unloke that away thou may hem cast.
Whan that thei han eten and wasshen her handes,
Thow shalt biseche hem alle to bringe the oute of bondes;
And if thei willen borowe the that were good game,
Than were thou out of prisoun and out of blame;
And if ecche of hem saye to us nay,
I shal do another I swere by this day!
Thow shalt have a good staf and I wil have another,
And Cristes curs haf that on that failleth that other!'
'Ye for God,' seide Gamelyn 'I say it for me,
If I faille on my side evel mot I thee!
If we shul algate assoile hem of her synne,
Warne me, brother Adam, whan we shul bygynne.'
'Gamelyn,' seid Adam, 'by Seinte Charité,
I wil warne the biforn whan it shal be;
Whan I winke on the loke for to gone,
And caste away thi fetters and come to me anone.'
'Adam,' seide Gamelyn, 'blessed be thi bonys!
That is a good counseill yeven for the nonys;
Yif thei warne the me to bringe out of bendes,
I wil sette good strokes right on her lendes.'
Whan the Sonday was comen and folk to the feest,
Faire thei were welcomed both leest and mest;
And ever as thei at the haldore come inne,
They casten her yen on yonge Gamelyn.
The fals knyght his brother ful of trecherye,
Al the gestes that ther were at the mangerye,
1064
Of Gamelyn his brother he tolde hem with mouthe
Al the harme and the shame that he telle couthe.
Whan they were yserved of messes two or thre,
Than seide Gamelyn, 'How serve ye me?
It is not wel served by God that alle made!
That I sitte fastinge and other men make glade.'
The fals knyght his brother ther as he stode,
Told to all the gestes that Gamelyn was wode;
And Gamelyn stode stille and answerde nought,
But Adames wordes he helde in his thought.
Thoo Gamelyn gan speke doolfully withalle
To the grete lordes that seton in the halle:
'Lordes,' he seide 'for Cristes passioun,
Helpe to bringe Gamelyn out of prisoun.'
Than seide an abbot, sorowe on his cheke,
'He shal have Cristes curs and Seinte Maries eke,
That the out of prison beggeth or borowe,
And ever worth him wel that doth the moche sorowe.'
After that abbot than speke another,
'I wold thine hede were of though thou were my brother!
Alle that the borowe foule mot hem falle!'
Thus thei seiden alle that were in the halle.
Than seide a priour, evel mote he threve!
'It is grete sorwe and care boy that thou art alyve.'
'Ow!' seide Gamelyn, 'so brouke I my bone!
Now have I spied that frendes have I none
Cursed mote he worth both flesshe and blood,
That ever doth priour or abbot eny good!'
Adam the spencere took up the clothe,
And loked on Gamelyn and segh that he was wrothe;
Adam on the pantry litel he thought,
And two good staves to the halle door he brought,
Adam loked on Gamelyn and he was warre anoon,
And cast away the fetters and bygan to goon;
Whan he come to Adam he took that on staf,
And bygan to worch and good strokes yaf.
Gamelyn come into the halle and the spencer bothe,
And loked hem aboute as thei hadden be wrothe;
Gamelyn spreyeth holy watere with an oken spire,
1065
That some that stode upright felle in the fire.
Ther was no lewe man that in the halle stode,
That wolde do Gamelyn enything but goode,
But stoden bisides and lete hem both wirche,
For thei had no rewthe of men of holy chirche;
Abbot or priour, monk or chanoun,
That Gamelyn overtoke anoon they yeden doun
Ther was noon of alle that with his staf mette,
That he ne made hem overthrowe to quyte hem his dette.
'Gamelyn,' seide Adam, 'for Seinte Charité,
Pay good lyveré for the love of me,
And I wil kepe the door so ever here I masse!
Er they bene assoilled ther shal non passe.'
'Doute the not,' seide Gamelyn 'whil we ben ifere,
Kepe thow wel the door and I wil wirche here;
Bystere the, good Adam, and lete none fle,
And we shul telle largely how mony that ther be.'
'Gamelyn,' seide Adam, 'do hem but goode;
Thei bene men of holy churche drowe of hem no blode
Save wel the crownes and do hem no harmes,
But breke both her legges and sithen her armes.'
Thus Gamelyn and Adam wroughte ryght faste,
And pleide with the monkes and made hem agaste.
Thidere thei come ridinge joly with swaynes,
And home ayein thei were ladde in cartes and waynes.
Tho thei hadden al ydo than seide a grey frere,
'Allas! sire abbot what did we nowe here?
Whan that we comen hidere it was a colde rede,
Us had be bet at home with water and breed.'
While Gamelyn made orders of monke and frere,
Evere stood his brother and made foule chere;
Gamelyn up with his staf that he wel knewe,
And girt him in the nek that he overthrewe;
A litel above the girdel the rigge-boon he barst;
And sette him in the fetters theras he sat arst.
'Sitte ther, brother,' seide Gamelyn,
'For to colen thi body as I did myn.'
As swith as thei had wroken hem on her foon,
Thei asked water and wasshen anon,
What some for her love and some for her awe,
1066
Alle the servantes served hem on the beste lawe.
The sherreve was thennes but fyve myle,
And alle was tolde him in a lytel while,
Howe Gamelyn and Adam had ydo a sorye rees,
Boundon and wounded men ayeinst the kingges pees;
Tho bygan sone strif for to wake,
And the shereff about Gamelyn forto take.
Fitt 5
Now lithen and listen so God geve you good fyne!
And ye shul here good game of yonge Gamelyne.
Four and twenty yonge men that helde hem ful bolde,
Come to the shiref and seide that thei wolde
Gamelyn and Adam fette by her fay;
The sheref gave hem leve soth for to say;
Thei hiden fast wold thei not lynne,
To thei come to the gate there Gamelyn was inne.
They knocked on the gate the porter was nyghe,
And loked out atte an hool as man that was scleghe.
The porter hadde bihold hem a litel while,
He loved wel Gamelyn and was dradde of gyle,
And lete the wikett stonde ful stille,
And asked hem without what was her wille.
For all the grete company speke but oon,
'Undo the gate, porter and lat us in goon.'
Than seide the porter 'So brouke I my chyn,
Ye shul saie youre erand er ye come inne.'
'Sey to Gamelyn and Adam if theire wil be,
We wil speke with hem two wordes or thre.'
'Felawe,' seide the porter 'stonde ther stille,
And I wil wende to Gamelyn to wete his wille.'
Inne went the porter to Gamelyn anoon,
And saide, 'Sir, I warne you here ben comen youre foon;
The shireves men bene at the gate,
Forto take you both ye shul not scape.'
'Porter,' seide Gamelyn, 'so mote I the!
I wil alowe thi wordes whan I my tyme se.
Go ageyn to the gate and dwelle with hem a while,
And thou shalt se right sone porter, a gile.'
1067
'Adam,' seide Gamelyn, 'hast the to goon;
We han foo men mony and frendes never oon;
It bene the shireves men that hider bene comen,
Thei ben swore togidere that we shal be nomen.'
'Gamelyn,' seide Adam, 'hye the right blyve,
And if I faile the this day evel mot I thrive!
And we shul so welcome the shyreves men,
That some of hem shal make her beddes in the fenne.'
At a postern gate Gamelyn out went,
And a good cartstaf in his hondes hent;
Adam hent sone another grete staff
For to helpen Gamelyne and good strokes yaf.
Adam felled tweyn and Gamelyn thre,
The other sette fete on erthe and bygan to flee.
'What' seide Adam, 'so evere here I masse!
I have right good wyne drynk er ye passe!'
'Nay, by God!' seide thei, 'thi drink is not goode,
It wolde make a mannys brayn to lyen on his hode.'
Gamelyn stode stille and loked hym aboute,
And seide 'The shyref cometh with a grete route.'
'Adam,' seyde Gamelyn 'what bene now thi redes?
Here cometh the sheref and wil have our hedes.'
Adam seide to Gamelyn 'My rede is now this,
Abide we no lenger lest we fare amys:
I rede we to wode gon er we be founde,
Better is ther louse than in the toune bounde.'
Adam toke by the honde yonge Gamelyn;
And every of hem dronk a draught of wyn,
And after token her cours and wenten her way;
Tho fonde the scherreve nyst but non aye.
The shirrive light doune and went into halle,
And fonde the lord fetred faste withalle.
The shirreve unfetred hym right sone anoon,
And sente aftere a leche to hele his rigge boon.
Lat we now the fals knyght lye in hys care,
And talke we of Gamelyn and of his fare.
Gamelyn into the wode stalked stille,
And Adam Spensere liked right ille;
Adam swore to Gamelyn, 'By Seint Richere,
1068
Now I see it is mery to be a spencere,
Yit lever me were kayes to bere,
Than walken in this wilde wode my clothes to tere.'
'Adam,' seide Gamelyn, 'dismay the right nought;
Mony good mannys child in care is brought.'
As thei stode talkinge bothen in fere,
Adam herd talking of men and right nyghe hem thei were.
Tho Gamelyn under wode loked aright,
Sevene score of yonge men he seye wel ydight;
Alle satte at the mete compas aboute.
'Adam,' seide Gamelyn, 'now have I no doute,
Aftere bale cometh bote thorgh Goddis myght;
Me think of mete and drynk I have a sight.'
Adam loked thoo under wode bough,
And whan he segh mete was glad ynogh;
For he hoped to God to have his dele,
And he was sore alonged after a mele.
As he seide that worde the mayster outlawe
Saugh Adam and Gamelyn under the wode shawe.
'Yonge men,' seide the maistere 'by the good Rode,
I am ware of gestes God send us goode;
Yond ben twoo yonge men wel ydight,
And parenture ther ben mo whoso loked right.
Ariseth up, yonge men and fette hem to me;
It is good that we weten what men thei be.'
Up ther sterten sevene from the dynere,
And metten with Gamelyn and Adam Spencere.
Whan thei were nyghe hem than seide that oon,
'Yeeldeth up, yonge men your bowes and your floon.'
Than seide Gamelyn that yong was of elde,
'Moche sorwe mote thei have that to you hem yelde!
I curs noon other but right mysilve;
Thoo ye fette to you fyve than be ye twelve!'
Whan they harde by his word that myght was in his arme,
Ther was noon of hem that wolde do hym harme,
But seide to Gamelyn myldely and stille,
'Cometh afore our maister and seith to hym your wille.'
'Yong men,' seide Gamelyn, 'be your lewté,
What man is youre maister that ye with be?'
Alle thei answerd without lesing,
'Our maister is crowned of outlawe king.'
1069
'Adam,' seide Gamelyn, 'go we in Cristes name;
He may neither mete ne drink warne us for shame.
If that he be hende and come of gentil blood,
He wil yeve us mete and drink and do us som gode.'
'By Seint Jame!' seide Adam, 'what harme that I gete,
I wil aventure me that I had mete.'
Gamelyn and Adam went forth in fere,
And thei grette the maister that thei fond there.
Than seide the maister king of outlawes,
'What seche ye, yonge men, under the wode shawes?'
Gamelyn answerde the king with his croune,
'He most nedes walk in feeld that may not in toune.
Sire, we walk not here no harme to doo,
But yif we mete a deer to shete therto,
As men that bene hungry and mow no mete fynde,
And bene harde bystad under wode lynde.'
Of Gamelyns wordes the maister had reuthe,
And seide, 'Ye shul have ynow have God my trouth!'
He bad hem sitte doun for to take rest;
And bad hem ete and drink and that of the best.
As they eten and dronken wel and fyne,
Than seide on to another, 'This is Gamelyne.'
Tho was the maistere outlaw into counseile nome,
And tolde howe it was Gamelyn that thider was come.
Anon as he herd how it was byfalle,
He made him maister under hym over hem alle.
Withinne the thridde weke hym come tydinge,
To the maistere outlawe that was her kinge,
That he shuld come home his pees was made;
And of that good tydinge he was ful glade.
Thoo seide he to his yonge men soth forto telle,
'Me bene comen tydinges I may no lenger dwelle.'
Tho was Gamelyn anoon withoute taryinge,
Made maister outlawe and crowned her kinge.
Whan Gamelyn was crowned king of outlawes,
And walked had a while under the wode shawes,
The fals knyght his brother was sherif and sire,
And lete his brother endite for hate and for ire.
Thoo were his boond men sory and no thing glade,
Whan Gamelyn her lord wolfeshede was made;
1070
And sente out of his men wher thei might hym fynde,
For to go seke Gamelyne under the wode lynde,
To telle hym tydinge the wynde was wente,
And al his good reved and al his men shente.
Whan thei had hym founden on knees thei hem setten,
And adoune with here hodes and her lord gretten;
'Sire, wreth you not for the good Rode,
For we han brought you tyddyngges but thei be not gode.
Now is thi brother sherreve and hath the bayly,
And hath endited the and wolfesheed doth the crye.'
'Allas!' seide Gamelyn, 'that ever I was so sclak
That I ne had broke his nek whan I his rigge brak!
Goth, greteth wel myn husbondes and wif,
I wil be at the nexte shyre have God my lif!'
Gamelyn come redy to the nexte shire,
And ther was his brother both lord and sire.
Gamelyn boldely come into the mote halle,
And putte adoun his hode amonge tho lordes alle;
'God save you, lordinggs that here be!
But broke bak sherreve evel mote thou thee!
Whi hast thou don me that shame and vilenye,
For to lat endite me and wolfeshede do me crye?'
Thoo thoghte the fals knyght forto bene awreke,
And lette Gamelyn most he no thinge speke;
Might ther be no grace but Gamelyn atte last
Was cast in prison and fettred faste.
Gamelyn hath a brothere that highte Sir Ote,
Als good an knyght and hende as might gon on foote.
Anoon yede a massager to that good knyght
And tolde him altogidere how Gamelyn was dight.
Anoon whan Sire Ote herd howe Gamelyn was dight,
He was right sory and no thing light,
And lete sadel a stede and the way name,
And to his tweyne bretheren right sone he came.
'Sire,' seide Sire Ote to the sherreve thoo,
'We bene but three bretheren shul we never be mo;
And thou hast prisoned the best of us alle;
Such another brother evel mote hym byfalle!'
'Sire Ote,' seide the fals knyght, 'lat be thi cors;
By God, for thi wordes he shal fare the wors;
To the kingges prisoun he is ynome,
1071
And ther he shal abide to the justice come.'
'Par de!' seide Sir Ote, 'better it shal be;
I bid hym to maynprise that thou graunte me
To the next sitting of delyveraunce,
And lat than Gamelyn stonde to his chaunce.'
'Brother, in such a forward I take him to the;
And by thine fader soule that the bigate and me,
But he be redy whan the justice sitte,
Thou shalt bere the juggement for al thi grete witte.'
'I graunte wel,' seide Sir Ote, 'that it so be.
Lat delyver him anoon and take hym to me.'
Tho was Gamelyn delyvered to Sire Ote, his brother;
And that nyght dwelled the oon with the other.
On the morowe seide Gamelyn to Sire Ote the hende,
'Brother,' he seide, 'I mote forsoth from you wende
To loke howe my yonge men leden her liff,
Whedere thei lyven in joie or ellis in striff.'
'By God' seyde Sire Ote, 'that is a colde rede,
Nowe I se that alle the carke schal fal on my hede;
For whan the justice sitte and thou be not yfounde,
I shal anoon be take and in thi stede ibounde.'
'Brother,' seide Gamelyn, 'dismay you nought,
For by saint Jame in Gales that mony men hath sought,
Yif that God almyghty holde my lif and witte,
I wil be redy whan the justice sitte.'
Than seide Sir Ote to Gamelyn, 'God shilde the fro shame;
Come whan thou seest tyme and bringe us out of blame.'
Fitt 6
Litheneth, and listeneth and holde you stille,
And ye shul here how Gamelyn had al his wille.
Gamelyn went under the wode-ris,
And fonde ther pleying yenge men of pris.
Tho was yonge Gamelyn right glad ynoughe,
Whan he fonde his men under wode boughe.
Gamelyn and his men talkeden in fere,
And thei hadde good game her maister to here;
His men tolde him of aventures that they had founde,
And Gamelyn tolde hem agein howe he was fast bounde.
1072
While Gamelyn was outlawe had he no cors;
There was no man that for him ferde the wors,
But abbots and priours, monk and chanoun;
On hem left he nought whan he myghte hem nome.
While Gamelyn and his men made merthes ryve,
The fals knyght his brother evel mot he thryve!
For he was fast aboute both day and other,
For to hiren the quest to hongen his brother.
Gamelyn stode on a day and byheeld
The wodes and the shawes and the wild feeld,
He thoughte on his brothere how he hym byhette
That he wolde be redy whan the justice sette;
He thought wel he wold without delay,
Come tofore the justice to kepen his day,
And saide to his yonge men, 'Dighteth you yare,
For whan the justice sitte we most be thare,
For I am under borowe til that I come,
And my brother for me to prison shal be nome.'
'By Seint Jame!' seide his yonge men, 'and thou rede therto,
Ordeyn how it shal be and it shal be do.'
While Gamelyn was comyng ther the justice satte,
The fals knyght his brother forgate he not that,
To hire the men of the quest to hangen his brother;
Thoughe thei had not that oon thei wolde have that other
Tho come Gamelyn from under the wode-ris,
And brought with hym yonge men of pris
'I see wel,' seide Gamelyn, 'the justice is sette;
Go aforn, Adam, and loke how it spette.'
Adam went into the halle and loked al aboute,
He segh there stonde lordes grete and stoute,
And Sir Ote his brother fetred ful fast;
Thoo went Adam out of halle as he were agast.
Adam seide to Gamelyn and to his felawes alle,
'Sir Ote stont fetered in the mote halle.'
'Yonge men,' seide Gamelyn, 'this ye heeren alle:
Sir Ote stont fetered in the mote halle.
If God geve us grace well forto doo,
He shal it abigge that it broughte therto.'
Than seide Adam that lockes had hore,
'Cristes curs mote he have that hym bonde so sore!
1073
And thou wilt, Gamelyn, do after my rede,
Ther is noon in the halle shal bere awey his hede.'
'Adam,' seide Gamelyn, 'we wil not do soo,
We wil slee the giltif and lat the other go.
I wil into the halle and with the justice speke;
Of hem that bene giltif I wil ben awreke.
Lat no skape at the door take, yonge men, yeme;
For I wil be justice this day domes to deme.
God spede me this day at my newe werk!
Adam, com with me for thou shalt be my clerk.'
His men answereden hym and bad don his best,
'And if thou to us have nede thou shalt finde us prest;
We wil stonde with the while that we may dure;
And but we worchen manly pay us none hure.'
'Yonge men,' seid Gamelyn, 'so mot I wel the!
A trusty maister ye shal fynde me.'
Right there the justice satte in the halle,
Inne went Gamelyn amonges hem alle.
Gamelyn lete unfetter his brother out of bende.
Than seide Sire Ote his brother that was hende,
'Thow haddest almost, Gamelyn, dwelled to longe,
For the quest is out on me that I shulde honge.'
'Brother,' seide Gamelyn, 'so God yeve me good rest!
This day shul thei be honged that ben on the quest;
And the justice both that is the juge man,
And the sherreve also thorgh hym it bigan.
Than seide Gamelyn to the justise,
'Now is thi power don, the most nedes rise;
Thow hast yeven domes that bene evel dight,
I will sitten in thi sete and dressen hem aright.'
The justice satte stille and roos not anon;
And Gamelyn cleved his chekebon;
Gamelyn toke him in his armes and no more spake,
But threwe hym over the barre and his arme brake.
Dorst noon to Gamelyn seie but goode,
Forfeerd of the company that without stoode.
Gamelyn sette him doun in the justise sete,
And Sire Ote his brother by him and Adam at his fete.
Whan Gamelyn was sette in the justise stede,
Herken of a bourde that Gamelyn dede.
1074
He lete fetter the justise and his fals brother,
And did hem com to the barre that on with that other.
Whan Gamelyn had thus ydon had he no rest,
Til he had enquered who was on his quest
Forto demen his brother Sir Ote for to honge;
Er he wist what thei were hym thought ful longe.
But as sone as Gamelyn wist where thei were,
He did hem everechon fetter in fere,
And bringgen hem to the barre and setten in rewe;
'By my feith!' seide the justise, 'the sherrive is a shrewe!'
Than seide Gamelyn to the justise,
'Thou hast yove domes of the worst assise;
And the twelve sesoures that weren on the quest,
Thei shul be honged this day so have I good rest!'
Than seide the sheref to yonge Gamelyn,
'Lord, I crie thee mercie brother art thou myn.'
'Therfor,' seide Gamelyn, 'have thou Cristes curs,
For and thow were maister I shuld have wors.'
For to make shorte tale and not to longe,
He ordeyned hym a quest of his men stronge;
The justice and the shirreve both honged hie,
To weyven with the ropes and the winde drye;
And the twelve sisours (sorwe have that rekke!)
Alle thei were honged fast by the nekke.
Thus endeth the fals knyght with his trecherye,
That ever had lad his lif in falsenesse and folye.
He was honged by the nek and not by the purs,
That was the mede that he had for his faders curs.
Sire Ote was eldest and Gamelyn was yenge,
Wenten to her frendes and passed to the kinge;
Thei maden pees with the king of the best sise.
The king loved wel Sir Ote and made hym justise.
And after, the king made Gamelyn in est and in west,
The cheef justice of his free forest;
Alle his wight yonge men the king foryaf her gilt,
And sithen in good office the king hath hem pilt,
Thus wane Gamelyn his land and his lede,
And wreke him on his enemyes and quytte hem her mede;
And Sire Ote his brother made him his heire,
And sithen wedded Gamelyn a wif good and faire;
1075
They lyved togidere the while that Crist wolde,
And sithen was Gamelyn graven under molde.
And so shull we alle may ther no man fle:
God bring us to that joye that ever shal be!
~ Anonymous Olde English,#NFDB
279:The Libelle Of Englyshe Polycye
Here beginneth the Prologe of the processe of the Libelle of Englyshe polycye,
exhortynge alle Englande to kepe the see enviroun and namelye the narowe see,
shewynge whate profete commeth thereof and also whate worshype and
salvacione to Englande and to alle Englyshe menne.
The trewe processe of Englysh polycye
Of utterwarde to kepe thys regne in rest
Of oure England, that no man may denye
Ner say of soth but it is one the best,
Is thys, as who seith, south, north, est and west
Cheryshe marchandyse, kepe thamyralte,
That we bee maysteres of the narowe see.
For Sigesmonde the grete Emperoure,
Whyche yet regneth, whan he was in this londe
Wyth kynge Herry the vte, prince of honoure,
Here moche glorye, as hym thought, he founde,
A myghty londe, whyche hadde take on honde
To werre in Fraunce and make mortalite,
And ever well kept rounde aboute the see.
And to the kynge thus he seyde, 'My brothere',
Whan he perceyved too townes, Calys and Dovere,
'Of alle youre townes to chese of one and other
To kepe the see and sone for to come overe,
To werre oughtwardes and youre regne to recovere,
Kepe these too townes sure to youre mageste
As youre tweyne eyne to kepe the narowe see'.
For if this see be kepte in tyme of werre,
Who cane here passe withought daunger and woo?
Who may eschape, who may myschef dyfferre?
What marchaundy may forby be agoo?
For nedes hem muste take truse every foo,
Flaundres and Spayne and othere, trust to me,
Or ellis hyndered alle for thys narowe see.
949
Therfore I caste me by a lytell wrytinge
To shewe att eye thys conclusione,
For concyens and for myne acquytynge
Ayenst God, and ageyne abusyon
And cowardyse and to oure enmyes confusione;
For iiij. thynges oure noble sheueth to me,
Kyng, shype and swerde and pouer of the see.
Where bene oure shippes, where bene oure swerdes become?
Owre enmyes bid for the shippe sette a shepe.
Allas, oure reule halteth, hit is benome.
Who dare weel say that lordeshype shulde take kepe,
(I wolle asaye, thoughe myne herte gynne to wepe,
To do thys werke) yf we wole ever the,
For verry shame to kepe aboute the see?
Shall any prynce, what so be hys name,
Wheche hathe nobles moche lyche to oures,
Be lorde of see and Flemmynges to oure blame
Stoppe us, take us and so make fade the floures
Of Englysshe state and disteyne oure honnoures?
For cowardyse, allas, hit shulde so be;
Therfore I gynne to wryte now of the see.
Of the commodytees of Spayne and of Flaundres. The fyrste chapitle.
Knowe welle all men that profites in certayne
Commodytes called commynge oute of Spayne
And marchandy, who so wyll wete what that is,
Bene fygues, raysyns, wyne, bastarde and dates,
And lycorys, Syvyle oyle and also grayne,
Whyte Castell sope and wax is not in vayne,
Iren, wolle, wadmole, gotefel, kydefel also,
(For poyntmakers full nedefull be the ij.)
Saffron, quiksilver; wheche Spaynes marchandy
Is into Flaundres shypped full craftylye
Unto Bruges as to here staple fayre.
The havene of Sluse they have for here repayre,
950
Wheche is cleped the Swyne, thro shyppes gydynge,
Where many wessell and fayre arne abydynge.
But these merchandes wyth there shyppes greet,
And suche chaffare as they bye and gette
By the weyes, most nede take one honde
By the costes to passe of oure Englonde
Betwyxt Dover and Calys, thys is no doute.
Who can weell ellis suche matere bringe aboute?
And whenne these seyde marchauntz discharged be
Of marchaundy in Flaundres neere the see,
Than they be charged agayn wyth marchaundy
That to Flaundres longeth full rychelye,
Fyne clothe of Ipre, that named is better than oures,
Cloothe of Curtryke, fyne cloothe of all colours,
Moche fustyane and also lynen cloothe.
But ye Flemmyngis, yf ye be not wrothe,
The grete substaunce of youre cloothe at the fulle
Ye wot ye make hit of oure Englissh wolle.
Thanne may hit not synke in mannes brayne
But that hit most, this marchaundy of Spayne,
Bothe oute and inne by oure coostes passe?
He that seyth nay in wytte is lyche an asse.
Thus if thys see werre kepte, I dare well sayne,
Wee shulde have pease with tho growndes tweyne;
For Spayne and Flaundres is as yche othere brothere,
And nethere may well lyve wythowghten othere.
They may not lyven to mayntene there degrees
Wythoughten oure Englysshe commodytees,
Wolle and tynne, for the wolle of Englonde
Susteyneth the comons Flemmynges I understonde.
Thane, yf Englonde wolde hys wolle restreyne
Frome Flaundres, thys foloweth in certayne,
Flaundres of nede muste wyth us have pease
Or ellis he is distroyde wythowghten lees.
Also, yef Flaundres thus distroyed bee,
Some marchaundy of Spayne wolle nevere ithe.
For distroyed hit is, and as in cheffe
The wolle of Spayne hit cometh not to preffe
But if it be tosed and menged well
Amonges Englysshe wolle the gretter delle;
For Spayneshe wolle in Flaundres draped is
And evere hath be that mene have mynde of this.
951
And yet woll is one the cheffe marchaundy
That longeth to Spayne, who so woll aspye;
Hit is of lytell valeue, trust unto me,
Wyth Englysshe woll but if it menged be.
Thus, if the see be kepte, then herkene hedere,
Yf these ij. londes comene not togedere,
So that the flete of Flaundres passe nought,
That in the narowe see it be not brought
Into the Rochell to feche the fumose wyne,
Nere into Britounse bay for salt so fyne,
What is than Spayne, what is Flaundres also?
As who seyth, nought; there thryfte is alle ago.
For the lytell londe of Flaundres is
But a staple to other londes iwys,
And all that groweth in Flaundres, greyn and sede,
May not a moneth fynde hem mete of brede.
What hath thenne Flaundres, be Flemmynges leffe or lothe,
But a lytell madere and Flemmyshe cloothe?
By draperinge of oure wolle in substaunce
Lyvene here comons, this is here governaunce,
Wythoughten whyche they may not leve at ease;
Thus moste hem sterve or wyth us most have peasse.
Of the commoditees of Portingalle. The ij. capitle.
The marchaundy also of Portyngale
To dyverse londes torneth into sale.
Portyngalers wyth us have trought on hande,
Whose marchaundy cometh muche into Englande.
They bene oure frendes wyth there commoditez,
And wee Englysshe passen into there countrees.
Here londe hathe oyle, wyne, osey, wex and greyne,
Fygues, reysyns, hony and cordeweyne,
Dates and salt hydes and suche marchaundy.
And if they wolde to Flaundres passe forth bye,
They schulde not be suffrede ones ner twyes
For supportynge of oure cruell enmyes,
That is to saye Flemmynges wyth here gyle,
For chaungeable they are in lytel whyle.
Than I conclude by resons many moo,
Yf wee sufferede nethere frende nere foo,
What for enmyes and so supportynge,
952
To passe forby us in tyme of werrynge,
(Sethe oure frendys woll not bene in causse
Of oure hyndrenge, yf reason lede thys clausse)
Than nede frome Flaundres pease of us be sought,
And othere londes shulde seche pease, doute nought;
For Flaundres is staple, as men tell me,
To alle nacyons of Crystiante.
The commodytes of Pety Brytayne, wyth here revers on the see. The iij. capitle.
Forthermore to wryten I hame fayne
Somwhate spekynge of the Lytell Bretayne.
Commodite therof there is and was
Salt and wynes, crestclothe and canvasse;
And the londe of Flaunderes sekerly
Is the staple of there marchaundy,
Wheche marchaundy may not passe awey
But by the coste of Englonde, this is no nay.
And of thys Bretayn, who so trewth levys,
Are the gretteste rovers and the gretteste thevys
That have bene in the see many a yere;
And that oure marchauntes have bowght alle to dere.
For they have take notable gode of oures
On thys seyde see, these false coloured pelours,
Called of Seynt Malouse and elles where,
Wheche to there duke none obeysaunce woll bere.
Wyth suche colours we have bene hindred sore,
And fayned pease is called no werre herefore.
Thus they have bene in dyverse costes manye
Of oure England, mo than reherse can I,
In Northfolke coostes and othere places aboute,
And robbed and brente and slayne by many a routte;
And they have also raunsouned toune by toune,
That into the regnes of bost have ronne here soune,
Whyche hathe bene ruthe unto thys realme and shame.
They that the see shulde kepe are moche to blame;
For Brytayne is of easy reputasyone,
And Seynt Malouse turneth hem to reprobacione.
A storie of kynge Edwarde the iiide hys ordynaunce for Bretayne.
Here brynge I in a storye to me lente,
953
That a goode squyere in tyme of parlemente
Toke unto me well wrytene in a scrowe,
That I have comonde bothe wyth hygh and lowe;
Of whyche all mene accordene into one
That hit was done not monye yeris agone,
But whene that noble kyng Edwarde the thride
Regned in grace ryght thus hit betyde.
For he hadde a manere gelozye
To hys marchauntes and lowede hem hartelye.
He felt the weyes to reule well the see,
Whereby marchauntes myght have prosperite.
Therfore Harflewe and Houndflewe dyd he makene,
And grete werres that tyme were undertakene
Betwyx the kynge and the duke of Bretayne.
At laste to falle to pease bothe were they feyne,
Upon the whyche, made by convencione,
Oure marchaundys they made hem redy boune
Towarde Brytayne to lede here marchaundye,
Wenynge hem frendes, and wente forthe boldelye.
But sone anone oure marchaundes were itake,
And wee spede nevere the better for treuse sake;
They loste here goode, here navy and spendynge.
But when there compleynte come unto the kynge,
Then wex he wrothe and to the duke he sente
And compleyned that such harme was hente
By convencione and pease made so refused.
Whiche duke sent ageyne and hym excused,
Rehersynge that the Mount of Seynte Michell
And Seynt Malouse wolde nevere a dele
Be subject unto his governaunce
Ner be undere hys obë¹³aunce,
And so they did withowten hym that dede.
But whan the kynge anone had takene hede,
He in his herte set a jugemente,
Wythoute callynge of ony parlemente
Or grete tary to take longe avyse;
To fortefye anone he dyd devyse
Of Englysshe townes iij., that is to seye
Derthmouth, Plymmouth, the thyrde it is Foweye,
And gaffe hem helpe and notable puissaunce,
Wyth insistence set them in governaunce
Upon the Pety Bretayn for to werre.
954
Than gode seemenne wolde no more deferre,
But bete theme home and made they myght not route,
Tooke prysoners and lernyd hem for to loutte.
And efte the duke in semblable wyse
Wrote to the kynge as he fyrste dyd devyse,
Hym excusynge; bot oure meny wode
Wyth grete poure passed overe the floode
And werred forth into the dukes londe
And had neygh destrued free and bonde.
But whan the duke knewe that tho townes thre
Shulde have loste all hys natale cuntree,
He undertoke by sewrte trewe not false
For Mount Seynt Mychelle and Seinte Malouse als
And othere partees of the Lytell Bretaynne,
Whych to obeye, as seyde was, were nott fayne.
The duke hymselfe for all dyd undertake,
Wyth all hys herte a full pease dyd he make,
So that in all the lyffe tyme of the kynge
Marchaundes hadde pease wythowtene werrynge.
He made a statute for Lumbardes in thys londe,
That they shulde in no wysse take on honde
Here to enhabite, to charge and to dyscharge,
But xl. dayes, no more tyme had they large.
Thys goode kynge be wytt of suche appreffe
Kepte hys marchauntes and the see fro myscheffe.
Of the commodites of Scotelonde and drapynge of here woll in Flaundres. The iiij.
chapitle.
Moreover of Scotlonde the commoditees
Ar felles, hydes and of wolle the fleesse;
And alle these muste passe bye us aweye
Into Flaundres by Englonde, sothe to saye.
And all here woll was draped for to sell
In the townes of Poperynge and of Bell,
Whyche my lorde of Glowcestre wyth ire
For here falshede dyd sett upon a fyre.
And yett they of Bell and Poperynge
Cowde never draper her woll for any thynge
But if they hadde Englysshe woll wythall,
955
Oure godely woll that is so generall,
Nedeful to hem in Spayne and Scotlande als
And othere costis; this sentence is not fals.
Ye worthi marchauntes, I do it upon yow;
I have this lerned, ye wott well where and howe.
Ye wotte the staple of that marchaundye
Of this Scotlonde is Flaundres sekerlye.
And the Scottes bene chargede, knowene at the eye,
Out of Flaundres wyth lytyll mercerye
And grete plentee of haburdasshers ware;
And halfe here shippes wyth carte whelys bare
And wyth barowes ar laden as in substaunce.
Thus moste rude ware be in here chevesaunce;
So they may not forbere thys Flemyssh londe.
Therefor if we wolde manly take on honde
To kepe thys see fro Flaundres and fro Spayne
And fro Scotelonde lych as fro Pety Bretayne,
Wee schulde ryght sone have pease for all here bostes,
For they muste nede passe by oure Englysshe costes.
Of the commoditees of Pruse and Hyghe Duchemenne and Esterlynges. The v.
chapitle.
Now goo wee forthe to the commoditees
That cometh fro Pruse in too manere degrees;
For too manere peple have suche use,
This is to sayen Highe Duchmene of Pruse
And Esterlynges, whiche myghte not be forborne
Oute of Flaundres but it were verrely lorne.
For they bringe in the substaunce of the beere
That they drynken fele to goode chepe not dere.
Ye have herde that twoo Flemmynges togedere
Wol undertake, or they goo ony whethere
Or they rise onys, to drinke a barell fulle
Of gode berkyne; so sore they hale and pulle,
Undre the borde they pissen as they sitte.
This cometh of covenaunt of a worthy witte.
Wythoute Calise in ther buttere they cakked,
Whan they flede home and when they leysere lakked
To holde here sege; they wente lyke as a doo,
Wel was that Flemmynge that myght trusse and goo.
For fere they turned bake and hyede faste,
956
Milorde of Gloucestre made hem so agaste
Wyth his commynge and sought hem in here londe
And brente and slowe as he hadde take on honde,
So that oure enmyse durste not byde nor stere;
They flede to mewe, they durste no more appere.
[Thene his meyné ³eidene that he was dede.
Tille we were goo, ther was no bettir reede;
For cowardy knyghthode was aslepe,
As dede there duke in mewe they dide hym kepe,]
Rebukede sore for evere so shamefully
Unto here uttere everelastinge vylany.
After bere and bacone odre gode commodites ensuene.
Now bere and bacone bene fro Pruse ibroughte
Into Flaundres, as loved and fere isoughte,
Osmonde, coppre, bowstaffes, stile and wex,
Peltreware and grey, pych, terre, borde and flex,
And Coleyne threde, fustiane and canvase,
Carde, bokeram; of olde tyme thus it wase.
But the Flemmynges amonge these thinges dere
In comen lowen beste bacon and bere.
[Thus are they hoggishe and drynkyn wele ataunte.
Farewel, Flemmynges, hay haro, hay avaunt.]
Also Pruse mene maken here aventure
Of plate of sylvere, of wegges gode and sure
In grete plente, whiche they bringe and bye
Oute of the londes of B顬me and Hungrye;
Whiche is encrese ful grete unto thys londe.
And thei bene laden agayn, I understonde,
Wyth wollen clothe all manere of coloures
By dyers crafted ful dyverse that bene ours.
And they aventure ful gretly unto the baye
For salte, that is nedefull wythoute naye.
Thus, if they wolde not oure frendys bee,
Wee myght lyghtlye stope hem in the see.
They shulde not passe oure stremes wythoutene leve;
It wolde not be but if we shulde hem greve.
Of the commoditees of the Januays and here grette karekkys. The vi. chapitle.
The Janueys comyne in sondre wyses
957
Into this londe wyth dyverse marchaundyses
In grete karrekkis arrayde wythouten lake
Wyth clothes of golde; silke and pepir blake
They bringe wyth hem and of woad grete plente,
Woll-oyle, wood-aschen by vessell in the see,
Coton, roche-alum and gode golde of Jene.
And they be charged wyth woll ageyne, I wene,
And wollene clothe of owres of colours all.
And they aventure, as ofte it dothe byfall,
Into Flaundres wyth suche thynge as they bye;
That is here cheffe staple sykerlye.
And if they wold be oure full ennemyse,
They shulde not passe oure stremez with marchaundyse.
The commodites and nycetees of Venicyans and Florentynes with there galees.
The vij. capitle.
The grete galees of Venees and Florence
Be wel ladene wyth thynges of complacence,
All spicerye and other grocers ware,
Wyth swete wynes, all manere of chaffare,
Apes and japes and marmusettes taylede,
Nifles, trifles, that litell have availed,
And thynges wyth whiche they fetely blere oure eye,
Wyth thynges not endurynge that we bye.
For moche of thys chaffare that is wastable
Mighte be forborne for dere and dyssevable;
And that I wene as for infirmitees
In oure Englonde are suche comoditees
Wythowten helpe of any other londe,
Whych ben by wytte and prattike bothe ifounde,
That all ill humors myght be voyded sure,
Whych that we gadre wyth oure Englysh cure,
That wee shulde have no nede to skamonye,
Turbit, euforbe, correcte, diagredie,
Rubarbe, sené¬ and yet they bene to nedefulle.
But I knowe wele thynges also spedefull
That growene here as these thynges forseyde.
Lett of this matere no mane be dysmayde,
But that a man may voyde infirmytee
Wythoute drugges fet fro beyonde the see.
And yf there shulde excepte be ony thynge,
958
It were but sugre, truste to my seyinge;
And he that trustith not to my sentence
Lett hym better serche experience.
In this mater I woll not ferthere prese;
Who so not beleveth let hym leve and cease.
Thus these galeise for this lykynge ware
And etynge ware bere hens oure beste chaffare,
Clothe, woll and tynne, whiche, as I seyde beforne,
Oute of this londe werste myght be forborne;
For eche other londe of necessite
Have grete nede to by some of the thre.
And wee resseyve of hem into this coste
Ware and chaffare that lyghtlye wol be loste.
And wolde Ihesu that oure lordis wolde
Considre this wel, both the yonge and olde,
Namelye the olde that have experience,
That myghte the yonge exorten to prudence.
What harme, what hurte and what hinderaunce
Is done to us unto oure grete grevaunce
Of suche londes and of suche nacions,
As experte men knowe by probacions!
By wretynge ar discured oure counsayles
And false coloured alwey the countertayles
Of oure enmyes, that dothe us hinderinge
Unto oure goodes, oure realme and to the kynge,
As wysse men have shewed well at eye,
And alle this is colowred by marchaundye.
Ane emsampelle of deseytte.
Also they bere the golde oute of thys londe
And souke the thryfte awey oute of oure honde;
As the waffore soukethe honye fro the bee,
So myn? oure commodite.
Now woll ye here how they in Cotteswolde
Were wonte to borowe, or they schulde be solde,
Here wolles gode (as als fro yere to yere
Of clothe and tynne they did in lych manere),
And in her galeys schyppe this marchaundye;
Then sone at Venice of them men wol it bye.
959
They utterne ther the chaffare be the payse,
And lyghtlye also ther they make her reys.
And whan tho gode bene at Venice solde,
Than to carrye her chaunge they ben full bolde
Into Flaundres; whan they this money have,
They wyll it profre, ther sotelte to save,
To Englysshe marchaundis to yeve it oute by eschaunge.
To be paide agayne they make it nothing straunge
Here in Englonde, semynge for the better,
At the receyvyng and sighte of a letter,
By iiij. penyes losse in the noble rounde,
That is xij. penyes in the golden pounde.
And yf we woll have of paymente
A full monythe, than moste hym nedes assente
To viij. penyes losse, that is shellynges tweyne
In the Englysshe pounde; as efte sones agayne
For ij. monythes xij. penyes muste he paye.
In the Englysshe pounde what is that to seye
But iij. shyllinges? So that in pounde felle
For hurte and harme harde is wyth hem to delle.
And whene Englysshe marchaundys have contente
This eschaunge in Englonde of assente,
Than these seyde Venecians have in wone
And Florentynes to bere here golde sone
Overe the see into Flaundres ageyne;
And thus they lyve in Flaundres, sothe to sayne,
And in London wyth suche chevesaunce
That men call usure to oure losse and hinderaunce.
Anothere exemple of disceytte.
Now lestene welle how they made us a baleys,
Whan they borowed at the toune of Caleys,
As they were wonte, ther woll that was hem lente;
For yere and yere they schulde make paymente,
And sometyme als for too yere and too yere.
This was fayre lone; but yett woll ye here
How they to Bruges wolde her wolles carye
And for hem take paymente wythowten tarye
And sell it faste for redy money in honde
(For fifty pounde of losse thei wolde not wonde
In a thowsande pounde) and lyve therebye
960
Tyll the day of paymente easylye,
Some gayne ageyne in exchaunge makynge,
Full lyke usurie as men make undertakynge.
Than whan thys payment of a thowsande pounde
Was well contente, they shulde have chaffare sounde
Yff they wolde fro the staple at the full
Reseyve ageyne ther thousande pounde in woll.
[And thus they wolde, if ye will so beleve,
Wypen our nose with our owne sleve.
Thow this proverbe be homly and undew,
Yet be liklynesse it is for soth full trew.]
In Cotteswolde also they ryde aboute
And al Englonde and bien wythouten doute
What them liste wythe fredome and fraunchise,
More then we Englisshe may getyn in any wyse.
But wolde God that wythoute lenger delayse
These galeise were unfraught in xl. daies
And in tho xl. dayes were charged ageyne,
And that they myght be put to certeyne
To go to oste, as wee there wyth hem doo.
It were expediente that they did right soo,
As wee do there; for, if the kynge wolde itt,
A! what worschip wold fall to Englysshe witte!
What profite also to oure marchaundye,
Whiche wolde of nede be cherisshed hartelye!
For I wolde wete why nowe owre navey fayleth,
Whan many a foo us at oure dorre assayleth,
Now in these dayes that, if there come a nede,
What navey shulde wee have it is to drede.
In Denmarke were full noble conquerours
In tyme passed, full worthy werriours,
Whiche when they had here marchaundes destroyde,
To poverte they fell, thus were they noyede,
And so they stonde at myscheffe at this daye.
This lerned I late well wryten, this is no naye.
Therefore beware, I can no better wylle,
Yf grace it woll, of other mennys perylle.
For yef marchaundes were cherysshede to here spede,
We were not lykelye to fayle in ony nede;
Yff they bee riche, thane in prosperite
Schalbe oure londe, lordes and comonte.
And in worship nowe think I on the sonne
961
Of marchaundy Richarde of Whitingdone,
That loodes sterre and chefe chosen floure.
Whate hathe by hym oure England of honoure,
And whate profite hathe bene of his richesse,
And yet lasteth dayly in worthinesse,
That penne and papere may not me suffice
Him to describe, so high he was of prise,
Above marchaundis to sett him one the beste!
I can no more, but God have hym in reste.
Nowe the principalle matere.
What reason is it that wee schulde go to oste
In there cuntrees and in this Englisshe coste
They schulde not so, but have more liberte
Than wee oure selfe? Now, all so mot I the,
I wolde men shulde to geftes take no hede,
That lettith oure thinge publique for to spede.
For this wee see well every day at eye,
Geftes and festes stopene oure pollicye.
Now se that fooles bene eyther they or wee;
But evere wee have the warse in this contre.
Therefore lett hem unto ooste go wyth us here,
Or be wee free wyth hem in like manere
In there cuntres; and if it woll not bee,
Compelle them unto ooste and ye shall see
Moche avauntage and muche profite arise,
Moche more than I write can in any wyse.
Of oure charge and discharge at here martes.
Conseyve well here that Englyssh men at martes
Be discharged, for all her craftes and artes,
In the Braban of all here marchaundy
In xiiij. dayes and ageyne hastely
In the same dayes xiiij. are charged efte.
And yf they byde lengere, alle is berefte;
Anone they schulde forfet here godes all
Or marchaundy, it schulde no bettere fall.
And wee to martis of Braban charged bene
Wyth Englyssh clothe, full gode and feyre to seyne.
Wee bene ageyne charged wyth mercerye,
962
Haburdasshere ware and wyth grocerye.
To whyche martis, that Englissh men call feyres,
Iche nacion ofte maketh here repayeres.
Englysshe and Frensh, Lumbardes, Januayes,
Cathᬯnes, theder they take here wayes;
Scottes, Spaynardes, Iresshmen there abydes,
Whiche grete plente bringen of salte hydes.
And I here saye that wee in Braban bye
Flaundres and Seland more of marchaundy
In comon use then done all other nacions;
This have I herde of marchaundes relacions.
And yff the Englysshe be not in the martis,
They bene febell and as noughte bene here partes;
For they bye more and more fro purse put oute
For marchaundy than all the othere route.
Kepte than the see, shyppes schulde not bringe ne feche,
And than the carreys wolde not theder streche;
And so tho martes wolde full evel thee,
Yf wee manly kepte aboute the see.
Of the commoditees of Brabane and Selande and Henaulde and marchaundyses
caryed by londe to the martes. The viij. chapitle.
The marchaundy of Brabane and Selande
Be madre and woade, that dyers take one hande
To dyen wythe, garleke and onyons,
And saltfysche als for husbond and comons.
But they of Holonde at Caleyse byene oure felles
And oure wolles that Englysshe men hem selles,
And the chefare that Englysshe men do byene
In the martis, that no man may denyene,
It is not made in Brabane that cuntre.
It commeth frome oute of Henaulde, not be the see
But all by londe by carris and frome Fraunce,
Burgoyne, Coleyn, Camerete in substaunce.
Therfore at martis yf there be a restereynte,
Men seyne pleynly, that liste no fables peynte,
Yf Englysshe men be wythdrawene awey,
Is grete rebuke and losse to here affraye,
As thoughe wee sent into the londe of Fraunce
Tenne thousande peple, men of gode puissaunce,
To werre unto her hynderynge multiphary;
963
So bene oure Englysshe marchauntes necessary.
Yf it be thus assay and ye schall weten
Of men experte by whome I have this wryten.
For seyde is that this carted marchaundye
Drawethe in valew as moche verralye
As all the gode that commethe in shippes thedyre,
Whyche Englisshe men bye moste and bryng it hedire;
For here martis bene feble, shame to saye,
But if Englisshe men thedir dresse here waye.
Conclusione of this deppendinge of kepinge of the see.
Than I conclude, yff nevere so moche by londe
Werre by carres ibrought unto there honde,
Yff well the see were kepte in governaunce,
They shulde by see have no delyveraunce.
Wee shulde hem stoppe and wee shulde hem destroy,
As prysoners wee shulde hem brynge to noy.
And so wee shulde of oure cruell enmysse
Maken oure frendes for fere of marchaundysse,
Yff they were not suffred for to passe
Into Flaundres; but wee be frayle as glasse
And also bretyll, not tough, nevere abydynge.
But when grace shyneth sone are wee slydynge;
Wee woll it not reseyve in any wysse,
That maken luste, envye and covetysse.
Expoune me this and ye shall sothe it fynde;
Bere it aweye and kepe it in youre mynde.
The nayle of thys conclusione.
Than shulde worshyp unto oure noble be,
In feet and forme to lorde and mageste.
Liche as the seale, the grettest of thys londe,
On the one syde hathe, as I understonde,
A prince rydynge wyth hys swerde idrawe,
In the other syde sittynge, sothe is this sawe,
Betokenynge goode reule and ponesshynge
In verry dede of Englande by the kynge
(And hit is so, God blessyd mote he bee);
So one lychewysse I wolde were on the see.
By the noble that swerde schulde have powere
964
And the shippes one the see aboute us here.
What nedeth a garlande whyche is made of ivye
Shewe a taverne wynelesse? Nowe, also thryve I,
Yf men were wyse, the Frenshemen and Flemmynge
Shulde bere no state in the see by werrynge.
Of Hankyne Lyons.
Thane Hankyn Lyons shulde not be so bolde
To stoppe us and oure shippes for to holde
Unto oure shame; he hadde be betene thens.
Allas, allas, why dede wee this offence
Fully to shende the olde Englisshe fames
And the profittes of Englonde and there names?
Why is this powdre called of covetise
Wyth fals colours caste thus beforne oure eyes?
That, if goode men called werryours
Wolde take in hand for the comon socours
To purge the see unto oure grete avayle
And wynne hem gode, and to have up the sayle
And one oure enmyes there lives to juparte,
So that they myght there pryses well departe,
As reason wolde, justice and equite,
To make this lande have lordeshyp of the sea,
Than shall Lumbardes and other feyned frendes
Make her chalenges by coloure false of fendes
And sey ther chafare in the shippes is
And chalenge all. Loke yf this be amisse.
For thus may all that men have bought to sore
Ben sone excused and saved by false coloure.
Beware ye men that bere the grete on honde,
That they destroy the polycye of this londe
By gifte and goode and the fyne golden clothes
And silke and othere. Sey ye not this sothe is?
Bot if ye hadde verry experience
That they take mede wyth pryve violence,
Carpettis and thynges of price and of pleysaunce,
Whereby stopped shulde be gode governaunce,
And if it were as ye seye unto me,
Than wolde I seye, allas, cupidite,
That they that have here lyves put in drede
Schalbe sone oute of wynnynge al for mede,
965
And lese here costes and brought to poverte,
That they shall nevere have luste to go to see.
Sterynge to an ordinaunce ayens coloure of maynteners and excusers.
For thys colour, that muste be seyde alofte
And be declared of the grete fulle ofte,
That oure seemen woll by many wyse
Spoylle oure frendys in stede of oure enmyseFor thys coloure and Lumbardes mayntenaunce
The kynge it nedeth to make an ordinaunce
Wyth hys counsell, that may not fayle, I trowe,
That frendes shuld frome enmyes well be knowe,
Oure enmyes taken and oure frendes spared;
The remedy of hem muste be declared.
Thus may the see be kept now in no sele,
For, if ought be taken, wotte ye weel,
Wee have the strokes and enmyes have the wynnynge;
But maynteners ar parteners of the synnynge.
Wee lyve in luste and byde in covetyse;
This is oure reule to mayntene marchaundyse,
And polycye that we have on the see,
And, but God helpe, it woll none other bee.
Of the commoditees of Irelonde and policye and kepynge therof and conquerynge
of wylde Iryshe, wyth an incident of Walys. The ix. chapitle.
I caste to speke of Irelonde but a lytelle.
Commoditees of it I woll entitell
Hydes and fish, samon, hake and herynge;
Irish wollen and lynyn cloth, faldynge,
And marterns gode bene in here marchaundye;
Hertys hydes and other hydes of venerye,
Skynnes of oter, squerel and Irysh hare,
Of shepe, lambe and fox is here chaffare,
Felles of kydde and conyes grete plente.
So that yf Irelond halpe us to kepe the see,
Because the kynge clepid is rex Anglie
And is dominus also Hibernie,
Of old possessyd by progenitours,
The Yrichemen have cause lyke to oures
Oure londe and herres togedre to defende,
966
So that none enmye shulde hurte ne offende
Yrelonde ne us, but as one comonte
Shulde helpe to kepe well aboute the see.
For they have havenes grete and godely bayes,
Sure, wyde and depe and of ryght gode assayes
Att Waterforde and coostes monye one;
And, as men seyn, in England be there none
Better havenes for shyppes in to ryde,
Ne none more sure for enmyes to abyde.
Why speke I thus so muche of Yrelonde?
For also muche as I can understonde,
It is fertyle for thynge that there do growe
And multiplyen, loke who so lust to knowe,
So large, so gode and so comodyouse
That to declare is straunge and merveylouse.
For of sylvere and golde there is the oore
Amonge the wylde Yrishe, though they be pore,
For they ar rude and can thereone no skylle;
So that, if we had there pese and gode wylle
To myne and fyne and metall for to pure,
In wylde Yrishe myght we fynde the cure.
As in Londone seyth a juellere,
Whych brought from thens gold oore to us here,
Wherof was fyned metalle gode and clene,
That at the touche no bettere coude be sene.
Nowe here beware and hertly take entente,
As ye woll answere at the laste jugemente,
That, but for sloughe and for recheleshede,
Ye remembere and wyth all youre myghte take hede
To kepen Yrelond that it be not loste,
For it is a boterasse and a poste
Undre England, and Wales is another.
God forbede but eche were othere brothere,
Of one ligeaunce dewe unto the kynge.
But I have pite in gode feythe of thys thynge,
That I shall saye wythe gode avysemente
I ham aferde that Yrelonde wol be shente;
It muste awey, it woll be loste frome us,
But if thow helpe, thow Ihesu graciouse,
And yeve us grase all sloughte to leve bysyde.
967
For myche thynge in my harte is ihyde,
Whyche in another tretyse I caste to wrytte,
Made all onelye for that soyle and site
Of fertile Yerelonde, whiche myghte not be forborne
But if Englond were nyghe as gode as lorne.
God forebede that a wylde Yrishe wyrlynge
Shulde be chosene for to be there kynge
Aftere here conqueste of oure laste puisshaunce
And hyndere us by other londes allyaunce.
Wyse mene seyne, whyche folyne not ne dotyne,
That wylde Yrishe so muche of grounde have gotyne
There upon us, as lykelynesse may be,
Lyke as England to shires two or thre
Of thys oure londe is made comparable;
So wylde Yrishe have wonne on us unable
It to defenden and of none powere,
That oure grounde there is a lytell cornere
To all Yrelonde in treue comparisone.
It nedeth no more this matere to expone.
Which if it be loste, as Criste Ihesu forbede,
Farewell Wales; than Englond cometh to drede
For alliaunce of Scotlonde and of Spayne
And other moo, as the Pety Bretayne,
And so to have enmyes environ aboute.
I beseche God that some prayers devoute
Mutt lett the seyde apparaunce probable.
Thys is disposed wythought feyned fable,
But alle onely for parelle that I see
Thus ymynent as lykely for to be.
And well I wott that frome hens to Rome,
And, as men sey, in alle Cristendome,
There ys no grounde ne land to Yreland lyche,
So large, so gode, so plenteouse, so riche,
That to this worde Dominus dothe longe.
Than me semyth that ryght were and not wronge
To gete that lond, and it were piteouse
To us to lese thys hygh name Dominus;
And all this worde Dominus of name
Shulde have the grounde obeisaunte, wylde and tame,
That name and peple togedere myght accorde,
And all the grounde be subjecte to the lorde.
And that it is possible to be subjecte
968
Unto the kynge well shall it be detecte
In the lytell boke that I of spake;
I trowe reson all this woll undertake.
And I knowe well with Irland howe it stant.
Allas, fortune begynneth so to scant,
Or ellis grace, that dede is governaunce;
For so mynusshyth partyes of oure puissaunce
In that land that we lesen every yere
More grounde and more, as well as ye may here.
I herde a man speke unto me full late,
Whyche was a lorde and of ful grete astate,
That exspenses of one yere don in Fraunce,
Werred on men well wylled of puissaunce
Thys seyde grounde of Yrelonde to conquere,
(And yit because Englonde myght not forbere
These seyde exspenses gedred in one yere,
But in iij. yere or iiij. gadred up here)
Myght wynne Yrelonde to a fynall conquest
In one soole yere, to sett us all in reste.
And how sone wolde thys be payde ageyne,
What were it worthe yerely, yf wee not feyne,
I wylle declaren, who so luste to looke,
I trowe ful pleynly in my lytell boke.
But covetyse and singularite
Of owne profite, envye, carnalite
Hathe done us harme and doo us every daye,
And mustres made that shame it is to saye,
Oure money spente all to lytell avayle;
And oure enmyes so gretely done prevayle,
That what harme may falle and overthwerte
I may unneth wrytte more for sore of herte.
An exhortacione to the kepynge of Walys.
Beware of Walys, Criste Ihesu mutt us kepe,
That it make not oure childes childe to wepe,
Ne us also, if so it go his waye
By unwarenesse; sethen that many a day
Men have be ferde of here rebellione
By grete tokenes and ostentacione.
Seche the menys wyth a discrete avyse,
And helpe that they rudely not aryse
969
For to rebellen; that Criste it forbede
Loke well aboute, for God wote we have nede,
Unfayllyngly, unfeynynge and unfeynte,
That conscience for slought you not atteynte.
Kepe well that grounde for harme that may ben used,
Or afore God mutt ye bene accused.
Of the comodius stokfysshe of Yselonde and kepynge of the see, namely the
narowe see, wyth an incident of the kepynge of Calyse. The tenne chapitule.
Of Yseland to wryte is lytill nede
Save of stokfische; yit for sothe in dede
Out of Bristow and costis many one
Men have practised by nedle and by stone
Thiderwardes wythine a lytel whylle,
Wythine xij. yeres, and wythoute parille,
Gone and comen, as men were wonte of olde
Of Scarborowgh, unto the costes colde.
And now so fele shippes thys yere there were
That moche losse for unfraught they bare.
Yselond myght not make hem to be fraught
Unto the hawys; this moche harme they caught.
Thene here I ende of the comoditees
For whiche grete nede is well to kepe the sees.
Este and weste and sowthe and northe they be,
And chefely kepe sharply the narowe see
Betwene Dover and Caleise, and as thus
That foes passe not wythought godewyll of us,
And they abyde oure daunger in the lenghte,
What for oure costis and Caleise in oure strenghte.
An exortacion of the sure kepynge of Calise.
And for the love of God and of his blisse
Cherishe ye Caleise better than it is.
See well therto and here the grete compleynte
That trewe men tellen, that woll no lies peynte,
And as ye knowe that writynge commyth from thens.
Do not to England for sloughte so grete offens
But that redressed it be for ony thynge,
970
Leste a songe of sorow that wee synge.
For lytell wenythe the fole, who so myght chese,
What harme it were gode Caleise for to lese,
What woo it were for all this Englysshe grounde.
Whiche well conceyved the emperoure Sigesmounde,
That of all joyes made it one the moste
That Caleise was soget unto Englyssh coste.
Hym thought it was a jewel moste of alle,
And so the same in latyn did it calle.
And if ye woll more of Caleise here and knowe,
I caste to writte wythine a litell scrowe,
Lyke as I have done byforene by and bye
In othir parties of oure pollicie.
Loke well how harde it was at the firste to gete,
And by my counsell lyghtly be it not lete.
For, if wee leese it wyth shame of face,
Wylfully it is, it is for lake of grace.
Howe was Hareflewe cryed upon at Rone
That it were likely for slought to be gone!
How was it warened and cryed on in Englonde!
I make recorde wyth this penne in myne honde,
It was warened pleynly in Normandye
And in England, and I thereone dyd crye.
The worlde was deef, and it betid ryght soo.
Farewell Hareflewe, leudely it was agoo.
Now ware Caleise, for I can sey no bettere;
My soule discharge I by this presente lettere.
Aftere the chapitles of commoditees of dyuerse landes shewyth the conclusione
of kepynge of the see environ by a storye of kynge Edgare and ij. incidentes of
kynge Edwarde the iijde and kynge Herry the vth. The xi. chapitle.
Now see well thane that in this rounde see
To oure noble be paryformytee.
Within the shypp is shewyd there the sayle
And oure kynge of royall apparaylle,
Wyth swerde drawen, bryght, sharp and extente,
For to chastisen enmyes vyolente;
So shulde he be lorde of the see aboute,
To kepe enmyes fro wythine and wythoute,
And to be holde thorowgh Cristianyte
Master and lorde environ of the see,
971
For all lyvinge men suche a prince to drede,
Of suche a regne to be aferde indede.
Thus prove I well that it was thus of olde,
Whiche by a cronicle anone shalbe tolde,
Ryght curiouse (but I woll interprete
Hit into Englishe as I did it gete)
Of kynge Edgare, oo the moste merveyllouse
Prince lyvynge, wytty and moste chevalrouse,
So gode that none of his predecessours
Was to hym lyche in prudens and honours.
He was fort?and more gracious
Then other before and more glorious;
He was benethe no man in holinesse;
He passed alle in vertuuse swetenesse.
Of Englysshe kynges was none so commend᢬e
To Englysshe men, ne lasse memori᢬e
Than Cirus was to Perse by puissaunce;
And as grete Charlis was to them of Fraunce,
And as to Romains was grete Romulus,
So was to England this worthy Edgarus.
I may not write more of his worthynesse
For lake of tyme ne of his holynesse,
But to my mater I hym examplifie
Of condicions tweyne of his policie.
Wythine his land was one, this is no doute,
And anothere in the see wythoute,
That in the tyme of wynter and of vere,
Whan boistous wyndes put seemen into fere,
Wythine his lande aboute by all provinces
He passyd thorowghe, perceyvynge his princes,
Lordes and othir of the commontee,
Who was oppressoure, and who to poverte
Was drawe and broughte, and who was clene in lyffe,
And who was falle by myscheffe and by stryffe
Wyth overeledynge and extorcione;
And gode and bad of eche condicione
He aspied and his mynisters als,
Who did trought and whiche of hem was fals,
And how the ryght and lawes of his londe
Were execute, and who durste take on honde
To disobeye his statutes and decrees,
And yf they were well kepte in all cuntrees.
972
Of these he made subtile investigacione
By hys owyne espye and other mens relacione.
Amonge othyr was his grete besines
Well to bene ware that grete men of rycchesse
And men of myght in citee ner in toune
Shuld to the pore doo none oppressione.
Thus was he wonte as in this wynter tyde
One suche enserchise busily to abyde.
This was his laboure for the publique thinge;
This occupied a passynge holy kynge.
Now to the purpose, in the somer fayre
Of lusty season, whan clered was the eyre,
He had redy shippes made by him before,
Grete and huge, not fewe but manye a score,
Full thre thousande and sex hundred also,
Statelye inowgh on any see to goo.
The cronicle seyth these shippes were full boisteous;
Suche thinges longen to kynges victorious.
In somere tide wolde he have in wone
And in custome to be full redy sone
Wyth multitude of men of gode array
And instrumentis of werre of beste assay.
Who coude hem well in ony wyse descrive?
Hit were not lyght for ony man on lyve.
Thus he and his wolde entre shippes grete,
Habilementis havynge and the fete
Of see werres, that joyfull was to see
Suche a naveie and lord of mageste
There present in persone hem amonge,
To saile and rowe environ all alonge
So regaliche aboute the Englisshe yle,
To all straungeours a terroure and perille.
Whose soune wente oute in all the world aboute
Unto grete ferre of all that be wythoute,
And exercise to knyghtes and his meyné¼¢r> To hym longynge of his natall
contr鬼br> (For corage muste of nede have exercise)
Thus occupied for esshewynge of vise.
This knewe the kynge, that policie espied;
Wynter and somer he was thus occupied.
And thus conclude I by auctorite
973
Of cronicle that environ the see
Shulde bene oures subjecte unto the kynge,
And he be lorde therof for ony thynge,
For grete worship and for profite also,
And to defende his londe fro every foo.
That worthy kynge I leve, Edgar by name,
And all the cronique of his worthy fame;
Save onely this, I may not passe awey
A word of myghty strenght til that I seye,
That grauntyd hym God suche worship here
For his meritis he was wythouten pere,
That sumtyme at his grete festivite
Kynges and yerles of many a contre
And of provinces fele were there presente,
And mony lordes come thidere by assente
To his worship. But in a certayne daye
He bade shippes be redy of arraye,
For to visite seynte Jonys chyrche he lyste,
Rowynge unto the gode holy Baptiste.
He assyned to yerles, lordes, knyghtes
Many shippes ryght godely to syghtes;
And for hymselfe and for viij. kynges mo
Subdite to hym he made kepe one of tho,
A gode shipp, and entred into it
Wyth tho viij. kynges, and doune did they sit.
And eche of them an ore toke in honde
At the ore holes, as I understonde,
And he hymselfe satte in the shipp behynde
As sterisman; it hym becam of kynde.
Suche another rowynge, I dare well saye,
Was not sene of princes many a day.
Lo than how he on waters had the price,
In land, in see, that I may not suffice
To tell aright the magnanimite
That this kynge Edgar had upon the see.
An incident of the lorde of the see kynge Edwarde the thredde.
Of kynge Edwarde I passe and his prowesse;
On londe, on see ye knowe his worthynesse.
974
The siege of Caleise ye wote well all the mater,
Rounde aboute by londe and by the water
How it lasted not yeres many agoo,
After the bataille of Crecy was idoo
How it was closed environ aboute.
Olde men sawe it whiche lyven, this is no doute.
Olde knyghtis sey that the duke of Burgoyne,
Late rebuked for all his golden coyne,
Of shipp and see made no besegynge there.
For wante of shippes, that durste not come for fere,
It was no thynge beseged by the see;
Thus calle they it no seage for honeste.
Gonnes assayled, but assaute was there none,
No sege but fuge; well was he that myght gone.
This manere carpynge have knyghtes ferre in age,
Experte of olde in this manere langage.
But kynge Edwarde made a sege royall
And wanne the toune, and in especiall
The see was kepte and thereof he was lorde;
Thus made he nobles coigned of recorde.
In whose tyme was no navey in the see
That myght wythstonde the power of hys mageste.
The bataylle of Sluce ye may rede every day;
How it was done I leve and go my way.
Hit was so late done that ye it knowe,
In comparison wythine a lytel throwe.
For whiche to God yeve we honoure and glorye,
For lorde of see the kynge was wyth victó²¹¥.
Anothere incident of kepynge of the see in the tyme of the merveillouse werroure
and victorius prince kynge Herry the vth and of his grete shippes.
And yf I shulde conclude al by the kynge
Henry the fifte, what was hys purposynge
Whan at Hampton he made the grete dromons,
Which passed other grete shippes of all the comons,
The Trinite, the Grace Dieu, the Holy Goste
And other moo, whiche as now be loste?
What hope ye was the kynges grette entente
Of tho shippes and what in mynde he mente?
It was not ellis but that he caste to be
Lorde rounde aboute environ of the see.
975
And whan Harflew had his sege aboute,
There came carikkys orrible, grete and stoute,
In the narowe see wyllynge to abyde,
To stoppe us there wyth multitude of pride.
My lorde of Bedeforde came one and had the cure;
Destroyde they were by that discomfiture,
(This was after the kynge Hareflew had wonne,
Whane oure enmyes to besege had begonne)
That all was slayne or take by treue relacione
To his worship and of his Englisshe nacione.
Ther was presente the kynges chamburleyne
At bothe batayles, whiche knowethe this in certayne;
He can it tell other wyse than I.
Aske hym and witt; I passe forthe hastelye.
What had this kynge of high magnificens,
Of grete corage, of wysdome and prudence,
Provision, forewitte, audacite,
Of fortitude, justice, agilite,
Discrecion, subtile avisifenesse,
Atemperaunce, noblesse and worthynesse,
Science, proesce, devocion, equyte,
Of moste estately magnanimite,
Liche to Edgare and the seyd Edwarde,
A braunche of bothe, lyche hem as in regarde!
Where was on lyve man more victoriouse,
And in so shorte tyme prince so mervelouse?
By lande and see so well he hym acquite,
To speke of hym I stony in my witte.
Thus here I leve the kynge wyth his noblesse,
Henry the fifte, wyth whome all my processe
Of this trewe boke of the pure pollicie
Of see kepinge entendynge victorie
I leve endely, for aboute in the see
No better was prince of strenuite.
And if he had to this tyme lyved here,
He had bene prince named wythouten pere;
His grete shippes shulde have bene put in preffe
Unto the ende that he mente of in cheffe.
For doute it nat but that he wolde have be
Lorde and master aboute the rounde see,
976
And kepte it sure, to stoppe oure enmyes hens,
And wonne us gode and wysely brought it thens,
That no passage shulde be wythought daungere
And his licence on see to meve and stere.
Of unité ³hewynge of oure kepynge of the see, wyth ane endely processe of
pease by auctorite. The xij. chapitule.
Now than, for love of Cryste and of his joye,
Brynge yit Englande out of troble and noye;
Take herte and witte and set a governaunce,
Set many wittes wythouten variaunce
To one acorde and unanimite
Put to gode wylle for to kepe the see,
Furste for worshyp and for profite also,
And to rebuke of eche evyl-wylled foo.
Thus shall richesse and worship to us longe,
Than to the noble shall wee do no wronge,
To bere that coigne in figure and in dede,
To oure corage and to oure enmyes drede;
For whiche they muste dresse hem to pease in haste,
Or ellis there thrifte to standen and to waste,
As this processe hathe proved by and bye,
All by reason and experte policie,
And by stories whiche preved well this parte,
And elles I woll my lyffe put in jeparte.
But many landes wolde seche her peace for nede;
The see well kepte, it must be do for drede.
Thus muste Flaundres for nede have unite
And pease wyth us, it woll none other bee,
Wythine shorte while, and ambassiatours
Wolde bene here sone to trete for ther socours.
This unité ©s to Goddes plesaunce,
And pease after the werres variaunce;
The ende of bataile is pease sikerlye,
And power causeth pease finall verily.
Kepe than the see abought in speciall,
Whiche of England is the rounde wall,
As thoughe England were lykened to a cite
And the wall environ were the see.
977
Kepe than the see, that is the wall of Englond,
And than is Englond kepte by Goddes sonde;
That, as for ony thinge that is wythoute,
Englande were than at ease wythouten doute,
And thus shuld everi lande, one with another,
Entrecomon as brother wyth his brother,
And live togedre werreles in unite
Wythoute rancoure in verry charite,
In reste and pese to Cristis grete plesaunce,
Wythouten striffe, debate and variaunce.
Whiche pease men shulde enserche with besinesse
And knytt it sadely, holdyng in holynesse.
The apostil seyth, if that ye liste to see,
'Be ye busy for to kepe unite
Of the spirite in the bonde of pease,'
Whiche is nedefull to all wythouten lees.
The profete bideth us pease for to enquere;
To purseue it, this is holy desire.
Oure lord Ihesu seith 'Blessid mot they be
That maken pease', that is tranquillite;
For 'peasemakers', as Mathew writeth aryght,
'Shall be called the sonnes of God Allmight'.
God yeve us grace the weyes for to kepe
Of his preceptis and slugly not to slepe
In shame of synne, that oure verry foo
Mow be to us convers and torned too.
For in Proverbis a texte is to purpose
And pleyne inowgh wythouten ony glose,
'Whan mennes weyes please unto oure Lorde,
It shall converte and brynge to accorde
Mannes enmyes unto the pease verray',
In unité ´o live to Goddis pay.
Whiche unité¬ pease, reste and charite
He that was here cladde in humanite,
That came from hevyne and stiede with our nature
(Or he ascendid he yafe to oure cure
And lefte us pease ageyne striffe and debate),
Mote gefe us-pease so well iradicate
Here in this worlde that after att his feste
Wee mowe have pease in the londe of beheste,
Jerusalem, which of pease is the sight,
Wyth the bryghtnes of his eternall lighte,
978
There glorified in reste wyth his tuicione,
The Deite to see wyth full fruicione.
He secunde persone in divinenesse is;
He us assume and brynge us to his blisse.
Amen.
Here endithe the trewe processe of the libelle of Englysshe policie, exhortynge all
Englande to kepe the see environ and namely the narowe see, shewynge whate
worshipe, profite and salvacione commeth thereof to the reigne of Englonde, etc.
Go furthe, libelle, and mekely shewe thy face,
Apperynge ever wyth humble contynaunce,
And pray my lordes thee to take in grace
In opposaile and, cherishynge thee, avaunce
To hardynesse, if that not variaunce
Thow haste fro troughte by full experience,
Auctours and reasone; yif ought faile in substaunce,
Remitte to heme that yafe thee this science.
Sythen that it is sothe in verray feythe
That the wyse lorde baron of Hungerforde
Hathe thee oversene, and verrily he seithe
That thow arte trewe, and thus he dothe recorde,
Nexte the Gospell: God wotte it was his worde,
Whanne he thee redde all over in a nyghte.
Go forthe, trewe booke, and Criste defende thi ryghte.
Explicit libellus de policia conservativa maris.
~ Anonymous Olde English,#NFDB
280:The Court Of Love
With timerous hert and trembling hand of drede,
Of cunning naked, bare of eloquence,
Unto the flour of port in womanhede
I write, as he that non intelligence
Of metres hath, ne floures of sentence;
Sauf that me list my writing to convey,
In that I can to please her hygh nobley.
The blosmes fresshe of Tullius garden soote
Present thaim not, my mater for to borne:
Poemes of Virgil taken here no rote,
Ne crafte of Galfrid may not here sojorne:
Why nam I cunning? O well may I morne,
For lak of science that I can-not write
Unto the princes of my life a-right
No termes digne unto her excellence,
So is she sprong of noble stirpe and high:
A world of honour and of reverence
There is in her, this wil I testifie.
Calliope, thou sister wise and sly,
And thou, Minerva, guyde me with thy grace,
That langage rude my mater not deface.
Thy suger-dropes swete of Elicon
Distill in me, thou gentle Muse, I pray;
And thee, Melpomene, I calle anon,
Of ignoraunce the mist to chace away;
And give me grace so for to write and sey,
That she, my lady, of her worthinesse,
Accepte in gree this litel short tretesse,
That is entitled thus, 'The Court of Love.'
And ye that ben metriciens me excuse,
I you besech, for Venus sake above;
748
For what I mene in this ye need not muse:
And if so be my lady it refuse
For lak of ornat speche, I wold be wo,
That I presume to her to writen so.
But myn entent and all my besy cure
Is for to write this tretesse, as I can,
Unto my lady, stable, true, and sure,
Feithfull and kind, sith first that she began
Me to accept in service as her man:
To her be all the plesure of this boke,
That, whan her like, she may it rede and loke.
When I was yong, at eighteen yere of age,
Lusty and light, desirous of pleasaunce,
Approching on full sadde and ripe corage,
Love arted me to do myn observaunce
To his astate, and doon him obeysaunce,
Commaunding me the Court of Love to see,
A lite beside the mount of Citharee,
There Citherea goddesse was and quene
Honoured highly for her majestee;
And eke her sone, the mighty god, I wene,
Cupid the blind, that for his dignitee
A thousand lovers worship on their knee;
There was I bid, on pain of death, t'apere,
By Mercury, the winged messengere.
So than I went by straunge and fer contrees,
Enquiring ay what costes to it drew,
The Court of Love: and thiderward, as bees,
At last I sey the peple gan pursue:
Anon, me thought, som wight was there that knew
Where that the court was holden, ferre or ny,
And after thaim ful fast I gan me hy.
749
Anone as I theim overtook, I said,
'Hail, frendes! whider purpose ye to wend?'
'Forsooth,' quod oon that answered lich a maid,
'To Loves Court now go we, gentill frend.'
'Where is that place,' quod I, 'my felowe hend?'
'At Citheron, sir,' seid he, 'without dowte,
The King of Love, and all his noble rowte,
Dwelling within a castell ryally.'
So than apace I jorned forth among,
And as he seid, so fond I there truly.
For I beheld the towres high and strong,
And high pinácles, large of hight and long,
With plate of gold bespred on every side,
And presious stones, the stone-werk for to hide.
No saphir ind, no rubè riche of price,
There lakked than, nor emeraud so grene,
Baleis Turkeis, ne thing to my devise,
That may the castell maken for to shene:
All was as bright as sterres in winter been;
And Phebus shoon, to make his pees agayn,
For trespas doon to high estates tweyn,
Venus and Mars, the god and goddesse clere,
Whan he theim found in armes cheined fast:
Venus was then full sad of herte and chere.
But Phebus bemes, streight as is the mast,
Upon the castell ginneth he to cast,
To plese the lady, princesse of that place,
In signe he loketh aftir Loves grace.
For there nis god in heven or helle, y-wis,
But he hath ben right soget unto Love:
Jove, Pluto, or what-so-ever he is,
Ne creature in erth, or yet above;
Of thise the révers may no wight approve.
But furthermore, the castell to descry,
750
Yet saw I never non so large and high.
For unto heven it streccheth, I suppose,
Within and out depeynted wonderly,
With many a thousand daisy, rede as rose,
And white also, this saw I verily:
But what tho daises might do signify,
Can I not tell, sauf that the quenes flour
Alceste it was that kept there her sojour;
Which under Venus lady was and quene,
And Admete king and soverain of that place,
To whom obeyed the ladies gode ninetene,
With many a thowsand other, bright of face.
And yong men fele came forth with lusty pace,
And aged eke, their homage to dispose;
But what thay were, I could not well disclose.
Yet ner and ner furth in I gan me dresse
Into an halle of noble apparaile,
With arras spred and cloth of gold, I gesse,
And other silk of esier availe:
Under the cloth of their estate, saunz faile,
The king and quene ther sat, as I beheld:
It passed joye of Helisee the feld.
There saintes have their comming and resort,
To seen the king so ryally beseyn,
In purple clad, and eke the quene in sort:
And on their hedes saw I crownes tweyn,
With stones fret, so that it was no payn,
Withouten mete and drink, to stand and see
The kinges honour and the ryaltee.
And for to trete of states with the king,
That been of councell chief, and with the quene,
The king had Daunger ner to him standing,
751
The Quene of Love, Disdain, and that was seen:
For by the feith I shall to god, I wene,
Was never straunger [non] in her degree
Than was the quene in casting of her ee.
And as I stood perceiving her apart,
And eke the bemes shyning of her yen,
Me thought thay were shapen lich a dart,
Sherp and persing, smale, and streight as lyne.
And all her here, it shoon as gold so fyne,
Dishevel, crisp, down hinging at her bak
A yarde in length: and soothly than I spak:—
'O bright Regina, who made thee so fair?
Who made thy colour vermelet and white?
Where woneth that god? how fer above the eyr?
Greet was his craft, and greet was his delyt.
Now marvel I nothing that ye do hight
The Quene of Love, and occupy the place
Of Citharee: now, sweet lady, thy grace.'
In mewet spak I, so that nought astert,
By no condicion, word that might be herd;
B[ut] in myn inward thought I gan advert,
And oft I seid, 'My wit is dulle and hard:'
For with her bewtee, thus, god wot, I ferd
As doth the man y-ravisshed with sight,
When I beheld her cristall yen so bright,
No respect having what was best to doon;
Till right anon, beholding here and there,
I spied a frend of myne, and that full soon,
A gentilwoman, was the chamberer
Unto the quene, that hote, as ye shall here,
Philobone, that lovëd all her life:
Whan she me sey, she led me furth as blyfe;
752
And me demaunded how and in what wise
I thider com, and what myne erand was?
'To seen the court,' quod I, 'and all the guyse;
And eke to sue for pardon and for grace,
And mercy ask for all my greet trespace,
That I non erst com to the Court of Love:
Foryeve me this, ye goddes all above!'
'That is well seid,' quod Philobone, 'in-dede:
But were ye not assomoned to apere
By Mercury? For that is all my drede.'
'Yes, gentil fair,' quod I, 'now am I here;
Ye, yit what tho, though that be true, my dere?'
'Of your free will ye shuld have come unsent:
For ye did not, I deme ye will be shent.
For ye that reign in youth and lustinesse,
Pampired with ese, and jolif in your age,
Your dewtee is, as fer as I can gesse,
To Loves Court to dressen your viage,
As sone as Nature maketh you so sage,
That ye may know a woman from a swan,
Or whan your foot is growen half a span.
But sith that ye, by wilful necligence,
This eighteen yere have kept yourself at large,
The gretter is your trespace and offence,
And in your nek ye moot bere all the charge:
For better were ye ben withouten barge,
Amiddë see, in tempest and in rain,
Than byden here, receiving woo and pain,
That ordeined is for such as thaim absent
Fro Loves Court by yeres long and fele.
I ley my lyf ye shall full soon repent;
For Love will reyve your colour, lust, and hele:
Eke ye must bait on many an hevy mele:
No force, y-wis, I stired you long agoon
753
To draw to court,' quod litell Philobon.
'Ye shall well see how rough and angry face
The King of Love will shew, when ye him see;
By myn advyse kneel down and ask him grace,
Eschewing perell and adversitee;
For well I wot it wol non other be,
Comfort is non, ne counsel to your ese;
Why will ye than the King of Love displese?'
'O mercy, god,' quod ich, 'I me repent,
Caitif and wrecche in hert, in wille, and thought!
And aftir this shall be myne hole entent
To serve and plese, how dere that love be bought:
Yit, sith I have myn own penaunce y-sought,
With humble spirit shall I it receive,
Though that the King of Love my life bereyve.
And though that fervent loves qualitè
In me did never worch truly, yit I
With all obeisaunce and humilitè,
And benign hert, shall serve him til I dye:
And he that Lord of might is, grete and highe,
Right as him list me chastice and correct,
And punish me, with trespace thus enfect.'
Thise wordes seid, she caught me by the lap,
And led me furth intill a temple round,
Large and wyde: and, as my blessed hap
And good avénture was, right sone I found
A tabernacle reised from the ground,
Where Venus sat, and Cupid by her syde;
Yet half for drede I gan my visage hyde.
And eft again I loked and beheld,
Seeing full sundry peple in the place,
And mister folk, and som that might not weld
754
Their limmes well, me thought a wonder cas;
The temple shoon with windows all of glas,
Bright as the day, with many a fair image;
And there I sey the fresh quene of Cartage,
Dido, that brent her bewtee for the love
Of fals Eneas; and the weymenting
Of hir, Anelida, true as turtill-dove,
To Arcite fals: and there was in peinting
Of many a prince, and many a doughty king,
Whose marterdom was shewed about the walles;
And how that fele for love had suffered falles.
But sore I was abasshed and astonied
Of all tho folk that there were in that tyde;
And than I asked where thay had [y-]woned:
'In dyvers courtes,' quod she, 'here besyde.'
In sondry clothing, mantil-wyse full wyde,
They were arrayed, and did their sacrifice
Unto the god and goddesse in their guyse.
'Lo! yonder folk,' quod she, 'that knele in blew,
They were the colour ay, and ever shall,
In sign they were, and ever will be trew
Withouten chaunge: and sothly, yonder all
That ben in blak, with morning cry and call
Unto the goddes, for their loves been
Som fer, som dede, som all to sherpe and kene.'
'Ye, than,' quod I, 'what doon thise prestes here,
Nonnes and hermits, freres, and all thoo
That sit in white, in russet, and in grene?'
'For-soth,' quod she, 'they wailen of their wo.'
'O mercy, lord! may thay so come and go
Freely to court, and have such libertee?'
'Ye, men of ech condicion and degree,
755
And women eke: for truly, there is non
Excepcion mad, ne never was ne may:
This court is ope and free for everichon,
The King of Love he will nat say thaim nay:
He taketh all, in poore or riche array,
That meekly sewe unto his excellence
With all their herte and all their reverence.'
And, walking thus about with Philobone,
I sey where cam a messenger in hy
Streight from the king, which let commaund anon,
Through-out the court to make an ho and cry:
'A! new-come folk, abyde! and wot ye why?
The kinges lust is for to seen you soon:
Com ner, let see! his will mot need be doon.'
Than gan I me present to-fore the king,
Trembling for fere, with visage pale of hew,
And many a lover with me was kneling,
Abasshed sore, till unto tyme thay knew
The sentence yeve of his entent full trew:
And at the last the king hath me behold
With stern visage, and seid, 'What doth this old,
Thus fer y-stope in yeres, come so late
Unto the court?' 'For-soth, my liege,' quod I,
'An hundred tyme I have ben at the gate
Afore this tyme, yit coud I never espy
Of myn acqueyntaunce any with mine y;
And shamefastnes away me gan to chace;
But now I me submit unto your grace.'
'Well! all is perdoned, with condicion
That thou be trew from hensforth to thy might,
And serven Love in thyn entencion:
Swere this, and than, as fer as it is right,
Thou shalt have grace here in my quenes sight.'
'Yis, by the feith I ow your crown, I swere,
756
Though Deth therfore me thirlith with his spere!'
And whan the king had seen us everichoon,
He let commaunde an officer in hy
To take our feith, and shew us, oon by oon,
The statuts of the court full besily.
Anon the book was leid before their y,
To rede and see what thing we must observe
In Loves Court, till that we dye and sterve.
And, for that I was lettred, there I red
The statuts hole of Loves Court and hall:
The first statut that on the boke was spred,
Was, To be true in thought and dedes all
Unto the King of Love, the Lord ryall;
And to the Quene, as feithful and as kind,
As I coud think with herte, and will and mind.
The secund statut, Secretly to kepe
Councell of love, nat blowing every-where
All that I know, and let it sink or flete;
It may not sown in every wightes ere:
Exyling slaunder ay for dred and fere,
And to my lady, which I love and serve,
Be true and kind, her grace for to deserve.
The thrid statut was clerely write also,
Withouten chaunge to live and dye the same,
Non other love to take, for wele ne wo,
For brind delyt, for ernest nor for game:
Without repent, for laughing or for grame,
To byden still in full perseveraunce:
Al this was hole the kinges ordinaunce.
The fourth statut, To purchace ever to here,
And stiren folk to love, and beten fyr
On Venus awter, here about and there,
757
And preche to thaim of love and hot desyr,
And tell how love will quyten well their hire:
This must be kept; and loth me to displese:
If love be wroth, passe forby is an ese.
The fifth statut, Not to be daungerous,
If that a thought wold reyve me of my slepe:
Nor of a sight to be over squeymous;
And so, verily, this statut was to kepe,
To turne and walowe in my bed and wepe,
When that my lady, of her crueltè,
Wold from her herte exylen all pitè.
The sixt statut, it was for me to use,
Alone to wander, voide of company,
And on my ladys bewtee for to muse,
And to think [it] no force to live or dye;
And eft again to think the remedy,
How to her grace I might anon attain,
And tell my wo unto my souverain.
The seventh statut was, To be pacient,
Whether my lady joyfull were or wroth;
For wordes glad or hevy, diligent,
Wheder that she me helden lefe or loth:
And hereupon I put was to myn oth,
Her for to serve, and lowly to obey,
Shewing my chere, ye, twenty sith a-day.
The eighth statut, to my rememb[e]raunce,
Was, To speke, and pray my lady dere,
With hourly labour and gret attendaunce,
Me for to love with all her herte entere,
And me desyre, and make me joyfull chere,
Right as she is, surmounting every faire,
Of bewtie well, and gentill debonaire.
758
The ninth statut, with lettres writ of gold,
This was the sentence, How that I and all
Shuld ever dred to be to over-bold
Her to displese; and truly, so I shall;
But ben content for thing[es] that may falle,
And meekly take her chastisement and yerd,
And to offende her ever ben aferd.
The tenth statut was, Egally discern
By-twene thy lady and thyn abilitee,
And think, thy-self art never like to yern,
By right, her mercy, nor of equitee,
But of her grace and womanly pitee:
For though thy-self be noble in thy strene,
A thowsand-fold more nobill is thy quene,
Thy lyves lady, and thy souverayn,
That hath thyn herte all hole in governaunce.
Thou mayst no wyse hit taken to disdayn,
To put thee humbly at her ordinaunce,
And give her free the rein of her plesaunce;
For libertee is thing that women loke,
And truly, els the mater is a-croke.
The eleventh statut, Thy signes for to con
With y and finger, and with smyles soft,
And low to cough, and alway for to shon,
For dred of spyes, for to winken oft:
But secretly to bring a sigh a-loft,
And eke beware of over-moch resort;
For that, paraventure, spilleth al thy sport.
The twelfth statut remember to observe:
For al the pain thow hast for love and wo,
All is to lite her mercy to deserve,
Thow must then think, where-ever thou ryde or go;
And mortall woundes suffer thow also,
All for her sake, and thinke it well beset
759
Upon thy love, for it may be no bet.
The thirteenth statut, Whylom is to thinke,
What thing may best thy lady lyke and plese,
And in thyn hertes botom let it sinke:
Som thing devise, and take [it] for thyn ese,
And send it her, that may her herte apese:
Some hert, or ring, or lettre, or device,
Or precious stone; but spare not for no price.
The fourteenth statut eke thou shalt assay
Fermly to kepe the most part of thy lyfe:
Wish that thy lady in thyne armes lay,
And nightly dreme, thow hast thy hertes wyfe
Swetely in armes, straining her as blyfe:
And whan thou seest it is but fantasy,
See that thow sing not over merily,
For to moche joye hath oft a wofull end.
It longith eke, this statut for to hold,
To deme thy lady evermore thy frend,
And think thyself in no wyse a cocold.
In every thing she doth but as she shold:
Construe the best, beleve no tales newe,
For many a lie is told, that semeth full trewe.
But think that she, so bounteous and fair,
Coud not be fals: imagine this algate;
And think that tonges wikke wold her appair,
Slaundering her name and worshipfull estat,
And lovers true to setten at debat:
And though thow seest a faut right at thyne y,
Excuse it blyve, and glose it pretily.
The fifteenth statut, Use to swere and stare,
And counterfet a lesing hardely,
To save thy ladys honour every-where,
760
And put thyself to fight [for her] boldly:
Sey she is good, virtuous, and gostly,
Clere of entent, and herte, and thought and wille;
And argue not, for reson ne for skille,
Agayn thy ladys plesir ne entent,
For love wil not be countrepleted, indede:
Sey as she seith, than shalt thou not be shent,
The crow is whyte; ye, truly, so I rede:
And ay what thing that she thee will forbede,
Eschew all that, and give her sovereintee,
Her appetyt folow in all degree.
The sixteenth statut, kepe it if thow may:—
Seven sith at night thy lady for to plese,
And seven at midnight, seven at morow-day;
And drink a cawdell erly for thyn ese.
Do this, and kepe thyn hede from all disese,
And win the garland here of lovers all,
That ever come in court, or ever shall.
Ful few, think I, this statut hold and kepe;
But truly, this my reson giveth me fele,
That som lovers shuld rather fall aslepe,
Than take on hand to plese so oft and wele.
There lay non oth to this statut a-dele,
But kepe who might, as gave him his corage:
Now get this garland, lusty folk of age.
Now win who may, ye lusty folk of youth,
This garland fresh, of floures rede and whyte,
Purpill and blewe, and colours ful uncouth,
And I shal croune him king of all delyt!
In al the court there was not, to my sight,
A lover trew, that he ne was adred,
When he expresse hath herd the statut red.
761
The seventeenth statut, Whan age approchith on,
And lust is leid, and all the fire is queint,
As freshly than thou shalt begin to fon,
And dote in love, and all her image paint
In rémembraunce, til thou begin to faint,
As in the first seson thyn hert began:
And her desire, though thou ne may ne can
Perform thy living actuell, and lust;
Regester this in thy rememb[e]raunce:
Eke when thou mayst not kepe thy thing from rust,
Yit speke and talk of plesaunt daliaunce;
For that shall make thyn hert rejoise and daunce.
And when thou mayst no more the game assay,
The statut bit thee pray for hem that may.
The eighteenth statut, hoolly to commend,
To plese thy lady, is, That thou eschewe
With sluttishness thy-self for to offend;
Be jolif, fresh, and fete, with thinges newe,
Courtly with maner, this is all thy due,
Gentill of port, and loving clenlinesse;
This is the thing that lyketh thy maistresse.
And not to wander lich a dulled ass,
Ragged and torn, disgysed in array,
Ribaud in speche, or out of mesure pass,
Thy bound exceding; think on this alway:
For women been of tender hertes ay,
And lightly set their plesire in a place;
Whan they misthink, they lightly let it passe.
The nineteenth statut, Mete and drink forgete:
Ech other day, see that thou fast for love,
For in the court they live withouten mete,
Sauf such as cometh from Venus all above;
They take non heed, in pain of greet reprove,
Of mete and drink, for that is all in vain;
762
Only they live by sight of their soverain.
The twentieth statut, last of everichoon,
Enroll it in thyn hertes privitee;
To wring and wail, to turn, and sigh and grone,
When that thy lady absent is from thee;
And eke renew the wordes [all] that she
Bitween you twain hath seid, and all the chere
That thee hath mad thy lyves lady dere.
And see thyn herte in quiet ne in rest
Sojorn, to tyme thou seen thy lady eft;
But wher she won by south, or est, or west,
With all thy force, now see it be not left:
Be diligent, till tyme thy lyfe be reft,
In that thou mayst, thy lady for to see;
This statut was of old antiquitee.
An officer of high auctoritee,
Cleped Rigour, made us swere anon:
He nas corrupt with parcialitee,
Favour, prayer, ne gold that cherely shoon;
'Ye shall,' quod he, 'now sweren here echoon,
Yong and old, to kepe, in that ye may,
The statuts truly, all, aftir this day.'
O god, thought I, hard is to make this oth!
But to my pouer shall I thaim observe;
In all this world nas mater half so loth,
To swere for all; for though my body sterve,
I have no might the hole for to reserve.
But herkin now the cace how it befell:
After my oth was mad, the trouth to tell,
I turned leves, loking on this boke,
Where other statuts were of women shene;
And right furthwith Rigour on me gan loke
763
Full angrily, and seid unto the quene
I traitour was, and charged me let been:
'There may no man,' quod he, 'the statut[s] know,
That long to woman, hy degree ne low.
In secret wyse thay kepten been full close,
They sowne echon to libertie, my frend;
Plesaunt thay be, and to their own purpose;
There wot no wight of thaim, but god and fend,
Ne naught shall wit, unto the worldes end.
The quene hath yeve me charge, in pain to dye,
Never to rede ne seen thaim with myn ye.
For men shall not so nere of councell ben,
With womanhode, ne knowen of her gyse,
Ne what they think, ne of their wit th'engyn;
I me report to Salamon the wyse,
And mighty Sampson, which begyled thryes
With Dalida was: he wot that, in a throw,
There may no man statut of women knowe.
For it paravénture may right so befall,
That they be bound by nature to disceive,
And spinne, and wepe, and sugre strewe on gall,
The hert of man to ravissh and to reyve,
And whet their tong as sharp as swerd or gleyve:
It may betyde, this is their ordinaunce;
So must they lowly doon the observaunce,
And kepe the statut yeven thaim of kind,
Or such as love hath yeve hem in their lyfe.
Men may not wete why turneth every wind,
Nor waxen wyse, nor ben inquisityf
To know secret of maid, widow, or wyfe;
For they their statutes have to thaim reserved,
And never man to know thaim hath deserved.
764
Now dress you furth, the god of Love you gyde!'
Quod Rigour than, 'and seek the temple bright
Of Cither[e]a, goddess here besyde;
Beseche her, by [the] influence and might
Of al her vertue, you to teche a-right,
How for to serve your ladies, and to plese,
Ye that ben sped, and set your hert in ese.
And ye that ben unpurveyed, pray her eke
Comfort you soon with grace and destinee,
That ye may set your hert there ye may lyke,
In suche a place, that it to love may be
Honour and worship, and felicitee
To you for ay. Now goth, by one assent.'
'Graunt mercy, sir!' quod we, and furth we went
Devoutly, soft and esy pace, to see
Venus the goddes image, all of gold:
And there we founde a thousand on their knee,
Sum freshe and feire, som dedely to behold,
In sondry mantils new, and som were old,
Som painted were with flames rede as fire,
Outward to shew their inward hoot desire:
With dolefull chere, full fele in their complaint
Cried 'Lady Venus, rewe upon our sore!
Receive our billes, with teres all bedreint;
We may not wepe, there is no more in store;
But wo and pain us frettith more and more:
Thou blisful planet, lovers sterre so shene,
Have rowth on us, that sigh and carefull been;
And ponish, Lady, grevously, we pray,
The false untrew with counterfet plesaunce,
That made their oth, be trew to live or dey,
With chere assured, and with countenaunce;
And falsly now thay foten loves daunce,
Barein of rewth, untrue of that they seid,
765
Now that their lust and plesire is alleyd.'
Yet eft again, a thousand milion,
Rejoysing, love, leding their life in blis:
They seid:—'Venus, redresse of all division,
Goddes eterne, thy name y-heried is!
By loves bond is knit all thing, y-wis,
Best unto best, the erth to water wan,
Bird unto bird, and woman unto man;
This is the lyfe of joye that we ben in,
Resembling lyfe of hevenly paradyse;
Love is exyler ay of vice and sin;
Love maketh hertes lusty to devyse;
Honour and grace have thay, in every wyse,
That been to loves law obedient;
Love makith folk benigne and diligent;
Ay stering theim to drede[n] vice and shame:
In their degree it maketh thaim honorable;
And swete it is of love [to] bere the name,
So that his love be feithfull, true, and stable:
Love prunith him, to semen amiable;
Love hath no faut, there it is exercysed,
But sole with theim that have all love dispised.
Honour to thee, celestiall and clere
Goddes of love, and to thy celsitude,
That yevest us light so fer down from thy spere,
Persing our hertes with thy pulcritude!
Comparison non of similitude
May to thy grace be mad in no degree,
That hast us set with love in unitee.
Gret cause have we to praise thy name and thee,
For [that] through thee we live in joye and blisse.
Blessed be thou, most souverain to see!
766
Thy holy court of gladness may not misse:
A thousand sith we may rejoise in this,
That we ben thyn with harte and all y-fere,
Enflamed with thy grace, and hevinly fere.'
Musing of tho that spakin in this wyse,
I me bethought in my rememb[e]raunce
Myne orison right goodly to devyse,
And plesauntly, with hartes obeisaunce,
Beseech the goddes voiden my grevaunce;
For I loved eke, sauf that I wist nat where;
Yet down I set, and seid as ye shall here.
'Fairest of all that ever were or be!
Lucerne and light to pensif crëature!
Myn hole affiaunce, and my lady free,
My goddes bright, my fortune and my ure,
I yeve and yeld my hart to thee full sure,
Humbly beseching, lady, of thy grace
Me to bestowe into som blessed place.
And here I vow me feithfull, true, and kind,
Without offence of mutabilitee,
Humbly to serve, whyl I have wit and mind,
Myn hole affiaunce, and my lady free!
In thilkë place, there ye me sign to be:
And, sith this thing of newe is yeve me, ay
To love and serve, needly must I obey.
Be merciable with thy fire of grace,
And fix myne hert there bewtie is and routh,
For hote I love, determine in no place,
Sauf only this, by god and by my trouth,
Trowbled I was with slomber, slepe, and slouth
This other night, and in a visioun
I sey a woman romen up and down,
767
Of mene stature, and seemly to behold,
Lusty and fresh, demure of countynaunce,
Yong and wel shap, with here [that] shoon as gold,
With yen as cristall, farced with plesaunce;
And she gan stir myne harte a lite to daunce;
But sodenly she vanissh gan right there:
Thus I may sey, I love and wot not where.
For what she is, ne her dwelling I not,
And yet I fele that love distraineth me:
Might ich her know, that wold I fain, god wot,
Serve and obey with all benignitee.
And if that other be my destinee,
So that no wyse I shall her never see,
Than graunt me her that best may lyken me,
With glad rejoyse to live in parfit hele,
Devoide of wrath, repent, or variaunce;
And able me to do that may be wele
Unto my lady, with hertes hy plesaunce:
And, mighty goddes! through thy purviaunce
My wit, my thought, my lust and love so gyde,
That to thyne honour I may me provyde
To set myne herte in place there I may lyke,
And gladly serve with all affeccioun.
Gret is the pain which at myn hert doth stik,
Till I be sped by thyn eleccioun:
Help, lady goddes! that possessioun
I might of her have, that in all my lyfe
I clepen shall my quene and hertes wife.
And in the Court of Love to dwell for ay
My wille it is, and don thee sacrifice:
Daily with Diane eke to fight and fray,
And holden werre, as might well me suffice:
That goddes chaste I kepen in no wyse
To serve; a fig for all her chastitee!
768
Her lawe is for religiositee.'
And thus gan finish preyer, lawde, and preise,
Which that I yove to Venus on my knee,
And in myne hert to ponder and to peise,
I gave anon hir image fressh bewtie;
'Heil to that figure sweet! and heil to thee,
Cupide,' quod I, and rose and yede my way;
And in the temple as I yede I sey
A shryne sormownting all in stones riche,
Of which the force was plesaunce to myn y,
With diamant or saphire; never liche
I have non seyn, ne wrought so wonderly.
So whan I met with Philobone, in hy
I gan demaund, 'Who[s] is this sepulture?'
'Forsoth,' quod she, 'a tender creature
Is shryned there, and Pitè is her name.
She saw an egle wreke him on a fly,
And pluk his wing, and eke him, in his game,
And tender herte of that hath made her dy:
Eke she wold wepe, and morn right pitously
To seen a lover suffre gret destresse.
In all the court nas non that, as I gesse,
That coude a lover half so well availe,
Ne of his wo the torment or the rage
Aslaken, for he was sure, withouten faile,
That of his grief she coud the hete aswage.
In sted of Pitè, spedeth hot corage
The maters all of court, now she is dede;
I me report in this to womanhede.
For weile and wepe, and crye, and speke, and pray,—
Women wold not have pitè on thy plaint;
Ne by that mene to ese thyn hart convey,
769
But thee receiven for their own talent:
And sey, that Pitè causith thee, in consent
Of rewth, to take thy service and thy pain
In that thow mayst, to plese thy souverain.
But this is councell, keep it secretly;'
Quod she, 'I nold, for all the world abowt,
The Quene of Love it wist; and wit ye why?
For if by me this matter springen out,
In court no lenger shuld I, owt of dowt,
Dwellen, but shame in all my life endry:
Now kepe it close,' quod she, 'this hardely.
Well, all is well! Now shall ye seen,' she seid,
'The feirest lady under son that is:
Come on with me, demene you liche a maid,
With shamefast dred, for ye shall spede, y-wis,
With her that is the mir[th] and joy and blis:
But sumwhat straunge and sad of her demene
She is, be ware your countenaunce be sene,
Nor over light, ne recheless, ne to bold,
Ne malapert, ne rinning with your tong;
For she will you abeisen and behold,
And you demaund, why ye were hens so long
Out of this court, without resort among:
And Rosiall her name is hote aright,
Whose harte as yet [is] yeven to no wight.
And ye also ben, as I understond,
With love but light avaunced, by your word;
Might ye, by hap, your fredom maken bond,
And fall in grace with her, and wele accord,
Well might ye thank the god of Love and lord;
For she that ye sawe in your dreme appere,
To love suche one, what are ye than the nere?
770
Yit wot ye what? as my rememb[e]raunce
Me yevith now, ye fayn, where that ye sey
That ye with love had never acqueintaunce,
Sauf in your dreme right late this other day:
Why, yis, parde! my life, that durst I lay,
That ye were caught upon an heth, when I
Saw you complain, and sigh full pitously;
Within an erber, and a garden fair
With floures growe, and herbes vertuous,
Of which the savour swete was and the eyr,
There were your-self full hoot and amorous:
Y-wis, ye ben to nice and daungerous;
A! wold ye now repent, and love som new?'—
'Nay, by my trouth,' I seid, 'I never knew
The goodly wight, whos I shall be for ay:
Guyde me the lord that love hath made and me.'
But furth we went in-till a chambre gay,
There was Rosiall, womanly to see,
Whose stremes sotell-persing of her ee
Myn hart gan thrill for bewtie in the stound:
'Alas,' quod I, 'who hath me yeve this wound?'
And than I dred to speke, till at the last
I gret the lady reverently and wele,
Whan that my sigh was gon and over-past;
And down on knees full humbly gan I knele,
Beseching her my fervent wo to kele,
For there I took full purpose in my mind,
Unto her grace my painfull hart to bind.
For if I shall all fully her discryve,
Her hede was round, by compace of nature,
Her here as gold,—she passed all on-lyve,—
And lily forhede had this crëature,
With lovelich browes, flawe, of colour pure,
Bytwene the which was mene disseveraunce
771
From every brow, to shewe[n] a distaunce.
Her nose directed streight, and even as lyne,
With fourm and shap therto convenient,
In which the goddes milk-whyt path doth shine;
And eke her yen ben bright and orient
As is the smaragde, unto my juggement,
Or yet thise sterres hevenly, smale and bright;
Her visage is of lovely rede and whyte.
Her mouth is short, and shit in litell space,
Flaming somdele, not over-rede, I mene,
With pregnant lippes, and thik to kiss, percas;
(For lippes thin, not fat, but ever lene,
They serve of naught, they be not worth a bene;
For if the basse ben full, there is delyt,
Maximian truly thus doth he wryte.)
But to my purpose:—I sey, whyte as snow
Ben all her teeth, and in order thay stond
Of oon stature; and eke hir breth, I trow,
Surmounteth alle odours that ever I fond
In sweetnes; and her body, face, and hond
Ben sharply slender, so that from the hede
Unto the fote, all is but womanhede.
I hold my pees of other thinges hid:—
Here shall my soul, and not my tong, bewray:—
But how she was arrayed, if ye me bid,
That shall I well discover you and say:
A bend of gold and silk, full fressh and gay;
With here in tresse[s], browdered full well,
Right smothly kept, and shyning every-del.
About her nek a flour of fressh devyse
With rubies set, that lusty were to sene;
And she in gown was, light and somer-wyse,
772
Shapen full wele, the colour was of grene,
With aureat seint about her sydes clene,
With dyvers stones, precious and riche:—
Thus was she rayed, yet saugh I never her liche.
For if that Jove had [but] this lady seyn,
Tho Calixto ne [yet] Alcmenia,
Thay never hadden in his armes leyn;
Ne he had loved the faire Europa;
Ye, ne yet Dane ne Antiopa!
For al their bewtie stood in Rosiall;
She semed lich a thing celestiall
In bowntè, favor, port, and semliness,
Plesaunt of figure, mirrour of delyt,
Gracious to sene, and rote of gentilness,
With angel visage, lusty rede and white:
There was not lak, sauf daunger had a lite
This goodly fressh in rule and governaunce;
And somdel straunge she was, for her plesaunce.
And truly sone I took my leve and went,
Whan she had me enquyred what I was;
For more and more impressen gan the dent
Of Loves dart, whyl I beheld her face;
And eft again I com to seken grace,
And up I put my bill, with sentence clere
That folwith aftir; rede and ye shall here.
'O ye [the] fressh, of [all] bewtie the rote,
That nature hath fourmed so wele and made
Princesse and Quene! and ye that may do bote
Of all my langour with your wordes glad!
Ye wounded me, ye made me wo-bestad;
Of grace redress my mortall grief, as ye
Of all myne harm the verrey causer be.
773
Now am I caught, and unwar sodenly,
With persant stremes of your yën clere,
Subject to ben, and serven you meekly,
And all your man, y-wis, my lady dere,
Abiding grace, of which I you requere,
That merciles ye cause me not to sterve;
But guerdon me, liche as I may deserve.
For, by my troth, the dayes of my breth
I am and will be youre in wille and hert,
Pacient and meek, for you to suffre deth
If it require; now rewe upon my smert;
And this I swere, I never shall out-stert
From Loves Court for none adversitee,
So ye wold rewe on my distresse and me.
My destinee, my fate, and ure I bliss,
That have me set to ben obedient
Only to you, the flour of all, y-wis:
I trust to Venus never to repent;
For ever redy, glad, and diligent
Ye shall me finde in service to your grace,
Till deth my lyfe out of my body race.
Humble unto your excellence so digne,
Enforcing ay my wittes and delyt
To serve and plese with glad herte and benigne,
And ben as Troilus, [old] Troyes knight,
Or Antony for Cleopatre bright,
And never you me thinkes to reney:
This shall I kepe unto myne ending-day.
Enprent my speche in your memorial
Sadly, my princess, salve of all my sore!
And think that, for I wold becomen thrall,
And ben your own, as I have seyd before,
Ye must of pity cherissh more and more
Your man, and tender aftir his desert,
774
And yive him corage for to ben expert.
For where that oon hath set his herte on fire,
And findeth nether refut ne plesaunce,
Ne word of comfort, deth will quyte his hire.
Allas! that there is none allegeaunce
Of all their wo! allas, the gret grevaunce
To love unloved! But ye, my Lady dere,
In other wyse may govern this matere.'
'Truly, gramercy, frend, of your good will,
And of your profer in your humble wyse!
But for your service, take and kepe it still.
And where ye say, I ought you well cheryse,
And of your gref the remedy devyse,
I know not why: I nam acqueinted well
With you, ne wot not sothly where ye dwell.'
'In art of love I wryte, and songes make,
That may be song in honour of the King
And Quene of Love; and than I undertake,
He that is sad shall than full mery sing.
And daunger[o]us not ben in every thing
Beseche I you, but seen my will and rede,
And let your aunswer put me out of drede.'
'What is your name? reherse it here, I pray,
Of whens and where, of what condicion
That ye ben of? Let see, com of and say!
Fain wold I know your disposicion:—
Ye have put on your old entencion;
But what ye mene to servë me I noot,
Sauf that ye say ye love me wonder hoot.'
'My name? alas, my hert, why [make it straunge?]
Philogenet I cald am fer and nere,
Of Cambrige clerk, that never think to chaunge
775
Fro you that with your hevenly stremes clere
Ravissh myne herte and gost and all in-fere:
This is the first, I write my bill for grace,
Me think, I see som mercy in your face.
And what I mene, by god that al hath wrought,
My bill, that maketh finall mencion,
That ye ben, lady, in myne inward thought
Of all myne hert without offencion,
That I best love, and have, sith I begon
To draw to court. Lo, than! what might I say?
I yeld me here, [lo!] unto your nobley.
And if that I offend, or wilfully
By pompe of hart your precept disobey,
Or doon again your will unskillfully,
Or greven you, for ernest or for play,
Correct ye me right sharply than, I pray,
As it is sene unto your womanhede,
And rewe on me, or ellis I nam but dede.'
'Nay, god forbede to feffe you so with grace,
And for a worde of sugred eloquence,
To have compassion in so litell space!
Than were it tyme that som of us were hens!
Ye shall not find in me suche insolence.
Ay? what is this? may ye not suffer sight?
How may ye loke upon the candill-light,
That clere[r] is and hotter than myn y?
And yet ye seid, the bemes perse and frete:—
How shall ye than the candel-[l]ight endry?
For wel wot ye, that hath the sharper hete.
And there ye bid me you correct and bete,
If ye offend,—nay, that may not be doon:
There come but few that speden here so soon.
776
Withdraw your y, withdraw from presens eke:
Hurt not yourself, through foly, with a loke;
I wold be sory so to make you seke:
A woman shuld be ware eke whom she toke:
Ye beth a clark:—go serchen [in] my boke,
If any women ben so light to win:
Nay, byde a whyl, though ye were all my kin.
So soon ye may not win myne harte, in trouth
The gyse of court will seen your stedfastness,
And as ye don, to have upon you rewth.
Your own desert, and lowly gentilness,
That will reward you joy for heviness;
And though ye waxen pale, and grene and dede,
Ye must it use a while, withouten drede,
And it accept, and grucchen in no wyse;
But where as ye me hastily desyre
To been to love, me think, ye be not wyse.
Cese of your language! cese, I you requyre!
For he that hath this twenty yere ben here
May not obtayn; than marveile I that ye
Be now so bold, of love to trete with me.'
'Ah! mercy, hart, my lady and my love,
My rightwyse princesse and my lyves guyde!
Now may I playn to Venus all above,
That rewthles ye me give these woundes wyde!
What have I don? why may it not betyde,
That for my trouth I may received be?
Alas! your daunger and your crueltè!
In wofull hour I got was, welaway!
In wofull hour [y-]fostred and y-fed,
In wofull hour y-born, that I ne may
My supplicacion swetely have y-sped!
The frosty grave and cold must be my bedde,
Without ye list your grace and mercy shewe,
777
Deth with his axe so faste on me doth hewe.
So greet disese and in so litell whyle,
So litell joy, that felte I never yet;
And at my wo Fortune ginneth to smyle,
That never erst I felt so harde a fit:
Confounded ben my spirits and my wit,
Till that my lady take me to her cure,
Which I love best of erthely crëature.
But that I lyke, that may I not com by;
Of that I playn, that have I habondaunce;
Sorrow and thought, thay sit me wounder ny;
Me is withhold that might be my plesaunce:
Yet turne again, my worldly suffisaunce!
O lady bright! and save your feithfull true,
And, er I die, yet on[e]s upon me rewe.'
With that I fell in sounde, and dede as stone,
With colour slain, and wan as assh[es] pale;
And by the hand she caught me up anon,
'Aryse,' quod she, 'what? have ye dronken dwale?
Why slepen ye? it is no nightertale.'
'Now mercy, swete,' quod I, y-wis affrayed:
'What thing,' quod she, 'hath mad you so dismayed?
Now wot I well that ye a lover be,
Your hewe is witnesse in this thing,' she seid:
'If ye were secret, [ye] might know,' quod she,
'Curteise and kind, all this shuld be allayed:
And now, myn herte! all that I have misseid,
I shall amend, and set your harte in ese.'
'That word it is,' quod I, 'that doth me plese.'
'But this I charge, that ye the statuts kepe,
And breke thaim not for sloth nor ignoraunce.'
With that she gan to smyle and laughen depe.
778
'Y-wis,' quod I, 'I will do your plesaunce;
The sixteenth statut doth me grete grevaunce,
But ye must that relesse or modifie.'
'I graunt,' quod she, 'and so I will truly.'
And softly than her colour gan appeare,
As rose so rede, through-out her visage all,
Wherefore me think it is according here,
That she of right be cleped Rosiall.
Thus have I won, with wordes grete and small,
Some goodly word of hir that I love best,
And trust she shall yit set myne harte in rest.
'Goth on,' she seid to Philobone, 'and take
This man with you, and lede him all abowt
Within the court, and shew him, for my sake,
What lovers dwell withinne, and all the rowte
Of officers; for he is, out of dowte,
A straunger yit:'—'Come on,' quod Philobone,
'Philogenet, with me now must ye gon.'
And stalking soft with esy pace, I saw
About the king [ther] stonden environ,
Attendaunce, Diligence, and their felaw
Fortherer, Esperaunce, and many oon;
Dred-to-offend there stood, and not aloon;
For there was eke the cruell adversair,
The lovers fo, that cleped is Dispair,
Which unto me spak angrely and fell,
And said, my lady me deceiven shall:
'Trowest thow,' quod she, 'that all that she did tell,
Is true? Nay, nay, but under hony gall!
Thy birth and hers, [they] be nothing egall:
Cast of thyn hart, for all her wordes whyte,
For in good faith she lovith thee but a lyte.
779
And eek remember, thyn habilite
May not compare with hir, this well thow wot.'
Ye, than cam Hope and said, 'My frend, let be!
Beleve him not: Dispair, he ginneth dote.'
'Alas,' quod I, 'here is both cold and hot:
The tone me biddeth love, the toder nay;
Thus wot I not what me is best to say.
But well wot I, my lady graunted me,
Truly to be my woundes remedy;
Her gentilness may not infected be
With dobleness, thus trust I till I dy.'
So cast I void Dispaires company,
And taken Hope to councell and to frend.
'Ye, kepe that wele,' quod Philobone, 'in mind.'
And there besyde, within a bay-window,
Stood oon in grene, full large of brede and length,
His berd as blak as fethers of the crow;
His name was Lust, of wounder might and strength;
And with Delyt to argue there he thenkth,
For this was all his [hool] opinion,
That love was sin! and so he hath begon
To reson fast, and legge auctoritè:
'Nay,' quod Delyt, 'love is a vertue clere,
And from the soule his progress holdeth he:
Blind appetyt of lust doth often stere,
And that is sin: for reson lakketh there,
For thow [dost] think thy neigbours wyfe to win:
Yit think it well that love may not be sin;
For god and seint, they love right verely,
Void of all sin and vice: this knowe I wele,
Affeccion of flessh is sin, truly;
But verray love is vertue, as I fele,
For love may not thy freil desire akele:
For [verray] love is love withouten sin.'
780
'Now stint,' quoth Lust, 'thow spekest not worth a pin.'
And there I left thaim in their arguing,
Roming ferther in the castell wyde,
And in a corner Lier stood talking
Of lesings fast, with Flatery there besyde;
He seid that women were attire of pryde,
And men were founde of nature variaunt,
And coud be false, and shewen beau semblaunt.
Than Flatery bespake and seid, y-wis:
'See, so she goth on patens faire and fete,
Hit doth right wele: what prety man is this
That rometh here? Now truly, drink ne mete
Nede I not have; myne hart for joye doth bete
Him to behold, so is he goodly fressh:
It semeth for love his harte is tender nessh.'
This is the court of lusty folk and glad,
And wel becometh their habit and array:
O why be som so sorry and so sad,
Complaining thus in blak and whyte and gray?
Freres they ben, and monkes, in good fay:
Alas, for rewth! greet dole it is to seen,
To see thaim thus bewaile and sory been.
See how they cry and wring their handes whyte,
For they so sone went to religion!
And eke the nonnes, with vaile and wimple plight,
There thought that they ben in confusion:
'Alas,' thay sayn, 'we fayn perfeccion,
In clothes wide, and lak our libertè;
But all the sin mote on our frendes be.
For, Venus wot, we wold as fayn as ye,
That ben attired here and wel besene,
Desiren man, and love in our degree,
781
Ferme and feithfull, right as wold the quene:
Our frendes wikke, in tender youth and grene,
Ayenst our will made us religious;
That is the cause we morne and wailen thus.'
Than seid the monks and freres in the tyde,
'Wel may we curse our abbeys and our place,
Our statuts sharp, to sing in copes wyde,
Chastly to kepe us out of loves grace,
And never to fele comfort ne solace;
Yet suffre we the hete of loves fire,
And after than other haply we desire.
O Fortune cursed, why now and wherefore
Hast thow,' they seid, 'beraft us libertè,
Sith nature yave us instrument in store,
And appetyt to love and lovers be?
Why mot we suffer suche adversitè,
Diane to serve, and Venus to refuse?
Ful often sith this matier doth us muse.
We serve and honour, sore ayenst our will,
Of chastitè the goddes and the quene;
Us leffer were with Venus byden still,
And have reward for love, and soget been
Unto thise women courtly, fressh, and shene.
Fortune, we curse thy whele of variaunce!
There we were wele, thou revest our plesaunce.'
Thus leve I thaim, with voice of pleint and care,
In raging wo crying ful pitously;
And as I yede, full naked and full bare
Some I behold, looking dispitously,
On povertè that dedely cast their y;
And 'Welaway!' they cried, and were not fain,
For they ne might their glad desire attain.
782
For lak of richesse worldely and of gode,
They banne and curse, and wepe, and sein, 'Alas,
That poverte hath us hent that whylom stode
At hartis ese, and free and in good case!
But now we dar not shew our-self in place,
Ne us embolde to duelle in company,
There-as our hart wold love right faithfully.'
And yet againward shryked every nonne,
The prang of love so straineth thaim to cry:
'Now wo the tyme,' quod thay, 'that we be boun!
This hateful ordre nyse will don us dy!
We sigh and sobbe, and bleden inwardly,
Freting our-self with thought and hard complaint,
That ney for love we waxen wode and faint.'
And as I stood beholding here and there,
I was war of a sort full languisshing,
Savage and wild of loking and of chere,
Their mantels and their clothës ay tering;
And oft thay were of nature complaining,
For they their members lakked, fote and hand,
With visage wry and blind, I understand.
They lakked shap, and beautie to preferre
Theim-self in love: and seid, that god and kind
Hath forged thaim to worshippen the sterre,
Venus the bright, and leften all behind
His other werkes clene and out of mind:
'For other have their full shape and bewtee,
And we,' quod they, 'ben in deformitè.'
And nye to thaim there was a company,
That have the susters waried and misseid;
I mene, the three of fatall destinè,
That be our werdes; and sone, in a brayd,
Out gan they cry as they had been affrayd,
'We curse,' quod thay, 'that ever hath nature
783
Y-formed us, this wofull lyfe t'endure!'
And there he was contrite, and gan repent,
Confessing hole the wound that Citherè
Hath with the dart of hot desire him sent,
And how that he to love must subjet be:
Than held he all his skornes vanitè,
And seid, that lovers lede a blisful lyfe,
Yong men and old, and widow, maid and wyfe.
'Bereve me, goddesse,' quod he, '[of] thy might,
My skornes all and skoffes, that I have
No power forth, to mokken any wight,
That in thy service dwell: for I did rave:
This know I well right now, so god me save,
And I shal be the chief post of thy feith,
And love uphold, the révers who-so seith.'
Dissemble stood not fer from him in trouth,
With party mantill, party hood and hose;
And said, he had upon his lady rowth,
And thus he wound him in, and gan to glose
Of his entent full doble, I suppose:
And al the world, he seid, he loved it wele;
But ay, me thoughte, he loved her nere a dele.
Eek Shamefastness was there, as I took hede,
That blusshed rede, and durst nat ben a-knowe
She lover was, for thereof had she drede;
She stood and hing her visage down alowe;
But suche a sight it was to sene, I trow,
As of these roses rody on their stalk:
There cowd no wight her spy to speke or talk
In loves art, so gan she to abasshe,
Ne durst not utter all her privitè:
Many a stripe and many a grevous lasshe
784
She gave to thaim that wolden loveres be,
And hindered sore the simpill comonaltè,
That in no wyse durst grace and mercy crave;
For were not she, they need but ask and have;
Where if they now approchin for to speke,
Than Shamefastness returnith thaim again:
Thay think, if we our secret councell breke,
Our ladies will have scorn on us, certain,
And [per]aventure thinken greet disdain:
Thus Shamefastness may bringin in Dispeir,
Whan she is dede, the toder will be heir.
Com forth, Avaunter! now I ring thy bell!
I spyed him sone; to god I make a-vowe,
He loked blak as fendes doth in hell:—
'The first,' quod he, 'that ever [I] did wowe,
Within a word she com, I wot not how,
So that in armes was my lady free;
And so hath ben a thousand mo than she.
In Englond, Bretain, Spain, and Pycardie,
Arteys, and Fraunce, and up in hy Holand,
In Burgoyne, Naples, and [in] Italy,
Naverne, and Grece, and up in hethen land,
Was never woman yit that wold withstand
To ben at myn commaundement, whan I wold:
I lakked neither silver, coin, ne gold.
And there I met with this estate and that;
And here I broched her, and here, I trow:
Lo! there goth oon of myne; and wot ye what?
Yon fressh attired have I leyd full low;
And such oon yonder eke right well I know:
I kept the statut whan we lay y-fere;
And yet yon same hath made me right good chere.'
785
Thus hath Avaunter blowen every-where
Al that he knowith, and more, a thousand-fold;
His auncetrye of kin was to Lière,
For firste he makith promise for to hold
His ladies councell, and it not unfold;
Wherfore, the secret when he doth unshit,
Than lyeth he, that all the world may wit.
For falsing so his promise and behest,
I wounder sore he hath such fantasie;
He lakketh wit, I trowe, or is a best,
That can no bet him-self with reson gy.
By myn advice, Love shal be contrarie
To his availe, and him eke dishonoure,
So that in court he shall no more sojoure.
'Take hede,' quod she, this litell Philobone,
'Where Envy rokketh in the corner yond,
And sitteth dirk; and ye shall see anone
His lenë bodie, fading face and hond;
Him-self he fretteth, as I understond;
Witnesse of Ovid Methamorphosose;
The lovers fo he is, I wil not glose.
For where a lover thinketh him promote,
Envy will grucch, repyning at his wele;
Hit swelleth sore about his hartes rote,
That in no wyse he can not live in hele;
And if the feithfull to his lady stele,
Envy will noise and ring it round aboute,
And sey moche worse than don is, out of dowte.'
And Prevy Thought, rejoysing of him-self,
Stood not fer thens in habit mervelous;
'Yon is,' thought [I], 'som spirit or some elf,
His sotill image is so curious:
How is,' quod I, 'that he is shaded thus
With yonder cloth, I not of what colour?'
786
And nere I went, and gan to lere and pore,
And frayned him [a] question full hard.
'What is,' quod I, 'the thing thou lovest best?
Or what is boot unto thy paines hard?
Me think, thow livest here in grete unrest;
Thow wandrest ay from south to est and west,
And est to north; as fer as I can see,
There is no place in court may holden thee.
Whom folowest thow? where is thy harte y-set?
But my demaunde asoile, I thee require.'
'Me thought,' quod he, 'no crëature may let
Me to ben here, and where-as I desire:
For where-as absence hath don out the fire,
My mery thought it kindleth yet again,
That bodily, me think, with my souverain
I stand and speke, and laugh, and kisse, and halse,
So that my thought comforteth me full oft:
I think, god wot, though all the world be false,
I will be trewe; I think also how soft
My lady is in speche, and this on-loft
Bringeth myn hart to joye and [greet] gladnesse;
This prevey thought alayeth myne hevinesse.
And what I thinke, or where to be, no man
In all this erth can tell, y-wis, but I:
And eke there nis no swallow swift, ne swan
So wight of wing, ne half [so] yern can fly;
For I can been, and that right sodenly,
In heven, in helle, in paradise, and here,
And with my lady, whan I will desire.
I am of councell ferre and wyde, I wot,
With lord and lady, and their previtè
I wot it all; but be it cold or hot,
787
They shall not speke without licence of me,
I mene, in suche as sesonable be;
For first the thing is thought within the hert,
Ere any word out from the mouth astert.'
And with that word Thought bad farewell and yede:
Eke furth went I to seen the courtes gyse:
And at the dore cam in, so god me spede,
Twey courteours of age and of assyse
Liche high, and brode, and, as I me advyse,
The Golden Love, and Leden Love thay hight:
The ton was sad, the toder glad and light.
...
'Yis! draw your hart, with all your force and might,
To lustiness, and been as ye have seid;
And think that I no drop of favour hight,
Ne never had to your desire obeyd,
Till sodenly, me thought, me was affrayed,
To seen you wax so dede of countenaunce;
And Pitè bad me don you some plasaunce.
Out of her shryne she roos from deth to lyve,
And in myne ere full prevely she spak,
'Doth not your servaunt hens away to dryve,
Rosiall,' quod she; and than myn harte [it] brak,
For tender reuth: and where I found moch lak
In your persoune, than I my-self bethought;
And seid, 'This is the man myne harte hath sought.''
'Gramercy, Pitè! might I but suffice
To yeve the lawde unto thy shryne of gold,
God wot, I wold; for sith that thou did rise
From deth to lyve for me, I am behold
To thanken you a thousand tymes told,
And eke my lady Rosiall the shene,
Which hath in comfort set myn harte, I wene.
788
And here I make myn protestacion,
And depely swere, as [to] myn power, to been
Feithfull, devoid of variacion,
And her forbere in anger or in tene,
And serviceable to my worldes quene,
With al my reson and intelligence,
To don her honour high and reverence.'
I had not spoke so sone the word, but she,
My souverain, did thank me hartily,
And seid, 'Abyde, ye shall dwell still with me
Till seson come of May; for than, truly,
The King of Love and all his company
Shall hold his fest full ryally and well:'
And there I bode till that the seson fell.
On May-day, whan the lark began to ryse,
To matens went the lusty nightingale
Within a temple shapen hawthorn-wise;
He might not slepe in all the nightertale,
But 'Domine labia,' gan he crye and gale,
'My lippes open, Lord of Love, I crye,
And let my mouth thy preising now bewrye.'
The eagle sang 'Venite, bodies all,
And let us joye to love that is our helth.'
And to the deske anon they gan to fall,
And who come late, he pressed in by stelth:
Than seid the fawcon, our own hartis welth,
'Domine, Dominus noster, I wot,
Ye be the god that don us bren thus hot.'
'Celi enarrant,' said the popingay,
'Your might is told in heven and firmament.'
And than came in the goldfinch fresh and gay,
And said this psalm with hertly glad intent,
789
'Domini est terra; this Laten intent,
The god of Love hath erth in governaunce:'
And than the wren gan skippen and to daunce.
'Jube, Domine, Lord of Love, I pray
Commaund me well this lesson for to rede;
This legend is of all that wolden dey
Marters for love; god yive the sowles spede!
And to thee, Venus, sing we, out of drede,
By influence of all thy vertue grete,
Beseching thee to kepe us in our hete.'
The second lesson robin redebrest sang,
'Hail to the god and goddess of our lay!'
And to the lectorn amorously he sprang:—
'Hail,' quod [he] eke, 'O fresh seson of May,
Our moneth glad that singen on the spray!
Hail to the floures, rede, and whyte, and blewe,
Which by their vertue make our lustes newe!'
The thrid lesson the turtill-dove took up,
And therat lough the mavis [as] in scorn:
He said, 'O god, as mot I dyne or sup,
This folissh dove will give us all an horn!
There been right here a thousand better born,
To rede this lesson, which, as well as he,
And eke as hot, can love in all degree.'
The turtill-dove said, 'Welcom, welcom, May,
Gladsom and light to loveres that ben trewe!
I thank thee, Lord of Love, that doth purvey
For me to rede this lesson all of dewe;
For, in gode sooth, of corage I pursue
To serve my make till deth us must depart:'
And than 'Tu autem' sang he all apart.
'Te deum amoris,' sang the thrustell-cok:
790
Tuball him-self, the first musician,
With key of armony coude not unlok
So swete [a] tewne as that the thrustill can:
'The Lord of Love we praisen,' quod he than,
'And so don all the fowles, grete and lyte;
Honour we May, in fals lovers dispyte.'
'Dominus regnavit,' seid the pecok there,
'The Lord of Love, that mighty prince, y-wis,
He hath received her[e] and every-where:
Now Jubilate sing:'—'What meneth this?'
Seid than the linet; 'welcom, Lord of blisse!'
Out-stert the owl with 'Benedicite,'
What meneth al this mery fare?' quod he.
'Laudate,' sang the lark with voice full shrill;
And eke the kite, 'O admirabile;
This quere will throgh myne eris pers and thrill;
But what? welcom this May seson,' quod he;
'And honour to the Lord of Love mot be,
That hath this feest so solemn and so high:'
'Amen,' seid all; and so seid eke the pye.
And furth the cokkow gan procede anon,
With 'Benedictus' thanking god in hast,
That in this May wold visite thaim echon,
And gladden thaim all whyl the fest shall last:
And therewithall a-loughter out he brast,
'I thank it god that I shuld end the song,
And all the service which hath been so long.'
Thus sang thay all the service of the fest,
And that was don right erly, to my dome;
And furth goth all the Court, both most and lest,
To feche the floures fressh, and braunche and blome;
And namly, hawthorn brought both page and grome.
With fressh garlandës, partie blewe and whyte,
And thaim rejoysen in their greet delyt.
791
Eke eche at other threw the floures bright,
The prymerose, the violet, the gold;
So than, as I beheld the ryall sight,
My lady gan me sodenly behold,
And with a trew-love, plited many-fold,
She smoot me through the [very] hert as blyve;
And Venus yet I thanke I am alyve.
~ Anonymous Olde English,#NFDB
281:Cleanness
Clannesse who so kyndly cowþe comende
& rekken vp alle þe resounz þat ho by ri3t askez,
Fayre formez my3t he fynde in for[þ]ering his speche
& in þe contrare kark & combraunce huge.
For wonder wroth is þe Wy3þat wro3t alle þinges
Wyth þe freke þat in fylþe fol3es Hym after,
As renkez of relygioun þat reden & syngen
& aprochen to hys presens & prestez arn called;
Thay teen vnto his temmple & temen to hym seluen,
Reken with reuerence þay rychen His auter;
Þay hondel þer his aune body & vsen hit boþe.
If þay in clannes be clos þay cleche gret mede;
Bot if þay conterfete crafte & cortaysye wont,
As be honest vtwyth & inwith alle fylþez,
Þen ar þay synful hemself & sulped altogeder
Boþe God & His gere, & hym to greme cachen.
He is so clene in His courte, þe Kyng þat al weldez,
& honeste in His housholde & hagherlych serued
With angelez enourled in alle þat is clene,
Boþ withine & withouten in wedez ful bry3t;
Nif he nere scoymus & skyg & non scaþe louied,
Hit were a meruayl to much, hit mo3t not falle.
Kryst kydde hit Hymself in a carp onez,
Þeras He heuened a3t happez & hy3t hem her medez.
Me mynez on one amonge oþer, as Maþew recordez,
Þat þus clanness vnclosez a ful cler speche:
Þe haþel clene of his hert hapenez ful fayre,
For he schal loke on oure Lorde with a bone chere';
As so saytz, to þat sy3t seche schal he neuer
Þat any vnclannesse hatz on, auwhere abowte;
For He þat flemus vch fylþe fer fro His hert
May not byde þat burre þat hit His body ne3en.
Forþy hy3not to heuen in haterez totorne,
Ne in þe harlatez hod, & handez vnwaschen.
For what vrþly haþel þat hy3honour haldez
Wolde lyke if a ladde com lyþerly attyred,
When he were sette solempnely in a sete ryche,
Abof dukez on dece, with dayntys serued?
Þen þe harlot with haste helded to þe table,
55
With rent cokrez at þe kne & his clutte traschez,
& his tabarde totorne, & his totez oute,
Oþer ani on of alle þyse, he schulde be halden vtter,
With mony blame ful bygge, a boffet peraunter,
Hurled to þe halle dore & harde þeroute schowued,
& be forboden þat bor3e to bowe þider neuer,
On payne of enprysonment & puttyng in stokkez;
& þus schal he be schent for his schrowde feble,
Þa3neuer in talle ne in tuch he trespas more.
& if vnwelcum he were to a worþlych prynce,
3et hym is þe hy3e Kyng harder in her euen;
As Maþew melez in his masse of þat man ryche,
Þat made þe mukel mangerye to marie his here dere,
& sende his sonde þen to say þat þay samne schulde,
& in comly quoyntis to com to his feste:
'For my boles & my borez arn bayted & slayne,
& my fedde foulez fatted with scla3t,
My polyle þat is penne-fed & partrykez boþe,
Wyth scheldez of wylde swyn, swanez & cronez,
Al is roþeled & rosted ry3t to þe sete;
Comez cof to my corte, er hit colde worþe.'
When þay knewen his cal þat þider com schulde,
Alle excused hem by þe skyly he scape by mo3t.
On hade bo3t hym a bor3, he sayde, by hys trawþe:
'Now turne I þeder als tyd þe toun to byholde.'
Anoþer nayed also & nurned þis cawse:
'I haf 3erned & 3at 3okkez of oxen,
& for my hy3ez hem bo3t; to bowe haf I mester,
To see hem pulle in þe plow aproche me byhouez.'
'& I haf wedded a wyf,' so wer hym þe þryd;
'Excuse me at þe court, I may not com þere.'
Þus þay dro3hem adre3with daunger vchone,
Þat non passed to þe plate þa3he prayed were.
Thenne þe ludych lorde lyked ful ille,
& hade dedayn of þat dede; ful dry3ly he carpez.
He saytz: 'Now for her owne sor3e þay forsaken habbez;
More to wyte is her wrange þen any wylle gentyl.
Þenne gotz forth, my gomez, þe grete streetez,
& forsettz on vche a syde þe cete aboute;
Þe wayferande frekez, on fote & on hors,
Boþe burnez & burdez, þe better & þe wers,
Laþez hem alle luflyly to lenge at my fest,
56
& bryngez hem blyþly to bor3e as barounez þay were,
So þat my palays plat ful be py3t al aboute;
Þise oþer wrechez iwysse worþy no3t wern.'
Þen þay cayred & com þat þe cost waked,
Bro3ten bachlerez hem wyth þat þay by bonkez metten,
Swyerez þat swyftly swyed on blonkez,
& als fele vpon fote, of fre & of bonde.
When þay com to þe courte keppte weren þay fayre,
Sty3tled with þe stewarde, stad in þe halle,
Ful manerly with marchal mad for to sitte,
As he watz dere of degre dressed his seete.
Þenne seggez to þe souerayn sayden þerafter:
'Lo! Lorde, with your leue, at your lege heste
& at þi banne we haf bro3t, as þou beden habbez,
Mony renischsche renkez, & 3et is roum more.'
Sayde þe lorde to þo ledez, 'Laytez 3et ferre,
Ferre out in þe felde, & fechez mo gestez;
Waytez gorstez & greuez, if ani gomez lyggez;
Whatkyn folk so þer fare, fechez hem hider;
Be þay fers, be þay feble, forlotez none,
Be þay hol, be þay halt, be þay ony3ed,
& þa3þay ben boþe blynde & balterande cruppelez,
Þat my hous may holly by halkez by fylled.
For, certez, þyse ilk renkez þat me renayed habbe,
& denounced me no3t now at þis tyme,
Schul neuer sitte in my sale my soper to fele,
Ne suppe on sope of my seve, þa3þa3þay swelt schulde.'
Thenne þe sergauntez, at þat sawe, swengen þeroute,
& diden þe dede þat [watz] demed, as he deuised hade,
& with peple of alle plytez þe palays þay fyllen;
Hit weren not alle on wyuez sunez, wonen with on fader.
Wheþer þay wern worþy oþer wers, wel wern
þay stowed,
Ay þe best byfore & bry3test atyred,
Þe derrest at þe hy3e dese, þat dubbed wer fayrest,
& syþen on lenþe bilooghe ledez inogh.
& ay a[s] segge[s] [serly] semed by her wedez,
So with marschal at her mete mensked þay were.
Clene men in compaynye forknowen wern lyte,
& 3et þe symplest in þat sale watz serued to þe fulle,
Boþe with menske & with mete & mynstrasy noble,
& alle þe laykez þat a lorde a3t in londe schewe.
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& þay bigonne to be glad þat god drink haden.
& vch mon with his mach made hym at ese.
Now inmyddez þe mete þe mayster hym biþo3t
Þat he wolde se þe semble þat samned was þere,
& rehayte rekenly þe riche & þe pou[eren],
& cherisch hem alle with his cher, & chaufen her joye.
Þen he bowez fro his bour into þe brode halle
& to þe best on þe bench, & bede hym be myry,
Solased hem with semblaunt & syled fyrre,
Tron fro table to table & talkede ay myrþe.
Bot as he ferked ouer þe flor, he fande with his y3e,
Hit watz not for a halyday honestly arayed,
A þral þry3t in þe þrong vnþryuandely
cloþed,
Ne no festiual frok, bot fyled with werkkez;
Þe gome watz vngarnyst with god men to dele.
& gremed þerwith þe grete lorde, & greue hym he þo3t.
'Say me, frende,' quoþ þe freke with a felle chere,
'Hov wan þou into þis won in wedez so fowle?
Þe abyt þat þou hatz vpon, no halyday hit menskez;
Þou, burne, for no brydale art busked in wedez.
How watz þou hardy þis hous for þyn vnhap [to] ne3e
In on so ratted a robe & rent at þe sydez?
Þow art a gome vngoderly in þat goun febele;
Þou praysed me & my place ful pouer & ful [g]nede,
Þat watz so prest to aproche my presens hereinne.
Hopez þou I be a harlot þi erigaut to prayse?'
Þat oper burne watz abayst of his broþe wordez,
& hurkelez doun with his hede, þe vrþe he biholdez;
He watz so scoumfit of his scylle, lest he skaþe hent,
Þat he ne wyst on worde what he warp schulde.
Þen þe lorde wonder loude laled & cryed,
& talkez to his tormenttourez: 'Takez hym,' he biddez,
'Byndez byhynde, at his bak, boþe two his handez,
& felle fetterez to his fete festenez bylyue;
Stik hym stifly in stokez, & stekez hym þerafter
Depe in my doungoun þer doel euer dwellez,
Greuing & gretyng & gryspyng harde
Of teþe tenfully togeder, to teche hym be quoynt.'
Thus comparisunez Kryst þe kyndom of heuen
To þis frelych feste þat fele arn to called;
For alle arn laþed luflyly, þe luþer & þe better,
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Þat euer wern ful3ed in font, þat fest to haue.
Bot war þe wel, if þou wylt, þy wedez ben clene
& honest for þe halyday, lest þou harme lache,
For aproch þou to þat Prynce of parage noble,
He hates helle no more þen hem þat ar sowle.
Wich arn þenne þy wedez þou wrappez þe inne,
Þat schal schewe hem so schene schrowde of þe best?
Hit arn þy werkez, wyterly, þat þou wro3t hauez,
& lyued with þe lykyng þat ly3e in þyn hert;
Þat þo be frely & fresch fonde in þy lyue,
& fetyse of a fayr forme to fote & to honde,
& syþen alle þyn oþer lymez lapped ful clene;
Þenne may þou se þy Sauior & His sete ryche.
For fele[r] fautez may a freke forfete his blysse,
Þat he þe Souerayn ne se, þen for slauþe one;
As for bobaunce & bost & bolnande priyde
Þroly into þe deuelez þrote man þryngez bylyue.
For couetyse & colwarde & croked dedez,
For monsworne & menscla3t & to much drynk,
For þefte & for þrepyng, vnþonk may mon haue;
For roborrye & riboudrye & resounez vntrwe,
& dsyheriete & depryue dowrie of wydoez,
For marryng of maryagez & mayntnaunce of schrewez,
For traysoun & trichcherye & tyrauntyre boþe,
& for fals famacions & fayned lawez;
Man may mysse þe myrþe þat much is to prayse
For such vnþewez as þise, & þole much payne,
& in þe Creatores cort com neuermore,
Ne neuer see Hym with sy3t for such sour tournez.
Bot I haue herkned & herde of mony hy3e clerkez,
& als in resounez of ry3t red hit myseluen,
Þat þat ilk proper Prynce þat paradys weldez
Is displesed at vch a poynt þat plyes to scaþe;
Bot neuer 3et in no boke breued I herde
Þat euer He wrek so wyþerly on werk þat He made,
Ne venged for no vilte of vice ne synne,
Ne so hastyfly watz hot for hatel of His wylle,
Ne neuer so sodenly so3t vnsoundely to weng,
As for fylþe of þe flesch þat foles han vsed;
For, as I fynde, þer He for3et alle His fre þewez,
& wex wod to þe wrache for wrath at His hert.
For þe fyrste felonye þe falce fende wro3t
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Whyl he watz hy3e in þe heuen houen vpon lofte,
Of alle þyse aþel aungelez attled þe fayrest:
& he vnkyndely, as a karle, kydde a reward.
He se3no3t bot hymself how semly he were,
Bot his Souerayn he forsoke & sade þyse wordez:
`I schal telde vp my trone in þe tramountayne,
& by lyke to þat Lorde þat þe lyft made.'
With þis worde þat he warp, þe wrake on hym ly3t:
Dry3tyn with His dere dom hym drof to þe abyme,
In þe mesure of His mode, His metz neuer þe lasse.
Bot þer He tynt þe tyþe dool of His tour ryche:
Þa3þe feloun were so fers for his fayre wedez
& his glorious glem þat glent so bry3t,
As sone as Dry3tynez dome drof to hymseluen,
Þikke þowsandez þro þrwen þeroute,
Fellen fro þe frymament fendez ful blake,
Sweued at þe fryst swap as þe snaw þikke,
Hurled into helle-hole as þe hyue swarmez.
Fylter fenden folk forty dayez lencþe,
Er þat styngande storme stynt ne my3t;
Bot as smylt mele vnder smal siue smokez forþikke.
So fro heuen to helle þat hatel schor laste,
On vche syde of þe worlde aywhere ilyche.
3is, hit watz a brem brest & a byge wrache,
& 3et wrathed not þe Wy3; ne þe wrech sa3tled,
Ne neuer wolde, for wyl[fulnes], his worþy God knawe,
Ne pray Hym for no pite, so proud watz his wylle.
Forþy þa3þe rape were rank, þe rawþe watz
lytt[el];
Þa3he be kest into kare, he kepes no better.
Bot þat oper wrake þat wex, on wy3ez hit ly3t
Þur3þe faut of a freke þat fayled in trawþe,
Adam inobedyent, ordaynt to blysse.
Þer pryuely in paradys his place watz devised,
To lyue þer in lykyng þe lenþe of a terme,
& þenne enherite þat home þat aungelez forgart;
Bot þur3þe eggyng of Eue he ete of an apple
Þat enpoysened alle peplez þat parted fro hem boþe,
For a defence þat watz dy3t of Dry3tyn Seluen,
& a payne þeron put & pertly halden.
Þe defence watz þe fryt þat þe freke towched,
& þe dom is þe deþe þat drepez vus alle;
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Al in mesure & meþe watz mad þe vengiaunce,
& efte amended with a mayden þat make had neuer.
Bot in þe þryd watz forþrast al þat þryue schuld:
Þer watz malys mercyles & mawgre much scheued,
Þat watz for fylþe vpon folde þat þe folk vsed,
Þat þen wonyed in þe worlde withouten any maysterz.
Hit wern þe fayrest of forme & of face als,
Þe most & þe myriest þat maked wern euer,
Þe styfest, þe stalworþest þat stod euer on fete,
& lengest lyf in hem lent of ledez alle oþer.
For hit was þe forme foster þat þe folde bred,
Þe aþel aunceterez sunez pat Adam watz called,
To wham God hade geuen alle þat gayn were,
Alle þe blysse boute blame þat bodi my3t haue;
& þose lykkest to þe lede, þat lyued next after;
Forþy so semly to see syþen wern none.
Þer watz no law to hem layd bot loke to kynde,
& kepe to hit, & alle hit cors clanly fulfylle.
& þenne founden þay fylþe in fleschlych dedez,
& controeued agayn kynde contrare werkez,
& vsed hem vnþryftyly vchon on oþer,
& als with oþer, wylsfully, upon a wrange wyse:
So ferly fowled her flesch þat þe fende loked
How þe de3ter of þe douþe wern derelych fayre,
& fallen in fela3schyp with hem on folken wyse,
& engendered on hem jeauntez with her japez ille.
Þose wern men meþelez & ma3ty on vrþe,
Þat for her lodlych laykez alosed þay were;
He watz famed for fre þat fe3t loued best,
& ay þe bigest in bale þe best watz halden.
& þenne euelez on erþe ernestly grewen
& multyplyed monyfolde inmongez mankynde,
For þat þe ma3ty on molde so marre þise oþer
Þat þe Wy3e þat al wro3t ful wroþly bygynnez.
When He knew vche contre coruppte in hitseluen,
& vch freke forloyned fro þe ry3t wayez,
Felle temptande tene towched His hert.
As wy3e wo hym withinne, werp to Hymseluen:
'Me forþynkez ful much þat euer I mon made,
Bot I schal delyuer & do away þat doten on þis molde,
& fleme out of þe folde al þat flesch werez,
Fro þe burne to þe best, fro bryddez to fyschez;
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Al schal doun & be ded & dryuen out of erþe
Þat euer I sette saule inne; & sore hit Me rwez
Þat euer I made hem Myself; bot if I may herafter,
I schal wayte to be war her wrenchez to kepe.'
Þenne in worlde watz a wy3e wonyande on lyue,
Ful redy & ful ry3twys, & rewled hym fayre,
In þe drede of Dry3tyn his dayez he vsez,
& ay glydande wyth his God, his grace watz þe more.
Hym watz þe nome Noe, as is innoghe knawen.
He had þre þryuen sunez, & þay þre wyuez:
Sem soþly þat on, þat oþer hy3t Cam,
& þe jolef Japheth watz gendered þe þryd.
Now God in nwy to Noe con speke
Wylde wrakful wordez, in His wylle greued:
'Þe ende of alle kynez flesch þat on vrþe meuez
Is fallen forþwyth My face, & forþer hit I þenk.
With her vnworþelych werk Me wlatez withinne;
Þe gore þerof Me hatz greued & þe glette nwyed.
I schal strenkle My distresse, & strye al togeder,
Boþe ledez & londe & alle þat lyf habbez.
Bot make to þe a mancioun, & þat is My wylle,
A cofer closed of tres, clanlych planed.
Wyrk wonez þerinne for wylde & for tame,
& þenne cleme hit with clay comly within[n]e,
& alle þe endentur dryuen daube withouten.
& þus of lenþe & of large þat lome þou make:
Þre hundred of cupydez þou holde to þe lenþe,
Of fyfty fayre ouerþwert forme þe brede;
& loke euen þat þyn ark haue of he3þe þrette,
& a wyndow wyd vpon[ande] wro3t vpon lo[f]te,
In þe compas of a cubit kyndely sware;
A wel dutande dor, don on þe syde;
Haf hallez þerinne & halkez ful mony,
Boþe boske[n]z & bourez & wel bounden penez.
For I schal waken vp a water to wasch alle þe worlde,
& quelle alle þat is quik with quauende flodez,
Alle þat glydez & gotz & gost of lyf habbez;
I schal wast with My wrath þat wons vpon vrþe.
Bot My forwarde with þe I festen on þis wyse,
For þou in reysoun hatz rengned & ry3twys ben euer:
Þou schal enter þis ark with þyn aþel barnez
& þy wedded wyf; with þe þou take
62
Þe makez of þy myry sunez; þis meyny of a3te
I schal saue of monnez saulez, & swelt þose oþer.
Of vche best þat berez lyf busk þe a cupple,
Of vche clene comly kynde enclose seuen makez,
Of vche horwed in ark halde bot a payre,
For to saue Me þe sede of alle ser kyndez.
& ay þou meng with þe malez þe mete ho-bestez,
Vche payre by payre to plese ayþer oþer;
With alle þe fode þat may be founde frette þy cofer,
For sustnaunce to yowself & also þose oþer.'
Ful grayþely gotz þis god man & dos Godez hestes,
In dry3dred & daunger þat durst do non oþer.
Wen hit watz fettled & forged & to þe fulle grayþed,
Þenn con Dry3ttyn hym dele dry3ly þyse wordez.
'Now Noe,' quoþ oure Lorde, 'art þou al redy?
Hatz þou closed þy kyst with clay alle aboute?'
'3e, Lorde, with þy leue,' sayde þe lede þenne,
Al is wro3t at Þi worde, as Þou me wyt lantez.'
'Enter in, þenn,' quoþ He, & haf þi wyf with þe,
Þy þre sunez, withouten þrep, & her þre wyuez;
Bestez, as I bedene haue, bosk þerinne als,
& when 3e arn staued, styfly stekez yow þerinne.
Fro seuen dayez ben seyed I sende out bylyue
Such a rowtande ryge þat rayne schal swyþe
Þat schal wasch alle þe worlde of werkez of fylþe;
Schal no flesch vpon folde by fonden onlyue,
Outtaken yow a3t in þis ark staued
& sed þat I wyl saue of þyse ser bestez.'
Now Noe neuer sty[n]tez, þat niy3[t] he bygynnez,
Er al wer stawed & stoken as þe steuen wolde.
Thenne sone com þe seuenþe day, when samned wern alle,
& alle woned in þe whichche, þe wylde & þe tame.
Þen bolned þe abyme, & bonkez con ryse,
Waltes out vch walle-heued in ful wode stremez;
Watz no brymme þat abod vnbrosten bylyue;
Þe mukel lauande loghe to þe lyfte rered.
Mony clustered clowde clef alle in clowtez;
Torent vch a rayn-ryfte & rusched to þe vrþe,
Fon neuer in forty dayez. & þen þe flod ryses,
Ouerwaltez vche a wod & þe wyde feldez.
For when þe water of þe welkyn with þe worlde mette,
Alle þat deth mo3t dry3e drowned þerinne.
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Þer watz moon for to make when meschef was cnowen,
Þat no3t dowed bot þe deth in þe depe stremez;
Water wylger ay wax, wonez þat stryede,
Hurled into vch hous, hent þat þer dowelled.
Fryst feng to þe fly3t alle þat fle my3t;
Vuche burde with her barne þe byggyng þay leuez
& bowed to þe hy3bonk þer brentest hit wern,
& heterly to þe hy3e hyllez þay [h]aled on faste.
Bot al watz nedlez her note, for neuer cowþe stynt
Þe ro3e raynande ryg, þe raykande wawez,
Er vch boþom watz brurdful to þe bonkez eggez,
& vche a dale so depe þat demmed at þe brynkez.
Þe moste mountaynez on mor þenne watz no more dry3e,
& þeron flokked þe folke, for ferde of þe wrake.
Syþen þe wylde of þe wode on þe water flette;
Summe swymmed þeron þat saue hemself trawed,
Summe sty3e to a stud & stared to þe heuen,
Rwly wyth a loud rurd rored for drede.
Harez, herttez also, to þe hy3e runnen;
Bukkez, bausenez, & bulez to þe bonkkez hy3ed;
& alle cryed for care to þe Kyng of heuen,
Recouerer of þe Creator þay cryed vchone,
Þat amounted þe masse, þe mase His mercy watz passed,
& alle His pyte departed fro peple þat He hated.
Bi þat þe flod to her fete flo3ed & waxed,
Þen vche a segge se3wel þat synk hym byhoued.
Frendez fellen in fere & faþmed togeder,
To dry3her delful deystyne & dy3en alle samen;
Luf lokez to luf & his leue takez,
For to ende alle at onez & for euer twynne.
By forty dayez wern faren, on folde no flesch styryed
Þat þe flod nade al freten with fe3tande wa3ez;
For hit clam vche a clyffe, cubites fyftene
Ouer þe hy3est hylle þat hurkled on erþe.
Þenne mourkne in þe mudde most ful nede
Alle þat spyrakle inspranc, no sprawlyng awayled,
Saue þe haþel vnder hach & his here straunge,
Noe þat ofte neuened þe name of oure Lorde,
Hym a3tsum in þat ark, as aþel God lyked,
Þer alle ledez in lome lenged druye.
Þe arc houen watz on hy3e with hurlande gotez,
Kest to kythez vncouþe þe clowdez ful nere.
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Hit waltered on þe wylde flod, went as hit lyste,
Drof vpon þe depe dam, in daunger hit semed,
Withouten mast, oþer myke, oþer myry bawelyne,
Kable, oþer capstan to clyppe to her ankrez,
Hurrok, oþer hande-helme hasped on roþer,
Oþer any sweande sayl to seche after hauen,
Bot flote forthe with þe flyt of þe felle wyndez.
Whederwarde so þe water wafte, hit rebounde;
Ofte hit roled on rounde & rered on ende;
Nyf oure Lorde hade ben her lodezmon hem had lumpen harde.
Of þe lenþe of Noe lyf to lay a lel date,
Þe sex hundreth of his age & none odde 3erez,
Of secounde monyth þe seuen[ten]þe day ry3tez,
Towalten alle þyse welle-hedez & þe water flowed;
& þryez fyfty þe flod of folwande dayez;
Vche hille watz þer hidde with y[þ]ez ful graye.
Al watz wasted þat þer wonyed þe worlde withinne,
Þ[at] euer flote, oþer flwe, oþer on fote 3ede,
That ro3ly watz þe remnaunt þat þe rac dryuez
Þat alle gendrez so joyst wern joyned wythinne
Bot quen þe Lorde of þe lyfte lyked Hymseluen
For to mynne on His mon His meth þat abydez,
Þen He wakened a wynde on watterez to blowe;
Þenne lasned þe llak þat large watz are.
Þen He stac vp þe stangez, stoped þe wellez,
Bed blynne of þe rayn: hit batede as faste;
Þenne lasned þe lo3lowkande togeder.
After harde dayez wern out an hundreth & fyfte,
As þat lyftande lome luged aboute.
Where þe wynde & þe weder warpen hit wolde,
Hit sa3tled on a softe day, synkande to grounde;
On a rasse of a rok hit rest at þe laste,
On þe mounte of Mararach of Armene hilles.
Þat oþerwayez on Ebrv hit hat þe Thanes.
Bot þa3þe kyste in þe cragez wern closed to byde,
3et fyned not þe flod ne fel to þe boþemez,
Bot þe hy3est of þe eggez vnhuled weren a lyttel,
Þat þe burne bynne borde byhelde þe bare erþe.
Þenne wafte he vpon his wyndowe, & wysed þeroute
A message fro þat meyny hem moldez to seche:
Þat watz þe rauen so ronk, þat rebel watz euer;
He watz colored as þe cole, corbyal vntrwe.
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& he fongez to þe fly3t & fannez on þe wyndez,
Halez hy3e vpon hy3t to herken tyþyngez.
He croukez for comfort when carayne he fyndez
Kast vp on a clyffe þer costese lay drye;
He hade þe smelle of þe smach & smoltes þeder sone,
Fallez on þe foule flesch & fyllez his wombe,
& sone 3ederly for3ete 3isterday steuen,
How þe cheuetayn hym charged þat þe kyst 3emed.
Þe rauen raykez hym forth, þat reches ful lyttel
How alle fodez þer fare, ellez he fynde mete;
Bot þe burne bynne borde þat bod to hys come
Banned hym ful bytterly with bestes alle samen.
He sechez anoþer sondezmon, & settez on þe dou[u]e,
Bryngez þat bry3t vpon borde, blessed, & sayde:
'Wende, worþelych wy3t, vus wonez to seche;
Dryf ouer þis dymme water; if þou druye fyndez
Bryng bodworde to bot blysse to vus alle.
Þa3þat fowle be false, fre be þou euer.'
Ho wyrle out on þe weder on wyngez ful scharpe,
Dre3ly alle alonge day þat dorst neuer ly3t;
& when ho fyndez no folde her fote on to pyche,
Ho vmbekestez þe coste & þe kyst sechez.
Ho hittez on þe euentyde & on þe ark sittez;
Noe nymmes hir anon & naytly hir stauez.
Noe on anoþer day nymmez efte þe doveue,
& byddez hir bowe ouer þe borne efte bonkez to seche;
& ho skyrmez vnder skwe & skowtez aboute,
Tyl hit watz ny3e at þe na3t, & Noe þen sechez.
On ark on an euentyde houez þe dowue;
On stamyn ho stod & stylle hym abydez.
What! ho bro3t in hir beke a bronch of olyue,
Gracyously vmbegrouen al with grene leuez;
Þat watz þe syngne of sauyte þat sende hem oure Lorde,
& þe sa3tlyng of Hymself with þo sely bestez.
Þen watz þer joy on þat gyn where jumpred er dry3ed,
& much comfort in þat cofer þat watz clay-daubed.
Myryly on a fayr morn, monyth þe fyrst,
Þat fallez formast in þe 3er, & þe fyrst day,
Ledez lo3en in þat lome & loked þeroute,
How þat watterez wern woned & þe worlde dryed.
Vchon loued oure Lorde, bot lenged ay stylle
Tyl þay had tyþyng fro þe Tolke þat tyned hem
66
þerinne.
Þen Godez glam to hem glod þat gladed hem alle,
Bede hem drawe to þe dor: delyuer hem He wolde.
Þen went þay to þe wykket, hit walt vpon sone;
Boþe þe burne & his barnez bowed þeroute,
Her wyuez walkez hem wyth & þe wylde after,
Þroly þrublande in þronge, þrowen ful þykke.
Bot Noe of vche honest kynde nem out an odde,
& heuened vp an auter & hal3ed hit fayre,
& sette a sakerfyse þeron of vch a ser kynde
Þat watz comly & clene: God kepez non oþer.
When bremly brened þose bestez, & þe breþe rysed,
Þe sauour of his sacrafyse so3t to Hym euen
Þat al spedez & spyllez; He spekes with þat ilke
In comly comfort ful clos & cortays wordez:
'Now, Noe, no more nel I neuer wary
Alle þe mukel mayny [on] molde for no mannez synnez,
For I se wel þat hit is sothe þat alle mannez wyttez
To vnþryfte arn alle þrawen with þo3t of her herttez,
& ay hatz ben, & wyl be 3et; fro her barnage
Al is þe mynde of þe man to malyce enclyned.
Forþy schal I neuer schende so schortly at ones
As dysstrye al for manez synne, dayez of þis erþe.
Bot waxez now & wendez forth & worþez to monye,
Multyplyez on þis molde, & menske yow bytyde.
Sesounez schal yow neuer sese of sede ne of heruest,
Ne hete, ne no harde forst, vmbre ne dro3þe,
Ne þe swetnesse of somer, ne þe sadde wynter,
Ne þe ny3t, ne þe day, ne þe newe 3erez,
Bot euer renne restlez: rengnez 3e þerinne.'
Þerwyth He blessez vch a best, & byta3t hem þis erþe.
Þen watz a skylly skyualde, quen scaped alle þe wylde,
Vche fowle to þe fly3t þat fyþerez my3t serue,
Vche fysch to þe flod þat fynne couþe nayte.
Vche beste to þe bent þat þat bytes on erbez;
Wylde wormez to her won wryþez in þe erþe,
Þe fox & þe folmarde to þe fryth wyndez,
Herttes to hy3e heþe, harez to gorstez,
& lyounez & lebardez to þe lake-ryftes:
Hernez & hauekez to þe hy3e rochez,
Þe hole-foted fowle to þe flod hy3ez,
& vche best at a brayde þer hym best lykez;
67
Þe fowre frekez of þe folde fongez þe empyre.
Lo! suche a wrakful wo for wlatsum dedez
Parformed þe hy3e Fader on folke þat He made;
Þat He chysly hade cherisched He chastysed ful hardee,
In devoydynge þe vylanye þat venkquyst His þewez.
Forþy war þe now, wy3e þat worschyp desyres
In His comlych courte þat Kyng is of blysse,
In þe fylþe of þe flesch þat þou be founden
neuer,
Tyl any water in þe worlde to wasche þe fayly.
For is no segge vnder sunne so seme of his craftez,
If he be sulped in synne, þat syttez vnclene;
On spec of spote may spede to mysse
Of þe sy3te of þe Souerayn þat syttez so hy3e;
For þat schewe me schale in þo schyre howsez,
As þe beryl bornyst byhouez be clene.
Þat is sounde on vche a syde & no sem habes,
Withouten maskle oþer mote, as margerye-perle.
Syþen þe Souerayn in sete so sore forþo3t
Þat euer He man vpon molde merked to lyuy,
For he in fylþe watz fallen, felly He uenged,
Quen fourferde alle þe flesch þat He formed hade.
Hym rwed þat He hem vprerde & ra3t hem lyflode;
& efte þat He hem vndyd, hard hit Hym þo3t.
For quen þe swemande sor3e so3t to His hert,
He knyt a couenaunde cortaysly with monkynde þere,
In þe mesure of His mode & meþe of His wylle,
Þat He schulde neuer for no syt smyte al at onez,
As to quelle alle quykez for qued þat my3t falle,
Whyl of þe lenþe of þe londe lastez þe terme.
Þat ilke skyl for no scaþe ascaped Hym neuer.
Wheder wonderly He wrak on wykked men after,
Ful felly for þat ilk faute forferde a kyth ryche,
In þe anger of His ire, þat ar3ed mony;
& al watz for þis ilk euel, þat vnhappen glette,
Þe venym & þe vylanye & þe vycios fylþe
Þat bysulpez mannez saule in vnsounde hert,
Þat he his Saueour ne see with sy3t of his y3en.
Alle illez He hates as helle þat alle stynkkez;
Bot non nuyez Hym on na3t ne neuer vpon dayez
As harlottrye vnhonest, heþyng of seluen:
Þat schamez for no schrewedschyp, schent mot he worþe.
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Bot sauyour, mon, in þyself, þa3þou a sotte lyuie,
Þa3þou bere þyself babel, byþenk þe sumtyme
Wheþer He þat stykked vche a stare in vche steppe y3e,
3if Hymsel[f] be bore blynde hit is a brod wonder;
& He þat fetly in face fettled alle eres,
If he hatz losed þe lysten hit lyftez meruayle:
Trave þou neuer þat tale, vntrwe þou hit fyndez.
Þer is no dede so derne þat dittez His y3en;
Þer is no wy3e in his werk so war ne so stylle
Þat hit ne þrawez to Hym þr[o] er he hit þo3t haue.
For He is þe gropande God, þe grounde of alle dedez,
Rypande of vche a ring þe reynyez & hert.
& þere He fyndez al fayre a freke wythinne,
Þat hert honest & hol, þat haþel He honourez,
Sendez hym a sad sy3t: to se His auen face,
& harde honysez þise oþer, & of His erde flemez.
Bot of þe dome of þe douþe for dedez of schame,
He is so skoymos of þat skaþe, He scarrez bylyue;
He may not dry3e to draw allyt, bot drepez in hast:
& þat watz schewed schortly by a scaþe onez.
Olde Abraham in erde onez he syttez
Euen byfore his hous-dore, vnder an oke grene;
Bry3t blykked þe bem of þe brode heuen;
In þe hy3e hete þerof Abraham bidez:
He watz schunt to þe schadow vnder schyre leuez.
Þenne watz he war on þe waye of wlonk Wy3ez þrynne;
If þay wer farande & fre & fayre to beholde
Hit is eþe to leue by þe last ende.
For þe lede þat þer laye þe leuez anvnder,
When he hade of Hem sy3t he hy3ez bylyue,
& as to God þe goodmon gos Hem agaynez
& haylsed Hem in onhede, & sayde: 'Hende Lorde,
3if euer Þy mon vpon molde merit disserued,
Lenge a lyttel with Þy lede, I lo3ly biseche;
Passe neuer fro Þi pouere, 3if I hit pray durst,
Er Þou haf biden with Þi burne & vnder bo3e restted,
& I schal wynne Yow wy3t of water a lyttel,
& fast aboute schal I fare Your fette wer waschene.
Resttez here on þis rote & I schal rachche after
& brynge a morsel of bred to banne Your hertte.'
'Fare forthe,' quoþ þe Frekez, '& fech as þou seggez;
By bole of þis brode tre We byde þe here.'
69
Þenne orppedly into his hous he hy3ed to Sare,
Commaunded hir to be cof & quyk at þis onez:
'Þre mettez of mele menge & ma kakez;
Vnder askez ful hote happe hem byliue;
Quyl I fete sumquat fat, þou þe fyr bete,
Prestly at þis ilke poynte sum polment to make.'
He cached to his covhous & a calf bryngez,
Þat watz tender & not to3e, bed tyrue of þe hyde,
& sayde to his seruaunt þat hit seþe faste;
& he deruely at his dome dy3t hit bylyue.
Þe burne to be bare-heued buskez hym þenne,
Clechez to a clene cloþe & kestez on þe grene,
Þrwe þryftyly þeron þo þre þerue kakez,
& bryngez butter wythal & by þe bred settez;
Mete messez of mylke he merkkez bytwene,
Syþen potage & polment in plater honest.
As sewer in a god assyse he serued Hem fayre,
Wyth sadde semblaunt & swete of such as he hade;
& God as a glad gest mad god chere
Þat watz fayn of his frende, & his fest praysed.
Abraham, al hodlez, with armez vp-folden,
Mynystred mete byfore þo Men þat my3tes al weldez.
Þenne Þay sayden as Þay sete samen alle
þrynne,
When þe mete watz remued & Þay of mensk speken,
'I schal efte hereaway, Abram,' Þay sayden,
'3et er þy lyuez ly3t leþe vpon erþe,
& þenne schal Sare consayue & a sun bere,
Þat schal be Abrahamez ayre & after hym wynne
With wele & wyth worschyp þe worþely peple
Þat schal halde in heritage þat I haf men 3ark[ed].'
Þenne þe burde byhynde þe dor for busmar la3ed;
& sayde sothly to hirself Sare þe madde:
'May þou traw for tykle þat þou tonne mo3tez,
& I so hy3e out of age, & also my lorde?'
For soþely, as says þe wryt, he wern of sadde elde,
Boþe þe wy3e & his wyf, such werk watz hem fayled
Fro mony a brod day byfore; ho barayn ay byene,
Þat selue Sare, withouten sede into þat same tyme.
Þenne sayde oure Syre þer He sete: 'Se! so Sare la3es,
Not trawande þe tale þat I þe to schewed.
Hopez ho o3t may be harde My hondez to work?
70
& 3et I avow verayly þe avaunt þat I made;
I schal 3eply a3ayn & 3elde þat I hy3t,
& sothely send to Sare a soun & an hayre.'
Þenne swenged forth Sare & swer by hir trawþe
Þat for lot þat Þay laused ho la3ed neuer.
'Now innoghe: hit is not so,' þenne nurned þe Dry3tyn,
'For þou la3ed alo3, bot let we hit one.'
With þat Þay ros vp radly, as Þay rayke schulde,
& setten toward Sodamas Her sy3t alle at onez;
For þat cite þerbysyde watz sette in a vale,
No mylez fro Mambre mo þen tweyne,
Whereso wonyed þis ilke wy3, þat wendez with oure Lorde
For to tent Hym with tale & teche Hym þe gate.
Þen glydez forth God; þe godmon Hym fol3ez;
Abraham heldez Hem wyth, Hem to conueye
In towarde þe cety of Sodamas þat synned had þenne
In þe faute of þis fylþe. Þe Fader hem þretes,
& sayde þus to þe segg þat sued Hym after:
'How my3t I hyde Myn hert fro Habraham þe trwe,
Þat I ne dyscouered to his corse My counsayl so dere,
Syþen he is chosen to be chef chyldryn fader,
Þat so folk schal falle fro to flete alle þe worlde,
& vche blod in þat burne blessed schal worþe?
Me bos telle to þat tolk þe tene of My wylle,
& alle Myn atlyng to Abraham vnhaspe bilyue.
The grete soun of Sodamas synkkez in Myn erez,
& þe gult of Gomorre garez Me to wrath.
I schal ly3t into þat led & loke Myseluen
[If] þay haf don as þe dyne dryuez on lofte.
Þay han lerned a lyst þat lykez me ille,
Þat þay han founden in her flesch of fautez þe werst:
Vch male matz his mach a man as hymseluen,
& fylter folyly in fere on femmalez wyse.
I compast hem a kynde crafte & kende hit hem derne,
& amed hit in Myn ordenaunce oddely dere,
& dy3t drwry þerinne, doole alþer-swettest,
& þe play of paramorez I portrayed Myseluen,
& made þerto a maner myriest of oþer:
When two true togeder had ty3ed hemseluen,
Bytwene a male & his make such merþe schulde conne,
Welny3e pure paradys mo3t preue no better;
Ellez þay mo3t honestly ayþer oþer welde,
71
At a stylle stollen steuen, vnstered wyth sy3t,
Luf-lowe hem bytwene lasched so hote
Þat alle þe meschefez on mold mo3t hit not sleke.
Now haf þay skyfted My skyl & scorned natwre,
& henttez hem in heþyng an vsage vnclene.
Hem to smyte for þat smod smartly I þenk,
Þat wy3ez schal be by hem war, worlde withouten ende.'
Þenne ar3ed Abraham & alle his mod chaunge[d],
For hope of þe harde hate þat hy3t hatz oure Lorde.
Al sykande he sayde: 'Sir, with Yor leue,
Schal synful & saklez suffer al on payne?
Weþer euer hit lyke my Lorde to lyfte such domez
Þat þe wykked & þe worþy schal on wrake suffer,
& weye vpon þe worre half þat wrathed Þe neuer?
Þat watz neuer Þy won þat wro3tez vus alle.
Now fyfty fyn frendez wer founde in 3onde toune,
In þe cety of Sodamas & also Gomorre,
Þat neuer lakked Þy laue, bot loued ay trauþe,
& re3tful wern & resounable & redy Þe to serue,
Schal þay falle in þe faute þat oþer frekez wro3t,
& joyne to her juggement, her juise to haue?
Þat nas neuer Þyn note, vnneuened hit worþe,
Þat art so gaynly a God & of goste mylde.'
'Nay, for fyfty,' quoþ þe Fader, '& þy fayre speche,
& þay be founden in þat folk of her fylþe clene,
I schal forgyue alle þe gylt þur3My grace one,
& let hem smolt al unsmyten smoþely at onez.'
'Aa! blessed be Þow,' quoþ þe burne, 'so boner &
þewed,
& al haldez in Þy honde, þe heuen & þe erþe;
Bot, for I haf þis talke tatz to non ille
3if I mele a lyttel more þat mul am & askez.
What if fyue faylen of fyfty þe noumbre,
& þe remnaunt be reken, how restes Þy wylle?'
'And fyue wont of fyfty,' quoþ God, 'I schal for3ete alle
& wythhalde My honde for hortyng on lede.'
'& quat if faurty be fre & fauty þyse oþer:
Schalt Þow schortly al schende & schape non oþer?'
'Nay, þa3faurty forfete, 3et fryst I a whyle,
& voyde away My vengaunce, þa3Me vyl þynk.'
Þen Abraham obeched Hym & lo3ly Him þonkkez:
'Now sayned be Þou, Sauiour, so symple in Þy wrath!
72
I am bot erþe ful euel & vsle so blake,
For to mele wyth such a Mayster as my3tez hatz alle.
Bot I haue bygonnen wyth my God, & He hit gayn þynkez;
3if I forloyne as a fol Þy fraunchyse may serue.
What if þretty þryuande be þrad in 3on tounez,
What schal I leue of my Lorde, [i]f He hem leþe wolde?'
Þenne þe godlych God gef hym onsware:
'3et for þretty in þrong I schal My þro steke,
& spare spakly of spyt in space of My þewez,
& My rankor refrayne four þy reken wordez.'
'What for twenty,' quoþ þe tolke, 'vntwynez Þou hem
þenne?'
'Nay, 3if þou 3ernez hit 3et, 3ark I hem grace;
If þat twenty be trwe, I tene hem no more,
Bot relece alle þat regioun of her ronk werkkez.'
'Now, aþel Lorde,' quoþ Abraham, 'onez a speche,
& I schal schape no more þo schalkkez to helpe.
If ten trysty in toune be tan in Þi werkkez,
Wylt Þou mese Þy mode & menddyng abyde?'
'I graunt,' quoþ þe grete God, 'Graunt mercy,' þat
oþer;
& þenne arest þe renk & ra3t no fyrre.
& Godde glydez His gate by þose grene wayez,
& he conueyen Hym con with cast of his y3e;
& als he loked along þereas oure Lorde passed,
3et he cryed Hym after with careful steuen:
'Meke Mayster, on Þy mon to mynne if Þe lyked,
Loth lengez in 3on leede þat is my lef broþer;
He syttez þer in Sodomis, þy seruaunt so pouere,
Among þo mansed men þat han Þe much greued.
3if Þou tynez þat toun, tempre Þyn yre,
As Þy mersy may malte, Þy meke to spare.'
Þen he wendez, wendez his way, wepande for care,
Towarde þe mere of Mambre, wepande for sorewe;
& þere in longyng al ny3t he lengez in wones,
Whyl þe Souerayn to Sodamas sende to spye.
His sondes into Sodamas watz sende in þat tyme,
In þat ilk euentyde, by aungels tweyne,
Meuand meuande mekely togeder as myry men 3onge,
As Loot in a loge dor lened hym alone,
In a porche of þat place py3t to þe 3ates,
Þat watz ryal & ryche so watz þe renkes seluen.
73
As he stared into þe strete þer stout men played,
He sy3e þer swey in asent swete men tweyne;
Bolde burnez wer þay boþe with berdles chynnez,
Ryol rollande fax to raw sylk lyke,
Of ble as þe brere-flour whereso þe bare scheweed.
Ful clene watz þe countenaunce of her cler y3en;
Wlonk whit watz her wede & wel hit hem semed.
Of alle feturez ful fyn & fautlez boþe;
Watz non autly in ouþer, for aungels hit wern,
& þat þe 3ep vnder3ede þat in þe 3ate syttez;
He ros vp ful radly & ran hem to mete,
& lo3e he loutez hem to, Loth, to þe grounde,
& syþen soberly: 'Syrez, I yow byseche
Þat 3e wolde ly3t at my loge & lenge þerinne.
Comez to your knaues kote, I craue at þis onez;
I schal fette yow a fatte your fette for to wasche;
I norne yow bot for on ny3t ne3e me to lenge,
& in þe myry mornyng 3e may your waye take.'
& þay nay þat þay nolde ne3no howsez,
Bot stylly þer in þe strete as þay stadde wern
Þay wolde lenge þe long na3t & logge þeroute:
Hit watz hous inno3e to hem þe heuen vpon lofte.
Loth laþed so longe wyth luflych wordez
Þat þay hym graunted to go & gru3t no lenger.
Þe bolde to his byggyng bryngez hem bylyue,
Þat [watz] ryally arayed, for he watz ryche euer.
Þe wy3ez wern welcom as þe wyf couþe;
His two dere do3terez deuoutly hem haylsed,
Þat wer maydenez ful meke, maryed not 3et,
& þay wer semly & swete, & swyþe wel arayed.
Loth þenne ful ly3tly lokez hym aboute,
& his men amonestes mete for to dy3t:
'Bot þenkkez on hit be þrefte what þynk so 3e make,
For wyth no sour no no salt seruez hym neuer.'
Bot 3et I wene þat þe wyf hit wroth to dyspyt,
& sayde softely to hirself: 'Þis vn[s]auere hyne
Louez no salt in her sauce; 3et hit no skyl were
Þat oþer burne be boute, þa3boþe be nyse.'
Þenne ho sauerez with salt her seuez vchone,
Agayne þe bone of þe burne þat hit forboden hade,
& als ho scelt hem in scorne þat wel her skyl knewen.
Why watz ho, wrech, so wod? Ho wrathed oure Lorde.
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Þenne seten þay at þe soper, wern serued bylyue,
Þe gestes gay & ful glad, of glam debonere,
Welawynnely wlonk, tyl þay waschen hade,
Þe trestes tylt to þe wo3e & þe table boþe.
Fro þe seggez haden souped & seten bot a whyle,
Er euer þay bosked to bedde, þe bor3watz al vp,
Alle þat weppen my3t welde, þe wakker & þe stronger,
To vmbely3e Lothez hous þe ledez to take.
In grete flokkez of folk þay fallen to his 3atez;
As a scowte-wach scarred so þe asscry rysed;
With kene clobbez of þat clos þay clatz on þe wowez,
& wyth a schrylle scarp schout þay schewe þyse worde[z]:
'If þou louyez þy lyf, Loth, in þyse wones,
3ete vus out þose 3ong men þat 3ore-whyle here entred,
Þat we may lere hym of lof, as oure lyst biddez,
As is þe asyse of Sodomas to seggez þat passen.'
Whatt! þay sputen & speken of so spitous fylþe,
What! þay 3e3ed & 3olped of 3estande sor3e,
Þat 3et þe wynd & þe weder & þe worlde stynkes
Of þe brych þat vpbraydez þose broþelych wordez.
Þe godman glyfte with þat glam & gloped for noyse;
So scharpe schame to hym schot, he schrank at þe hert.
For he knew þe costoum þat kyþed þose wrechez,
He doted neuer for no doel so depe in his mynde.
'Allas!' sayd hym þenne Loth, & ly3tly he rysez,
& bowez forth fro þe bench into þe brode 3ates.
What! he wonded no woþe of wekked knauez,
Þat he ne passed þe port þe p[er]il to abide.
He went forthe at þe wyket & waft hit hym after,
Þat a clyket hit cle3t clos hym byhynde.
Þenne he meled to þo men mesurable wordez,
For harlotez with his hendelayk he hoped to chast:
'Oo, my frendez so fre, your fare is to strange;
Dotz away your derf dyn & derez neuer my gestes.
Avoy! hit is your vylaynye, 3e vylen yourseluen;
& 3e are jolyf gentylmen, your japez ar ille
Bot I schal kenne yow by kynde a crafte þat is better:
I haf a tresor in my telde of tow my fayre de3ter,
Þat ar maydenez vnmard for alle men 3ette;
In Sodamas, þa3I hit say, non semloker burdes;
Hit arn ronk, hit arn rype, & redy to manne;
To samen wyth þo semly þe solace is better.
75
I schal biteche yow þo two þat tayt arn & quoynt,
& laykez wyth hem as yow lyst, & letez my gestes one.'
Þenne þe rebaudez so ronk rerd such a noyse
Þat a3ly hurled in his erez her harlotez speche:
'Wost þou not wel þat þou wonez here a wy3e strange,
An outcomlyng, a carle? We kylle of þyn heued!
Who joyned þe be jostyse oure japez to blame,
Þat com a boy to þis bor3, þa3þou be burne ryche?'
Þus þay þrobled & þrong & þrwe vmbe his
erez,
& distresed hym wonder strayt with strenkþe in þe prece,
Bot þat þe 3onge men, so 3epe, 3ornen þeroute,
Wapped vpon þe wyket & wonnen hem tylle,
& by þe hondez hym hent & horyed hym withinne,
& steken þe 3ates ston-harde wyth stalworth barrez.
Þay blwe a boffet inblande þat banned peple,
Þat þay blustered, as blynde as Bayard watz euer;
Þay lest of Lotez logging any lysoun to fynde,
Bot nyteled þer alle þe ny3t for no3t at þe last.
Þenne vch tolke ty3t hem, þat hade of tayt fayled,
& vchon roþeled to þe rest þat he reche mo3t;
Bot þay wern wakned al wrank þat þer in won lenged,
Of on þe vglokest vnhap þat euer on erd suffred.
Ruddon of þe day-rawe ros vpon v3ten,
When merk of þe mydny3t mo3t no more last.
Ful erly þose aungelez þis haþel þay ruþen,
& glopnedly on Godez halue gart hym vpryse;
Fast þe freke ferkez vp ful ferd at his hert;
Þay comaunded hym cof to cach þat he hade,
'Wyth þy wyf & þy wy3ez & þy wlonc de3tters,
For we laþe þe, sir Loth, þat þou þy lyf haue.
Cayre tid of þis kythe er combred þou worþe,
With alle þi here vpon haste, tyl þou a hil fynde;
Foundez faste on your fete; bifore your face lokes,
Bot bes neuer so bolde to blusch yow bihynde,
& loke 3e stemme no stepe, bot strechez on faste;
Til 3e reche to a reset, rest 3e neuer.
For we schal tyne þis toun & trayþely disstrye,
Wyth alle þise wy3ez so wykke wy3tly devoyde,
& alle þe londe with þise ledez we losen at onez;
Sodomas schal ful sodenly synk into grounde,
& þe grounde of Gomorre gorde into helle,
76
& vche a koste of þis kythe clater vpon hepes.'
Þen laled Loth: 'Lorde, what is best?
If I me fele vpon fote þat I fle mo3t,
Hov schulde I huyde me fro H[y]m þat hatz His hate kynned
In þe brath of His breth þat brennez alle þinkez?
To crepe fro my Creatour & know not wheder,
Ne wheþer His fooschip me fol3ez bifore oþer bihynde.'
Þe freke sayde: 'No foschip oure Fader hatz þe schewed,
Bot hi3ly heuened þi hele fro hem þat arn combred.
Nov wale þe a wonnyng þat þe warisch my3t,
& He schal saue hit for þy sake þat hatz vus sende hider,
For þou art oddely þyn one out of þis fylþe,
& als Abraham þyn eme hit at Himself asked.'
'Lorde, loued He worþe,' quoþ Loth, 'vpon erþe!
Þen is a cite herbisyde þat Segor hit hatte,
Here vtter on a rounde hil hit houez hit one.
I wolde, if His wylle wore, to þat won scape.'
'Þenn fare forth,' quoþ þat fre, '& fyne þou neuer,
With þose ilk þat þow wylt þat þrenge þe
after,
& ay goande on your gate, wythouten agayn-tote,
For alle þis londe schal be lorne longe er þe sonne rise.'
Þe wy3e wakened his wyf & his wlonk de3teres,
& oþer two myri men þo maydenez schulde wedde;
& þay token hit as tyt & tented hit lyttel;
Þa3fast laþed hem Loth, þay le3en ful stylle.
Þe aungelez hasted þise oþer & a3ly hem þratten,
& enforsed alle fawre forth at þe 3atez:
Þo wern Loth & his lef, his luflyche de3ter;
Þer so3t no mo to sauement of cities aþel fyue.
Þise aungelez hade hem by hande out at þe 3atez,
Prechande hem þe perile, & beden hem passe fast:
'Lest 3e be taken in þe teche of tyrauntez here,
Loke 3e bowe now bi bot; bowez fast hence!'
& þay kayre ne con, & kenely flowen.
Erly, er any heuen-glem, þay to a hil comen.
Þe grete God in His greme bygynnez on lofte
To wakan wederez so wylde; þe wyndez He callez,
& þay wroþely vpwafte & wrastled togeder,
Fro fawre half of þe folde flytande loude.
Clowdez clustered bytwene kesten vp torres,
Þat þe þik þunder-þrast þirled hem ofte.
77
Þe rayn rueled adoun, ridlande þikke
Of felle flaunkes of fyr & flakes of soufre,
Al in smolderande smoke smachande ful ille,
Swe aboute Sodamas & hit sydez alle,
Gorde to Gomorra, þat þe grounde laused,
Abdama & Syboym, þise ceteis alle faure
Al birolled wyth þe rayn, rostted & brenned,
& ferly flayed þat folk þat in þose fees lenged.
For when þat þe Helle herde þe houndez of heuen,
He watz ferlyly fayn, vnfolded bylyue;
Þe grete barrez of þe abyme he barst vp at onez,
Þat alle þe regioun torof in riftes ful grete,
& clouen alle in lyttel cloutes þe clyffez aywhere,
As lauce leuez of þe boke þat lepes in twynne.
Þe brethe of þe brynston bi þat hit blende were,
Al þo citees & her sydes sunkken to helle.
Rydelles wern þo grete rowtes of renkkes withinne,
When þay wern war of þe wrake þat no wy3e achaped;
Such a 3omerly 3arm of 3ellyng þer rysed,
Þerof clatered þe cloudes, þat Kryst my3t haf rawþe.
Þe segge herde þat soun to Segor þat 3ede,
& þe wenches hym wyth þat by þe way fol3ed;
Ferly ferde watz her flesch þat flowen ay ilyche,
Trynande ay a hy3e trot, þat torne neuer dorsten.
Loth & þo luly-whit, his lefly two de3ter,
Ay fol3ed here face, bifore her boþe y3en;
Bot þe balleful burde, þat neuer bode keped,
Blusched byhynden her bak þat bale for to herkken.
Hit watz lusty Lothes wyf þat ouer he[r] lyfte schulder
Ones ho bluschet to þe bur3e, bot bod ho no lenger
Þat ho nas stadde a stiffe ston, a stalworth image,
Al so salt as ani se, & so ho 3et standez.
Þay slypped bi & sy3e hir not þat wern hir samen-feres,
Tyl þay in Segor wern sette, & sayned our Lorde;
Wyth ly3t louez vplyfte þay loued Hym swyþe,
Þat so His seruauntes wolde see & saue of such woþe.
Al watz dampped & don & drowned by þenne;
Þe ledez of þat lyttel toun wern lopen out for drede
Into þat malscrande mere, marred bylyue,
Þat no3t saued watz bot Segor, þat sat on a lawe.
Þe þre ledez þerin, Loth & his de3ter;
For his make watz myst, þat on þe mount lenged
78
In a stonen statue þat salt sauor habbes,
For two fautes þat þe fol watz founde in mistrauþe:
On, ho serued at þe soper salt bifore Dry3tyn,
& syþen, ho blusched hir bihynde, þa3hir forboden were;
For on ho standes a ston, & salt for þat oþer,
& alle lyst on hir lik þat arn on launde bestes.
Abraham ful erly watz vp on þe morne,
Þat alle na3t much niye hade no mon in his hert,
Al in longing for Loth leyen in a wache;
Þer he lafte hade oure Lorde he is on lofte wonnen;
He sende toward Sodomas þe sy3t of his y3en,
Þat euer hade ben an erde of erþe þe swettest,
As aparaunt to paradis, þat plantted þe Dry3tyn;
Nov is hit plunged in a pit like of pich fylled.
Suche a roþun of a reche ros fro þe blake,
Askez vpe in þe arye & vsellez þer flowen,
As a fornes ful of flot þat vpon fyr boyles
When bry3t brennande brondez ar bet þeranvnder.
Þis watz a uengaunce violent þat voyded þise places,
Þat foundered hatz so fayr a folk & þe folde sonkken.
Þer þe fyue citees wern set nov is a see called,
Þat ay is drouy & dym, & ded in hit kynde,
Blo, blubrande, & blak, vnblyþe to ne3e;
As a stynkande stanc þat stryed synne,
Þat euer of synne & of smach smart is to fele.
Forþy þe derk Dede See hit is demed euermore,
For hit dedez of deþe duren þere 3et;
For hit is brod & boþemlez, & bitter as þe galle,
& no3t may lenge in þat lake þat any lyf berez,
& alle þe costez of kynde hit combrez vchone.
For lay þeron a lump of led, & hit on loft fletez,
& folde þeron a ly3t fyþer, & hit to founs synkkez;
& þer water may walter to wete any erþe
Schal neuer grene þeron growe, gresse ne wod nawþer.
If any schalke to be schent wer schowued þerinne,
Þa3he bode in þat boþem broþely a monyth,
He most ay lyue in þat lo3e in losyng euermore,
& neuer dry3e no dethe to dayes of ende.
& as hit is corsed of kynde & hit coostez als,
Þe clay þat clenges þerby arn corsyes strong,
As alum & alkaran, þat angre arn boþe,
Soufre sour & saundyuer, & oþer such mony;
79
& þer waltez of þat water in waxlokes grete
Þe spuniande aspaltoun þat spyserez sellen;
& suche is alle þe soyle by þat se halues,
Þat fel fretes þe flesch & festred bones.
& þer ar tres by þat terne of traytoures,
& þay borgounez & beres blomez ful fayre,
& þe fayrest fryt þat may on folde growe,
As orenge & oþer fryt & apple-garnade,
Also red & so ripe & rychely hwed
As any dom my3t deuice of dayntyez oute;
Bot quen hit is brused oþer broken, oþer byten in twynne,
No worldez goud hit wythinne, bot wyndowande askes.
Alle þyse ar teches & tokenes to trow vpon 3et,
& wittnesse of þat wykked werk, & þe wrake after
Þat oure Fader forferde for fylþe of þose ledes.
Þenne vch wy3e may wel wyt þat He þe wlonk louies;
& if He louyes clene layk þat is oure Lorde ryche,
& to be couþe in His courte þou coueytes þenne,
To se þat Semly in sete & His swete face,
Clerrer counseyl, counseyl con I non, bot þat þou clene
worþe.
For Clopyngnel in þe compas of his clene Rose,
Þer he expounez a speche to hym þat spede wolde
Of a lady to be loued: 'Loke to hir sone
Of wich beryng þat ho be, & wych ho best louyes,
& be ry3t such in vch a bor3e of body & of dedes,
& fol3þe fet of þat fere þat þou fre haldes;
& if þou wyrkkes on þis wyse, þa3ho wyk were,
Hir schal lyke þat layk þat lyknes hir tylle.'
If þou wyl dele drwrye wyth Dry3tyn þenne,
& lelly louy þy Lorde & His leef worþe,
Þenne confourme þe to Kryst, & þe clene make,
Þat euer is polyced als playn as þe perle seluen.
For, loke, fro fyrst þat He ly3t withinne þe lel mayden,
By how comly a kest He watz clos þere,
When venkkyst watz no vergynyte, ne vyolence maked,
Bot much clener watz hir corse, God kynned þerinne.
& efte when He borne watz in Beþelen þe ryche,
In wych puryte þay departed; þa3þay pouer were,
Watz neuer so blysful a bour as watz a bos þenne,
Ne no schroude hous so schene as a schepon þare,
Ne non so glad vnder God as ho þat grone schulde.
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For þer watz seknesse al sounde þat sarrest is halden,
& þer watz rose reflayr where rote hatz ben euer,
& þer watz solace & songe wher sor3hatz ay cryed;
For aungelles with instrumentes of organes & pypes,
& rial ryngande rotes & þe reken fyþel,
& alle hende þat honestly mo3t an hert glade,
Aboutte my lady watz lent quen ho delyuer were.
Þenne watz her blyþe Barne burnyst so clene
Þat boþe þe ox & þe asse Hym hered at ones;
Þay knewe Hym by His clannes for Kyng of nature,
For non so clene of such a clos com neuer er þenne.
& 3if clanly He þenne com, ful cortays þerafter,
Þat alle þat longed to luþer ful lodly He hated,
By nobleye of His norture He nolde neuer towche
O3t þat watz vngoderly oþer ordure watz inne.
3et comen lodly to þat Lede, as lazares monye,
Summe lepre, summe lome, & lomerande blynde,
Poysened, & parlatyk, & pyned in fyres,
Drye folk & ydropike, & dede at þe laste,
Alle called on þat Cortayse & claymed His grace.
He heled hem wyth hynde speche of þat þay ask after,
For whatso He towched also tyd tourned to hele,
Wel clanner þen any crafte cowþe devyse.
So clene watz His hondelyng vche ordure hit schonied,
& þe gropyng so goud of God & Man boþe,
Þat for fetys of His fyngeres fonded He neuer
Nauþer to cout ne to kerue with knyf ne wyth egge;
Forþy brek He þe bred blades wythouten,
For hit ferde freloker in fete in His fayre honde,
Displayed more pryuyly when He hit part schulde,
Þenne alle þe toles of Tolowse mo3t ty3t hit to kerue.
Þus is He kyryous & clene þat þou His cort askes:
Hov schulde þou com to His kyth bot if þou clene were?
Nov ar we sore & synful & sovly vchone;
How schulde we se, þen may we say, þat Syre vpon throne?
3is, þat Mayster is mercyable, þa3þou be man fenny,
& al tomarred in myre whyle þou on molde lyuyes;
Þou may schyne þur3schryfte, þa3þou haf
schome serued,
& pure þe with penaunce tyl þou a perle worþe.
Perle praysed is prys þer perre is schewed,
Þa3hym not derrest be demed to dele for penies.
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Quat may þe cause be called bot for hir clene hwes,
Þat wynnes worschyp abof alle whyte stones?
For ho schynes so schyr þat is of schap rounde,
Wythouten faut oþer fylþe 3if ho fyn were,
& wax euer in þe worlde in weryng so olde,
3et þe perle payres not whyle ho in pyese lasttes;
& if hit cheue þe chaunce vncheryst ho worþe,
Þat ho blyndes of ble in bour þer ho lygges,
Nobot wasch hir wyth wourchyp in wyn as ho askes,
Ho by kynde schal becom clerer þen are.
So if folk be defowled by vnfre chaunce,
Þat he be sulped in sawle, seche to schryfte,
& he may polyce hym at þe prest, by penaunce taken,
Wel bry3ter þen þe beryl oþer browden perles.
Bot war þe wel, if þou be waschen wyth water of schryfte,
& polysed als playn as parchmen schauen,
Sulp no more þenne in synne þy saule þerafter,
For þenne þou Dry3tyn dyspleses with dedes ful sore,
& entyses Hym to tene more trayþly þen euer,
& wel hatter to hate þen hade þou no waschen.
For when a sawele is sa3tled & sakred to Dry3tyn,
He holly haldes hit His & haue hit He wolde;
Þenne efte lastes hit likkes, He loses hit ille,
As hit were rafte wyth vnry3t & robbed wyth þewes.
War þe þenne for þe wrake: His wrath is achaufed
For þat þat ones watz His schulde efte be vnclene,
Þa3hit be bot a bassyn, a bolle oþer a scole,
A dysche oþer a dobler, þat Dry3tyn onez serued.
To defowle hit euer vpon folde fast He forbedes,
So is He scoymus of scaþe þat scylful is euer.
& þat watz bared in Babyloyn in Baltazar tyme,
Hov harde vnhap þer hym hent & hastyly sone,
For he þe vesselles avyled þat vayled in þe temple
In seruyse of þe Souerayn sumtyme byfore.
3if 3e wolde ty3t me a tom telle hit I wolde,
Hov charged more watz his chaunce þat hem cherych nolde
Þen his fader forloyne þat feched hem wyth strenþe,
& robbed þe relygioun of relykes alle.
Danyel in his dialokez devysed sumtyme,
As 3et is proued expresse in his profecies,
Hov þe gentryse of Juise & Jherusalem þe ryche
Watz disstryed wyth distres, & drawen to þe erþe.
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For þat folke in her fayth watz founden vntrwe,
Þat haden hy3t þe hy3e God to halde of Hym euer;
& He hem hal3ed for His & help at her nede
In mukel meschefes mony, þat meruayl [is] to here.
& þay forloyne her fayth & fol3ed oþer goddes,
& þat wakned His wrath & wrast hit so hy3e
Þat He fylsened þe faythful in þe falce lawe
To forfare þe falce in þe faythe trwe.
Hit watz sen in þat syþe þat Zedethyas rengned
In Juda, þat justised þe Juyne kynges.
He sete on Salamones solie on solemne wyse,
Bot of leaute he watz lat to his Lorde hende:
He vsed abominaciones of idolatrye,
& lette ly3t bi þe lawe þat he watz lege tylle.
Forþi oure Fader vpon folde a foman hym wakned:
Nabigodenozar nuyed hym swyþe.
He pursued into Palastyn with proude men mony,
& þer he wast wyth with werre þe wones of þorpes;
He her3ed vp alle Israel & hent of þe beste,
& þe gentylest of Judee in Jerusalem biseged,
Vmbewalt alle þe walles wyth wy3es ful stronge,
At vche a dor a do3ty duk, & dutte hem wythinne;
For þe bor3watz so bygge baytayled alofte,
& stoffed wythinne with stout men to stalle hem þeroute.
Þenne watz þe sege sette þe cete aboute,
Skete skarmoch skelt, much skaþe lached;
At vch brugge a berfray on basteles wyse
Þat seuen syþe vch a day asayled þe 3ates;
Trwe tulkkes in toures teueled wythinne,
In bigge brutage of borde bulde on þe walles;
Þay fe3t & þay fende of, & fylter togeder
Til two 3er ouertorned, 3et tok þay hit neuer.
At þe laste, vpon longe, þo ledes wythinne,
Faste fayled hem þe fode, enfannined monie;
Þe hote hunger wythinne hert hem wel sarre
Þen any dunt of þat douthe þat dowelled þeroute.
Þenne wern þo rowtes redles in þo ryche wones;
Fro þat mete watz myst, megre þay wexen,
& þay stoken so strayt þat þay ne stray my3t
A fote fro þat forselet to forray no goudes.
Þenne þe kyng of þe kyth a counsayl hym takes
Wyth þe best of his burnes, a blench for to make;
83
Þay stel out on a stylle ny3t er any steuen rysed,
& harde hurles þur3þe oste er enmies hit wyste.
Bot er þay atwappe ne mo3t þe wach wythoute
Hi3e skelt watz þe askry þe skewes anvnder.
Loude alarom vpon launde lulted watz þenne;
Ryche, ruþed of her rest, ran to here wedes,
Hard hattes þay hent & on hors lepes;
Cler claryoun crak cryed on lofte.
By þat watz alle on a hepe hurlande swyþee,
Fol3ande þat oþer flote, & fonde hem bilyue,
Ouertok hem as tyd, tult hem of sadeles,
Tyl vche prynce hade his per put to þe grounde.
& þer watz þe kyng ka3t wyth Calde prynces,
& alle hise gentyle forjusted on Jerico playnes,
& presented wern as presoneres to þe prynce rychest,
Nabigodenozar, noble in his chayer;
& he þe faynest freke þat he his fo hade,
& speke spitously hem to, & spylt þerafter.
Þe kynges sunnes in his sy3t he slow euervch one,
& holkked out his auen y3en heterly boþe,
& bede þe burne to be bro3t to Babyloyn þe ryche,
& þere in dongoun be don to dre3e þer his wyrdes.
Now se, so þe Soueray[n] set hatz His wrake:
Nas hit not for Nabugo ne his noble nauþer
Þat oþer depryued watz of pryde with paynes stronge,
Bot for his beryng so badde agayn his blyþe Lorde;
For hade þe Fader ben his frende, þat hym bifore keped,
Ne neuer trespast to Him in teche of mysseleue,
To colde wer alle Calde & kythes of Ynde,
3et take Torkye hem wyth, her tene hade ben little.
3et nolde neuer Nabugo þis ilke note leue
Er he hade tuyred þis toun & torne hit to grounde.
He joyned vnto Jerusalem a gentyle duc þenne,
His name watz Nabuzardan, to noye þe Jues;
He watz mayster of his men & my3ty himseluen,
Þe chef of his cheualrye his chekkes to make;
He brek þe bareres as bylyue, & þe bur3after,
& enteres in ful ernestly, in yre of his hert.
What! þe maysterry watz mene: þe men wern away,
Þe best bo3ed wyth þe burne þat þe bor33emed,
& þo þat byden wer [s]o biten with þe bale hunger
Þat on wyf hade ben worþe þe welgest fourre.
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Nabizardan no3t forþy nolde not spare,
Bot bede al to þe bronde vnder bare egge;
Þay slowen of swettest semlych burdes,
Baþed barnes in blod & her brayn spylled;
Prestes & prelates þay presed to deþe,
Wyues & wenches her wombes tocoruen,
Þat her boweles outborst aboute þe diches,
& al watz carfully kylde þat þay cach my3t.
And alle swypped, vnswol3ed of þe sworde kene,
Þay wer cagged & ka3t on capeles al bare,
Festned fettres to her fete vnder fole wombes,
& broþely bro3t to Babyloyn þer bale to suffer,
To sytte in seruage & syte, þat sumtyme wer gentyle.
Now ar chaunged to chorles & charged wyth werkkes,
Boþe to cayre at þe kart & þe kuy mylke,
Þat sumtyme sete in her sale syres & burdes.
& 3et Nabuzardan nyl neuer stynt
Er he to þe tempple tee wyth his tulkkes alle;
Betes on þe barers, brestes vp þe 3ates,
Slouen alle at a slyp þat serued þerinne,
Pulden prestes bi þe polle & plat of her hedes,
Di3ten dekenes to deþe, dungen doun clerkkes,
& alle þe maydenes of þe munster ma3tyly hokyllen
Wyth þe swayf of þe sworde þat swol3ed hem alle.
Þenne ran þay to þe relykes as robbors wylde,
& pyled alle þe apparement þat pented to þe kyrke,
Þe pure pyleres of bras pourtrayd in golde,
& þe chef chaundeler charged with þe ly3t,
Þat ber þe lamp vpon lofte þat lemed euermore
Bifore þ[e] sancta sanctorumþer
selcouth watz ofte.
Þay ca3t away þat condelstik, & þe crowne als
Þat þe auter hade vpon, of aþel golde ryche,
Þe gredirne & þe goblotes garnyst of syluer,
Þe bases of þe bry3t postes & bassynes so schyre,
Dere disches of golde & dubleres fayre,
Þe vyoles & þe vesselment of vertuous stones.
Now hatz Nabuzardan nomen alle þyse noble þynges,
& pyled þat precious place & pakked þose godes;
Þe golde of þe gazafylace to swyþe gret noumbre,
Wyth alle þe vrnmentes of þat hous, he hamppred togeder;
Alle he spoyled spitously in a sped whyle
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Þat Salomon so mony a sadde 3er so3t to make.
Wyth alle þe coyntyse þat he cowþe clene to wyrke,
Deuised he þe vesselment, þe vestures clene;
Wyth sly3t of his ciences, his Souerayn to loue,
Þe hous & þe anournementes he hy3tled togedere.
Now hatz Nabuzardan numnend hit al samen,
& syþen bet doun þe bur3& brend hit in askes.
Þenne wyth legiounes of ledes ouer londes he rydes,
Her3ez of Israel þe hyrne aboute;
Wyth charged chariotes þe cheftayn he fynde,
Bikennes þe catel to þe kyng, þat he ca3t hade;
Presented him þe prisoneres in pray þat þay token,
Moni a worþly wy3e whil her worlde laste,
Moni semly syre soun, & swyþe rych maydenes,
Þe pruddest of þe prouince, & prophetes childer,
As Ananie & Azarie & als Mizael,
& dere Daniel also, þat watz deuine noble,
With moni a modey moder-chylde mo þen innoghe.
& Nabugo_de_nozar makes much joye,
Nov he þe kyng hatz conquest & þe kyth wunnen,
& dreped alle þe do3tyest & derrest in armes,
& þe lederes of her lawe layd to þe grounde,
& þe pryce of þe profetie prisoners maked.
Bot þe joy of þe juelrye so gentyle & ryche,
When hit watz schewed hym so schene, scharp watz his wonder;
Of such vessel auayed, þat vayled so huge,
Neuer 3et nas Nabugo_de_nozar er þenne.
He sesed hem with solemnete, þe Souerayn he praysed
Þat watz aþel ouer alle, Israel Dry3tyn:
Such god, such gomes, such gay vesselles,
Comen neuer out of kyth to Caldee reames.
He trussed hem in his tresorye in a tryed place,
Rekenly, wyth reuerens, as he ry3t hade;
& þer he wro3t as þe wyse, as 3e may wyt hereafter,
For hade he let of hem ly3t, hym mo3t haf lumpen worse.
Þat ryche in gret rialte rengned his lyue,
As conquerour of vche a cost he cayser watz hatte,
Emperour of alle þe erþe & also þe saudan,
& als þe god of þe grounde watz grauen his name.
& al þur3dome of Daniel, fro he deuised hade
Þat alle goudes com of God, & gef hit hym bi samples,
Þat he ful clanly bicnv his carp bi þe laste,
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& ofte hit mekned his mynde, his maysterful werkkes.
Bot al drawes to dy3e with doel vp[o]n ende:
Bi a haþel neuer so hy3e, he heldes to grounde.
& so Nabugo_de_nozar, as he nedes moste,
For alle his empire so hi3e in erþe is he grauen.
Bot þenn þe bolde Baltazar, þat watz his barn aldest,
He watz stalled in his stud, & stabled þe rengne
In þe bur3of Babiloyne, þe biggest he trawed,
Þat nauþer in heuen ne [on] erþe hade no pere;
For he bigan in alle þe glori þat hym þe gome lafte,
Nabugo_de_nozar, þat watz his noble fader.
So kene a kyng in Caldee com neu[er] er þenne;
Bot honoured he not Hym þat in heuen wonies.
Bot fals fantummes of fendes, formed with handes,
Wyth tool out of harde tre, & telded on lofte,
& of stokkes & stones, he stoute goddes callz,
When þay ar gilde al with golde & gered wyth syluer;
& þere he kneles & callez & clepes after help.
& þay reden him ry3t rewarde he hem hetes,
& if þay gruchen him his grace, to gremen his hert,
He cleches to a gret klubbe & knokkes hem to peces.
Þus in pryde & olipraunce his empyre he haldes,
In lust & in lecherye & loþelych werkkes,
& hade a wyf for to welde, a worþelych quene,
& mony a lemman, neuer þe later, þat ladis wer called.
In þe clernes of his concubines & curious wedez,
In notyng of nwe metes & of nice gettes,
Al watz þe mynde of þat man on misschapen þinges,
Til þe Lorde of þe lyfte liste hit abate.
Thenne þis bolde Baltazar biþenkkes hym ones
To vouche on avayment of his vayne g[l]orie;
Hit is not innoghe to þe nice al no3ty þink vse
Bot if alle þe worlde wyt his wykked dedes.
Baltazar þur3Babiloyn his banne gart crye,
& þur3þe cuntre of Caldee his callyng con spryng,
Þat alle þe grete vpon grounde schulde geder hem samen
& assemble at a set day at þe saudans fest.
Such a mangerie to make þe man watz auised,
Þat vche a kythyn kyng schuld com þider,
Vche duk wyth his duthe, & oþer dere lordes,
Schulde com to his court to kyþe hym for lege,
& to reche hym reuerens, & his reuel herkken,
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To loke on his lemanes & ladis hem calle.
To rose hym in his rialty rych men so3tten,
& mony a baroun ful bolde, to Babyloyn þe noble.
Þer bowed toward Babiloyn burnes so mony,
Kynges, cayseres ful kene, to þe court wonnen,
Mony ludisch lordes þat ladies bro3ten,
Þat to neuen þe noumbre to much nye were.
For þe bour3watz so brod & so bigge alce,
Stalled in þe fayrest stud þe sterrez anvnder,
Prudly on a plat playn, plek alþer-fayrest,
Vmbesweyed on vch a syde with seuen grete wateres,
With a wonder wro3t walle wruxeled ful hi3e,
With koynt carneles aboue, coruen ful clene,
Troched toures bitwene, twenty spere lenþe,
& þiker þrowen vmbeþour with ouerþwert palle.
Þe place þat plyed þe pursaunt wythinne
Watz longe & ful large & euer ilych sware,
& vch a syde vpon soyle helde seuen myle,
& þe saudans sete sette in þe myddes.
Þat watz a palayce of pryde passande alle oþer,
Boþe of werk & of wunder, & walle[d] al aboute;
He3e houses withinne, þe halle to hit med,
So brod bilde in a bay þat blonkkes my3t renne.
When þe terme of þe tyde watz towched of þe feste,
Dere dro3en þerto & vpon des metten,
& Baltazar vpon bench was busked to sete,
Stepe stayred stones of his stoute throne.
Þenne watz alle þe halle flor hiled with kny3tes,
& barounes at þe sidebordes bounet aywhere,
For non watz dressed vpon dece bot þe dere seluen,
& his clere concubynes in cloþes ful bry3t.
When alle segges were þet set þen seruyse bygynnes,
Sturnen trumpen strake steuen in halle,
Aywhere by þe wowes wrasten krakkes,
& brode baneres þerbi blusnande of gold,
Burnes berande þe bredes vpon brode skeles
Þat were of sylueren sy3t, & served þerwyth,
Lyfte logges þerouer & on lofte coruen,
Pared out of paper & poynted of golde,
Broþe baboynes abof, besttes anvnder,
Foles in foler flakerande bitwene,
& al in asure & ynde enaumayld ryche;
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& al on blonkken bak bere hit on honde.
& ay þe nakeryn noyse, notes of pipes,
Tymbres & tabornes, tulket among,
Symbales & sonetez sware þe noyse,
& bougounz busch batered so þikke.
So watz serued fele syþe þe sale alle aboute,
With solace at þe sere course, bifore þe self lorde,
Þer þe lede & alle his loue lenged at þe table:
So faste þay we3ed to him wyne hit warmed his hert
& breyþed vppe into his brayn & blemyst his mynde,
& al waykned his wyt, & welne3e he foles;
For he waytez on wyde, his wenches he byholdes,
& his bolde baronage aboute bi þe wo3es.
Þenne a dotage ful depe drof to his hert,
& a caytif counsayl he ca3t bi hymseluen;
Maynly his marschal þe mayster vpon calles,
& comaundes hym cofly coferes to lauce,
& fech forþ þe vessel þat his fader bro3t,
Nabugo_de_nozar, noble in his strenþe,
Conquered with his kny3tes & of kyrk rafte
In Jude, in Jerusalem, in gentyle wyse:
'Bryng hem now to my borde, of beuerage hem fylles,
Let þise ladyes of hem lape, I luf hem in hert;
Þat schal I cortaysly kyþe, & þay schin knawe sone,
Þer is no bounte in burne lyk Baltazar þewes.'
Þenne towched to þe tresour þis tale watz sone,
& he with keyes vncloses kystes ful mony;
Mony burþen ful bry3t watz bro3t into halle,
& couered mony a cupborde with cloþes ful quite.
Þe jueles out of Jerusalem with gemmes ful bry3t
Bi þe syde of þe sale were semely arayed;
Þe aþel auter of brasse watz hade into place,
Þe gay coroun of golde gered on lofte.
Þat hade ben blessed bifore wyth bischopes hondes
& wyth besten blod busily anoynted,
In þe solempne sacrefyce þat goud sauor hade
Bifore þe Lorde of þe lyfte in louyng Hymseluen,
Now is sette, for to serue Satanas þe blake,
Bifore þe bolde Baltazar wyth bost & wyth pryde;
Houen vpon þis auter watz aþel vessel
Þat wyth [s]o curious a crafte coruen watz wyly.
Salamon sete him s[eue]n 3ere & a syþe more,
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With alle þe syence þat hym sende þe souerayn Lorde,
For to compas & kest to haf hem clene wro3t.
For þer wer bassynes ful bry3t of brende golde clere,
Enaumaylde with azer, & eweres of sute,
Couered cowpes foul clene, as casteles arayed,
Enbaned vnder batelment with bantelles quoynt,
& fyled out of fygures of ferlyle schappes.
Þe coperounes of þe canacles þat on þe cuppe reres
Wer fetysely formed out in fylyoles longe;
Pinacles py3t þer apert þat profert bitwene,
& al bolled abof with braunches & leues,
Pyes & papejayes purtrayed withinne,
As þay prudly hade piked of pomgarnades;
For alle þe blomes of þe bo3es wer blyknande perles,
& alle þe fruyt in þo formes of flaumbeande gemmes,
Ande safyres, & sardiners, & semely topace,
Alabaundarynes, & amaraunz, & amaffised stones,
Casydoynes, & crysolytes, & clere rubies,
Penitotes, & pynkardines, ay perles bitwene;
So trayled & tryfled atrauerce wer alle,
Bi vche bekyrande þe bolde, þe brurdes al vmbe;
Þe gobelotes of golde grauen aboute,
& fyoles fretted with flores & fleez of golde;
Vpon þat avter watz al aliche dresset.
Þe candelstik bi a cost watz cayred þider sone,
Vpon þe pyleres apyked, þat praysed hit mony,
Vpon hit basez of brasse þat ber vp þe werkes,
Þe bo3es bry3t þerabof, brayden of golde,
Braunches bredande þeron, & bryddes þer seten
Of mony kyndes, of fele kyn hues,
As þay with wynge vpon wynde hade waged her fyþeres.
Inmong þe leues of þe lampes wer grayþed,
& oþer louflych ly3t þat lemed ful fayre,
As mony morteres of wax merkked withoute
With mony a borlych best al of brende golde.
Hit watz not wonte in þat wone to wast no serges,
Bot in temple of þe trauþe trwly to stonde
Bifore þe sancta sanctorum, soþefast Dry3tyn
Expouned His speche spiritually to special prophetes.
Leue þou wel þat þe Lorde þat þe lyfte 3emes
Displesed much at þat play in þat plyt stronge,
Þat His jueles so gent wyth jaueles wer fouled,
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Þat presyous in His presens wer proued sumwhyle.
Soberly in His sacrafyce summe wer anoynted,
Þur3þe somones of Himselfe þat syttes so hy3e;
Now a boster on benche bibbes þerof
Tyl he be dronkken as þe deuel, & dotes þer he syttes.
So þe Worcher of þis worlde wlates þerwyth
Þat in þe poynt of her play He poruayes a mynde;
Bot er harme hem He wolde in haste of His yre,
He wayned hem a warnyng þat wonder hem þo3t.
Nov is alle þis guere geten glotounes to serue,
Stad in a ryche stal, & stared ful bry3t[e];
Baltazar in a brayd: 'Bede vus þerof!
We3e wyn in þis won! Wassayl!' he cryes.
Swyfte swaynes ful swyþe swepen þertylle,
Kyppe kowpes in honde kyngez to serue;
In bry3t bollez ful bayn birlen þise oþer,
& vche mon for his mayster machches alone.
Þer watz rynging, on ry3t, of ryche metalles,
Quen renkkes in þat ryche rok rennen hit to cache;
Clatering of couaclez þat kesten þo burdes
As sonet out of sau[t]eray songe als myry.
Þen þe dotel on dece drank þat he my3t;
& þenne arn dressed dukez & prynces,
Concubines & kny3tes, bi cause of þat merthe;
As vchon hade hym inhelde he haled of þe cuppe.
So long likked þise lordes þise lykores swete,
& gloryed on her falce goddes, & her grace calles,
Þat were of stokkes & stones, stille euermore,
Neuer steuen hem astel, so stoken [is] hor tonge.
Alle þe goude golden goddes þe gaulez 3et neuenen,
Belfagor & Belyal, & Belssabub als,
Heyred hem as hy3ly as heuen wer þayres,
Bot Hym þat alle goudes giues, þat God þay for3eten.
For þer a ferly bifel þat fele folk se3en;
Fryst knew hit þe kyng & alle þe cort after:
In þe palays pryncipale, vpon þe playn wowe,
In contrary of þe candelstik, þat clerest hit schyned,
Þer apered a paume, with poyntel in fyngres,
Þat watz grysly & gret, & grymly he wrytes;
Non oþer forme bot a fust faylande þe wryste
Pared on þe parget, purtrayed lettres.
When þat bolde Baltazar blusched to þat neue,
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Such a dasande drede dusched to his hert
Þat al falewed his face & fayled þe chere;
Þe stronge strok of þe stonde strayned his joyntes,
His cnes cachches toclose, & cluchches his hommes,
& he with plattyng his paumes displayes his ler[e]s,
& romyes as a rad ryth þat rorez for drede,
Ay biholdand þe honde til hit hade al grauen
& rasped on þe ro3wo3e runisch sauez.
When hit þe scrypture hade scraped wyth a strof penne,
As a coltour in clay cerues þo for3es,
Þenne hit vanist verayly & voyded of sy3t,
Bt þe lettres bileued ful large vpon plaster.
Sone so þe kynge for his care carping my3t wynne,
He bede his burnes bo3to þat were bok-lered,
To wayte þe wryt þat hit wolde, & wyter hym to say,
'For al hit frayes my flesche, þe fyngres so grymme.'
Scoleres skelten þeratte þe skyl for to fynde,
Bot þer watz neuer on so wyse couþe on worde rede,
Ne what ledisch lore ne langage nauþer,
What tyþyng ne tale tokened þo dra3tes.
Þenne þe bolde Baltazar bred ner wode,
& ede þe cete to seche segges þur3out
Þat wer wyse of wychecrafte, & warla3es oþer
Þat con dele wyth demerlayk & deuine lettres.
'Calle hem alle to my cort, þo Calde clerkkes,
Vnfolde hem alle þis ferly þat is bifallen here,
& calle wyth a hi3e cry: "He þat þe kyng wysses,
In expounyng of speche þat spredes in þise lettres,
& make þe mater to malt my mynde wythinne,
Þat I may wyterly wyt what þat wryt menes,
He schal be gered ful gaye in gounes of porpre,
& a coler of cler golde clos vmbe his þrote;
He schal be prymate & prynce of pure clergye,
& of my þreuenest lordez þe þrydde he schal,
& of my reme þe rychest to ryde wyth myseluen,
Outtaken bare two, & þenne he þe þrydde."'
Þis cry watz vpcaste, & þer comen mony
Clerkes out of Caldye þat kennest wer knauen,
As þe sage sathrapas þat sorsory couþe,
Wychez & walkyries wonnen to þat sale,
Deuinores of demorlaykes þat dremes cowþe rede,
Sorsers & exorsismus & fele such clerkes;
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& alle þat loked on þat letter as lewed þay were
As þay had loked in þe leþer of my lyft bote.
Þenne cryes þe kyng & kerues his wedes.
What! he corsed his clerkes & calde hem chorles;
To henge þe harlotes he he3ed ful ofte:
So watz þe wy3e wytles he wed wel ner.
Ho herde hym chyde to þe chambre þat watz þe chef quene.
When ho watz wytered bi wy3es what watz þe cause,
Suche a chaungande chaunce in þe chef halle,
Þe lady, to lauce þat los þat þe lorde hade,
Glydes doun by þe grece & gos to þe kyng.
Ho kneles on þe colde erþe & carpes to hymseluen
Wordes of worchyp wyth a wys speche.
'Kene kyng,' quoþ þe quene, 'kayser of vrþe,
Euer laste þy lyf in lenþe of dayes!
Why hatz þou rended þy robe for redles hereinne,
Þa3þose ledes ben lewed lettres to rede,
& hatz a haþel in þy holde, as I haf herde ofte,
Þat hatz þe gostes of God þat gyes alle soþes?
His sawle is ful of syence, sa3es to schawe,
To open vch a hide þyng of aunteres vncowþe.
Þat is he þat ful ofte hatz heuened þy fader
Of mony anger ful hote with his holy speche.
When Nabugo_de_nozar watz nyed in stoundes,
He devysed his dremes to þe dere trawþe;
He keuered hym with his counsayl of caytyf wyrdes;
Alle þat he spured hym, in space he expowned clene,
Þur3þe sped of þe spyryt, þat sprad hym withinne,
Of þe godelest goddez þat gaynes aywhere.
For his depe diuinite & his dere sawes,
Þy bolde fader Baltazar bede by his name,
Þat now is demed Danyel, of derne coninges,
Þat ca3t watz in þe captyuide in cuntre of Jues;
Nabuzardan hym nome, & now is he here,
A prophete of þat prouince & pryce of þe worlde.
Sende into þe cete to seche hym bylyue,
& wynne hym with þe worchyp to wayne þe bote;
& þa3þe mater be merk þat merked is 3ender,
He schal declar hit also as hit on clay stande.'
Þat gode counseyl at þe quene watz cached as swyþe;
Þe burne byfore Baltazar watz bro3t in a whyle.
When he com bifore þe kyng & clanly had halsed,
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Baltazar vmbebrayde hym, & 'Leue sir,' he sayde,
'Hit is tolde me bi tulkes þat þou trwe were
Profete of þat prouynce þat prayed my fader,
Ande þat þou hatz in þy hert holy connyng,
Of sapyence þi sawle ful, soþes to schawe;
Goddes gost is þe geuen þat gyes alle þynges,
& þou vnhyles vch hidde þat Heuen-Kyng myntes.
& here is a ferly byfallen, & I fayn wolde
Wyt þe wytte of þe wryt þat on þe wowe clyues,
For alle Calde clerkes han cowwardely fayled.
If þou with quayntyse con quere hit, I quyte þe þy mede:
For if þou redes hit by ry3t & hit to resoun brynges,
Fyrst telle me þe tyxte of þe tede lettres,
& syþen þe mater of þe mode mene me þerafter,
& I schal halde þe þe hest þat I þe hy3t haue,
Apyke þe in porpre cloþe, palle alþer-fynest,
& þe by3e of bry3t golde abowte þyn nekke,
& þe þryd þryuenest þat þrynges me after,
Þou schal be baroun vpon benche, bede I þe no lasse.'
Derfly þenne Danyel deles þyse wordes:
'Ryche kyng of þis rengne, rede þe oure Lorde!
Hit is surely soth þe Souerayn of heuen
Fylsened euer þy fader & vpon folde cheryched,
Gart hym grattest to be of gouernores alle,
& alle þe worlde in his wylle welde as hym lykes.
Whoso wolde wel do, wel hym bityde,
& quos deth so he dezyre, he dreped als fast;
Whoso hym lyked to lyft, on lofte watz he sone,
& quoso hym lyked to lay watz lo3ed bylyue.
So watz noted þe note of Nabugo_de_nozar,
Styfly stabled þe rengne bi þe stronge Dry3tyn,
For of þe Hy3est he hade a hope in his hert,
Þat vche pouer past out of þat Prynce euen.
& whyle þat watz cle3t clos in his hert
Þere watz no mon vpon molde of my3t as hymseluen;
Til hit bitide on a tyme towched hym pryde
For his lordeschyp so large & his lyf ryche;
He hade so huge an insy3t to his aune dedes
Þat þe power of þe hy3e Prynce he purely for3etes.
Þenne blynnes he not of blasfemy on to blame þe Dry3tyn;
His my3t mete to Goddes he made with his wordes:
"I am god of þe grounde, to gye as me lykes.
94
As He þat hy3e is in heuen, His aungeles þat weldes.
If He hatz formed þe folde & folk þervpone,
I haf bigged Babiloyne, bur3alþer-rychest,
Stabled þerinne vche a ston in strenkþe of myn armes;
Mo3t neuer my3t bot myn make such anoþer."
Watz not þis ilke worde wonnen of his mowþe one
Er þenne þe Souerayn sa3e souned in his eres:
"Now Nabugo_de_nozar inno3e hatz spoken,
Now is alle þy pryncipalte past at ones,
& þou, remued fro monnes sunes, on mor most abide
& in wasturne walk & wyth þe wylde dowelle,
As best, byte on þe bent of braken & erbes,
With wroþe wolfes to won & wyth wylde asses."
Inmydde þe poynt of his pryde departed he þere
Fro þe soly of his solempnete; his solace he leues,
& carfully is outkast to contre vnknawen,
Fer into a fyr fryth þere frekes neuer comen.
His hert heldet vnhole; he hoped non oþer
Bot a best þat he be, a bol oþer an oxe.
He fares forth on alle faure, fogge watz his mete,
& ete ay as a horce when erbes were fallen;
Þus he countes hym a kow þat watz a kyng ryche,
Quyle seuen syþez were ouerseyed, someres I trawe.
By þat mony þik thy3e þry3t vmbe his lyre,
Þat alle watz dubbed & dy3t in þe dew of heuen;
Faxe, fyltered & felt, flosed hym vmbe,
Þat schad fro his schulderes to his schyre wykes,
& twenty-folde twynande hit to his tos ra3t,
Þer mony clyuy as clyde hit cly3t togeder.
His berde ibrad alle his brest to þe bare vrþe,
His browes bresed as breres aboute his brode chekes;
Hol3e were his y3en & vnder campe hores,
& al watz gray as þe glede, with ful grymme clawres
Þat were croked & kene as þe kyte paune;
Erne-hwed he watz & al ouerbrawden,
Til he wyst ful wel who wro3t alle my3tes,
& cowþe vche kyndam tokerue & keuer when Hym lyked.
Þenne He wayned hym his wyt, þat hade wo soffered,
Þat he com to knawlach & kenned hymseluen;
Þenne he loued þat Lorde & leued in trawþe
Hit watz non oþer þen He þat hade al in honde.
Þenne sone watz he sende agayn, his sete restored;
95
His barounes bo3ed hym to, blyþe of his come,
Ha3erly in his aune hwe his heued watz couered,
& so 3eply watz 3arked & 3olden his state.
Bot þou, Baltazar, his barne & his bolde ayre,
Se3þese syngnes with sy3t & set hem at lyttel,
Bot ay hatz hofen þy hert agaynes þe hy3e Dry3t[y]n,
With bobaunce & with blasfamye bost at Hym kest,
& now His vessayles avyled in vanyte vnclene,
Þat in His hows Hym to honour were heuened of fyrst;
Bifore þe barounz hatz hom bro3t, & byrled þerinne
Wale wyne to þy wenches in waryed stoundes;
Bifore þy borde hatz þou bro3t beuerage in þede,
Þat blyþely were fyrst blest with bischopes hondes,
Louande þeron lese goddez þat lyf haden neuer,
Made of stokkes & stonez þat neuer styry mo3t.
& for þat froþande fylþe, þe Fader of heuen
Hatz sende into þis sale þise sy3tes vncowþe,
Þe fyste with þe fyngeres þat flayed þi hert,
Þat rasped renyschly þe wo3e with þe ro3penne.
Þise ar þe wordes here wryten, withoute werk more,
By vch fygure, as I fynde, as oure Fader lykes:
Mane, Techal, Phares: merked in þrynne,
Þat þretes þe of þyn vnþryfte vpon þre
wyse.
Now expowne þe þis speche spedly I þenk:
Manemenes als much as "Maynful Gode
Hatz counted þy kyndam bi a clene noumbre,
& fulfylled hit in fayth to þe fyrre ende".
To teche þe of Techal, þat terme þus menes:
"þy wale rengne is walt in we3tes to heng,
& is funde ful fewe of hit fayth-dedes."
& Pharesfol3es for þose fawtes, to frayst þe trawþe;
In Phares fyndeI forsoþe þise felle sa3es:
"Departed is þy pryncipalte, depryued þou worpes,
Þy rengne rafte is þe fro, & ra3t is þe Perses;
Þe Medes schal be maysteres here, & þou of menske schowued."'
Þe kyng comaunded anon to cleþe þat wyse
In frokkes of fyn cloþ, as forward hit asked;
Þenne sone watz Danyel dubbed in ful dere porpor,
& a coler of cler golde kest vmbe his swyre.
Þen watz demed a decre bi þe duk seluen:
Bolde Baltazar bed þat hym bowe schulde
96
Þe comynes al of Calde þat to þe kyng longed,
As to þe prynce pryuyest preued þe þrydde,
He3est of alle oþer saf onelych tweyne,
To bo3after Baltazar in bor3e & in felde.
Þys watz cryed & knawen in cort als fast,
& alle þe folk þerof fayn þat fol3ed hym tylle.
Bot howso Danyel watz dy3t, þat day ouer3ede;
Ny3t ne3ed ry3t now with nyes fol mony,
For da3ed neuer anoþer day, þat ilk derk after,
Er dalt were þat ilk dome þat Danyel deuysed.
Þe solace of þe solempnete in þat sale dured
Of þat farand fest, tyl fayled þe sunne;
Þenne blykned þe ble of þe bry3t skwes,
Mourkenes þe mery weder, & þe myst dryues
Þor3þe lyst of þe lyfte, bi þe lo3medoes.
Vche haþel to his home hy3es ful fast,
Seten at her soper & songen þerafter;
Þen foundez vch a fela3schyp fyrre at forþ na3tes.
Baltazar to his bedd with blysse watz caryed;
Reche þe rest as hym lyst: he ros neuer þerafter.
For his foes in þe felde in flokkes ful grete,
Þat longe hade layted þat lede his londes to strye,
Now ar þay sodenly assembled at þe self tyme.
Of hem wyst no wy3e þat in þat won dowelled.
Hit watz þe dere Daryus, þe duk of þise Medes,
Þe prowde prynce of Perce, & Porros of Ynde,
With mony a legioun ful large, with ledes of armes,
Þat now hatz spyed a space to spoyle Caldeez.
Þay þrongen þeder in þe þester on
þrawen hepes,
Asscaped ouer þe skyre watteres & scaþed þe walles,
Lyfte laddres ful longe & vpon lofte wonen,
Stelen stylly þe toun er any steuen rysed.
Withinne an oure of þe niy3t an entre þay hade,
3et afrayed þay no freke. Fyrre þay passen,
& to þe palays pryncipal þay aproched ful stylle,
Þenne ran þay in on a res on rowtes ful grete;
Blastes out of bry3t brasse brestes so hy3e,
Ascry scarred on þe scue, þat scomfyted mony.
Segges slepande were slayne er þay slyppe my3t;
Vche hous heyred watz withinne a hondewhyle.
Baltazar in his bed watz beten to deþe,
97
Þat boþe his blod & his brayn blende on þe cloþes;
The kyng in his cortyn watz ka3t bi þe heles,
Feryed out bi þe fete & fowle dispysed.
Þat watz so do3ty þat day & drank of þe vessayl
Now is a dogge also dere þat in a dych lygges.
For þe mayster of þyse Medes on þe morne ryses,
Dere Daryous þat day dy3t vpon trone,
Þat cete seses ful sounde, & sa3tlyng makes
Wyth alle þe barounz þeraboute, þat bowed hym after.
& þus watz þat londe lost for þe lordes synne,
& þe fylþe of þe freke þat defowled hade
Þe ornementes of Goddez hous þat holy were maked.
He watz corsed for his vnclannes, & cached þerinne,
Done doun of his dyngnete for dedez vnfayre,
& of þyse worldes worchyp wrast out for euer,
& 3et of lykynges on lofte letted, I trowe:
To loke on oure lofly Lorde late bitydes.
Þus vpon þrynne wyses I haf yow þro schewed
Þat vnclannes tocleues in corage dere
Of þat wynnelych Lorde þat wonyes in heuen,
Entyses Hym to be tene, telled vp His wrake;
Ande clannes is His comfort, & coyntyse He louyes,
& þose þat seme arn & swete schyn se His face.
Þat we gon gay in oure gere þat grace He vus sende,
Þat we may serue in His sy3t, þer solace neuer blynnez.
Amen.
~ Anonymous Americas,#NFDB
282:Knyghthode And Bataile
A XVth Century Verse Paraphrase of Flavius Vegetius Renatus' Treatise 'DE RE
MILITARI'
Proemium.
Salue, festa dies
i martis,
Mauortis! auete
Kalende. Qua Deus
ad celum subleuat
ire Dauid.
Hail, halyday deuout! Alhail Kalende
Of Marche, wheryn Dauid the Confessour
Commaunded is his kyngis court ascende;
Emanuel, Jhesus the Conquerour,
This same day as a Tryumphatour,
Sette in a Chaire & Throne of Maiestee,
To London is comyn. O Saviour,
Welcome a thousand fold to thi Citee!
And she, thi modir Blessed mot she be
That cometh eke, and angelys an ende,
Wel wynged and wel horsed, hidir fle,
Thousendys on this goode approche attende;
And ordir aftir ordir thei commende,
As Seraphin, as Cherubyn, as Throne,
As Domynaunce, and Princys hidir sende;
And, at o woord, right welcom euerychone!
But Kyng Herry the Sexte, as Goddes Sone
Or themperour or kyng Emanuel,
To London, welcomer be noo persone;
O souuerayn Lord, welcom! Now wel, Now wel!
Te Deum to be songen, wil do wel,
And Benedicta Sancta Trinitas!
364
Now prosperaunce and peax perpetuel
Shal growe,-and why? ffor here is Vnitas.
Therof to the Vnitee 'Deo gracias'
In Trinitee! The Clergys and Knyghthode
And Comynaltee better accorded nas
Neuer then now; Now nys ther noon abode,
But out on hem that fordoon Goddes forbode,
Periurous ar, Rebellovs and atteynte,
So forfaytinge her lyif and lyvelode,
Although Ypocrisie her faytys peynte.
Now, person of Caleys, pray euery Seynte
In hevenys & in erth of help Thavaile.
It is, That in this werk nothing ne feynte,
But that beforn good wynde it go ful sayle;
And that not oonly prayer But travaile
Heron be sette, Enserche & faste inquere.
Thi litil book of knyghthode & bataile,
What Chiualer is best, on it bewere.
Whil Te Deum Laudamus vp goth there
At Paulis, vp to Westmynster go thee;
The Kyng comyng, Honor, Virtus the Quene,
So glad goth vp that blisse it is to see.
Thi bille vnto the Kyng is red, and He
Content withal, and wil it not foryete.
What seith my lord Beaumont? 'Preste, vnto me
Welcom.' (here is tassay, entre to gete).
'Of knyghthode & Bataile, my lord, as trete
The bookys olde, a werk is made now late,
And if it please you, it may be gete.'
'What werk is it?' 'Vegetius translate
Into Balade.' 'O preste, I pray the, late
Me se that werk.' 'Therto wil I you wise.
Lo, here it is!' Anon he gan therate
To rede, thus: 'Sumtyme it was the gise'-
365
And red therof a part. 'For my seruyse
Heer wil I rede (he seith) as o psaultier.'
'It pleaseth you right wel; wil your aduyse
Suppose that the kyng heryn pleasier
May haue?' 'I wil considir the matier;
I fynde it is right good and pertynente
Vnto the kyng; his Celsitude is hier;
I halde it wel doon, hym therwith presente.
Almyghti Maker of the firmament,
O mervailous in euery creature,
So singuler in this most excellent
Persone, our Souuerayn Lord! Of what stature
Is he, what visagynge, how fair feture,
How myghti mad, and how strong in travaile!
In oonly God & hym it is tassure
As in a might, that noo wight dar assaile.
Lo, Souuerayn Lord, of Knyghthode & bataile
This litil werk your humble oratour,
Ye, therwithal your Chiualers, travaile,
Inwith your hert to Crist the Conquerour
Offreth for ye. Ther, yeueth him thonour;
His true thought, accepte it, he besecheth,
Accepte; it is to this Tryumphatour,
That myghti werre exemplifying techeth.
He redeth, and fro poynt to poynt he secheth,
How hath be doon, and what is now to done;
His prouidence on aftirward he strecheth,
By see & lond; he wil provide sone
To chace his aduersaryes euerychone;
Thei hem by lond, thei hem by see asseyle;The Kyng his Oratoure, God graunt his bone,
Ay to prevaile in knyghthode & bataile.
366
Amen.
I.
Sumtyme it was the gise among the wise
To rede and write goode and myghti thingis,
And have therof the dede in exercise;
Pleasaunce heryn hadde Emperour and Kingis.
O Jesse flour, whos swete odour our Kinge is,
Do me to write of knyghthode and bataile
To thin honour and Chiualers tavaile.
Mankyndys lyfe is mylitatioun,
And she, thi wife, is named Militaunce,
Ecclesia; Jhesu, Saluatioun,
My poore witte in thi richesse avaunce,
Cast out therof the cloude of ignoraunce,
Sette vp theryn thi self, the verrey light,
Therby to se thi Militaunce aright.
O Lady myn, Maria, Lode sterre,
Condite it out of myst & nyght, that dark is,
To write of al by see & lond the werre.
Help, Angelys, of knyghthode ye Ierarkys
In heven & here; o puissaunt Patriarkys,
Your valiaunce and werre in see & londe
Remembering, to this werk putte your honde.
Apostolys, ye, with thalmyghti swoorde
Of Goddis woord, that were Conquerourys
Of al the world, and with the same woorde
Ye Martirys that putte of sharpe shourys,
Ye Virgynys pleasaunt and Confessourys
That with the same sworde haue had victory,
Help heer to make of werre a good memory.
And euery werreour wil I beseche,
Impropurly where of myn ignoraunce
367
Of werre I write, as putte in propre speche
And mende me, prayinge herof pleasaunce
To God be first, by Harry Kyng of Fraunce
And Englond, and thenne ereither londe,
Peasibilly that God putte in his honde.
Thus seide an humble Inuocatioun
To Criste, his Modir, and his Sayntis alle,
With confidence of illustratioun,
Criste me to spede, and prayer me to walle,
Myn inwit on this werk wil I let falle,
And sey what is kynyghthode, and in bataile,
By lond & see, what feat may best prevaile.
Knyghthode an ordir is, the premynent;
Obeysaunt in God, and rather deye
Then disobeye; and as magnificent
As can be thought; exiled al envye;
As confident the right to magnifie
As wil the lawe of Goddis mandement,
And as perseueraunt and patient.
The premynent is first thalmyghti Lord,
Emanuel, that euery lord is vndir
And good lyver; but bataile and discord
With him hath Sathanas; thei are asondir
As day & nyght, and as fier wasteth tundir,
So Sathanas his flok; and Cristis oste
In gemmy gold goth ardent, euery cooste.
Themanuel, this Lord of Sabaoth,
Hath ostis angelik that multitude,
That noon of hem, nor persone erthly, woote
Their numbir or vertue or pulcritude;
Our chiualers of hem similitude
Take as thei may, but truely ? fer is,
As gemmys are ymagyned to sterrys.
368
Folk angelik, knyghthode archangelike,
And the terrible tourmys pryncipaunt,
The Potestates myght, ho may be like,The vigoroux vertue so valyaunt,
The Regalye of thordir domynaunt,
The Thronys celsitude of Cherubyn?
Who hath the light or flamme of Seraphyn?
Yit true it is, Man shal ben angelike;
Forthi their hosteyinye the Lord hath shewed
Ofte vnto man, the crafte therof to pike,
In knyghthode aftir hem man to be thewed:
By Lucyfer falling, rebate and fewed
Her numbir was, and it is Goddis wille,
That myghti men her numbir shal fulfille.
Of myghty men first is thelectioun
To make, & hem to lerne, & exercise
An ooste of hem for his perfectioun,
Be numbred thenne; and aftir se the gise
Of strong bataile, fighting in dyuers wise;
In craft to bilde, and art to make engyne
For see & lond, this tretys I wil fyne.
Thelectioun of werreours is good
In euery londe; and southward ay the more,
The more wit thei haue & lesse blood,
Forthi to blede thei drede it, and therfore
Reserue theim to labour & to lore,
And northeward hath more blood and lesse
Wit, and to fight & blede an hardinesse.
But werreours to worthe wise & bolde,
Is good to take in mene atwix hem twayne,
Where is not ouer hote nor ouer colde;
And to travaile & swete in snow & rayne,
In colde & hete, in wode & feeldys playne,
369
With rude fode & short, thei that beth vsed,
To chere it is the Citesens seclused.
And of necessitee, if thei be take
To that honour as to be werreourys,
In grete travaile her sleuth is of to shake,
And tolleraunce of sonne & dust & shourys,
To bere & drawe, & dayes delve and hourys
First vse thei, and reste hem in a cave,
And throute among, and fode a smal to haue.
In soden case emergent hem elonge
Fro their Cite, streyt out of that pleasaunce;
So shal thei worthe, ye, bothe bolde & stronge;
But feithfully the feld may most avaunce
A myghti ooste; of deth is his doubtaunce
Ful smal, that hath had smal felicite.
To lyve, and lande-men such lyuers be.
Of yonge folk is best electioun,
In puberte thing lightlier is lerned,
Of tendre age vp goth perfectioun
Of chiualers, as it is wel gouerned;
Alacrite to lepe & renne vnwerned,
Not oonly be, but therto sette hem stronge
And chere theim therwith, whil thei beth yonge.
For better is ?ge men compleyne
On yerys yet commyng and nat fulfilled,
Then olde men dolorouxly disdeyne,
That thei here yougthe in negligence haspilde.
The yonge may seen alle his daies filde
In disciplyne of were and exercise,
That age may not haue in eny wise.
Not litil is the discipline of werre,
O fote, on hors, with sword or shild or spere,
370
The place & poort to kepe and not to erre,
Ne truble make, and his shot wel bewere,
To dike and voyde a dike, and entir there,
As is to do; lerned this gouernaunce,
No fere is it to fight, but pleasaunce.
The semelyest, sixe foote or litil lesse,
The first arayes of the legyoun,
Or wyngys horsyd, it is in to dresse;
Yet is it founde in euery regioun,
That smale men have had myght & renoun:
Lo, Tideus, as telleth swete Homere,
That litil man in vigour had no pere.
And him, that is to chese, it is to se
The look, the visagynge, the lymys stronge,
That thei be sette to force & firmytee;
For bellatours, men, horsis, hondis yonge,
As thei be wel fetured, is to fonge,
As in his book seith of the bee Virgile,
Too kyndis are, a gentil and a vile.
The gentil is smal, rutilaunt, glad-chered,
That other horribil, elenge and sloggy,
Drawinge his wombe abrede, and vgly-hered,
To grete the bolk, and tremulent and droggy,
The lymes hery, scabious & ruggy;
That be wil litil do, but slepe & ete,
And al deuoure, as gentil bees gete.
So for bataile adolescentys yonge
Of grym visage and look pervigilaunt,
Vpright-necked, brod-brested, boned stronge.
Brawny, bigge armes, fyngeres elongaunt,
Kne deep, smal wombe, and leggys valiaunt,
To renne & lepe: of these and suche signys
Thelectioun to make ascribed digne is.
371
For better is, of myghti werryourys
To haue ynogh, then ouer mych of grete.What crafty men tabide on werrys shourys,
It is to se; fisshers, foulers, forlete
Hem alle, and pigmentaryes be foryete,
And alle they that are of idil craftys,
Their insolence & feet to be forlafte is.
The ferrour and the smyth, the carpenter,
The huntere of the hert & of the boor,
The bocher & his man, bed hem com nere,
For alle tho may do and kepe stoor.
An old prouerbe is it: Stoor is not soor,
And commyn wele it is, a werreour
To have aswel good crafte as grete vigour.
The reaumys myght, the famys fundament,
Stont in the first examynatioun
Or choys, wheryn is good be diligent.
Of the provynce that is defensioun;
A wysdom and a just intensioun
Is him to have, an ost that is to chese,
Wheryn is al to wynne or al to lese.
If chiualers, a land that shal defende,
Be noble born, and have lond & fee,
With thewys goode, as can noman amende,
Thei wil remembir ay their honeste,
And shame wil refreyne hem not to fle;
Laude & honour, hem sporynge on victory,
To make fame eternal in memory.
What helpeth it, if ignobilitee
Have exercise in werre and wagys large;
A traitour or a coward if he be,
Thenne his abode is a disceypt & charge;
If cowardise hym bere away by barge
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Or ship or hors, alway he wil entende
To marre tho that wolde make or mende.
Ciuilians or officers to make
Of hem that have habilite to werre,
Is not the worship of a lond tawake,
Sumtyme also lest noughti shuld com nerre,
Thei sette hym to bataile, & theryn erre;
Therfore it is by good discretioun
And grete men to make electioun.
And not anoon to knyghthode is to lyft
A bacheler elect; let first appare
And preve it wel that he be stronge & swift
And wil the discipline of werrys lere,
With confidence in conflict as he were.
Ful oftyn he that is right personabil,
Is aftir pref reported right vnabil.
He putte apart, putte in his place an other;
Conflicte is not so sure in multitude,
As in the myght. Thus proved oon & other
Of werre an entre or similitude,
In hem to shewe. But this crafte dissuetude
Hath take away; here is noon exercise
Of disciplyne, as whilom was the gise.
How may I lerne of hym that is vnlerned,
How may a thing informal fourme me?
Thus I suppose is best to be gouerned:
Rede vp thistories of auctoritee,
And how thei faught, in theym it is to se,
Or better thus: Celsus Cornelius
Be red, or Caton, or Vegetius.
Vegetius it is, that I entende
Aftir to goon in lore of exercise,
373
Besechinge hem that fynde a faut, amende
It to the best, or me tamende it wise;
As redy wil I be with my seruyce
Tamende that, as ferther to procede.
Now wel to go, the good angel vs lede.
First is to lerne a chiualerys pace,
That is to serue in journey & bataile;
Gret peril is, if they theryn difface,
That seyn: our enemye wil our oste assaile
And jumpe light; to goon is gret availe,
And pace in howrys fyve
Wel may they goon, and not goon ouer blyve.
And wightly may thei go moo,
But faster and they passe, it is to renne;
In rennyng exercise is good also,
To smyte first in fight, and also whenne
To take a place our foomen wil, forrenne,
And take it erst; also to serche or sture,
Lightly to come & go, rennynge is sure.
Rennynge is also right good at the chace,
And forto lepe a dike, is also good,
To renne & lepe and ley vppon the face,
That it suppose a myghti man go wood
And lose his hert withoute sheding blood;
For myghtily what man may renne & lepe,
May wel devicte and saf his party kepe.
To swymme is eek to lerne in somer season;
Men fynde not a brigge as ofte as flood,
Swymmyng to voide and chace an oste wil eson;
Eeke aftir rayn the ryueres goth wood;
That euery man in thoost can swymme, is good.
Knyght, squyer, footman, cook & cosynere
And grome & page in swymmyng is to lere.
374
Of fight the disciplyne and exercise
Was this: to haue a pale or pile vpright
Of mannys hight, thus writeth olde wyse;
Therwith a bacheler or a yong knyght
Shal first be taught to stonde & lerne fight;
A fanne of doubil wight tak him his shelde,
Of doubil wight a mace of tre to welde.
This fanne & mace, which either doubil wight is
Of shelde & sword in conflicte or bataile,
Shal exercise as wel swordmen as knyghtys,
And noo man (as thei seyn) is seyn prevaile
In felde or in gravel though he assaile,
That with the pile nath first gret exercise;
Thus writeth werreourys olde & wise.
Have vche his pile or pale vpfixed faste,
And, as in werre vppon his mortal foo,
With wightynesse & wepon most he caste
To fighte stronge, that he ne shape him fro,On him with shild & sword avised so,
That thou be cloos, and prest thi foo to smyte,
Lest of thin owne deth thou be to wite.
Empeche his hed, his face, have at his gorge,
Bere at the breste, or serue him on the side
With myghti knyghtly poort, eue as Seynt George,
Lepe o thi foo, loke if he dar abide;
Wil he nat fle, wounde him; mak woundis wide,
Hew of his honde, his legge, his thegh, his armys;
It is the Turk: though he be sleyn, noon harm is.
And forto foyne is better then to smyte;
The smyter is deluded mony oonys,
The sword may nat throgh steel & bonys bite,
Thentrailys ar couert in steel & bonys,
But with a foyn anoon thi foo fordoon is;
375
Tweyne vnchys entirfoyned hurteth more
Then kerf or ege, although it wounde sore.
Eek in the kerf, thi right arm is disclosed,
Also thi side; and in the foyn, couert
Is side & arm, and er thou be supposed
Redy to fight, the foyn is at his hert
Or ellys where, a foyn is euer smert;
Thus better is to foyne then to kerve;
In tyme & place ereither is tobserue.
This fanne & mace ar ay of doubil wight,
That when the Bacheler hath exercise
Of hevy gere, and aftir taketh light
Herneys, as sheeld & sword of just assise,
His hert avaunceth, hardynes tarise.
My borthon is delyuered, thinketh he,
And on he goth, as glad as he may be.
And ouer this al, exercise in armys
The doctour is to teche and discipline,
For double wage a wurthi man of armys
Was wont to take, if he wer proved digne
Aforn his prince, ye, tymes VIII or IX;
And whete he had, and barly had the knyght
That couthe nat as he in armys fight.
Res publica right commendabil is,
If chiualers and armys there abounde,
For, they present, may nothing fare amys,
And ther thei are absent, al goth to grounde;
In gemme, in gold, in silk be thei fecounde,
It fereth not; but myghti men in armys,
They fereth with the drede of deth & harmys.
Caton the Wise seith: where as men erre
In other thinge, it may be wel amended;
376
But emendatioun is noon in werre;
The cryme doon, forthwith the grace is spended,
Or slayn anoon is he that there offended,
Or putte to flight, and euer aftir he
Is lesse worth then they that made him fle.
But turne ageyn, Inwit, to thi preceptys!
With sword & sheld the lerned chiualer
At pale or pile, in artilaunce excepte is;
A dart of more wight then is mester,
Tak him in honde, and teche hym it to ster,
And caste it at that pile, as at his foo,
So that it route, and right vppon hym go.
Of armys is the doctour heer tattende,
That myghtily this dart be take & shake,
And shot as myghtily, forthright on ende,
And smyte sore, or nygh, this pile or stake;
Herof vigour in tharmys wil awake
And craft to caste & smyte shal encrece;
The werreours thus taught, shal make peax.
But bachilers, the thridde or firthe part,
Applied ar to shote in bowes longe
With arowys; heryn is doctryne & art,
The stringys vp to breke in bowes stronge,
And swift and craftily the taclis fonge,
Starkly the lifte arm holde with the bowe,
Drawe with the right, and smyte, and ouerthrowe.
Set hert & eye vppon that pile or pale,
Shoot nygh or on, and if so be thou ride
On hors, is eek the bowys bigge vp hale;
Smyte in the face or breste or bak or side,
Compelle fle, or falle, if that he bide.
Cotidian be mad this exercise,
On fote & hors, as writeth olde wise.
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That archery is grete vtilitee,
It nedeth not to telle eny that here is;
Caton, therof in bookys writeth he,
Among the discipline of chiualerys,
And Claudius, that werred mony yeres,
Wel seide, and Affricanus Scipio
With archerys confounded ofte his foo.
Vse eek the cast of stoon with slynge or honde;
It falleth ofte, if other shot ther noon is,
Men herneysed in steel may not withstonde
The multitude & myghti caste of stonys;
It breketh ofte & breseth flesh & bonys,
And stonys in effecte are euerywhere,
And slyngys ar not noyous forto bere.
And otherwhile in stony stede is fight,
A mountayn otherwhile is to defende,
An hil, a toun, a tour, and euery knyght
And other wight may caste stoon on ende.
The stonys axe, if other shot be spende,
Or ellys thus: save other shot with stonys,
Or vse hem, as requireth, both atonys.
The barbulys that named ar plumbatys,
Set in the sheld is good to take fyve,
That vsed hem of old, wer grete estatys;
As archerys, they wolde shote and dryve
Her foo to flight, or leve him not alyve;
This shot commended Dioclisian
And his Coemperour Maxymyan.
The Chiualers and werreourys alle,
Quicly to lepe on hors, and so descende
Vppon the right or lyft side, if it falle,
That exercise is forto kepe an ende;
Vnarmed first, and armed thenne ascende,
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And aftir with a spere or sword & shelde,
This feet is good, when troubled is the felde.
And LX pounde of weght it hade to bere
And go therwith a chiualerys pace,
Vitaile & herneysing and sword & spere,
Frely to bere; al this is but solace;
Thinge exercised ofte in tyme & space,
Hard if it be, with vse it wil ben eased,
The yonge men herwith beth best appesed.
And exercise him vche in his armure,
As is the gise adayes now to were,
And se that euery peece herneys be sure,
Go quycly in, and quyk out of the gere,
And kepe it cler, as gold or gemme it were;
Corraged is that hath his herneys bright,
And he that is wel armed, dar wel fight.
To warde & wacche an oste it is to lerne
Both holsom is that fvlly and necessary,
Withinne a pale an oste is to gouerne,
That day & nyght saftly theryn they tary
And take reste, and neuer oon myscary;
For faute of wacch, ha worthi not myscheved
Now late, and al to rathe? Is this nat preved?
To make a fortresse, if the foon be nygh,
Assure a grounde, and se that ther be fode
For man & beest, and watir deep mydthigh,
Not fer; and se there wode or grovys goode.
Now signe it, lyne it out by yerde or rode,
An hil if ther be nygh, wherby the foo
May hurte, anoon set of the ground therfro.
Ther flood is wont the felde to ouer flete,
Mak ther noo strength; and as is necessary
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Vnto thyn oste, as mych is out to mete,
And cariage also theryn most tary;
Men dissipat, here enemy may myscary,
And combred is an oste that is compressed;
Tak eue ynough, and hoom have vch man dressed.
Trianguler, or square, or dymyrounde
The strength it is to make of hosteyinge;
Thavis therof is taken at the grounde;And estward, or vppon thi foo comynge,
The yatys principal have vssuynge,
To welcom him; and if an ost journey,
The yatis ar to sette vppon his wey.
The centenaryes thervppon shal picche
Her pavilons, and dragonys and signys
Shal vp be set, and Gorgona the wicche
Vpsette they; to juste batail condigne is
Vch helply thing; another yate & signe is,
Ther trespassers shal go to their juesse,
That oponeth north, or westward, as I gesse.
In maneer a strengthe is to be walled,
If ther oppresse noo necessitee:
Delve vp the torf, have it togedir malled,
Therof the wal be mad high footys
Above grounde; the dike withouten be
IX foote brode, and deep dounright;
Thus dike & wal is wel fote in hight.
This werk they calle a dike tumultuary;
To stynte a rore, and if the foo be kene,
Legytymat dykinge is necessary;
XII foote brod that dike is to demene,
And nyne deep; his sidys to sustene,
And hege it as is best on either side,
That diked erth vpheged stonde & bide.
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Above grounde arise it foure foote;
Thus hath the dike in brede footys XII,
And XIII is it high fro crop to roote,
That stake of pith which euery man him selve
Hath born, on oneward is it forto delve.
And this to do, pikens, mattok and spade
And tole ynough ther most be redy made.
But and the foo lene on forwith to fight,
The hors men alle, and half the folk ofoote
Embataile hem, to showve away their myght,
That other half, to dike foot by foote,
Be sette, and an heraude expert by roote,
The Centrions other the Centenaryis
In ordre forth hem calle, as necessary is.
And ay among the centrions enserch,
The werk, if it be wrought, kept the mesure,
In brede & deep & high, perch aftir perch,
And chastise him, that hath nat doon his cure.
An hoste thus exercised may ensure
In prevalence, whos debellatioun
Shal not be straught by perturbatioun.
Wel knowen is, nothinge is more in fight
Then exercise and daily frequentaunce;
Vch werreour therfore do his myght
To knowe it wel and kepe his ordynaunce;
An ooste to thicke, I sette, is encombraunce,
And also perilous is ouer thynne,
Thei sone fle that be to fer atwynne.
We werreours, forthi go we to feelde;
And as our name in ordir in the rolle is,
Our ordynaunt, so sette vs, dart & sheelde
And bowe & axe, and calle vs first by pollys;
Triangulys, quadrangulys, and rollys,
381
We may be made; and thus vs embataile,
Gouerned, vndir grate to prevaile.
A sengil ege is first to strecch in longe,
Withoute bosomynge or curuature,
With dowbeling forwith let make it stronge,
That also fele assiste, in like mesure,
And with a woord turne hem to quadrature,
And efte trianguler, and then hem rounde,
And raunge hem efte, and keep euerych his grounde.
This ordynaunce of right is to prevaile;
Doctryne hem eek, whenne it is best to square,
And when a triangul may more availe,
And orbys, how they necessary are;
How may be to condense, and how to rare;
The werreours that ha this exercise,
Be preste with hardynesse, & stronge & wise.
And ouer this, an olde vsage it was
To make walk thryes in euery mone,
And tho they wente a chiualerys paas
X myle outward, the men of armys, none
Vnharneysed; the footmen euerychone
Bowed, tacled, darted, jacked, saladed;
Vitaile eke born withal, her hertis gladed.
In hom comynge, among thei wente faste
And ranne among. Eek tourmys of ryderys
Sumtyme journeyed on foote in haste,
Shelded & herneysed with myghti sperys;
Not oonly in the playn, but also where is
A mountayn or a clif or streyt passagys.
Thus hadde thei both exercise and wagys.
Ereithre ege in this wise exercised
Was by & by, so that no chaunce of newe
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Nas to be thought, that thei nere of avised,
And hadde way the daungerys teschewe
Vndaungered; and this wisdom thei knewe
By discipline of their doctour of armys,
To wynne honour withouten hate or harmys.
Thelectioun and exercise anended,
An ooste is now to numbre & dyvide,
And seen vch officer his part commended,
And how to sette a feeld to fight & bide.
Goode Angelys and Sayntys, ye me gide
And lighte me, o Lady Saynte Mary!
To write wel this werk & not to tary.-
II.
Electrix ita Milicie pars prima recedit,
Et pars partitrix ecce secunda subit.
The firste parte of IIII is here at ende;
Now to the part secounde! er we procede
To knowe this, His grace God vs sende!
Myn auctour ofte aduiseth vs to rede
And to the sense of it to taken hede;
To rede a thinge withoute intelligence,
As seith Cato the Wise, is negligence.
But this I leve vnto the sapience
Of chiualers, and to my werk retorne,
Theryn to do my feithful diligence
For their pleasaunce, out of this prosis storne
The resonaunce of metris wolde I borne.
As myghti herte in ryngynge herneysinge,
So gentil wit wil in good metris springe.
And for thonour of theuerlastyng kynge,
Our saviour Jhesus and his Ierarkys,
383
His Angelys, and for that swete thinge,
His Modre, patronesse of al my warkys,
For His prophetys love and patriarkys,
And for thapostolis that made our Crede,
As do me fauour, ye that wil me rede.
Virgile seith (an high poete is he)
That werre in armys stont and mannys myght,
The man on hors, o fote, or on the see;
Riders be wyngis clept, for swift & light,
On either half of thege eke ar thei dight;
But now that ege is called the banere
Or banerye, hauyng his banereer.
Also ther are riders legyonaryis;
Thei are annexed to the legioun.
In too maner of shippes men to cary is,
Their namys ar couth in this regioun;
Orthwart go they the flood, and vp & doun;
Riders in playn, footmen goth euery where,
By theyme the commyn wele is to conquere;
Riders a fewe, and haue o foote fele,
Thei spende smal, and horsmen spende fre.
Footmen o tweyne is to dyuide & dele:
Or legiaunt or aydaunt for to be.
Confederat men aydaunt is to se,
That is to say, by trewce or toleraunce,
As Frensh ar suffred here, and we in Fraunce.
Aydaunt be they, but in the legioun
Lith thordinaunce in werre to prevaile.
A legioun out of electioun
Hath take his name, as elect to bataile.
Her diligence and feith is not to faile;
Thi legyaunt forthi to multiplie
Is right, but aydauntys a fewe applie.
384
Thousant werreours was a phalange
In dayis olde, and of men
Was a caterve, but this diagalange
Is, as to this, not worth a pulled hen.
The legioun, departed into X,
Is vs to lerne, and legions how fele
It is to haue, and how asondir dele.
The consules legiounys ladden,
Al aldermeest; but thei hadde exercise,
Wherof the felde victoriously thei hadden;
To chose a legioun, this was the gise,
In bookys as they seyn, these olde wise:
Wyis, hardy, strong, doctryned, high statured,
In feet of werre ofte vsed & wel vred.
That was the man, he was mad mylitaunt,
When al the world to the Romayn Empire
Was made obey, by knyghthod valiaunt;A sacramental oth doth it requyre,
To write pleyn this matere I desire,
By God & Criste and Holy Goost swar he,
And by that Emperourys maiestee.
Next God is hym to drede and hym to honour is;
Right as to God ther bodily present,
To themperour, when he mad Emperour is,
Devotioun; vch loyal ympendent
Is to be vigilaunt, his seruyent;
God serueth he, both knyght & comynere,
That loueth him, to God that regneth here.
God, Criste Jhesus, and Holy Goste; was sworn
By theim, and themperourys maiestee,
That his commaundementys shuld be born
And strenuously be doon, be what thei be;
Fro mylitaunce that thei shal neuer fle
385
Ner voyde deth, but rather deth desire
For themperour, and wele of his Empire.
Thus sworn, vch knyght is of the legioun.
The legioun stont in cohortys;
Cohors the Latyn is, this regioun
Tenglish it fore, help vs, good Lord! Amen.
The dignite and number of the men
Hath in the firste cohors an excellence
Of noble blood, manhode and sapience.
This feleshepe, most worshipful, most digne,
Bar thegil and thymage of themperour;
As God present was holden either signe,
Thei hadde both attendaunce & honour;
Of chiualers heryn was doon the flour,
A an and footmen,
And of wight horsmen.
The military cohors, or the choors,
Thus named it the wise, and the secounde
Cohors, like as the bonet to his coors
Is set, thei sette it footmen stronge & sounde,
And an half, and abounde
In hit, with sixe & sixti hors, and it
The Quyngentary called men of wit.
As fele & myghty choys putte in the thridde is,
For in their honde espeyre is al to thryve;
Her place in ordynaunce is in the myddys,
And for the firth choors is to discrive
Footmen and an half,
With sixe & sixti hors, and eue as fele,
With better hors, vnto the fifthe dele.
For as the first cohors is the right horn,
So in the lift horn is the fifthe choors;
386
For V choors stonde in the frounte aforn,
Or the vawarde; of termys is noo foors,
So the conceyt be had. The sixt cohors
Hath, as the fifthe, yet lusty men & yonge;
To thegil next to stonde it is to fonge,
That is the right horn; in the myddil warde
The nexte choors hath eue as mony as she,
The nexte as fele, and therto is tawarde
The myghti men, amyddis forto be;
The nynth is of the same quantitie,
The tenth is eue as is the choors beforn,
But make it strong, for it is the lift horn.
The legioun in ten is thus cohorted,
And an see men on foote,
Hors, and therty therto soorted,
Of fewer hors is not to speke or moote
In eny legioun; yet, crop & roote
To seyn, of hors ther may be take moo,
Commaundement if ther be so to do.
Exployed heer thusage and ordynaunce
Of legyoun, vnto the principal
Of chiualers retourne our remembraunce;
The dignitie and name in special
Of euery prince enrolled, and who shal
Do what, and whenne, and where, it is to write;
Good angel, help vs al this werk tendite.
The grete Trybune is mad by Themperour,
And by patent, and send by jugement;
Thundir Trybune is hent of his labour.An Ordyner for fighters forth present
Is forto sette; eek Themperour content
Is ofte to sende and make secoundaryis;
What name is heer for hem? Coordinaryis.
387
An Egiller bar thegil, and thymage
Of themperour bar an Ymaginary;
And moo then oon ther were of those in wage;
A Banereer, tho clept a Draconary,
A Kyng Heralde, tho clept a Tesserary,The baner he, he bar commaundement,
Al thoost tobeye her princys hole entent.
Campigeners made exercise in feeldys,
Campymeters mesured out the grounde,
To picche pavilons, tentys and teeldys,
The forteresse triangeler or rounde
Or square to be made or dymyrounde,
His part hit was; and he that was Library,
Thaccomptys wrot, that rekenyng ne vary.
The Clarioner, Trompet, and Hornycler,
With horn, & trompe of bras, and clarioun,
In terribil batailis bloweth cleer,
That hors & man reioyceth at the soun;
The firmament therto making resoun
Or resonaunce; thus joyneth thei bataile;
God stonde with the right, that it prevaile!
A Mesurer, that is our Herbagere,
For paviloun & tent assigneth he
The grounde, and seith: 'Be ye ther, be ye here!'
Vch hostel eek, in castel and citee,
Assigneth he, vch aftir his degre.
A wreth o golde is signe of grete estate;
That wered it, was called a Torquate.
Sengil ther were of these, and duplicate
And triplicate, and so to for and fiv,
That hadde wage, vche aftir his estate.
Tho namys goon, such personys alyve,
It may be thought, therof wil I not scryve.
388
Ther were eek worthymen clept Candidate,
And last, the souldeours, vch othrys mate.
The principal prince of the legioun,
Sumtyme it was, and yet is a like gise,
To make a Primypile, a centurioun;
A Lieutenaunt men calle him in our wise;
And him beforn is Thegil forto arise;
Four hudred knyghtis eek of valiaunce
This prymypile hadde in his gouernaunce.
He in the frounte of al the legioun
Was as a vicaptayn, a gouernour,
And took availe at vch partitioun.
The First Spere was next, a lusty flour;
Two hundred to gouerne is his honour,
Wherof thei named him a Ducennary,
The name fro the numbir not to vary.
The Prince an hundred and an half gouerned,
Eek he gouerned al the legioun
In ordynaunce; oueral he went vnwerned.
The nexte spere, of name and of renoun,
As mony hadde in his directioun;
The First Triari hadde an hundred men;
A Chevetayn was eke of euery ten
Thus hath the first cohors fyve Ordinayris,
And euery ten an hed, a Cheveteyne,
To rewle theim; and so it necessayr is,
An hundred and fyve on this choors to reigne:
Four Ordinayris and the cheef Captayne,
That is their Ordinary General,
And seyde is ofte of him: He rewleth al.
So high honour, so gret vtilitee
Hath euerych estate of this renoun
389
Prouided hem by sage Antiquitee,
That euery persone in the legioun
With al labour, with al deuotioun
To that honour attended to ascende,
And that avail to wynne, her bodyis bende.
The nexte choors, named the Quyngentary,
Hath Centurions or Centenerys fyve;
Thridde choors as fele hath necessary;
The firthe fyve, and, forto spede vs blyve,
In euery choors the Centyners oo fyve
In numbir make, and so the legioun
Of hem hath fyvty-fyve vp & doun.
Not fyvty-fyve Whi? For fyve thordinayrys
In their Estate and stede of fyve stonde;
To graunte this, me semeth, noo contrary is;
Though in my book so wryton I ne fonde,
Of LV, wel I vndirstonde
And fynde cleer, so that it most appere,
That vndir Ordynayrys V were.
The consulys, for themperour Legatys
Sende vnto the oste; to thaim obtemperaunt
Was al the legioun, and al the statys;
They were of al the werres ordynaunt;
To theim obeyed euerych aydaunt;
In stede of whom illustres Lordes, Peerys,
Be substitute, Maistrys of Chiualerys;
By whom not oonly legiounys twayn,
But grete numbrys hadde gouernaunce.
The propre juge is the Provost, certayn,
With worthinesse of the first ordynaunce;
The vilegate is he by mynystraunce
Of his power, to hym the Centeners
Obey, and the Trybune and Chiualers.
390
Of him the rolle of wacch and of progresse
Thei crave and haue, and if a knyght offende,
At his precepte he was put to juesse
By the trybune, in payne or deth tanende.
Hors, herneys, wage & cloth, vitail to spende,
His cure it was tordeyn, and disciplyne
Vnto euery man, seuerous or benygne.
His justising, with sobre diligence,
And pite doon vppon his legioun,
Assured hem to longh obedience
And reuerence, and high deuotioun;
Good gouernaunce at his promotioun
Kept euery man; and his honour, him thoughte
It was, when euery man dede as him oughte.
The Maister or Provost of Ordynaunce,
Although he were of lower dignitie,
His estimatioun & gouernaunce,
The bastilys, dich, & pale is to se;
And wher the tabernaculys shal be
And tent & teelde & case & paviloun
And cariage of al the legioun.
For seeke men the leche and medycyne
Procureth he, for larderye and toolys;
Of euery werk cartyng he most assigne,
For bastile or engyne or myne. And fole is
He noon, that is expert in these scolys;
This was a wise, appreved chiualere,
That, as he dede himself, couth other lere.
And ouer this, the ferrour & the smyth,
The tymbre men, hewer & carpenter,
The peyntour, and vch other craft goth with,
To make a frame or engyne euerywhere,
Hem to defense and her foomen to fere;
391
Tormentys olde and carrys to repare
And make newe, as they to broken are.
Foregys and artelryis, armeryis,
To make tole, horshoon, shot & armurre;
And euery thing that nede myght aspie, is
In thooste; and eek mynours that can go sure
Vndir the dich, and al the wal demure
Or brynge in thoost; herof the Maister Smyth
Had al the rule, and euer went he with.
The legioun is seide haue choorsis X.
The military first, or miliary,
The best and gentilest and wisest men
And myghtiest, therto be necessary;
Eek letterure is good & light to cary.
Her gouernour was a Trybune of Armys,
Wise & honest, that body strong & arm is.
The choorsys aftir that, Trybunys cured
Or Maysterys, as it the prince pleased;
Vch chiualeer in exercise assured
So was, that God & man therwith was pleased;
And first to se the prince do, mych eased
The hertys alle. Fresh herneys, armur bright,
Wit, hardinesse & myght had euery knyght.
The firste signe of al the legioun
An Egil is, born by an Egeler,
And thenne in euery Choors is a Dragoun,
Born by a Draconair or Banereer;
A baner eek had euery Centener
Other a signe, inscrived so by rowe,
His Chevetayn that euery man may knowe.
The Centeners had also werreourys,
Hardy, wel harneysed, in their salet
392
That had a creste of fetherys or lik flourys,
That noon errour were in the batail set,
To his Cristate and to his Baneret
And to his Decanair euerych his sight
May caste, and in his place anoon be pight.
Right as the footmen haue a Centurion,
That hath in rewle an C men & X,
So haue the riders a Decurion,
That hath in rewle XXXII horsmen.
By his banere him knoweth alle his men,
And ouer that, right as it is to chese
A myghti man for thaym, so is for these.
For theim a stronge & wel fetured man,
That can a spere, a dart, a sword wel caste,
And also fight, and rounde a sheld wel can,
And spende his wepon wel withoute waste,
Redier to fight then flite, and ner agaste,
That can be sobre, sadde, & quyk & quyver,
And with his foo com of and him delyuer;
Obeyssaunt his premynentys wille,
And rather do the feat then of it crake,
Impatient that day or tyme spille
In armys exercise and art to wake,
And of himself a sampeler to make
Among his men, wel shod, honestly dight,
And make hem fourbe her armure euer bright.
Right so it is, for these men to chese
A Decurioun, thorugh lik to him in fourme,
Impatient that thei the tyme lese,
Wel herneysed, and euerych of hys tourme
In euery poynt of armys wil enfourme,
And armed wil his hors so sone ascende,
That mervaile is, and course hym stronge anende,
393
And vse wel a dart, a shaft, a spere,
And teche chiualers vndir his cure,
Right as himself to torne hem in her gere,
The brigandyn, helmet, and al procure,
It oftyn wipe clene,-and knowe sure,
With herneysing and myghti poort affrayed
Is ofte a foo, and forto fight dismayed.
Is it to sey: 'he is a werrely knyght,'
Whos herneys is horribil & beduste,
Not onys vsed in a fourte nyght,
And al that iron is or steel, beruste;
Vnkept his hors, how may he fight or juste?
The knyghtis and her horsys in his tourme
This Capitayn shal procure & refourme.
III.
Tercia bellatrix pars est et pacificatrix,
In qua quosque bonos concomitatur honos.
Comprised is in smal this part secounde,
An ooste to numbir, and a legioun;
In foylis is it fewe, in fruyt fecounde;
The saluature of al religioun
Is founde heryn for euery regioun.
Wel to digeste this God graunte vs grace,
And by the werre his reste to purchace.
O gracious our Kyng! Thei fleth his face.
Where ar they now? Summe are in Irelonde,
In Walys other are, in myghti place,
And other han Caleys with hem to stonde,
Thei robbeth & they reveth see & londe;
The kyng, or his ligeaunce or amytee,
Thei robbe anende, and sle withoute pitee.
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The golden Eagle and his briddys III,
Her bellys ha they broke, and jessys lorne;
The siluer Bere his lynkys al to fle,
And bare is he behinde & eke beforne;
The lily whit lyoun, alas! forsworne
Is his colour & myght; and yet detrude
Entende thei the lond, and it conclude.
Of bestialite, lo, ye so rude,
The Noblis alle attende on the Antilope;
Your self & youris, ye yourself exclude,
And lose soule & lyif. Aftir your coope
Axe humble grace, and sette yourself in hope,
For and ye wiste, hou hard lyif is in helle,
No lenger wolde ye with the murthre melle.
Ye se at eye, it nedeth not you telle,
Hou that the beestis and the foulys alle,
That gentil are, ar sworn your wrong to quelle;
Ypocrisie of oothis wil not walle
You fro the sword, but rather make it falle
On your auarous evel gouernaunce,
That may be called pride & arrogaunce.
This yeve I theim to kepe in remembraunce;
Goode Antilop, that eny blood shal spille,
Is not thi wille; exiled is vengeaunce
From al thi thought; hemself, alas, thei kille.
O noble pantere! of thi breth the smylle,
Swete and pleasaunt to beest & briddis alle,
It oonly fleth the dragon fild with galle.
What helpeth it, lo, thangelis wil falle
On him with al our werreours attonys;
Thei muste nede his membris al to malle.Of this matere I stynte vntil eftsonys,
And fast I hast to write as it to doone is,
395
That myght in right vppon the wrong prevaile
In londe & see, by knyghthode & bataile.
Lo, thus thelectioun with exercise
And ordynaunce, as for a legioun,
Exployed is, as writeth olde wise.
What ha we next? Belligeratioun.
O Jesse flour! Jhesu, Saluatioun
And Savyour, commaunde that my penne
To thin honour go right heryn & renne.
An oste of exercise 'exercitus'
Hath holde of olde his name; a legioun
As an electioun is named thus,
And a choors of cohortatioun.
The princys of her mynystratioun
Her namys have, and aftir her degre
The Chevetaynys vndir named be.
Exercitus, that is to seyn an Ooste,
Is legiounys, or a legioun;
Tweyne is ynough, and IIII is with the moste,
And oon suffiseth in sum regioun;
Therof, with ayde and horsmen of renoun,
As needful is, groweth good gouernaunce
In euery londe, and parfit prosperaunce.
What is an ayde? It is stipendiaryis
Or souldiours conduct of straunge londe,
To such a numbir as it necessary is,
Aftir the legioun thei for to stonde
In ordynaunce, to make a myghti honde;
Heryn who wil be parfit and not erre,
Tak Maysterys of armys and of werre.
This was the wit of Princys wel appreved,
And ofte it hath be seid and is conclude,
396
That oostis ouer grete be myscheved
More of her owne excessif multitude
Then of her foon, that thenne wil delude
Her ignoraunce, that can not modifie
The suffisaunce, an ooste to geder & gye.
To gret an oost is hurt in mony cace:
First, slough it is in journeyinge & longe;
Forthi mysaventure it may difface,
Passagis hard, and floodis hye amonge;
Expense eek of vitaile is ouer stronge,
And if thei turne bak and onys fle,
They that escape, aferd ay aftir be.
Therfore it was the gise amonge the wise,
That of ?es had experience,
Oonly to take an oost as wil suffice,
Of preved & acheved sapience,
In chiualerys that han done diligence
In exercise of werre; a lerned ooste
Is sure, an vnlerned is cost for loste.
In light bataile, oon legioun with ayde,
That is, X Ml. men o fote, and too
Thousand on hors, sufficed as thei saide;
They with a lord no grete estat to goo,
And with a gret Estate as mony mo;
And for an infinit rebellioun
Twey dukys and tweyn oostys went adoun.
Prouisioun be mad for sanytee
In watre, place & tyme & medycyne
And exercise. In place ?h be
The pestilence, his place anoon resigne,
To weet marice and feeld to hard declyne;
To high, to lough, to light, to derk, to colde,
To hoot, is ille; attemperaunce be holde.
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In snow & hail & frost & wintir shouris,
An ooste beyng, most nedes kacche colde;
For wyntir colde affrayeth somer flourys,
And mareys watir is vnholsom holde;
Good drinke and holsom mete away wil folde
Infirmytee; and fer is he fro wele,
That with his foon & sekenesse shal dele.
Cotidian at honde ha medycyne,
First for the prince; as needful is his helth
To thooste, as to the world the sonne shyne;
His prosperaunce procureth euery welth;
But let not exercise goon o stelthe;
Holde euer it. Ful seelde be thei seek
That euer vppon exercise seeke.
In ouer colde & hoot, kepe the couert,
And exercise in tymes temperate;
Footmen in high & lough, feeld & desert;
An hors to lepe a dich, an hege, a yate.
Tranquillite with peax & no debate
Be sadly kept, exiled al envie;
Grace in this gouernaunce wil multiplie.
Ha purviaunce of forage & vitaile
For man & hors; for iron smyteth not
So sore as honger doth, if foode faile.
The colde fyer of indigence is hoote,
And wood theron goth euery man, God woot;
For other wepen is ther remedie,
But on the dart of hongir is to deye.
Or have ynough, or make a litil werre,
And do the stuf in placys stronge & sure;
In more then ynough, me may not erre;
The moneyles by chevishaunce procure,
As lauful is, I mene, nat vsure;
398
But tak aforn the day of payment;
It loseth not, that to the prince is lent.
What man is hool in his possessioun,
If he ha no defense of men of armys?
Beseged if me be, progressioun
That ther be noon, and noo vitail in arm is,
O woful wight, ful careful thin alarm is!
Honger within, and enmytee abowte,
A warse foo withinn is then withoute.
And though thi foo withoute an honger be,
He wil abide on honger thee to sle;
Forthi comynge a foo, vitaile the,
And leve hym noght, or lite, vnworth a stre;
Whete and forage and flesh, fissh of ?
Wyn, salt & oyle, fewel and euery thinge
That helpeth man or beest to his lyvinge:
Tak al, thi foo comyng, and mak an oye
That euery man to strengthes ha ther goodis,
As thei of good & lyves wil ha joye,
And negligentys to compelle it good is.
The feriage be take away fro flodis,
The briggis on the ryverys to breke,
And passagis with falling tymbour steke.
The yatis and the wallys to repare,
The gunnys and engynys & tormente,
And forge newe, ynowe if that ther nare;
Ful late is it, if thi foo be presente,
And fere ingoth, if hardinesse absente.
Be war of this, and euery thing prouide,
That fere fle, and good corage abide.
Golde it is good to kepe, and make stoor
Of other thing, and spende in moderaunce;
399
More and ynough to haue, it is not soor,
And spare wel, whil ther is aboundaunce;
To spare of litil thing may lite avaunce.
By pollys dele, and not by dignitee,
So was the rewle in sage antiquytee.
And best be war, when that thin aduersary
Wil swere grete, ye by the Sacrament,
And vse that, ye and by seint Mary,
And al that is vndir the firmament:
Beleve nat his othe, his false entent
Is this: thi trewe entent for to begile.
The pref herof nys passed but a while.
Wel ofter hath fals simulatioun
Desceyved vs, then opon werre; and where
Me swereth ofte, it is deceptioun.
Judas, away from vs! cum thou no nere:
Thou gretest, Goddis child as thaugh thou were;
But into the is entred Sathanas,
And thou thi self wilt hange! an hevy cas.
Sumtyme amonge an ooste ariseth roore.
Of berth, of age, of contre, of corage
Dyuers thei are, and hoom thei longe sore,
And to bataile thei wil, or out of wage.
What salue may this bolnyng best aswage?
Wherof ariseth it? Of ydilnesse.
What may aswage it best? Good bisinesse.
With drede in oost to fight thei are anoyed,
And speke of fight, when theim wer leuer fle,
And with the fode and wacch thei are acloyed.
'Where is this felde? Shal we no batail see?
Wil we goon hoom? What say ye, sirs?' 'Ye, ye!'
And with her hed to fighting are thei ripe
Al esily, but he the swellinge wipe.
400
A remedie is, when thei are asonder,
The graunt Tribune, or els his lieutenaunt,
With discipline of armys holde hem vndir
Seuerously, tech hem be moderaunte,
To God deuout, and fait of werrys haunte,
The dart, baliste, and bowe, and cast of stoon,
And swymme & renne & leep, tech euerychoon.
Armure to bere, and barrys like a sworde,
To bere on with the foyn, and not to shere,
And smyte thorgh a plank other a boorde,
And myghtily to shake and caste a spere,
And loke grym, a Ml. men to fere,
And course a myghti hors with spere & shelde,
And daily se ho is flour of the feelde.
To falle a grove or wode, and make a gate
Thorgh it, and make a dike, and hewe a doun
A cragge, or thurl an hil, other rebate
A clyf, to make an even regioun,
Or dowbil efte the dike abowte a toun;
To bere stoon, a boolewerk forto make,
Other sum other gret werk vndirtake.
The chiualer, be he legionary,
As seide it is beforn, on hors or foote,
Or aydaunt, that is auxiliary,
On hors or foote,-if that thei talk or mote
Of werre, and reyse roore, vp by the roote
Hit shal be pulde with myghti exercise
Of werreourys, gouerned in this wise.
Commende, and exercise, and holde hem inne,
For when thei ha the verrey craft to fight,
Thei wil desire it, wel this for to wynne.
He dar go to, that hath both art & myght.
And if a tale is tolde that eny knyght
401
Is turbulent other sedicious,
Examyne it the duke, proceding thus:
The envious man, voide his suggestioun,
And knowe the trowth of worthi & prudent
Personys, that withouten questioun
Wil say the soth, of feith and trewe entent,
And if the duke so fynde him turbulent,
Disseuer him, and sende hym ellys where,
Sum myghti feet to doon as thaugh it were:
To kepe a castel, make a providence,
Or warde a place, and do this by thaduyce
Of counsel, and commende his sapience,
That he suppose hym self heryn so wise,
That therof hath he this honour & price;
So wittily do this, that he, reiecte,
Suppose that to honour he is electe.
For verreily, the hole multitude
Of oon assent entendeth not rebelle,
But egged ar of theim that be to rude,
And charge not of heven or of helle,
With mony folk myght thei her synnys melle;
Thei were at ease her synnys forto wynne,
Suppose thei, if mony be ther inne.
But vse not the medycyne extreme
Save in thin vtterest necessitee,
That is, the crymynous to deth to deme,
The principals; by hem that other be
Aferd to roore, yet better is to se
An oost of exercise in temperaunce
Obeysaunt, then for feere of vengeaunce.
The werriours ha myche thing to lerne;
And grace is noon, to graunte negligence,
402
Wher mannys helth is taken to gouerne;
To lose that, it is a gret offense;
And sikerly, the best diligence
Vnto thonour of victory tascende,
The seygnys is or tokenys tattende.
For in bataile, when al is on a roore,
The kynge or princys precept who may here
In such a multitude? And euermore
Is thinge of weght in hond, & gret matere,
And how to doon, right nedful is to lere;
Therfore in euery oste antiquitee
Hath ordeyned III signys forto be.
Vocal is oon, and that is mannys voys,
Semyvocal is trompe & clarioun
And pipe or horn; the thridde macth no noys,
And mute it hight or dombe, as is dragoun
Or thegil or thimage or the penoun,
Baner, pensel, pleasaunce or tufte or creste
Or lyuereys on shildir, arm or breste.
Signys vocal in wacch and in bataile
Be made, as wacch woordis: 'Feith, hope & grace,'
Or 'Help vs God,' or 'Shipman, mast & saile,'
Or other such, aftir the tyme and place;
Noo ryme or geeste in hem be, ner oon trace,
Ne go thei not amonge vs, lest espyes
With wepon of our owne out putte our eyis.
Semyvocals, as Trumpe and Clarioun
And pipe or horn, an hornepipe thoo
It myghte be; the trumpe, of gretter soun,
Toward batail blewe vp 'Go to, go to!';
The clarions techeth the knyghtys do,
And signys, hornys move; and when thei fight,
Attonys vp the soun goth al on hight.
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To wacch or worch or go to felde, a trumpe
Hem meved out, and to retourne; and signys
Were moved, how to do, by hornys crompe,
First to remeve, and fixe ayeyn ther digne is.
Oonly the clarioun the knyghtis signe is;
Fight & retrayt and chace or feer or neer,
The clarion his voys declareth cleer.
What so the duke commaundeth to be doon
In werk or wacch or feeld, or frith or werre,
At voys of these it was fulfild anoon.The signys mute, in aventure a sterre,
A portcolys, a sonne, it wil not erre,
In hors, in armature, and in array
They signifie, and make fresh & gay.
Al this in exercise and longe vsage
Is to be knowe; and if a dust arise,
Theere is an oost, or sum maner outrage;
With fiyr a signe is mad in dyuers wise
Or with a beem, vche in his contre gise
His signys hath; and daily is to lerne,
That aftir hem men gide hem & gouerne.
Tho that of werre have had experience,
Afferme that ther is in journeyinge
Gretter peril, then is in resistence
Of fers batail; for in the counterynge
Men armed are oonly for yeynstondinge
And expugnatioun of hem present
In fight; theron oonly ther bowe hath bent.
Their sword & hert al preste ereither fight,
In journeyinge ereither lesse attente is;
Assault sodeyne a day other by nyght,
For vnavised men ful turbulent is.
Wherfore avised wel and diligent is
404
The duke to be purveyed for vnwist,
And redy is the forseyn to resiste.
A journal is in euery regioun
First to be had, wheryn he thinketh fight,
Wheryn haue he a pleyn descriptioun
Of euery place, and passage a forsight,
The maner, wey, both turnyng & forthright,
The dale & hil, the mountayn & the flood;
Purtreyed al to have is holdon good.
This journal is to shewe dukys wise
Of that province, or as nygh as may be,
The purtreyture & writing forto advise;
And of the contrey men a serch secre
Himself he make, and lerne in veritee
Of hem, that on her lyf wil vndirtake,
That thus it is, and vnder warde hem make.
Tak gidis out of hem, beheste hem grete,
As to be trewe, her lyif and grete rewarde,
And other if thei be, with deth hem threte,
And sette a wayt secret on hem, frowarde
Whethor thei thinke be other towarde;
Thei, this seynge, wil wel condite & lede,
Of grete rewarde & deth for hope & drede.
Tak wise and vsed men, and not to fewe;
Good is it not to sette on II or III
The doubte of al, though thei be parfit trewe;
The simpil man supposeth ofte he be
Weywiser then he is, and forthi he
Behesteth that he can not bringe aboute;
And such simpilnesse is forto doubte.
And good it is, that whidirward goth thooste,
Secret it be. The Mynotaurys mase
405
Doctryned hem to sey: 'Whidir thou gooste,
Kepe it secret; whil thi foomen go gase
Aboute her bekenys, to tende her blase,
Go thou the way that thei suppose leeste
Thou woldest go; for whi? it is sureste.'
Espyis are, of hem be war! also
The proditours that fle from oost to ooste,
Be war of hem; for swere thei neuer so,
They wil betray, and make of it their booste.
Escurynge is to haue of euery cooste;
Men wittiest on wightiest hors by nyght
May do it best, but se the hors be wight.
In a maner himself betrayeth he,
Whos taken is by negligence thespie;
Forthi be war, and quicly charge hem se
On euery side, and fast ayeyn hem hye;
Horsmen beforn eke euer haue an eye;
On vch an half footmen, and cariage
Amyddis is to kepe in the viage.
Footmen it is to haue & of the beste
Horsmen behinde; vppon the tail a foo
Wil sette among, and sumtyme on the breste,
And on the sidis wil he sette also.
With promptitude it is to putte him fro;
Light herneysed, and myghtiest that ride,
Doubte if ther is, putte hem vppon that side.
And archery withal is good to take;
And if the foo falle on on euery side,
Good wacch on euery side it is to make;
Charge euery man in herneys fast abide,
And wepynys in hondys to prouide.
Selde hurteth it, that is wel seyn beforn,
And whos is taken sleping, hath a scorn.
406
Antiquitee prouided eek, that roore
Arise not in thoost, for trowbelinge
The chiualers behinde other before,
As when the folk that cariage bringe,
Ar hurt, or are aferd of on comynge,
And make noyse; herfore helmettis wight
A fewe vppon the cariours were dight.
A baner hadde thei togedre to,
Alway CC vndir oon banere;
The forfighters a-sondred so ther-fro,
That no turbatioun amonge hem were,
If that ther felle a conflicte enywhere.
And as the journeyinge hadde variaunce,
So the defense had diuers ordynaunce.
In open felde horsmen wold rather falle
On then footmen; in hil, mareys & woodis,
Footmen rather. In feeld & frith to walle
An oost with myght, as wil the place, it good is,
And to be war that slough viage or floodis
Asondre not the chiualerys; for thynne
If that me be, ther wil the foo bygynne.
Therfore amonge it is to sette wyse
Doctours, as of the feelde, or other grete;
The forgoer to sette vnto his sise,
And hem that beth to slough, forthward to gete.
To fer aforn, and sole, a foo may bete;
He may be clipped of, that goth behinde;
And to goon hole as o man, that is kynde.
In placys as him semeth necessary,
And aduersaunt wil sette his busshement,
Not in apert, but in couert to tary,
And falle vppon; the duke heer diligent
It is to be, to haue his foomen shent;
407
But euery place it is the duke to knowe,
So that his witte her wylis ouerthrowe.
If thei dispose in mountayn oponly
Tassaulte, anoon ha prevely men sent
To an herre hil, that be therto neer by,
And so sette on, that of the busshement
Aboue her hed, and of thi self present
Thei be aferd, and sech away to fle,
When ouer hede and in the frount thei se.
And if the way be streyt and therwith sure,
Let hewe adoun aboute, and make it large;
In large way, peril is noo good vre;
Also this is tattende as thinge of charge,
Ye rather then gouerne ship or barge,
That wher the foo by nyght other by day
Is vsed oon to falle and make affray.
And, voyde that, it is to seen also,
What is his vse, on hors outher o foote,
With fele or fewe his feetys for to doo,
That sapience his werkys alle vnroote.
Of balys also grete is this the boote,
Dayly to gynne go in such an hour
As may be sure both oost & gouernour:
And yet bewar of simulatioun;
To festeyng call in sum fugitif
And here him wel with comendatioun,
And lerne first, hou fellen thei in strif,
And him beheste an honorabil lif;
Lerne of him al, and thenne aday or nyght,
When thei suppose leest, mak hem afright.
Agreved ofte are oostis negligent,
When it is hard passage ouer the floodys,
408
For if the cours be ouer violent
Or ouer deep, gret peril in that flood is.
A remedy to fynde heryn right good is,
For hevy men, pagis and cariage
Ar drowned oftyn tyme in such a rage.
The depth assay, and make of horsys hye
Tweyne eggys; oon be sette ayenst the streem,
The myght therof to breke; another plye
Benethe that, tawayte vppon the fleem
And charge theim, that thei attende on hem
That faile foote, and brynge theim alonde,
And thus til thooste be ouer, shal they stonde.
The flood is ouer deep in playn cuntre,
Departe it ofte, and make it transmeabil:
That most be doon with dykis gret plente,
And wil it not be so, sette ore a gabil,
On empti vesselling ley mony a tabil
Fro lond to lond a brigge is made anoon,
And sure ynough it is for hors & mon.
Horsmen haue had of reed or seggis shevys,
Theron carying their armure as thei swymme,
But better is, to voiden al myschevys,
Ha skafys smale, and hem togedir trymme
With coorde alonge, atteynynge either brymme,
And anchore it and tabil it at large,
And sure it is as arch or shippe or barge.
Yet war the foo; for vppon this passage
He leyt awayt; anoon thin ooste dyuide
And stakys picch, encounter their viage,
And in that stede, if good is thought tabide,
Mak vp a strong bastel on eyther side,
And there, as axeth chaunce, it is to stonde
And ha vitaile out of ereither londe.
409
Now castellinge in journey is to write.
Not euerywhere is founden a citee,
An ooste to loge, and vilagis to lite
For it ther ar, and siker thei ne be,
As, to be sure, it is necessitee
To take a grounde as good as may be fonde,
And thervppon to make our castel stonde.
Leve not the better grounde vnto thi foo,
Be war of that; se, watir, ayer & londe
Holsom be there, and foode ynough ther to
For man & hors, and woode ynough at honde.
No force if rounde or anguler it stonde,
But feyrest is the place and moost of strengthe,
When twey in brede is thryis in the lengthe.
Mesure a grounde, as wil thin ooste suffice;
To wide it is: thin ooste therin is rare;
To streyt: thei be to thicke; a myddil sise
Is beste.-Now make it vp, no labour spare;
It mot be doon, theryn is our welfare;
As for a nyght, mak vp of turf a wale
And stake it on our foo, the poyntis tavale.
A turf it is, when gras & herbe is grave
Vp with the grounde, with irons mad therfore;
A foote brode, a foote & half it haue
In lengthe, and half a foote thick, no more.
But if the lond solute be, not herfore
Turf like a brik to make of necessary,
Thenne is to make a dike tumultuary.
Make it III foote deep, and V obrede,
And stake it as beforn, vtward to stonde;
O nyght to dwelle heryn it is no drede.
And if thi foo be nygh, him to yeynstonde,
A gretter werk it is to take on honde.
410
Sette vp in ordir euery man his sheeld,
Whil princys and prudentys parte a feeld.
Vch centyner take vp the werk footmel,
With sword igord, anoon caste vp the dich,
And IX foote obrede wil do wel,
XI is as good; but poore and rich
Most on this werk, & even worch ilich,
XIII foote obrede or XVII
Is best of alle a werre to sustene.
The numbir odde is euer to obserue,
And hege it other stake it vp to stonde,
Therto ramayle and bowys ar to kerve,
Areyse it to his hegth aboue londe,
And make it castellike with myghti honde,
With loupis, archeturis, and with tourys.
O Chiualers! in this werk your honour is.
X footemel the centeneris take
This werk to doon, and ther vppon attende,
That euery company his cant vp make
And stynte not, vntil a parfit ende
Of al be mad; and who doth mys, is shende.
Forwhi? the prince himself goth al aboute
And by & by behaldeth euery rowte.
But lest assault felle on hem labouringe,
The hors, and thei on foote of dignitee,
That shal not worch, in circuyte a rynge
Shal make, and kepe of al hostilitie;
And first, as for the signys maiestie
Assigne place; for more venerabil
Then thei, ther is nothing, this is notabil.
And aftir that, the Duke & Erlys have
The pretory, a grounde out set therfore,
411
And for Trybunys out a grounde thei grave,
Her tabernaclis thei theryn tenstore
For legions & aydis, lesse & more,
On hors other o foote; a regioun
And place is had to picch her paviloun.
And IIII on hors and IIII o foote anyght
In euery centeyn hadde wacch to kepe,
And it departed was, to make it light,
That reasonabil tymys myght thei slepe;
For right as houris aftir houris crepe,
So went the wach, and kept his cours aboute,
Footmen withinne, & horsed men withoute.
Thei go to wacch by warnyng of the trumpe,
And there abide vntil their houris ende;
Away thei go by voys of hornys crumpe.
A wacch of serch also ther was tattende
That wel the tyme of wacchinge were spende;
Trybunys made of theim thelectioun,
That hadde of al the wacch directioun.
And twye a day the contrey was escured
By horsmen, in the morn and aftir noon;
Not by the same alway, for that endured
Shuld not ha been. This feleship hath doon:
They most reste, and other wynne her shoon;
Thus bothe man & hors may be releved,
Ye, ofte ynough, and not but litil greved.
And on the duk hangeth the gouernaunce,
That in this castellinge he ha vitaile
For euery wight withoutyn variaunce,
Clooth, wepon, herneysing, that nothing faile;
And in fortressis nygh it is availe
Footmen to haue & hors; ferde is thi foo,
If thou on euery side vppon him goo.
412
Mortal bataile in hourys II or III
Termyned is, and hope on that oon side
Is al agoon; but a good prince is he,
That can him & his ooste so wisely gide,
With litil slaught to putte his foo fro pride;
Pluck him vnwar and fray his folk to renne
Away, and myghtily sette aftir thenne.
On this behalve it is ful necessary,
That olde & exercised sapience
The duke to counsel have, and with hem tary,
As wil the tyme, and here their sentence
Of vinqueshinge couertly by prudence
Or by apert conflict, that is, bataile;
The surer way to take and moost availe.
Here hem heryn, and what folk hath thi foo,
And charge that thei glose not, for it
Doth oftyn harm; and here theim also
Speke of her exercise, her strength & wit,
And to their aduersayrys how thei quyt
Hemself aforn, and whether his horsmen
Be myghtier in fight, or his footmen.
Also the place of conflicte is to lerne,
And what thi foo himself is, what his frendis;
Wher he be wys a werre to gouerne,
And whar thei lyue as angelis or fendis;
Wher variaunt, or vchon others frend is,
And wher thei vse fight in ordynaunce
Or foliously, withoute gouernaunce.
And euery poynt forseyd, and other moo,
Considir in thin oost, and tak avis
Of hem, what is the beste to be do;
And peyse al in balaunce, and ay be wys;
And if thin ooste is ace, and his is syis,
413
What so thei sey, couertly by prudence
Dispose the to make resistence.
Dischere nat thi folk in eny wise;
The ferde anoon is redy for to fle;
Be vigilaunt and holde inne exercise,
And se thin hour; ful oftyn tyme hath he
The herre hand, that kepeth him secre;
Avaunte not for colde nor for hete,
For smale dooth that speketh ouer grete.
Certeyn it is, that knyghthode & bataile
So stronge is it, that therby libertee
Receyued is with encreste and availe;
Therby the Croune is hol in Maiestee
And vche persone in his dignitee,
Chastised is therby rebellioun,
Rewarded and defensed is renoun.
Forthi the duke, that hath the gouernaunce,
Therof may thinke he is a Potestate,
To whom betakyn is the prosperaunce
Of al a lond and euerych Estate.
The Chiualers, if I be fortunate,
The Citesens, and alle men shal be
If I gouerne wel, in libertee.
And if a faut is founden in my dede,
Not oonly me, but al the commyn wele
So hurteth it, that gretly is to drede
Dampnatioun, though noman with me dele;
And forthi, negligence I wil repele
And do my cure in feithful diligence
With fauoraunce of Goddis excellence.
If al is out of vse and exercise,
As forto fight in euery legioun
414
Chese out the myghtiest, the wight & wise
And aydis with, of like condicioun;
With their avice vnto correctioun
Reduce it al by his auctorite
The duke, & vse a grete seueritee.
Amended al as sone as semeth the,
Make out of hem a stronge electioun;
Disparpiled lerne if thi foomen bee,
And when thei lest suppose in their reasoun,
Fal on, and putte hem to confusioun.
Therof thi folk shal take an hardinesse
And daily be desirous on prowesse.
At brigge or hard passage, or hillis browe,
Is good to falle vppon; or if ther be
Mire or mareys or woode or grovis rowe
Or aggravaunt other difficultee,
To falle vppon is thenne vtilitee;
The hors to sech vnarmed or aslepe
To falle vppon is good to take kepe.
Thus hardy hem; for whos is vnexpert
Of werre, and woundis seeth, and summe slayn,
He weneth euery strok go to his hert,
And wiste he how, he wolde fle ful fayn.
But and he fle, retourne him fast agayn.
Thus with seueritee and good vsage
Ther wil revive in theim a fyne corage.
Dissensioun among foomen to meve,
Be thei rebellious or myscreaunt,
It is to do, theim selven thei myscheve.
The traditour Judas was desperaunt,
Him self he hynge: so wulle thei that haunt
Rebellioun or ellis heresie.
Alas! to fele thus wil lyve & deye.
415
Oon thinge heryn is wisely to be seyn,
Of this matier that ther noman dispayre;
As hath be doon, it may be doon ayeyn;
A desolat Castel man may repayre.
In wynter colde, in somer dayis fayre
Is good to se. So fareth exercise
Of knyghthode & of werre, as seyn the wise.
In Engelond til now was ther no werre
This LX yere, savynge at Seynt Albane,
And oon bataile aftir the blasing sterre,
And longe on hem that whirleth as the fane.
Is not their owne cryme her owne bane?
Ther leve I that, and sey that exercise
Of werre may in peax revyue & rise.
Seyde ofte it is: the wepon bodeth peax,
And in the londe is mony a chiualere,
That ha grete exercise doubtlesse
And think I wil that daily wil thei lere,
And of antiquitee the bokys here,
And that thei here, putte it in deuoyre,
That desperaunce shal fle comynge espoyre.
More esily a thing is al mad newe
In many cas, then is an olde repared;
The plauntys growe, as olde tren vp grewe,
And otherwhile a riche thing is spared.
It nedeth not to crave this declared,
But go we se, what helpeth to prevaile
Vppon the feelde in sette apert bataile.
Here is the day of conflict vncerteyn,
Here is to se deth, lif, honour & shame.
Glade vs, o Lord, this day & make vs fayn,
And make vs of this grete ernest a game!
Lord, make in vs magnificent thi name,
416
Thin angelis commaunde in vs tattende,
And she, thi modir, have vs recommende.
Now is the Duke the rather diligent,
That forth he goth bytwene espoyre & drede;
Now glorious the Prince is sapient,
Now thignoraunt shal deye or harde spede.
In this moment manhode & knyghtly dede
With Goddis honde is oonly to prevaile;
Now let se first, how wil our foon assaile.
The chiualers set forth first at the yate,
Whether ye dwelle in Castell or Citee,
And sette a frount or eny foo come ate,
Til thooste come out vndir securitee.
Go not to fer ne faste, for ye se,
A wery wyght hath spended half his myght,
And with the fresh is hard for him to fight.
And if thi foo the yatis ha forsette,
Delay it and attende what thei mene;
Let hem revile and gnaste & gomys whette,
And breke her ordynaunce, and when thei wene
Ye be aslepe, and they foryeton clene,
Breke on hem vnavised day or nyght;
This wisdom is to do, manhode & myght.
It is to frayne also with diligence,
Wher chiualerys think it be to fight,
Her countynaunce of fere or confidence
Wil be the juge, and truste not the knyght
That is aferd, ner hym ?his myght
Presumeth, inexpert what is bataile,
Conforte hem yet, telle hem thei shal prevaile.
And reasounynge reherce rebellioun
Or myscreaunce, and how thei be forsake
417
Of alle goode, a Prynce as a lyoun
May telle that aforn thei ha be shake;
And if he may with reasounynge awake
An hardinesse in hem he may procede
And ellys vttirly he stont in drede.
The first sight is ferdfullest for tho
That neuer were in fight; and remedie
Is in beholdinge ofte vppon her foo
Out of a siker place or placys heye;
Confort therof comyng, dispayr wil deye,
Eke issuynge on hem with a prevaile
Is hardyinge to falle to bataile.
Part of the victory is for to chese
The herre grounde, and ay the herre it be,
The more myght thou hast thi foo to ceese,
And more sharp dounward the taclys fle,
Thi foon her fight is with the grounde & the;
Yet footmen hors, and hors footmen tassaile,
Theire is the cleef, the playn is hem tavaile.
And if thou may ha with the sonne & wynde,
Ereither on the bak is grete availe,
Ereither also wil thi foomen blynde;
Ayeinst the wynde to fight, it is travaile,
A cloude of dust wil therwithal assaile
Thi foomen in the frount, and stony hem so
That they her wit shal seke what to do.
Forthi the Prince it is be prouident
And haue a sight to wynde & dust & sonne,
And on the turnyng take avisement,
Remembering hou certeyn hourys ronne.
It wil not stonde, as stood when thei begonne;
West wil the sonne and happely the wynde,
But seen he wil that thei come ay behinde,
418
And euer smyte his foomen in the face;
And there an ende of that. Now wil we se,
This ooste embateled vch in his place,
That noon errour in eny parti be;
Therof wel ordeyned vtilitee
Wil nede arise, and his inordynaunce
May brynge (as God defende) vs to myschaunce.
First is to sette a frounte, an Ege his name
Is. Whi? The foon it shal behalde & bite;
Ther chiualers, the worthiest of fame,
That wil with wisdom & with wepon smyte,
Noo knyght apostata, noon ypocrite,
Feers, feithful, ofte appreved, olde & wise
Knyghtys be thei, none other in no wise.
This ege in dayis olde a principaunt
Of wurthi men, as princys, had his name;
In thordre next personys valiaunt,
Such as ha sought honour and voyded shame
That vre haue had, to make her foomen tame,
Sette hem theryn, armure and shot & spere
That myghtily can vse and wel bewere.
Next to the firste frount this is secounde,
And as of old thei called hem hastate
By cause of vse of spere & shaftis rounde,
Of armure is noon of hem desolate.
III foote atwene had euery man his state,
So in a Ml. pace olength stood fixe
A Ml CC LX and VI
Footmen were alle these, and stode in kynde
In duble raunge, and euerych hadde III
Foote, as byforn is seide, and VI behinde
The raungis hadde a sondir, so that he
That stood beforn, vnlatted shulde be
419
To drawe & welde his wepon, and to take
His veer to lepe or renne, assaut to make.
In tho tweyn orderys wer ripe & olde
Appreved werryours of confidence,
That worthi men of armys had ben holde,
With wighti herneysing for to defense;
These as a wal to make resistence
Ay stille stode, hem may noo man constreyne
Tavaunce forth or reere o foote ayeyne.
Thei trouble not, lest other troubled were,
But fixe abide, and welcom thaduersary
With sword & axe, with shot & cast of spere,
Vntil thei yeve her coors to seyntewary,
Or fle; for whi? thei dar no lenger tary.
Thenne aftir hem that ar to go for al,
For these stille abide as doth a wal.
Tho tweyne eggys ar clept 'the grete armure,'
And aftir hem the thridde cours is sette
Of wighte & yonge and light herneysed sure,
With dartys and with taclis sharpply whette,
In dayis olde thei ferentayris hette;
The firthe cours was called the scutate,
Spedy to renne and glad to go therate.
Wight archery with hem to shote stronge,
The yongest and the best and lustyeste
Archers with crankelons & bowys longe;
The ferenters and thei to gedir keste
Named the light armure, as for the beste
Thorgh shulde passe and first with shot prouoke
The aduerse part, and on hem reyse a smoke.
If foomen fle, thei and horsmen the chase
Go swift vppon, and ellis thei retrete
420
And thorgh the frount indresse hem to their place.
The grete armure, if thei com on an hete,
Is hem to yeve of sword and axis grete,
On hem the feeld is now for to defende.
Thei gynne wel, God graunte hem a good ende!
The fifthe cours was the carrobaliste,
Manubalistys and fundibulary
And funditours; but now it is vnwiste,
Al this aray, and bumbardys thei cary,
And gunne & serpentyn that wil not vary,
Fouler, covey, crappaude and colueryne
And other soortis moo then VIII or IXne.
Heer faughte thei, that hadde as yet no sheelde,
As bachelers, with shot of dart or spere.
The sixte cours, and last of al the feelde
Wer sheeldys, of the myghtiest that were,
The bellatourys beste in euery gere;
Antiquytee denamed hem Triayrys,
In theym, as in the thridde, al to repayre is.
Thei to be sadde in strength and requyete,
More feruently to make inuasioun,
To take her ease in ordir alwey seete,
And if aforn wer desolatioun,
In theym therof was reparatioun;
In eny part if ther wer desperaunce,
Thei turned it anoon to prosperaunce.
Now the podisme, as whos wil sey, the space
Of grounde, vpon to fight; it to se,
Aforn is seide, hou in a Ml. pace
XVI C LX and VI may be,
So chiualers euerych ha footis III
To stonde vpon a foote and VI abacke
That for his veer and leep no rowme hym lacke.
421
VI eggys heer sette in a Ml. pace
Shal holde II and XLti. feet in brede,
And so X Ml. wil this grounde embrace;
Thus tembataile is sure, and fer fro drede;
And to II Ml. pas III cours for nede
In long goth out, so that the latitute
In XXI foote it self enclude.
As here is taught, X Ml. men may stonde
In oon or ellys in II Ml. pace,
And XXti. Ml. in the double londe,
And XXXti. Ml. in the threfolde space,
And XL Ml IIII folde is tembrace;
And this mesure is named the Pidisme,
Vntaught in doctrinal or in Grecisme.
A prince heryn expert, and hath to fight
His feelde and of his folk the multitude,
Shal seen anoon how thei shal stonde aright,
And if the feeld is short & brod, conclude
On rangis IX, and by this similitude,
Be short and huge in brede, or longe & rare,
But myghtier is brede, and mo may spare.
And rare, an ooste if thaduersary seeth,
He breketh on with hurt peraventure,
Wher thicke outholdeth him ayenst his teeth;
And ther an ende of that; but hoo shal cure
Ereither, horn and myddis, to be sure,
Ordeyne that, or aftir dignitee
Or aftir thaduersayris qualitee.
The feelde ofoote ordeyned in this gise,
To sette it is these hors at eyther horn,
As writeth in her werkys olde wise,
That herneysed sperys be sette aforn,
Vnharneysed abak, that of be born
422
The storm fro theym, whil myghti hors defende
Stronge archerye o foote to shote on ende.
For to defende haue horsis myghtieste,
Tho hornys in attempting is to sende
Out hors the swiftest & the wightieste,
To trouble theym sette on a pace on ende.
The duke it is to knowe & comprehende,
What hors ayenst what throngys ar to goon,
And whar he have hors as goode as his foon.
Their hors ar ouer vs; theryn is boote:
Tak wight and yonge men with sheeldis light,
With twene on hors, sette one of theim o foote;
With hem resiste our aduersayrys myght.
But this to take effecte and spede aright,
These yonge men herof grete exercise
Moste have, as telleth werreourys wise.
And aftir al his ooste, a duke shal haue
A myghti choyce of men on hors & foote,
Ereither horn and breste for to save,
That if the boorys hed in wolde wrote,
A sharre shere his groyn of by the roote.
(The boorys hed is a triangulere
Of men, a boorys hed as thaugh it were).
If that come on, with tuskys forto breke
The breste or egge or wynge or outher horn,
A sharre clippe hem of, right by the cheke,
And with the same his wrot away be shorn;
And set it al in ordir as beforn,
And if a place feynte, anoon a yawe
Of myghti men aforn it is to drawe.
Tribunys, Erlis or their lieutenauntys,
Of these, myghtiest to renne & ride
423
Wer mad the Capitayns & gouernauntys,
And werriours hem named the subside;
For thei releved thoost on euery side,
So that noman remeued from his place,
For so to doon, myght al an oost difface.
Eek out herof thei make a Boorys hed
And Cuneus thei name it, or a wege;
As thondirynge with leyting flammys red
It russheth on our aduersayrys egge
And shaketh of, ye mony a myghti segge,
And if it falle on either of the hornys,
It cracketh hem, as fier tocracketh thornys.
This stood behinde al other ordynaunce.
Now is to se the place of vche estate:
On the right honde, withoute variaunce
The principal Captayn or potestate,
That al the gouernaunce is taken ate,
There as the footmen and the hors dyuide,
He hath his place, al to gouerne & gide.
Footmen and hors to rewle heer stondeth he,
The potestate and al this oost to gide,
By premynence of his auctorite,
To chere theim that myghtily shal ride,
And theim o foote, as myghtily tabide.
A wynge is him to bringe aboute the horn
Him counteringe and on comynge beforn,
That is the lift horn of our aduersary,
Aboute a wynge, and on the backe hem clappe,
And thei of their comyng the tyme wary;
And if (as God defende) amys it happe,
Anoon the subside is to stoppe a gappe;
For soueraynly on hym that is tattende,
And, as the cas requyreth, come on ende.
424
The Duke secounde, and next in gouernaunce,
Amydde the frounte or forfrount is to stonde
And sustene it tabide in ordinaunce;
The boorys hed his part is to withstonde,
A sharre out of the subside is at honde,
Clappe it theron, and if ther nede a yawe,
Out of the same anoon it is to drawe.
The thridde Duke, right wys & vigorous,
His part it is to stonde on the lift horn
And myghti men with hym, for dangerous
Is that to kepe, as writon is beforn.
His wynge he muste extende, and hadde thei sworn
It, let hem not her wynge aboute hym clappe,
Subside at him be sone, if ought mys happe.
A clamour, clept an harrow or a shout,
Vntil the fight begynne, noon is to rere;
No werreour that wise is, out of doubt,
Wil shoute afer, therwith his foo to fere;
But when the shoute & shaftys fille his ere,
Then voyce yfere is so fel & horribil,
That for to fere, it is not incredibil.
Be redy first, and first to sette vppon,
And first to shote & shoute & make affray,
With myghti countynaunce, that is the mon,
That mornynge is to haue a ful fayr day.
This promptitude & wit & stronge aray
Thi foo seynge, is trembeling to fle,
The palme of victory goynge with the.
And ay bewar, lest his right wynge clappe
Aboute thi lift horn; this is remedie:
To rech it out; and if that wil not happe,
The wynge aboute thyn horn bacward replie
And fende hem of; now fight for the maistrye,
425
And if a bosh come on on eny side,
A better bosh on hem from our subside.
Here angelike valiaunce, here is puissaunce
Archangelik in ooste and legioun,
And it gouerneth Dukys principaunce
With myght, power, and dominatioun.
Omnipotens, this is his champioun;
God loueth this, his throne & sapience
Is sette heron, justice to dispence.
What is this oost, aduerse, rebelliouns
Presumptuous, periurious, mischevous,
Heresious with circumcelliouns?
A legioun attaynte, vntaken thevous,
That, as thei ar myscheved, wold myscheve vs.
Her lord is Lucifer, the kyng of pride,
In euery feeld with him doun goth his side.
Thei ha no breste, here hornys & her wyngis
Ful febil are and out of ordynaunce;
Subside is goon, no socour in their kynge is,
And moost amonge hem self is variaunce.
They wil away, now fle they to myschaunce;
Goon is their herte, and if the body dwelle,
Their hope is aftir deth and aftir helle.
Here is .o. breste, here hornys are & wyngys
And myghtieste in raunge & ordynaunce;
Subside is here, and socour in our kynge is,
Amonge vs is ther noo contrariaunce.
We wil abide vndir our gouernaunce,
Here is noo drede of deth or peyne of helle;
Here or with angelys is vs to dwelle.
Therfore our eye is to the kyngis signe,
We here his voys, as trumpe & clarioun,
426
His eyes are obeyed, we enclyne
Attonys vnto hym, his legioun
We are, and aftir God, his regioun.
His capitayn and his vicapitaynys
Tobey euerych of vs right glad & fayn is.
This champioun, this ooste & Goddis knyght
With fele and also fewe may prevaile,
Miraclis here & there God sheweth myght;
But first (as seide is erste) is hem tassaile.
The gretter ooste is this; now moste availe
Is ordinat bataile, as is beforn
Seide, and with wyngys clappe in eyther horn.
With wyngis wight hem vmbego, ley on
Behinde and holde hem streyt on euery side,
And cleche hem vp; whi wolde they be foon?
Tech hem obeyssaunce; sey: 'Fy! o pride!
Com on your way, we wil our self you gide.'
This way is good, so that this bestes ride
Be not a gret horribil multitude.
With multitude we myght been vmbegoon,
War that perile; holde of on other side
With wyngis wight, and strengthe hem faste anoon;
With myghtiest elect of the subside
Prevaile on hem; yet more is to prouide,
That if the boorys hed com in, a sharre
Be made for him, his tuskys forto marre.
But wurthi men are in this ooste afewe,
Sette hem in wise and myghti gouernaunce;
For heer the Lord wil his myracle shewe,
Their multitude or myght be noo turbaunce;
Truste in thi Lord and mak good ordynaunce;
Ordeyned wel, in fewe is to prevaile,
So that theryn no poynt or poyntis faile.
427
Do thus when thegys are at the congresse;
Thi lift hond, hold it from thin aduersary,
That of his shot it have noo distresse
And thi ryght wynge vppon hem wightly cary.
Theer to begynne it is most necessary;
Sette on in circuyte, and bringe abowte,
And to prevaile it nedeth nat to doubte.
But do this with thin horsmen myghtyeste
And footmen of the beste, and ha noo drede,
Thi foomen vndir foote to be keste;
And if thi foo to the the same bede,
A myghtiest subside vppon hym lede
Of horsmen and footmen, and thus delude
Hir arte with arte, and thervppon conclude.
Or otherwise, if men be myghtieste
On the lift hond, the right is to retrete
And fal on her right horn with wightieste
Footmen & hors; and til thei yelde hem, bete
Hem on the bak and breeste, and ouergete
Hem myghtily; but the right honde elonge,
That of thi foo noo forfeture it fonge.
War heer the boorys hed and euerywhere,
Or otherwise al putte in ordynaunce
CCCC or D pace yfere
Aforn the counteringe it is tavaunce
Our wyngis wight vppon their ignoraunce.
Prudence it is on hem to make affray,
Whil thei beth out of reule and of aray.
If hors be myghtiest, this wey is best
And doon anoon, and ellis is grete drede;
A remedy therfore is to be keste,
That al the light armure wightly procede,
And archerye, as sparkil out of glede.
428
And embataile anoon the frounte aforn,
The breste to defende, and either horn.
If this be doon, the frounte alonge is sure,
Vnlabored with fight, or otherwise,
Like as beforn is seyde, it is to cure,
That thi right wynge vppon his lift horn rise;
But myghtiest and wittiest dyuise
Vnto that feat, and archers with hem fonge
Of wighte men, ofoote that be stronge.
And this doyng, retrete thi lifte horn
Fer, al abak, and raunge it like a spere,
Dyuers heryn vnto the way beforn,
So that the foo noo strook theron bewere.
This wil devicte anoon withoute fere.
In this manere a smal & myghti ooste
Shal ouerthrowe a multitude of booste;
Or finally, this ooste is but of fewe
And not so myghti men as hath the foo:
Heer hath the werreour his craft to shewe,
And embataile hym nygh a flood that goo
On outher half; a cragge is good also,
Lake or marice or castel or citee,
A side to defende is good to se.
There embataile and putte ereither wynge
On oon side, and herwith pul of his horn,
But fro behinde aboute is beste it brynge,
And with the boorys hede route in beforn.
The myghtiest to this be not forborn,
Ner they, theryn that haue had exercise,
Thus hath be seyde of werryourys wise.
The foo peraventure is ferde and fled
Into sum holde, and ferther wolde he fle
429
Fayn, wiste he how. What is the beste reed
That he go forth, or heer beseged be?
To lete hem goon is moste vtilitee
And no perile is it that foo to chace
That turneth vs the bak & nat the face.
Yet heer be wys and sende a fewe aforn,
Right aftir hem, and with a myghty honde
Another way on even or amorn
Caste to come in and in their light to stonde.
When thei that aftir go, wynne on hem londe,
Her part it is tattempte hem esily
And so departe, aferd to bide therby.
This seyn, thei wil, suppose a wayt be goon,
And disolute anoon be negligent,
Thenne is the wit, that myghti honde come on
And take hem vp aslepe or vynolent;
Thus easily we haue our owne entent,
Therof to God the commendatioun
Be madde, and doon sacrificatioun.
If part of thooste be fled, & part prevaile,
Heryn the Prince exploye his valiaunce,
Hem myghtily retournyng to bataile.
Forwhi? the foon be fled vnto myschaunce.
Arere anoon vnto your ordynaunce;
The feelde is youre, and trumpe & clarioun
And scryis make of victory resoun.
Of knyghthode and bataile in special
Thus seide thelectioun & ordynaunce,
Here is to sette vp rewlys general,
As this: The gracious good gouernaunce
Obserueth euerywhere; al suffisaunce
Hath he that is content; al may be born
Saue wele; and: scorned is that vseth scorn;
430
Thi disavaile availe is to thi foo,
His hurt availeth the; voide his advice,
Do thin availe; do not as he hath do;
In thin electioun se thou be wys,
War negligence, do euery man justice,
Be vigilaunt, attende thin honour,
Thi prouidence be to thin oost socour.
Ha not to fight a knyght vnexercised;
Ha confidence in preved thing; secre
Thi counsel have; lerne of thi self disgised;
The fugitif herd and vntrested be;
Be gided wel by folk of that contre,
That thou wilt ouer ride; haue in writynge
Euery passage, and eke in purtreyinge.
Better is brede in oost to fight then lengthe;
Good is in stoor to haue a grete subside;
With sapience socoure a feebil strength,
Sende of thi foo; Let not thin oost diuide;
Whette vp thin ege; bidde horsmen wightly ride;
Fight in a raunge aforn with multitude
Ayenst a fewe, and hem anoon detrude.
A fewer oost falle on with the right horn,
And crokyng of the lift horn is telonge,
So that the myghtiest be sette beforn;
And if the lift horn be both wyce and stronge,
Sette it beforn, and bak the right be wronge;
Or on thin vnaduised foo with wight
And myghti wyngis go beforn & fight.
The light armure and euery ferentary
Aforn thi frount in nede anoon procede
With subside on the wyngys for to tary;
And he that hath a litil ooste, hath nede
Of mych wit, and myghti men in dede,
431
And on his honde a flood or place of strengthe,
And either wynge on his oon horn tenlengthe.
Ye truste in hors: the playn is beste; ye truste
Vppon footmen: the cleef is good. Espie
Amongis vs to be ther is distruste:
That euery man go hoom, anoon do crye,
And which is he, forwith me shal espie.
But sodenly this most be doon be day,
The yatis shitte, lest he go stele away.
What is to doon, with mony take advice;
What shalbe doon, tak fewe or be alone;
Tak his advice that is secret & wyce,
Be juste, indifferent to euerychone;
For idelnesse haue ay sumwhat to doone;
To straunge not, not to familier,
Make of a lord; chere a good Chiualeer.
And here anende I thus the thridde part
In this Tretice of knyghthode & bataile.
What ha we next ? Forsothe, a subtil art
To bilde a stronge Citee, and for tassaile
It and defense; and aftir, fight Navayle,
That is bataile in ship, I here entende
For chiualers to write, and make an ende.
IV.
Vltima pars vrbes parat, obsidet atque tuetur,
Bello nauali finit & ornat opus.
This IIIde part, as long as othre tweyne,
Halt prouidence of myghtiest bataile,
The morthereer to bringe vndir the cheyne.
There al his olde craft shal nought availe,
But hate of ire and angush of travaile
To fynde; and aftir al that to descende
432
To theuerlasting deth, if he namende.
In Brutis Albion is not to spende
This myghti knyghthode & bataile alone;
To Normandie and Fraunce it is tassende,
Til Cristis & the kyngis foos vchone
Be dryven out or chastised, and noone
Alyve ylefte, that wil not wel beleve
And vttirly the myscreaunt myscheve.
Here ende I that, and to my werk releve
The laste part, anoon to bringe an ende,
And aftir in correctioun it preve;
Criste truste I, that the kyng it wil attende
And werreours to knowe it condescende;
That leve I there, and write as is thavaile
To bilde and sette assege, and see bataile.
Nature or art assureth a Citee,
A dongeoun, a castel, or a tour,
In lake or in mareys or in the see
Sette it, that element is thi socour;
And if the lond shalbe propugnatour,
A mountayne or a clyef, a cragge, a rok
Sette it vppon, and saf it is fro strok.
And in foreste, in feelde or in champayne,
With craft or art it is tomake a strengthe,
And if nature assiste, it is tattayne
Effect anoon, as when the brede or lenghe
A rok, ryuer, mareys or see wil strengthe;
But art alone if noon herof availe,
Shal make it stronge with wisdam & travaile.
Mak bosumy and angulous the wal,
And so sette out therof the fundament
With touris and turrettis oueral,
433
That scale, engyne or rammer therto sent
Be ouer sette, and faile of his entent,
When he is vnbegon and al to donge
With al that may be kest fro wallis stronge.
In this manere a wal it is to make,
To stonde an infallibil thing for euer:
An interualle of XXti feet be take,
A wal on either side herof dissevre,
Caste in the moolde, sadde it with mal & lever,
Out of the dich caste it bitwix the wallys,
And ramme it doun with punchonys & mallis.
Mak the inner wal wel lower then withoute,
That esily, as by the clif, ascende
Me may vnto the loupis al aboute,
Or by an esi grice hem to defende;
Thus mad a wal, the ram may nat offende;
For thaugh he fronte awey this vttir cruste,
The grounde is stronge ynough with him to juste.
For firing of the yatis make obstacle,
Couer hem with hidys and with iron plate,
And make aforn a myghti propugnacle,
A portcolys to plumpe adoun therate,
Aftir thi foon atwixte it and the yate
Thei checked ar. The machcoling may thenne
Chastise hem that thei shal nat sle ner brenne.
The dichis ar to make brode at al
And deep at al, so that me may not fille
Hem in no wise, and renne vppon the wal;
The myner is his labour heer to spille,
And rathest if the watir hem fulfille;
For now hath he twey grete Impedymentys;
Depnesse is oon, another thelement is.
434
The multitude of shot is to repelle
With sheeld, pavice an here and duble say;
Shot perceth not ther thorgh; eek wittis felle
Han cratys fild with stoon at euery bay,
And if thassault come vp, adoun go they
Out of the crate, at euery loup is oon
Of these. It quelleth ordynaunce & mon.
In mony wise assault is and defense;
And on manere is by enfameyinge.
Hoolde foode away, and watir, kepe it thens,
And hem to honde anoon shal honger bringe.
But if we wite a seege on vs comynge,
Anoon gete al the foode within our wonys
And faste haue in the multitude of stonys.
Corn euerydel, larder, fisch, foul, forage,
And that may not be brought in, is to brenne,
Wyn, aysel, herbe, & fruyt and cariage,
Logyng, let brenne it vp, or cary it thenne;
So bare it for our foon that whenne thei renne,
Thei fynde nought; and vse we vitaile
With such attemperaunce, that it ne faile.
Glew, tar & picch and oyle incendiary,
And sulphour herwithal to brenne engyne,
Charcole & cole, and al that necessary
Is forto make armure and arowys fyne
And shelde & spere, hundirdys VIII or IX,
And coggys, cogulys & pibblis rounde,
Fil vp the wal with hem by roof & grounde.
Stoon of the flood is saddest and so best,
For fourneysinge a wal & euery loupe,
And outher with engynys to be kest
On hegh, adoun to falle on hed or croupe,
Or fro the scalyng forto make hem stoupe
And have of grene tymbour grete rollys
435
And loggys leyd to route vppon her pollys.
And beemys is to haue of euery sise
And boord of euery soort, and also nayl.
Ayenst engyne, engyne is to devise,
And that the stuf be prest, is thin availe.
High if it be, pulle ouer their top sail,
And if thei come in touris ambulary,
Hem myghtily to mete is necessary.
Nerf is to haue or senewis aboundaunce,
The crosbowyng to stringe and bowe of brake;
Hors her of mane & tail, if suffisaunce
Therof ther is, therto good is to take;
Of wymmen here tho stryngis eke thei make:
With stryngys of their her Romaynys wyvis
Saved her owne & her husbondis lyvis.
Raw hidis ar to kepe, and euery horn
The portcolis to couere, eek sheeld & targe
And mony a thing, it may not be forborn;
And if so be your watir be not large,
To synke a welle anoon it is to charge,
For lak therof; theym that the water brynge,
With shot defende outward & hoom comynge.
And if the welle is out of our shotinge,
Make vp a tour and putte archerys there,
For to defende tho that watir brynge;
Cisternys who can make, it is tenquere;
Make vp of theym in placis euerywhere,
Rayn watir kepe in hem; when wellys faile,
Rayn watir in cisternys may availe.
A See Citee this is, and salt is geson:
Kest watre salt in vesselling that sprede,
Salt wil the sonne it make in litil season;
436
But thus we dar not fette it in for drede,
The see gravel, gete it vp in this nede,
Fresh watir it, and let it drie in sonne,
And salt withoute doubte herof is wonne.
They that the wal assaulteth, bith terribil
A multitude, and trumpis proudly rynge;
The Citee nys but simpil and paisibil,
And ferde thei are at this first counteringe,
And in goth they; but if the spritis springe
And putte hem of, in comth an hardinesse,
And egal is fro now forth the congresse.
The tortoys or the snayl, the rammys grete,
The sekel or the sithe, and vyneyerd,
The cagys pluteal it is to gete
And tourys ambulary nere aferd;
The musculys eke with the pety berde,
Lo alle these wil this Citee assaile
With crafte, and yet with craft shal it prevaile.
Of tymbir and of boord it is to make
A tortoys or a shelled snail, and so
They name it; whi? for when hem liste awake
It, out therof the hed & hornys go
And in and out ayein; oon horn or too,
Croked or streght, hath it, right as a snaile,
Right as it semeth hem their moost availe.
The bak of this tortoys, snail or testude,
Wherof it hath figure and also name,
With felt & heere & hidis rawe or crude,
Lest theron fier doun cast, brenne vp the frame.
Wel couered is, the sidis beth the same;
Pendaunt theryn, ther goth a beem alonge,
Therof the hed is iron steeled stronge.
437
Tweyne hornys if it have, it is a snaile;
Streght may thei stonde, or the lifte horn may croke
Outher the right, as may be moost availe,
The wal to breke & stonys out to Rooke;
And if it haue but oon horn, & it hooke
A croche, it is a sikel or a sithe,
It breketh and out bringeth stonys swithe.
And when the frount is mad to breke & brese,
It is a ram for that similitude,
To rush vppon the wal and al to crese
The stuf in it; yet wil thei this delude,
And with oo crafte thoo craftis III conclude:
Of quylt & felt a trusse thei depende,
Ther as the ram entendeth for toffende.
Or by the hed they kecch it with a gnare
And hale it vp, or by the wal endlonge,
Or turne it vpsodoun thei wil not spare;
Hem semeth it to hurte it is no wronge;
And other haue a wulf, this ram to fonge:
That wulf is as a payre of smythis tongys,
Toothed, that in a wayt alway to honge is.
That wulf gooth on the ram, and by the hed
Or necke anoon pulde is he vp so doun,
Or so suspended that his myght is deed,
And other fro the wallis of the town
Or out of tourys hye or of dongeoun
Wil caste an huge ston or a pilere
Of marbil, and so breke it al yfere.
And if the wal be thorled therwithal,
As happeth ofte, or doun it gooth anoon:
Awey with euery hous, and mak a wal
Withinne that of planke or lyme & ston;
And if thin aduersayris come vppon,
Conclude theym bitwixt the wallis tweyne,
438
And so be quyte of this perile & peyne.
The vyneyerde is lighter tymburynge,
VIII foote brode, VI footys high, XVI
Footys in length, and dubil couertinge
Hath it of boord & fleyk; of twyggis grene
The sidis are, and fier for to sustene,
With felt & hidis grene it couere they,
So that to brenne or breke it, is no wey.
And made ynowe of these, ar sette yfere
Vnto the wal, as summe sette a vyne,
And tre pilers vpsetting heer & there,
To make it falle, vndir the wal thei myne,
That, puld away the stulpis VIII or IXne,
Doun go the wal, this vyneyerd remeved,
Lest it and al ther vndir be myscheved.
The cage pluteal of twiggis plat,
Of heerys hath couert and hidis grene;
Not ouer high the roof ner ouer flatte,
That shot & fier suffice it to sustene.
On whelis III to go thei thise demene,
As goth a cart; and fele herof thei make
With mony a wit the wallis forto awake.
The muscle shelle is but a smal engyne,
Mightily mad on whelis for to go,
And bere away the wallis when thei myne;
Thei bringe stuf the dich to fille also;
And on the werk it may go to & fro
And sadde it vp, that tourys ambulary
May men ynowe vppon the wallis cary.
The muscul eke is good, the way to mende,
For eny thing, of tourys ambulary.
To se the crafte is now to condescende,
439
Thartificeer it nedeth not to vary;
Make hem like other housing necessary,
A XXXti foote or XL foote square,
And otherwhile of Lti feet thei are.
Of bemys and of boord be thei compacte,
And competent the brede hath altitude,
With hidis, grene or felt sadly coacte
The robinge & the sidis are enclude.
Their apparaile ashameth wallys rude,
At euery lyme herof ar huge whelys
And brood withal the sole of euery whel is.
Present perile is, if this tour ammoeve
Vnto the wal, the place is in a doubte;
And impossibil is it of to shove.
Of myghtieste theryn is mony a route,
And briggis in, to renne on from withoute,
And scalis of al maner farsioun,
From eny part to renne on vp & doun.
The rammys are alongh as first engyne,
And not a fewe, a wal to ouerthrowe,
And vndir as a vyneyerd they myne
And briggis in the myddis are a rowe,
And fro the toppe they shote & stonys throwe;
Thus vndir and above and euerywhere
The wall besette; who dar abide there?
Yet here ayenst is diuers medycyne:
First, if the Chiualers with confidence
Go myghti out, and fire this engyne,
First pulde away the firys resistence,
And if thei ha not this magnificence,
Shote at hem molliols, also fallayrys;
But what thei ar, to knowe it necessayir is.
440
A malliol, a bolt of wilde fier is,
A fallary, a shafte is of the same;
Thorgh felt & hide hem shoote: al on a fier is;
But shoote hem thorgh into the tymber frame;
With myghti alblastris go to this game,
Brymston, rosyn, glewe, oyle incendiary
With flax doon on this shafte is necessary.
Or preuely with fier out of the toun
Ouer the wal, whil this tour is asclepe,
A feleship of fewe is let adoun,
That fiere it, as noo watir may it kepe;
And triced vp at hoom thei skippe & lepe
To se this ambulary touris brenne;
This hath be doon, & yet ful seelde whenne.
And otherwise is doun, the wal tarise,
And ouer go the touris altitude;
Yet ther ayenst is vsed to deuise
A subtiltee, tho wallis to delude;
In the vtter tour, an inner tour tenclude,
And when thei sette vppon this wallis blynde
With gabils & polifs hem ouerwynde.
And beemys otherwhile, ye ouerlonge,
Ordeyne thei, and sette on iron hornys,
And as a rammys hed thei make hem honge;
This tour with hem forbeton and throgh born is,
And sette ofiere, and vtturly for lorn is;
Yet otherwise, out of the toun a myne,
Vndir the way therof, sleth this engyne.
When this engyne on that concavitee
Goth with his wight vppon his myghti whelis,
Doun goth it, into helle as it wold fle;
And this to se, the toun in joy & wele is.
But thooste withoute al in dolour & deel is,
Al desperate of help by their engyne,
441
And al by witty makyng of a myne.
But if this tour sauf sette vppon the wallis
With euery shot of dart, of shaft, of spere,
And dynt of axe, of swoord, billys & mallys,
And caste of stoon thei ley on euerywhere,
That fro the wal awey they fle for fere,
Now to the wal, the briggis forto avale is,
And mony oon goth doun anoon by scalys.
Thei trice in other with the Tollenon:
The tollenon a tymbir pece on ende
Is sette, another twye as long theron,
The lighter ende of it adoun thei bende;
A cageful of men therwith thei sende
Vppon the wal, when they with cordis drawe
Adoun that other ende, as is the lawe.
Sumtyme ayen this werk, the bowe of brake,
Carribalistys and Arcubalistis,
Onagris and fustibulis wer take,
And mony a dart that vncouth & vnwiste is
Amonge vs heer. The taberinge of the fistis
Vppon the bowe, and trumpyng of the gunne
Hath famed vs as fer as shyneth sonne.
Thei trumpe adoun the tourys ambulary,
Thei ouerthrowe as wel ram as tortoys,
The cage and vyneyerd therby myscary,
The muscul may not with his dynt & voys;
And countir as it goth, ther is noo choys,
But deed or quyt; for and it onys touche,
It goth for al that hangeth in the pouche.
A conynger, that now they calle a myne,
Goth vndir erth vnwist; by that cauerne
Come in tatoun, ye, tourmys VIII or IXne,
442
And prevely they rise in sum tauerne
Or desolat hous, so noo wight hem werne;
And sodenly by nyght vppon the yate
They hewe, and leet their frendis in therate.
And ther ayenst, if that the dwellers be
In touris, on the wal, or housys hye,
Vppon the strete,-is ther yit comfort? Ye,
So stonys out of numbir on hem flye,
As thaugh the buldir hailed from the skye;
They wil anoon retrete out at the yatis,
Now steke hem out; and stynted this debate is.
And if thei do not thus, anoon their foo
Of prouidence her yatis may lete stonde,
Vntil as fele as fle, wil been ago,
And thenne in ease have hous & toun & londe;
But God defende vs that we be not fonde
Aslepe so that foon lede vs away
Withoute strook, or seide hem onys nay!
Lo, man, womman and childe may keste stoon
Vppon his foo from euery place o lofte,
And ther to redy sone are euerychon
By day & nyght; this holpen hath full ofte.
Ha stonys out of flood or feeld or crofte,
Store hem on high, that in a sodeyn fere
Fynde hem ye may, and on your foo bewere.
This conynger hath eek another gise,
Vndir the wal to crepe pryvely,
And sette vp postis heer, & ther by sise
And pike away the fundament wightly,
Ramayle it wel. the postis by & by,
And when their ooste was redy, make it brenne;
Doun goth the wall; in and vppon hem thenne!
443
Peraventure ther is a countir myne,
So that thei faile, and feyneth a dispayre,
And hem remeveth mylys VIII or IXne;
Now best be war, at market or at fayre,
Or day or nyght, thei thinketh to repayre,
If there appere among hem negligence;
Therfore now do grettest diligence.
Now se the wacch abide vppon the wall,
And houndis wise & grete is good to kepe;
Eek gees is good to haue in special,
For thei wil wake folke that ar aslepe,
The foo comynge her welth away to repe;
The mavlard in the dich and in the wallis,
The martilet at scaling wont to calle is.
The toun eke on thassege sodenly
Is wont to falle, if it be negligent;
Therfore a dich thei make vp myghtily,
Without shot of euerych instrument,
And stake it, pale it, toure it to thentent,
Ther to be sure hem self and holde hem inne;
Thus wayteth vch an other for to wynne.
The craft tassaulte a citee and defende
By myght and wit of knyghthode & bataile,
Honour to God, therof is mad an ende.
Now go we forth vnto this fight navaile,
That is fight on the see, no light travaile,
And not o londe; as there is so grete drede,
Therfore of gouernaunce hath it gret nede.
To make an hous, good stuf it is to take
Good farsioun, and good stuf is the hous;
But rather he that shippis is to make,
Se that his stuffe ne be nat vicious;
A feebil hous nys not so perilous
As is a feebil ship, other a barge,
444
Forthy therof the more it is to charge.
Fir and cipresse and the pynappul tre
Therfore is good, as seyn the bookys olde,
And ook is holden good in this cuntre;
The nayles are of bras wel better holde
Then iron. Whi? For ruste thei wil & olde
And kanker and consume, there as bras,
Consumed al the ship, is as it was.
Fro Juyl Kalendis vnto the Kalende
Of Janyveer, that is by monthis sixe
The seson is, tymbur to falle an ende;
Thumour dryinge in treen, now sad & fixe
Is euery pith; but fallinge is bitwixe
XV and XXIIti, when the mone
Is wanyng, dayis VII is this to done.
In other tyme or seson if me falle,
Wormeton wil it ben, eek it wil rote;
The tymbourmen of craft this knoweth alle;
Of rynde or bark is rende away the cote
And dryed thorgh, er it be put to note,
For tymbir weet, so wroght, wil aftir shrynke
And ryve and with right grete disconfort drynke.
For if the shippe vnto the maryner
Drynke of the see, sone aftir of the same
Thei drinketh al, and are of hevy cher;
Forthi, the carpenter is wurthi blame
That into shippis wil weet tymbour frame,
And wurthi thonk is he, that frameth drye,
So that in his defaulte no men deye.
The namys of the shippis as for werre
Myn auctour writeth not, save a liburne
He writeth of as mightier & herre
445
Of boord, and wight of foote, and light to turne.
As to the wastom of this shippis storne,
Thei hadde V or IIII ordris of ooris,
Or fewer, as the vessel lesse or more is.
And euery grete liburne a balynger
Hath had, and that a scafe exploratory
Was named, for to aspie fer & neer;
Of oorys hadde thei not but oon story.
But wight it was to go for a victory;
The seyl, the maste, and euery marynere
With see colour wer clad for to vnnapere.
A navey and an oost that wil gouerne
Vppon the see, him nedeth forto knowe
The wyndis, and the wedir to discerne;
He moste ha wit, leste he be ouerthrowe;
And first the foure cardinals arowe
Be knowe, as Est & West & North & South,
How thei amonge hem self discorde, is couth.
Theest cardinal is called subsolan,
And on his lifte hond hath he Sir Vulturne,
And Colchyas is on his right hond tan,
Septentrion, that cardinal so storne
Out of the North the see wil ouer torne,
Thocastias his right, and his lift side
Halt Aquylo, what se may theim abide.
Auster is cardinal meridian,
Nothus ful grymly goth on his right side,
And Chorus on the lift hond forth thei han,
And Zephirus that cardinal, abide
Wil in the west, and when him list to ride,
Grete Affricus shal ride on his right honde,
And Duk Fauonius on his lift honde.
446
If III or oon or tweyne of these vp blowe,
Tethis, of hir nater that is tranquylle,
Thei lene vppon, oppresse and ouerthrowe,
And causeth al crye out that wold be stille;
Thei ror ayeyn, of her thei haue her wille;
The shippe that this conflict seeth & hereth
(Heryn beleve me) his hert it fereth.
Sum varyaunce of tyme will refreyne
Her cruelous & feers rebellioun,
A nothir helpith hem to shake her cheyne
As all the firmament shuld falle adoun
And Occian lepe ouer Caleys Toun;
And after in a while it is tranquylle
And playne & calme, as whos seith 'husht, be stille!'
Therfore a storme is whisedom to preuyde,
And good it is forse serenyte,
And fro the storme abide or stopp atide,
And with meanabil wynd sette on the see;
Ful hard it is in peril hym to se,
That of the wyndes had inspeccioun,
Is raysonabil in direccioun.
Thenne is to se the monthis & the dayes
Of Nauygaunce, forwhy? not al the yere
The wyndis on the shippis make affrayes,
Sum monthis euer are of mery cheer,
And summe loure a while, & after cleer
Ynough they loke, & summe ar intractabil
And ragy wood, ancour to breke & gabil.
The VIth kalende of Juyn, when Pliades
Appereth: what is that? the sterrys VII;The wyndes alle ar bounden to the pees,
So that ther nys no truble vndir heuen,
Vntil the berth of Arcture al is even,
That is of Octobir the XVIIIth kalende,
447
Seecraft plesaunt hath at this day an ende.
Tho dayis euer are of mery cheer,
And thenne vnto the IIIde Ide of Nouembre
The dayis wil now loure and now be cleer;
For vnto now, as bookys me remembre,
Arcture, as from the first Ide of Septembre,
His reigne he hath, and in this meane while
The firmament wil loure amonge & smyle.
Nouembir in tempest is al to shake,
And aftir vnto Marchis Idus VI,
Viage thenne on see nys noon to take,
But in the woose it is tabide fixe;
Also by londe vnvsed is betwixe
Alhaleweday & March to goon or ride,
But if a grete necessitee betide.
Short is the day, the nyght is ouerlonge,
Thicke is the myst, and thestir is the mone,
And aftir in ther comth of wynde a thronge,
That forto stonde he hath ynough to done,
That is o londe; a strom is aftir sone
Of leyt, of wynd, of rayn, of hail, of thondir,
That woful is the wight that goth thervndir.
And, ovir this, in Marche, Aprile & May,
Antiquytee of Navigatioun
Dyuers sollemnytee and grete aray
Was vsed have in high deuotioun,
And eke of arte exercitatioun
To kepe in honde, and as for feat of werre,
Thei bood vntil the sonne ascended herre.
And tokenys of tranquille and tempeste,
Of wynde and rayn, thei hadden in the moone;
Of tokenys this was surest & best:
448
Reed is the mone, it wil be wynde right sone,
To take see theryn is good to shone;
The pale mone is lyke to haue a rayn,
The pale rede is wynde & storm, thei sayn
And when the mone ariseth glad & bright,
And namely the day that is the pryme,
Withoute humour, in hornys sharpe & light,
To take a grete viage is right good tyme.
But if the sonne telle of eny cryme,
As is if he arise vndir a cloude,
That day in rayn & wynd is wont to croude.
His bright aristh is like a mery day,
His rede aristh is like a breef to blowe,
And maculous, is shour or cloudis ay,
And pale aristh wil reyn or ellis snowe;
A tokyn eke of rayn is the raynbowe.
In wynde and ayer, in fish & foule, Virgile
The signys seyth that may noman begile.
The maryners, thei sayn, haue al this art
Of wydiringe, and thei be wedir wise,
By discipline of it ha thei no part,
But of a longe vsage or exercise.
Wel knowe thei, the Reume if it arise,
An aker is it clept, I vndirstonde,
Whos myght ther may no ship or wynd withstonde.
This Reume in Thoccian of propur kynde
Withoute wynde hath his commotioun,
The maryner therof may not be blinde,
But whenne & where in euery regioun
It regneth, he moste haue inspectioun;
For in viage it may both hast & tary
And vnaduised therof al mys cary.
449
The marinere, er he come at congresse
Or counturinge, vppon the see bataile,
Wil his Navey so for the Reume adresse,
As may been his aduerser dissavaile
And hindiraunce, and also his availe.
This may be doon anoon, for a liburne
With wynde or oorys, as me wil, may turne.
The Maister Marynere, the gouernour,
He knoweth euery cooste in his viage
And port saluz; and forthi grete honour
He hath, as worthi is, and therto wage.
The depper see, the gladder he; for rage
Of wynde or of bataile if ther abounde,
The surer he, the ferre he be fro grounde.
He knoweth euery rok and euery race,
The swolewys & the starrys, sonde & sholde,
And where is deep ynough his foo to chace;
And chese a feeld he can, bataile to holde,
And myghtily sette on liburnys bolde,
First with the frounte al vndir see to route,
And as a thought, anoon be brought aboute.
The maister of the shippe, he muste be wyis;
The mariners most be ful diligent,
And myghti rowing vp at point device
Is to been had at his commaundement,
That storne and ooris go by oon assent
Forth right to sette vppon, and light to turne,
Ful gret avauntage haldeth this liburne.
And as o londe an oost may be prevent
And leyde awayt vppon, right so by see
At ilis or in streytys pertynent
A bushement to falle vppon may be
Rathest; out of aray is good to se
When that thei be; the reume & strem & wynde
450
With you & countour hem is good to fynde.
Or wayte on hem, for wery or aslepe,
Or when thei leest of thi comynge suppose,
Or in a rode as is no wey to crepe
Away, but that ye must been in their nose.
Al that is you to wynne, is hem to lose,
And if thei can avoyde alle your cautelis,
Thenne vch his right, the feeld & fight to dele is.
Thenne in a feelde a frounte of this liburnys
It is to sette, and not as on the londe
An oost; and whi? for inward it to turne is,
The hornys as a sharp cressaunt to stonde,
A bosomynge amyddis to be founde,
That vmbego ye may your aduersary
And close hem enviroun, and with you cary.
But on the hornys be liburnys sturne
With myghtiest & booldest men of werre,
Aboute our foon of myscreaunce to turne,
With confidence hem for to seyn: 'Ye erre;
Com vndir vs, and knowe your ouer herre
Moost gracioux, knowe him your souuerayne;
And wil ye not? At youre perile & peyne!'
The beemys, vp thei goth out of the trumpe
And euery brayn astonyeth their reson;
The firmament, lo! clariounys crumpe
To crye vppon, and lo! it comth adoun
With angelis, ye, mony a legioun,
To countour periurie & myscreaunce
And surquydrye and disobeyssaunce.
In euery man thei setteth fortitude
And high magnificence and confidence,
Perseueraunt for trouth to conclude
451
With adiuuaunce of myghti patience,
And on the part aduerse, an impotence
With couwardise & diffident dispayre
Wil ferdfully with trembelyng repayre.
The canonys, the bumbard & the gunne,
Thei bloweth out the voys & stonys grete,
Thorgh maste & side & other be thei runne,
In goth the serpentyne aftir his mete;
The colueryne is besy for to gete
An hole into the top, and the crappaude
Wil in; the fouler eek wil haue his laude.
The covey fleeth as foulis thorgh the sayle,
The pavice are accombred with coventys,
Yet on thei come, and vs thei wil assaile;
The bowe vnnumerabil redy bent is,
The shaft fro there an ende it goth. Apprentys
Thonagir is and the carribaliste,
The fundubal and the manubaliste.
The catafract, plumbate & scorpioun,
The dart and arpagoun in dayis olde
Were had, and are amonge vs leyde adoun;
Crosbowys yet and crankelons ar bolde
With wilde fier to brenne al in the folde,
The malliol goth out with the fallary,
The wildefier to bere our aduersary.
Yet on they come: awaite vppon the toppe
Good archery; the storm of shot as hail
So rayketh on, thei dar not shewe her croppe
Ner in the mastys topp, ner vndir sail,
Yet haile hem in a myghti voys: 'hail, hail!
Come vndir your Kyng Harry! fy! o pride!'
Thei wil not throf attonys on hem ride.
452
Bende vp, breke euerych oore in the mytside
That hath a rash; help hem, lo, thei goth vndir;
To this mysaventure hemself thei gide;
Lo, how thei cracke on euery side a sondir,
What tempest is on hem, what leyt & thondir!
On grapesinge anoon let se their fleete,
What hertys are in hem with vs to mete!
Armure & axe & spere of ouer wight
Is ouer light; as sparkelys in rede,
So sparkel they on helm & herneys bright
The rammys and twibil the side out shrede
Of ship & mast; doun goth the sail in dede,
Vp goth our hook, now it is on their gabil;
Lo, ther it lyeth; this batail is notabil.
Summe into se go, fisshes forto fede,
Summe vndir hacch ar falde adoun for fere,
And summe above, her hert blood to bleede,
And summe seke, hem self they wote ner where;
And summe crye 'alas, that we come there!
Myschefe vpon mysgouernaunce betide!
Lo, pride hath vs betrapped! Fy, o pride!'
'Com on! with vs ye shal go se the kyng,
The gracious,-have of anoon this gere!
Ye muste have on another herneysing:
A gyngeling of jessis shal ye were.
Ye shal no lenger stondyn in this fere.
O siluer bere, o lilial lioun,
O goldon Eagle! where is your renoun!'
Thus may be doon, if that it be forseyn
Of our meryte in souuerayn providence;
Forthi forwith do euery wight his peyne,
Sleuth out to holde, and haue in diligence,
Sette vp the werk, and spare noon expense;
Of Goddis honde although ye have victory,
453
Yet in the knotte is al thonour & glory.
Knytte vp the werk, and say: 'Hail haliday!'
The werre intraneous of al this londe
Is at an ende, here nys no more affray;
Justice is heer peasibilly to stonde,
And al the world shal telle of Engelonde
And of the kyngis high magnificence,
And been adred tattempte it with offense.
But forto knytte a knotte vppon this book,
That is to sey, therof to make an ende,
What is the ram, this twibil & this hook,
That helpeth vs this shippis thus to shende?
The ram, a beem is, by the mast suspende,
That as a saylis yerde is smal & longe,
On either ende an iron hed to fonge.
A rammys or a snailis hed theron
Ther may be sette, with streght or caumber horn,
On either side it may sette on our foon,
With myghti hand adoun that thei be born.
Ther nys nothing may stonde ther beforn;
For of the shippe it breketh out the side,
Vnnethe may the mast his myght abide.
The hook of iron kene is & of strengthe,
And like a sithe vppon a myghti sperre,
And not to gret, but of an huge lengthe,
And polissed to bace & make it herre;
The gabelis that in a ship of werre
Bere vp the sail, herwith may be fordone,
So may the stay & shroudis euerychone.
The twibil is an axe with double bite,
And therwithal in myddis of the maste;
What maryneris dede, is hard to wite,
454
But fele it hurte, and fele it made agaste.Now faste vntil and ende I wil me haste,
Yet first thonagir and carribaliste,
What thing it was, it were good we wiste.
Thonagir was an huge & myghti bowe,
Strynged with nerf, therwith the stonys grete,
In maner of a thonderynge were throwe,
And for defaute of nerf, hors heer was gete
To strynge hem with, and rather then forlete
The help therof, their heer Romaynys wyvis
Kitte of, to strynge hem with, and saue her lyvys.
Theim leuer was to haue her goode husbandis
With honestee, & with their hedis bare,
Then dishonest be led to straunge londys,
Dispareged, her mariage forfare.
O, mony oon of yon goode wyvys are,
That charge more vertue and honestee
Then worldly good or bodily beautee.
In carris had for hem, carribalistis
Wer sette; thei were, as bowis are, of brake;
Oon more of hem then X manubalistis;
Of nerf or heer stringes for hem wer take.
Their myghti shot made herte & herneys quake;
They and thonagre bowys myghtieste,
Tymbir that oon, stonys that other keste.
Of tholde world the brightest herneysinge,
Best ordinaunce and myghtieste mad were;
O Chiualers, to you this is to bringe;
The beste ye chese, and yet a point go nerre.
O Lady myn, Maria, lode sterre,
Licence me toward the lond; beholde,
See seke am I, fulfayn o lande I wolde!
455
Hail, porte saluz! with thi pleasaunt accesse,
Alhail Caleis! ther wolde I faynest londe;
That may not I - oo, whi so? for thei distresse
Alle, or to deye or with her wrong to stonde.
That wil I not, to wynne al Engelonde!
What myght availe, a litil heer to dwelle,
And world withouten ende abide in helle.
O litil case, o pouere hous, my poort
Saluz thou be, vntil that ayer amende,
That is to sey, vntil an other soort
Gouerne there, that by the kyng be sende.
Yit let me se, what way my wit is wende:
In this tretys, first is thelectioun
Of werreours, as for the legioun,
Yonge, and statured wel, of vp o londe
And laborers be taught to pace & renne
And lepe and shote and with a dart in honde
Shakyng vppon the Sarrasins that grenne,
To shote quyk, and to swymme ouer, whenne
The ryuer is to deep, there euery gise
Of hosteyinge & fight hath exercise.
The part secounde hath the diuisioun
Of al an oost, wheryn is tolde of thaide,
That subsequent is to the legioun,
Wherin teuerych office his part is leyde;
Theer of a feeld al ordinaunce is seyde,
With evitatioun of al perile;
Who redeth it, therate among wil smyle.
The IIIde part prouideth and vitaileth
And paeseth thooste, and voydeth al myschaunce,
And al that in the journeyinge availeth,
Is here to rede, and what feeld may avaunce
An ooste to fighte, and euery ordinaunce
How is to sette, and in conflicte how VII
456
Weyis ther ar the quyckest vndir heven.
The firthe part in crafte & in nature
Strengtheth a place and techeth it tassaile,
Engynys eek to make & putte in vre,
And to resiste hemself to disavaile;
And on the see to make a stronge bataile,
Where euery feat of werre it is to spende,
And of this werk theryn is mad an ende.
Go, litil book, and humbilly beseche
The werriourys, and hem that wil the rede,
That where a fault is or impropir speche,
Thei vouchesafe amende my mysdede.
Thi writer eek, pray him to taken hede
Of thi cadence and kepe Ortographie,
That neither he take of ner multiplye.
Finis
~ Anonymous Olde English,#NFDB
2882 Integral Yoga
678 Poetry
181 Occultism
158 Philosophy
147 Fiction
122 Christianity
103 Yoga
95 Mysticism
76 Psychology
24 Hinduism
23 Education
21 Mythology
15 Science
12 Theosophy
11 Philsophy
10 Kabbalah
10 Integral Theory
8 Sufism
7 Cybernetics
6 Baha i Faith
3 Buddhism
1 Zen
1 Thelema
1 Alchemy
2377 The Mother
1396 Satprem
600 Sri Aurobindo
268 Nolini Kanta Gupta
111 William Wordsworth
84 Walt Whitman
81 Percy Bysshe Shelley
73 Carl Jung
71 H P Lovecraft
66 Aleister Crowley
57 Sri Ramakrishna
52 James George Frazer
51 William Butler Yeats
41 Rabindranath Tagore
38 Plotinus
36 Robert Browning
33 Saint Augustine of Hippo
29 Pierre Teilhard de Chardin
29 Friedrich Schiller
26 A B Purani
25 Swami Vivekananda
25 Lucretius
24 Friedrich Nietzsche
23 John Keats
22 Swami Krishnananda
21 Saint John of Climacus
21 Anonymous
20 Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
15 Ramprasad
14 Vyasa
14 Nirodbaran
14 Aldous Huxley
13 Rudolf Steiner
13 Ovid
12 Jorge Luis Borges
11 Ralph Waldo Emerson
11 George Van Vrekhem
10 Rabbi Moses Luzzatto
10 Plato
10 Edgar Allan Poe
9 Sri Ramana Maharshi
9 Saint Teresa of Avila
8 Joseph Campbell
7 Rainer Maria Rilke
7 Norbert Wiener
7 Jordan Peterson
7 Baha u llah
6 Thubten Chodron
6 Henry David Thoreau
6 Alice Bailey
5 Swami Sivananda Saraswati
5 Peter J Carroll
5 Paul Richard
5 Farid ud-Din Attar
5 Al-Ghazali
4 Patanjali
4 Jalaluddin Rumi
4 Franz Bardon
4 Aristotle
3 Mirabai
3 Kabir
3 Hakim Sanai
3 Bokar Rinpoche
2 William Blake
2 Saint Therese of Lisieux
2 Mahendranath Gupta
2 Lalla
2 Ken Wilber
2 Genpo Roshi
2 Abu-Said Abil-Kheir
315 Prayers And Meditations
275 On Thoughts And Aphorisms
184 Agenda Vol 01
169 Agenda Vol 13
114 Agenda Vol 12
111 Wordsworth - Poems
104 Agenda Vol 08
98 Agenda Vol 09
97 Questions And Answers 1957-1958
96 Agenda Vol 10
91 Agenda Vol 06
90 Agenda Vol 11
89 The Synthesis Of Yoga
89 Agenda Vol 03
87 Agenda Vol 07
86 Agenda Vol 04
83 Agenda Vol 05
81 Shelley - Poems
80 Whitman - Poems
79 Agenda Vol 02
71 Lovecraft - Poems
56 Questions And Answers 1950-1951
55 The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna
52 The Golden Bough
52 Questions And Answers 1956
51 Yeats - Poems
50 Record of Yoga
48 The Life Divine
46 Letters On Yoga IV
44 Savitri
43 Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 07
42 Letters On Yoga III
42 Letters On Yoga II
41 Tagore - Poems
41 Questions And Answers 1953
40 Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02
37 Questions And Answers 1955
37 Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 05
36 Questions And Answers 1929-1931
36 Browning - Poems
35 Questions And Answers 1954
35 Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 03
34 Magick Without Tears
34 Essays In Philosophy And Yoga
33 Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 04
31 Mysterium Coniunctionis
29 Words Of Long Ago
29 Schiller - Poems
29 Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 01
28 Words Of The Mother II
26 Liber ABA
26 Evening Talks With Sri Aurobindo
25 Of The Nature Of Things
25 Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 08
24 Essays On The Gita
24 Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 06
23 On Education
23 Keats - Poems
23 Collected Poems
22 The Study and Practice of Yoga
21 The Ladder of Divine Ascent
21 The Bible
21 City of God
18 Letters On Yoga I
17 Sri Aurobindo or the Adventure of Consciousness
16 Thus Spoke Zarathustra
15 The Practice of Psycho therapy
15 The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious
15 Plotinus - Complete Works Vol 01
15 Faust
14 Vishnu Purana
14 Twelve Years With Sri Aurobindo
14 The Perennial Philosophy
14 The Mother With Letters On The Mother
14 The Human Cycle
14 Some Answers From The Mother
14 Essays Divine And Human
13 The Confessions of Saint Augustine
13 Metamorphoses
12 Aion
11 Talks
11 Preparing for the Miraculous
11 Isha Upanishad
11 Emerson - Poems
10 Vedic and Philological Studies
10 The Secret Of The Veda
10 Raja-Yoga
10 Poe - Poems
10 Plotinus - Complete Works Vol 04
10 General Principles of Kabbalah
9 The Future of Man
9 The Divine Comedy
9 On the Way to Supermanhood
9 Labyrinths
8 Words Of The Mother III
8 Twilight of the Idols
8 The Phenomenon of Man
8 The Hero with a Thousand Faces
8 Plotinus - Complete Works Vol 02
8 Bhakti-Yoga
8 Anonymous - Poems
8 A Garden of Pomegranates - An Outline of the Qabalah
8 5.1.01 - Ilion
7 Words Of The Mother I
7 The Interior Castle or The Mansions
7 Rilke - Poems
7 Maps of Meaning
7 Letters On Poetry And Art
7 Kena and Other Upanishads
7 Hymns to the Mystic Fire
7 Cybernetics
6 Walden
6 The Secret Doctrine
6 Theosophy
6 Let Me Explain
6 Knowledge of the Higher Worlds
6 Hymn of the Universe
6 How to Free Your Mind - Tara the Liberator
6 Crowley - Poems
6 A Treatise on Cosmic Fire
5 The Red Book Liber Novus
5 The Alchemy of Happiness
5 Plotinus - Complete Works Vol 03
5 Liber Null
5 Goethe - Poems
5 Dark Night of the Soul
4 Writings In Bengali and Sanskrit
4 The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People
4 Song of Myself
4 Rumi - Poems
4 Poetics
4 Patanjali Yoga Sutras
3 The Practice of Magical Evocation
3 The Integral Yoga
3 The Book of Certitude
3 Tara - The Feminine Divine
3 Songs of Kabir
3 Sefer Yetzirah The Book of Creation In Theory and Practice
3 Amrita Gita
2 The Zen Teaching of Bodhidharma
2 The Way of Perfection
2 The Problems of Philosophy
2 The Lotus Sutra
2 The Blue Cliff Records
2 Symposium
2 Sex Ecology Spirituality
2 God Exists
2 Beating the Cloth Drum Letters of Zen Master Hakuin
2 Agenda Vol 1
2 Advanced Dungeons and Dragons 2E
00.00 - Publishers Note A, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 03, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
The present volume consists of the first seven parts of the book The Yoga of Sri Aurobindo which has run into twelve parts, as it stands now; of these twelve, parts five to nine are based upon talks of the mother (given by Her to the children of the Ashram). In this volume the later parts of the Talks (8 and 9) could not be included: they are to wait for a subsequent volume. The talks, originally in French, were spread over a number of years, ending in about 1960. We are pleased to note that the Government of India have given us a grant to meet the cost of publication of this volume.
13 January 1972
00.00 - Publishers Note B, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 04, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
The present volume consists of five parts of the book Yoga of Sri Aurobindo which has now run into twelve parts. Of these five parts, eight and nine are based on talks of the mother given by Her, in French, to the children of the Ashram.
We are pleased to note that the Government of India have given us a grant to meet the cost of publication of this volume.
00.00 - Publishers Note, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
The mother has graciously permitted the use of her sketch of the author as a frontispiece to the book.
13 January 1971
0 0.01 - Introduction, #Agenda Vol 1, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
It was at this point that we met mother, at this intersection of the anthropoid rediscovered and the 'something' that had set in motion this unfinished invention momentarily ensnared in a gilded machine. For nothing was finished, and nothing had been invented, really, that would instill peace and wideness in this heart of no species at all.
And what if man were not yet invented? What if he were not yet his own species?
--
Would Matter and Spirit meet, then, in a third PHYSIOLOGICAL position that would perhaps be at last the position of Man rediscovered, the something that had for so long fought and suffered in quest of becoming its own species? She was the great Possible at the beginning of man. mother is our fable come true. 'All is possible' was her first open sesame.
Yes, She was in the midst of a spiritual 'horde,' for the pioneer of a new species must always fight against the best of the old: the best is the obstacle, the snare that traps us in its old golden mire.
As for the worst, we know that it is the worst. But then we come to realize that the best is only the pretty muzzle of our worst, the same old beast defending itself, with all its claws out, with its sanctity or its electronic gadgets. mother was there for something else.
'Something else' is ominous, perilous, disrupting - it is quite unbearable for all those who resemble the old beast. The story of the Pondicherry 'Ashram' is the story of an old clan ferociously clinging to its 'spiritual' privileges, as others clung to the muscles that had made them kings among the great apes. It is armed with all the piousness and all the reasonableness that had made logical man so 'infallible' among his less cerebral brothers. The spiritual brain is probably the worst obstacle to the new species, as were the muscles of the old orangutan for this fragile stranger who no longer climbed so well in the trees and sat, pensive, at the center of a little, uncertain clearing.
There is nothing more pious than the old species. There is nothing more legal. mother was searching for the path of the new species as much against all the virtues of the old as against all its vices or laws. For, in truth, 'Something Else' ... is something else.
We landed there, one day in February 1954, having emerged from our Guianese forest and a certain number of dead-end peripluses; we had knocked upon all the doors of the old world before reaching that point of absolute impossibility where it was truly necessary to embark into something else or once and for all put a bullet through the brain of this slightly superior ape. The first thing that struck us was this exotic Notre Dame with its burning incense sticks, its effigies and its prostrations in immaculate white: a Church. We nearly jumped into the first train out that very evening, bound straight for the Himalayas, or the devil. But we remained near mother for nineteen years. What was it, then, that could have held us there? We had not left Guiana to become a little saint in white or to enter some new religion. 'I did not come upon earth to found an ashram; that would have been a poor aim indeed,' She wrote in 1934. What did all this mean, then, this 'Ashram' that was already registered as the owner of a great spiritual business, and this fragile, little silhouette at the center of all these zealous worshippers? In truth, there is no better way to s mother someone than to worship him: he chokes beneath the weight of worship, which moreover gives the worshipper claim to ownership. 'Why do you want to worship?' She exclaimed. 'You have but to become! It is the laziness to become that makes one worship.' She wanted so much to make them
become this 'something else,' but it was far easier to worship and quiescently remain what one was.
--
Her step by step, as one discovers a forest, or rather as one fights with it, machete in hand - and then it melts, one loves, so sublime does it become. mother grew beneath our skin like an adventure of life and death. For seven years we fought with Her. It was fascinating, detestable, powerful and sweet; we felt like screaming and biting, fleeing and always coming back: 'Ah! You won't catch me! If you think I came here to worship you, you're wrong!' And She laughed. She always laughed.
We had our bellyful of adventure at last: if you go astray in the forest, you get delightfully lost yet still with the same old skin on your back, whereas here, there is nothing left to get lost in! It is no longer just a matter of getting lost - you have to CHANGE your skin. Or die. Yes, change species.
--
Spirit nor even an improved Matter, but ... it could be called 'nothing,' so contrary was it to all we know. For the caterpillar, a butterfly is nothing, it is not even visible and has nothing in common with caterpillar heavens nor even caterpillar matter. So there we were, trapped in an impossible adventure. One does not return from there: one must cross the bridge to the other side. Then one day in that seventh year, while we still believed in liberations and the collected Upanishads, highlighted with a few glorious visions to relieve the commonplace (which remained appallingly commonplace), while we were still considering 'the mother of the Ashram' rather like some spiritual super-director (endowed, albeit, with a disarming yet ever so provocative smile, as though
She were making fun of us, then loving us in secret), She told us, 'I have the feeling that ALL we have lived, ALL we have known, ALL we have done is a perfect illusion ... When I had the spiritual experience that material life is an illusion, personally I found that so marvelously beautiful and happy that it was one of the most beautiful experiences of my life, but now it is the entire spiritual structure as we have lived it that is becoming an illusion! - Not the same illusion, but an illusion far worse. And I am no baby: I have been here for forty-seven years now!' Yes, She was eighty-three years old then. And that day, we ceased being 'the enemy of our own conception of the Divine,' for this entire Divine was shattered to pieces - and we met mother, at last. This mystery we call
mother, for She never ceased being a mystery right to her ninety-fifth year, and to this day still, challenges us from the other side of a wall of invisibility and keeps us floundering fully in the mystery - with a smile. She always smiles. But the mystery is not solved.
--
Where, then, was 'the mother of the Ashram' in all this? What is even 'the Ashram,' if not a spiritual museum of the resistances to Something Else. They were always - and still today - reciting their catechism beneath a little flag: they are the owners of the new truth. But the new truth is laughing in their faces and leaving them high and dry at the edge of their little stagnant pond. They are under the illusion that mother and Sri Aurobindo, twenty-seven or four years after their respective departures, could keep on repeating themselves - but then they would not be mother and
Sri Aurobindo! They would be fossils. The truth is always on the move. It is with those who dare, who have courage, and above all the courage to shatter all the effigies, to de-mystify, and to go
00.01 - The Mother on Savitri, #Sweet Mother - Harmonies of Light, #unset, #Integral Yoga
object:00.01 - The mother on Savitri
alt:Savitri (the mother to Mona)
alt:TMOS
author class:The mother
subject class:Integral Yoga
--
Auromaa - mothers Talk on Savitri to Mona Sarkar
On the 18th January 1960; when a young sadhak met the mother for a personal interview, She said to him: "I shall give you something special; be prepared." The next day, when he again met Her, She spoke in French first about how to kindle the psychic Flame and then in this connection started speaking about Sri Aurobindo`s great epic Savitri and continued to speak at length.
The sadhak, after returning from the mother, wanted to note down immediately what She had said, but he could not do so because he felt a great hesitation due to his sense of incapacity to transcribe exactly the mother`s own words.
After nearly seven years, however, he felt a strong urge to note down what the mother had spoken; so in 1967 he wrote down from memory a report in French. The report was seen by the mother and a few corrections were made by her. To another sadhak who asked Her permission to read this report She wrote: "Years ago I have spoken at length about it [Savitri] to Mona Sarkar and he has noted in French what I said. Some time back I have seen what he has written and found it correct on the whole."(4.12.1967)
On a few other occasion also, the mother had spoken to the same sadhak on the value of reading Savitri which he had noted down afterwards. These notes have been added at the end of the main report. A few members of the Ashram had privately read this report in French, but afterwards there were many requests for its English version. A translation was therefore made in November 1967. A proposal was made to the mother in 1972 for its publication and it was submitted to Her for approval. The mother wanted to check the translation before permitting its publication but could check only a portion of it.
Do you read Savitri?
Yes, mother, yes.
You have read the whole poem?
Yes, mother, I have read it twice.
Have you understood all that you have read?
--
~ The mother Sweet mother The mother to Mona Sarkar, [T0]
0 0.02 - Topographical Note, #Agenda Vol 1, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
From the time of Sri Aurobindo's departure (1950) until 1957, we have only a few notes and fragments or rare statements noted from memory. These are the only landmarks of this period, along with mother's Questions and Answers from her talks at the Ashram Playground. A few of these conversations have been reproduced here insofar as they mark stages of the Supramental
Action.
From 1957, mother received us twice a week in the office of Pavitra, the most senior of the
French disciples, on the second floor of the main Ashram building, on some pretext of work or other. She listened to our queries, spoke to us at length of yoga, occultism, her past experiences in
--
mother would be seated in this rather medieval-looking chair with its high, carved back, her feet on a little tabouret, while we sat on the floor, on a slightly faded carpet, conquered and seduced, revolted and never satisfied - but nevertheless, very interested. Treasures, never noted down, were lost until, with the cunning of the Sioux, we succeeded in making mother consent to the presence of a tape recorder. But even then, and for a long time thereafter, She carefully made us erase or delete in our notes all that concerned Her rather too personally - sometimes we disobeyed Her.
But finally we were able to convince Her of the value inherent in keeping a chronicle of the route.
It was only in 1958 that we began having the first tape-recorded conversations, which, properly speaking, constitute mother's Agenda. But even then, many of these conversations were lost or only partly noted down. Or else we considered that our own words should not figure in these notes and we carefully omitted all our questions - which was absurd. At that time, no one - neither mother, nor ourself - knew that this was 'the Agenda' and that we were out to explore the 'Great Passage.'
Only gradually did we become aware of the true nature of these meetings. Furthermore, we were constantly on the road, so much so that there are sizable gaps in the text. In fact, for seven years,
--
From 1960, the Agenda took its final shape arid grew for thirteen years, until May 1973, filling thirteen volumes in all (some six thousand pages), with a change of setting in March 1962 at the time of the Great Turning in mother's yoga when She permanently retired to her room upstairs, as had Sri Aurobindo in 1926. The interviews then took place high up in this large room carpeted in golden wool, like a ship's stateroom, amidst the rustling of the Copper Pod tree and the cawing of crows. mother would sit in a low rosewood chair, her face turned towards Sri Aurobindo's tomb, as though She were wearing down the distance separating that world from our own. Her voice had become like that of a child, one could hear her laughter. She always laughed, this mother. And then her long silences. Until the day the disciples closed her door on us. It was May 19, 1973. We did not want to believe it. She was alone, just as we were suddenly alone. Slowly, painfully, we had to discover the why of this rupture. We understood nothing of the jealousies of the old species, we did not yet realize that they were becoming the 'owners' of mother - of the Ashram, of Auroville, of
Sri Aurobindo, of everything - and that the new world was going to be denatured into a new
00.03 - Upanishadic Symbolism, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Fire represents the Heart. It is that which gives the inner motive to the forces of life, it is the secret inspiration and aspiration that drive the movements of life. It is the heat of consciousness, the ardour of our central being that lives in the Truth and accepts nothing, nothing but the Truth. It is the pure and primal energy of our divine essence, driving ever upward and onward life's course of evolution.
Air is Mind, the world of thought, of conscious formation; it is where life-movements are taken up and given a shape or articulate formula for an organised expression. The forms here have not, however, the concrete rigidity of Matter, but are pliant and variable and fluidin fact, they are more in the nature of possibilities, rather than actualities. The Vedic Maruts are thought-gods, and lndra (the Luminous Mind), their king, is called the Fashioner of perfect forms.
--
Finally, this fluid is offered to the fifth Agni, the mother or the Female, who delivers the Child.
The biological process, described in what may seem to be crude and mediaeval terms, really reflects or echoes a more subtle and psychological process. The images used form perhaps part of the current popular notion about the matter, but the esoteric sense goes beyond the outer symbols. The sky seems to be the far and tenuous region where the soul rests and awaits its next birthit is the region of Soma, the own Home of Bliss and Immortality. Now when the time or call comes, the soul stirs and journeys down that is the Rain. Next, it enters the earth atmosphere and clothes itself with the earth consciousness. Then it waits and calls for the formation of the material body, first by the contri bution of the father and then by that of the mother; when these two unite and the material body is formed, the soul incarnates.
Apart from the question whether the biological phenomenon described is really a symbol and a cloak for another order of reality, and even taking it at its face value, what is to be noted here is the idea of a cosmic cycle, and a cosmic cycle that proceeds through the principle of sacrifice. If it is asked what there is wonderful or particularly spiritual in this rather naf description of a very commonplace happening that gives it an honoured place in the Upanishads, the answer is that it is wonderful to see how the Upanishadic Rishi takes from an event its local, temporal and personal colour and incorporates it in a global movement, a cosmic cycle, as a limb of the Universal Brahman. The Upanishads contain passages which a puritanical mentality may perhaps describe as 'pornographic'; these have in fact been put by some on the Index expurgatorius. But the ancients saw these matters with other eyes and through another consciousness.
00.04 - The Beautiful in the Upanishads, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
The white mother comes reddening with the ruddy child; the dark mother opens wide her chambers, the feeling and the expression of the beautiful raise no questioning; they are au thentic as well as evident. All will recognise at once t at we have here beautiful things said in a beautiful way. No less au thentic however is the sense of the beautiful that underlies these Upanishadic lines:
na tatra sryo bhti na candratrakam
--
The One stands alone in the heaven motionless, like a tree against the sky,
or,
--
Art at its highest tends to become also the simplest and the most unconventional; and it is then the highest art, precisely because it does not aim at being artistic. The aesthetic motive is totally absent in the Upanishads; the sense of beauty is there, but it is attendant upon and involved in a deeper strand of consciousness. That consciousness seeks consciousness itself, the fullness of consciousness, the awareness and possession of the Truth and Reality,the one thing which, if known, gives the knowledge of all else. And this consciousness of the Truth is also Delight, the perfect Bliss, the Immortality where the whole universe resolves itself into its original state of rasa, that is to say, of essential and inalienable harmony and beauty.
***
0.00a - Introduction, #A Garden of Pomegranates - An Outline of the Qabalah, #Israel Regardie, #Occultism
A good many attri butions in other symbolic areas, I feel are subject to the same criticism. The Egyptian Gods have been used with a good deal of carelessness, and without sufficient explanation of motives in assigning them as I did. In a recent edition of Crowley's masterpiece Liber 777 (which au fond is less a reflection of Crowley's mind as a recent critic claimed than a tabulation of some of the material given piecemeal in the Golden Dawn knowledge lectures), he gives for the first time brief explanations of the motives for his attri butions. I too should have been far more explicit in the explanations I used in the case of some of the Gods whose names were used many times, most inadequately, where several paths were concerned. While it is true that the religious coloring of the Egyptian Gods differed from time to time during Egypt's turbulent history, nonetheless a word or two about just that one single point could have served a useful purpose.
Some of the passages in the book force me today to emphasize that so far as the Qabalah is concerned, it could and should be employed without binding to it the partisan qualities of any one particular religious faith. This goes as much for Judaism as it does for Christianity. Neither has much intrinsic usefulness where this scientific scheme is concerned. If some students feel hurt by this statement, that cannot be helped. The day of most contemporary faiths is over; they have been more of a curse than a boon to mankind. Nothing that I say here, however, should reflect on the peoples concerned, those who accept these religions. They are merely unfortunate. The religion itself is worn out and indeed is dying.
0.00 - INTRODUCTION, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
About his parents Sri Ramakrishna once said: "My mother was the personification of rectitude and gentleness. She did not know much about the ways of the world; innocent of the art of concealment, she would say what was in her mind. People loved her for her open-heartedness. My father, an orthodox brahmin, never accepted gifts from the sudras. He spent much of his time in worship and meditation, and in repeating God's name and chanting His glories. Whenever in his daily prayers he invoked the Goddess Gayatri, his chest flushed and tears rolled down his cheeks. He spent his leisure hours making garlands for the Family Deity, Raghuvir."
Khudiram Chattopadhyaya and Chandra Devi, the parents of Sri Ramakrishna, were married in 1799. At that time Khudiram was living in his ancestral village of Dereypore, not far from Kamarpukur. Their first son, Ramkumar, was born in 1805, and their first daughter, Katyayani, in 1810. In 1814 Khudiram was ordered by his landlord to bear false witness in court against a neighbour. When he refused to do so, the landlord brought a false case against him and deprived him of his ancestral property. Thus dispossessed, he arrived, at the invitation of another landlord, in the quiet village of Kamarpukur, where he was given a dwelling and about an acre of fertile land. The crops from this little property were enough to meet his family's simple needs. Here he lived in simplicity, dignity, and contentment.
--
Gadadhar was seven years old when his father died. This incident profoundly affected him. For the first time the boy realized that life on earth was impermanent. Unobserved by others, he began to slip into the mango orchard or into one of the cremation grounds, and he spent hours absorbed in his own thoughts. He also became more helpful to his mother in the discharge of her household duties. He gave more attention to reading and hearing the religious stories recorded in the Puranas. And he became interested in the wandering monks and pious pilgrims who would stop at Kamarpukur on their way to Puri. These holy men, the custodians of India's spiritual heritage and the living witnesses of the ideal of renunciation of the world and all-absorbing love of God, entertained the little boy with stories from the Hindu epics, stories of saints and prophets, and also stories of their own adventures. He, on his part, fetched their water and fuel and
served them in various ways. Meanwhile, he was observing their meditation and worship.
--
In 1847 the Rani purchased twenty acres of land at Dakshineswar, a village about four miles north of Calcutta. Here she created a temple garden and constructed several temples. Her Ishta, or Chosen Ideal, was the Divine mother, Kali.
The temple garden stands directly on the east bank of the Ganges. The northern section of the land and a portion to the east contain an orchard, flower gardens, and two small reservoirs. The southern section is paved with brick and mortar. The visitor arriving by boat ascends the steps of an imposing bathing-ghat which leads to the chandni, a roofed terrace, on either side of which stand in a row six temples of Siva. East of the terrace and the Siva temples is a large court, paved, rectangular in shape, and running north and south. Two temples stand in the centre of this court, the larger one, to the south and facing south, being dedicated to Kali, and the smaller one, facing the Ganges, to Radhakanta, that is, Krishna, the Consort of Radha. Nine domes with spires surmount the temple of Kali, and before it stands the spacious natmandir, or music hall, the terrace of which is sup- ported by stately pillars. At the northwest and southwest
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The main temple is dedicated to Kali, the Divine mother, here worshipped as Bhavatarini, the Saviour of the Universe. The floor of this temple also is paved with marble. The basalt image of the mother, dressed in gorgeous gold brocade, stands on a white marble image of the prostrate body of Her Divine Consort, Siva, the symbol of the Absolute. On the feet of the Goddess are, among other ornaments, anklets of gold. Her arms are decked with jewelled ornaments of gold. She wears necklaces of gold and pearls, a golden garland of human heads, and a girdle of human arms. She wears a golden crown, golden ear-rings, and a golden nose-ring with a pearl-drop. She has four arms. The lower left hand holds a severed human head and the upper grips a blood-stained sabre. One right hand offers boons to Her children; the other allays their fear. The majesty of Her posture can hardly be described. It combines the terror of destruction with the reassurance of motherly tenderness. For She is the Cosmic Power, the totality of the universe, a glorious harmony of the pairs of opposites. She deals out death, as She creates and preserves. She has three eyes, the third being the symbol of Divine Wisdom; they strike dismay into the wicked, yet pour out affection for Her devotees.
The whole symbolic world is represented in the temple garden — the Trinity of the Nature mother (Kali), the Absolute (Siva), and Love (Radhakanta), the Arch spanning heaven and earth. The terrific Goddess of the Tantra, the soul-enthralling Flute-Player of the Bhagavata, and the Self-absorbed Absolute of the Vedas live together, creating the greatest synthesis of religions. All aspects of Reality are represented there. But of this divine household, Kali is the pivot, the sovereign Mistress. She is Prakriti, the Procreatrix, Nature, the Destroyer, the Creator. Nay, She is something greater and deeper still for those who have eyes to see. She is the Universal mother, "my mother" as Ramakrishna would say, the All-powerful, who reveals Herself to Her children under different aspects and Divine Incarnations, the Visible God, who leads the elect to the Invisible Reality; and if it so pleases Her, She takes away the last trace of ego from created beings and merges it in the consciousness of the Absolute, the undifferentiated God. Through Her grace "the finite ego loses itself in the illimitable Ego — Atman — Brahman". (Romain Holland, Prophets of the New India, p. 11.)
Rani Rasmani spent a fortune for the construction of the temple garden and another fortune for its dedication ceremony, which took place on May 31, 1855.
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^Hriday's mother was the daughter of Sri Ramakrishna's aunt (Khudiram's sister). Such a degree of relationship is termed in Bengal that of a "distant nephew".
--- SRI RAMAKRISHNA AS A PRIEST
Born in an orthodox brahmin family, Sri Ramakrishna knew the formalities of worship, its rites and rituals. The innumerable gods and goddesses of the Hindu religion are the human aspects of the indescribable and incomprehensible Spirit, as conceived by the finite human mind. They understand and appreciate human love and e motion, help men to realize their secular and spiritual ideals, and ultimately enable men to attain liberation from the miseries of phenomenal life. The Source of light, intelligence, wisdom, and strength is the One alone from whom comes the fulfilment of desire. Yet, as long as a man is bound by his human limitations, he cannot but worship God through human forms. He must use human symbols. Therefore Hinduism asks the devotees to look on God as the ideal father, the ideal mother, the ideal husband, the ideal son, or the ideal friend. But the name ultimately leads to the Nameless, the form to the Formless, the word to the Silence, the e motion to the serene realization of Peace in Existence-Knowledge-Bliss Absolute. The gods gradually merge in the one God. But until that realization is achieved, the devotee cannot dissociate human factors from his worship. Therefore the Deity is bathed and clothed and decked with ornaments. He is fed and put to sleep. He is propitiated with hymns, songs, and prayers. And there are appropriate rites connected with all these functions. For instance, to secure for himself external purity, the priest bathes himself in holy water and puts on a holy cloth. He purifies the mind and the sense-organs by appropriate meditations. He fortifies the place of worship against evil forces by drawing around it circles of fire and water. He awakens the different spiritual centres of the body and invokes the Supreme Spirit in his heart. Then he transfers the Supreme Spirit to the image before him and worships the image, regarding it no longer as clay or stone, but as the embodiment of Spirit, throbbing with Life and Consciousness. After the worship the Supreme Spirit is recalled from the image to Its true sanctuary, the heart of the priest. The real devotee knows the absurdity of worshipping the Transcendental Reality with material articles — clothing That which pervades the whole universe and the beyond, putting on a pedestal That which cannot be limited by space, feeding That which is disembodied and incorporeal, singing before That whose glory the music of the spheres tries vainly to proclaim. But through these rites the devotee aspires to go ultimately beyond rites and rituals, forms and names, words and praise, and to realize God as the All-pervading Consciousness.
Hindu priests are thoroughly acquainted with the rites of worship, but few of them are aware of their underlying significance. They move their hands and limbs mechanically, in obedience to the letter of the scriptures, and repeat the holy mantras like parrots. But from the very beginning the inner meaning of these rites was revealed to Sri Ramakrishna. As he sat facing the image, a strange transformation came over his mind. While going through the prescribed ceremonies, he would actually find himself encircled by a wall of fire protecting him and the place of worship from unspiritual vibrations, or he would feel the rising of the mystic Kundalini through the different centres of the body. The glow on his face, his deep absorption, and the intense atmosphere of the temple impressed everyone who saw him worship the Deity.
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Mathur begged Sri Ramakrishna to take charge of the worship in the Kali temple. The young priest pleaded his incompetence and his ignorance of the scriptures. Mathur insisted that devotion and sincerity would more than compensate for any lack of formal knowledge and make the Divine mother manifest Herself through the image. In the end, Sri Ramakrishna had to yield to Mathur's request. He became the priest of Kali.
In 1856 Ramkumar breathed his last. Sri Ramakrishna had already witnessed more than one death in the family. He had come to realize how impermanent is life on earth. The more he was convinced of the transitory nature of worldly things, the more eager he became to realize God, the Fountain of Immortality.
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And, indeed, he soon discovered what a strange Goddess he had chosen to serve. He became gradually enmeshed in the web of Her all-pervading presence. To the ignorant She is, to be sure, the image of destruction; but he found in Her the benign, all-loving mother. Her neck is encircled with a garland of heads, and Her waist with a girdle of human arms, and two of Her hands hold weapons of death, and Her eyes dart a glance of fire; but, strangely enough, Ramakrishna felt in Her breath the soothing touch of tender love and saw in Her the Seed of Immortality. She stands on the bosom of Her Consort, Siva; it is because She is the Sakti, the Power, inseparable from the Absolute. She is surrounded by jackals and other unholy creatures, the denizens of the cremation ground. But is not the Ultimate Reality above holiness and unholiness? She appears to be reeling under the spell of wine. But who would create this mad world unless under the influence of a divine drunkenness? She is the highest symbol of all the forces of nature, the synthesis of their antinomies, the Ultimate Divine in the form of woman. She now became to Sri Ramakrishna the only Reality, and the world became an unsubstantial shadow. Into Her worship he poured his soul. Before him She stood as the transparent portal to the shrine of Ineffable Reality.
The worship in the temple intensified Sri Ramakrishna's yearning for a living vision of the mother of the Universe. He began to spend in meditation the time not actually employed in the temple service; and for this purpose he selected an extremely solitary place. A deep jungle, thick with underbrush and prickly plants, lay to the north of the temples. Used at one time as a burial ground, it was shunned by people even during the day-time for fear of ghosts. There Sri Ramakrishna began to spend the whole night in meditation, returning to his room only in the morning with eyes swollen as though from much weeping. While meditating, he would lay aside his cloth and his brahminical thread. Explaining this strange conduct, he once said to Hriday: "Don't you know that when one thinks of God one should be freed from all ties? From our very birth we have the eight fetters of hatred, shame, lineage, pride of good conduct, fear, secretiveness, caste, and grief. The sacred thread reminds me that I am a brahmin and therefore superior to all. When calling on the mother one has to set aside all such ideas." Hriday thought his uncle was becoming insane.
As his love for God deepened, he began either to forget or to drop the formalities of worship. Sitting before the image, he would spend hours singing the devotional songs of great devotees of the mother, such as Kamalakanta and Ramprasad. Those rhapsodical songs, describing the direct vision of God, only intensified Sri Ramakrishna's longing. He felt the pangs of a child separated from its mother. Sometimes, in agony, he would rub his face against the ground and weep so bitterly that people, thinking he had lost his earthly mother, would sympathize with him in his grief. Sometimes, in moments of scepticism, he would cry: "Art Thou true, mother, or is it all fiction — mere poetry without any reality? If Thou dost exist, why do I not see Thee? Is religion a mere fantasy and art Thou only a figment of man's imagination?" Sometimes he would sit on the prayer carpet for two hours like an inert object. He began to behave in an abnormal manner
, most of the time unconscious of the world. He almost gave up food; and sleep left him altogether.
But he did not have to wait very long. He has thus described his first vision of the mother: "I felt as if my heart were being squeezed like a wet towel. I was overpowered with a great restlessness and a fear that it might not be my lot to realize Her in this life. I could not bear the separation from Her any longer. Life seemed to be not worth living. Suddenly my glance fell on the sword that was kept in the mother's temple. I determined to put an end to my life. When I jumped up like a madman and seized it, suddenly the blessed mother revealed Herself. The buildings with their different parts, the temple, and everything else vanished from my sight, leaving no trace whatsoever, and in their stead I saw a limitless, infinite, effulgent Ocean of Consciousness. As far as the eye could see, the shining billows were madly rushing at me from all sides with a terrific noise, to swallow me up! I was panting for breath. I was caught in the rush
and collapsed, unconscious. What was happening in the outside world I did not know; but within me there was a steady flow of undiluted bliss, altogether new, and I felt the presence of the Divine mother." On his lips when he regained consciousness of the world was the word " mother".
--- GOD-INTOXICATED STATE
Yet this was only a foretaste of the intense experiences to come. The first glimpse of the Divine mother made him the more eager for Her uninterrupted vision. He wanted to see Her both in meditation and with eyes open. But the mother began to play a teasing game of hide-and-seek with him, intensifying both his joy and his suffering. Weeping bitterly during the moments of separation from Her, he would pass into a trance and then find Her standing before him, smiling, talking, consoling, bidding him be of good cheer, and instructing him. During this period of spiritual practice he had many uncommon experiences. When he sat to meditate, he would hear strange clicking sounds in the joints of his legs, as if someone were locking them up, one after the other, to keep him motionless; and at the conclusion of his meditation he would again hear the same sounds, this time unlocking them and leaving him free to move about. He would see flashes like a swarm of fire-flies floating before his eyes, or a sea of deep mist around him, with luminous waves of molten silver. Again, from a sea of translucent mist he would behold the mother rising, first Her feet, then Her waist, body, face, and head, finally Her whole person; he would feel Her breath and hear Her voice. Worshipping in the temple, sometimes he would become exalted, sometimes he would remain motionless as stone, sometimes he would almost collapse from excessive e motion. Many of his actions, contrary to all tradition, seemed sacrilegious to the people. He would take a flower and touch it to his own head, body, and feet, and then offer it to the Goddess. Or, like a drunkard, he would reel to the throne of the mother, touch Her chin by way of showing his affection for Her, and sing, talk, joke, laugh, and dance. Or he would take a morsel of food from the plate and hold it to Her mouth, begging Her to eat it, and would not be satisfied till he was convinced that She had really eaten. After the mother had been put to sleep at night, from his own room he would hear Her ascending to the upper storey of the temple with the light steps of a happy girl, Her anklets jingling. Then he would discover Her standing with flowing hair. Her black form silhouetted against the sky of the night, looking at the Ganges or at the distant lights of Calcutta.
Naturally the temple officials took him for an insane person. His worldly well-wishers brought him to skilled physicians; but no-medicine could cure his malady. Many a time he doubted his sanity himself. For he had been sailing across an uncharted sea, with no earthly guide to direct him. His only haven of security was the Divine mother Herself. To Her he would pray: "I do not know what these things are. I am ignorant of mantras and the scriptures. Teach me, mother, how to realize Thee. Who else can help me? Art Thou not my only refuge and guide?" And the sustaining presence of the mother never failed him in his distress or doubt. Even those who criticized his conduct were greatly impressed with his purity, guilelessness, truthfulness, integrity, and holiness. They felt an uplifting influence in his presence.
It is said that samadhi, or trance, no more than opens the portal of the spiritual realm. Sri Ramakrishna felt an unquenchable desire to enjoy God in various ways. For his meditation he built a place in the northern wooded section of the temple garden. With Hriday's help he planted there five sacred trees. The spot, known as the Panchavati, became the scene of many of his visions.
As his spiritual mood deepened he more and more felt himself to be a child of the Divine mother. He learnt to surrender himself completely to Her will and let Her direct him.
"O mother," he would constantly pray, "I have taken refuge in Thee. Teach me what to do and what to say. Thy will is paramount everywhere and is for the good of Thy children. Merge my will in Thy will and make me Thy instrument."
His visions became deeper and more intimate. He no longer had to meditate to behold the Divine mother. Even while retaining consciousness of the outer world, he would see Her as tangibly as the temples, the trees, the river, and the men around him.
On a certain occasion Mathur Babu stealthily entered the temple to watch the worship. He was profoundly moved by the young priest's devotion and sincerity. He realized that Sri Ramakrishna had transformed the stone image into the living Goddess.
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Sri Ramakrishna has described the incident: "The Divine mother revealed to me in the Kali temple that it was She who had become everything. She showed me that everything was full of Consciousness. The image was Consciousness, the altar was Consciousness, the water-vessels were Consciousness, the door-sill was Consciousness, the marble floor was Consciousness — all was Consciousness. I found everything inside the room soaked, as it were, in Bliss — the Bliss of God. I saw a wicked man in front of the Kali temple; but in him also I saw the power of the Divine mother vibrating. That was why I fed a cat with the food that was to be offered to the Divine mother. I clearly perceived that all this was the Divine mother — even the cat. The manager of the temple garden wrote to Mathur Babu saying that I was feeding the cat with the offering intended for the Divine mother. But Mathur Babu had insight into the state of my mind. He wrote back to the manager: 'Let him do whatever he likes. You must not say anything to him.'"
One of the painful ailments from which Sri Ramakrishna suffered at this time was a burning sensation in his body, and he was cured by a strange vision. During worship in the temple, following the scriptural injunctions, he would imagine the presence of the "sinner" in himself and the destruction of this "sinner". One day he was meditating in the Panchavati, when he saw come out of him a red-eyed man of black complexion, reeling like a drunkard. Soon there emerged from him another person, of serene countenance, wearing the ochre cloth of a sannyasi and carrying in his hand a trident. The second person attacked the first and killed him with the trident. Thereafter Sri Ramakrishna was free of his pain.
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Mathur had faith in the sincerity of Sri Ramakrishna's spiritual zeal, but began now to doubt his sanity. He had watched him jumping about like a monkey. One day, when Rani Rasmani was listening to Sri Ramakrishna's singing in the temple, the young priest abruptly turned and slapped her. Apparently listening to his song, she had actually been thinking of a law-suit. She accepted the punishment as though the Divine mother Herself had imposed it; but Mathur was distressed. He begged Sri Ramakrishna to keep his feelings under control and to heed the conventions of society. God Himself, he argued, follows laws. God never permitted, for instance, flowers of two colours to grow on the same stalk. The following day Sri Ramakrishna presented Mathur Babu with two hibiscus flowers growing on the same stalk, one red and one white.
Mathur and Rani Rasmani began to ascribe the mental ailment of Sri Ramakrishna in part, at least, to his observance of rigid continence. Thinking that a natural life would relax the tension of his nerves, they engineered a plan with two women of ill fame. But as soon as the women entered his room, Sri Ramakrishna beheld in them the manifestation of the Divine mother of the Universe and went into samadhi uttering Her name.
--- HALADHARI
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One day Haladhari upset Sri Ramakrishna with the statement that God is incomprehensible to the human mind. Sri Ramakrishna has described the great moment of doubt when he wondered whether his visions had really misled him: "With sobs I prayed to the mother, 'Canst Thou have the heart to deceive me like this because I am a fool?' A stream of tears flowed from my eyes. Shortly afterwards I saw a volume of mist rising from the floor and filling the space before me. In the midst of it there appeared a face with flowing beard, calm, highly expressive, and fair. Fixing its gaze steadily upon me, it said solemnly, 'Remain in bhavamukha, on the threshold of relative consciousness.' This it repeated three times and then it gently disappeared in the mist, which itself dissolved. This vision reassured me."
A garbled report of Sri Ramakrishna's failing health, indifference to worldly life, and various abnormal activities reached Kamarpukur and filled the heart of his poor mother with anguish. At her repeated request he returned to his village for a change of air. But his boyhood friends did not interest him any more. A divine fever was consuming him. He spent a great part of the day and night in one of the cremation grounds, in meditation. The place reminded him of the impermanence of the human body, of human hopes and achievements. It also reminded him of Kali, the Goddess of destruction.
--- MARRIAGE AND AFTER
But in a few months his health showed improvement, and he recovered to some extent his natural buoyancy of spirit. His happy mother was encouraged to think it might be a good time to arrange his marriage. The boy was now twenty-three years old. A wife would bring him back to earth. And she was delighted when her son welcomed her suggestion. Perhaps he saw in it the finger of God.
Saradamani, a little girl of five, lived in the neighbouring village of Jayrambati. Even at this age she had been praying to God to make her character as stainless and fragrant as the white tuberose. Looking at the full moon, she would say: "O God, there are dark spots even on the moon. But make my character spotless." It was she who was selected as the bride for Sri Ramakrishna.
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Hardly had he crossed the threshold of the Kali temple when he found himself again in the whirlwind. His madness reappeared tenfold. The same meditation and prayer, the same ecstatic moods, the same burning sensation, the same weeping, the same sleeplessness, the same indifference to the body and the outside world, the same divine delirium. He subjected himself to fresh disciplines in order to eradicate greed and lust, the two great impediments to spiritual progress. With a rupee in one hand and some earth in the other, he would reflect on the comparative value of these two for the realization of God, and finding them equally worthless he would toss them, with equal indifference, into the Ganges. Women he regarded as the manifestations of the Divine mother. Never even in a dream did he feel the impulses of lust. And to root out of his mind the idea of caste superiority, he cleaned a pariahs house with his long and neglected hair. When he would sit in meditation, birds would perch on his head and peck in his hair for grains of food. Snakes would crawl over his body, and neither would be aware of the other. Sleep left him altogether. Day and night, visions flitted before him. He saw the sannyasi who had previously killed the "sinner" in him again coming out of his body, threatening him with the trident, and ordering him to concentrate on God. Or the same sannyasi would visit distant places, following a luminous path, and bring him reports of what was happening there. Sri Ramakrishna used to say later that in the case of an advanced devotee the mind itself becomes the guru, living and moving like an embodied being.
Rani Rasmani, the foundress of the temple garden, passed away in 1861. After her death her son-in-law Mathur became the sole executor of the estate. He placed himself and his resources at the disposal of Sri Ramakrishna and began to look after his physical comfort. Sri Ramakrishna later spoke of him as one of his five "suppliers of stores" appointed by the Divine mother. Whenever a desire arose in his mind, Mathur fulfilled it without hesitation.
--- THE BRAHMANI
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Very soon a tender relationship sprang up between Sri Ramakrishna and the Brahmani, she looking upon him as the Baby Krishna, and he upon her as mother. Day after day she watched his ecstasy during the kirtan and meditation, his samadhi, his mad yearning; and she recognized in him a power to transmit spirituality to others. She came to the conclusion that such things were not possible for an ordinary devotee, not even for a highly developed soul. Only an Incarnation of God was capable of such spiritual manifestations. She proclaimed openly that Sri Ramakrishna, like Sri Chaitanya, was an Incarnation of God.
When Sri Ramakrishna told Mathur what the Brahmani had said about him, Mathur shook his head in doubt. He was reluctant to accept him as an Incarnation of God, an Avatar comparable to Rama, Krishna, Buddha, and Chaitanya, though he admitted Sri Ramakrishna's extraordinary spirituality. Whereupon the Brahmani asked Mathur to arrange a conference of scholars who should discuss the matter with her. He agreed to the proposal and the meeting was arranged. It was to be held in the natmandir in front of the Kali temple.
Two famous pundits of the time were invited: Vaishnavcharan, the leader of the Vaishnava society, and Gauri. The first to arrive was Vaishnavcharan, with a distinguished company of scholars and devotees. The Brahmani, like a proud mother, proclaimed her view before him and supported it with quotations from the scriptures. As the pundits discussed the deep theological question, Sri Ramakrishna, perfectly indifferent to everything happening around him, sat in their midst like a child, immersed in his own thoughts, sometimes smiling, sometimes chewing a pinch of spices from a pouch, or again saying to Vaishnavcharan with a nudge: "Look here. Sometimes I feel like this, too." Presently Vaishnavcharan arose to declare himself in total agreement with the view of the Brahmani. He declared that Sri Ramakrishna had undoubtedly experienced mahabhava and that this was the certain sign of the rare manifestation of God in a man. The people assembled
there, especially the officers of the temple garden, were struck dumb. Sri Rama- krishna said to Mathur, like a boy: "Just fancy, he too says so! Well, I am glad to learn that after all it is not a disease."
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Thus the insane priest was by verdict of the great scholars of the day proclaimed a Divine Incarnation. His visions were not the result of an over-heated brain; they had precedent in spiritual history. And how did the proclamation affect Sri Ramakrishna himself? He remained the simple child of the mother that he had been since the first day of his life. Years later, when two of his householder disciples openly spoke of him as a Divine Incarnation and the matter was reported to him, he said with a touch of sarcasm: "Do they think they will enhance my glory that way? One of them is an actor on the stage and the other a physician. What do they know about Incarnations? Why, years ago pundits like Gauri and Vaishnavcharan declared me to be an Avatar. They were great scholars and knew what they said. But that did not make any change in my mind."
Sri Ramakrishna was a learner all his life. He often used to quote a proverb to his disciples: "Friend, the more I live the more I learn." When the excitement created by the Brahmani's declaration was over, he set himself to the task of practising spiritual disciplines according to the traditional methods laid down in the Tantra and Vaishnava scriptures. Hitherto he had pursued his spiritual ideal according to the promptings of his own mind and heart. Now he accepted the Brahmani as his guru and set foot on the traditional highways.
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The disciplines of Tantra are graded to suit aspirants of all degrees. Exercises are prescribed for people with "animal", "heroic", and "divine" outlooks. Certain of the rites require the presence of members of the opposite sex. Here the aspirant learns to look on woman as the embodiment of the Goddess Kali, the mother of the Universe. The very basis of Tantra is the motherhood of God and the glorification of woman. Every part of a woman's body is to be regarded as incarnate Divinity. But the rites are extremely dangerous. The help of a qualified guru is absolutely necessary. An unwary devotee may lose his foothold and fall into a pit of depravity.
According to the Tantra, Sakti is the active creative force in the universe. Siva, the Absolute, is a more or less passive principle. Further, Sakti is as inseparable from Siva as fire's power to burn is from fire itself. Sakti, the Creative Power, contains in Its womb the universe, and therefore is the Divine mother. All women are Her symbols. Kali is one of Her several forms. The meditation on Kali, the Creative Power, is the central discipline of the Tantra. While meditating, the aspirant at first regards himself as one with the Absolute and then thinks that out of that Impersonal Consciousness emerge two entities, namely, his own self and the living form of the Goddess. He then projects the Goddess into the tangible image before him and worships it as the Divine mother.
Sri Ramakrishna set himself to the task of practising the disciplines of Tantra; and at the bidding of the Divine mother Herself he accepted the Brahmani as his guru. He performed profound and delicate ceremonies in the Panchavati and under the bel-tree at the northern extremity of the temple compound. He practised all the disciplines of the sixty-four principal Tantra books, and it took him never more than three days to achieve the result promised in any one of them. After the observance of a few preliminary rites, he would be overwhelmed with a strange divine fervour and would go into samadhi, where his mind would dwell in exaltation. Evil ceased to exist for him. The word "carnal" lost its meaning. The whole world and everything in it appeared as the lila, the sport, of Siva and Sakti. He beheld held everywhere manifest the power and beauty of the mother; the whole world, animate and inanimate, appeared to him as pervaded with Chit, Consciousness, and with Ananda, Bliss.
He saw in a vision the Ultimate Cause of the universe as a huge luminous triangle giving birth every moment to an infinite number of worlds. He heard the Anahata Sabda, the great sound Om, of which the innumerable sounds of the universe are only so many echoes. He acquired the eight supernatural powers of yoga, which make a man almost omnipotent, and these he spurned as of no value whatsoever to the Spirit. He had a vision of the divine Maya, the inscrutable Power of God, by which the universe is created and sustained, and into which it is finally absorbed. In this vision he saw a woman of exquisite beauty, about to become a mother, emerging from the Ganges and slowly approaching the Panchavati. Presently she gave birth to a child and began to nurse it tenderly. A moment later she assumed a terrible aspect, seized the child with her grim jaws, and crushed it. Swallowing it, she re-entered the waters of the Ganges.
But the most remarkable experience during this period was the awakening of the Kundalini Sakti, the "Serpent Power". He actually saw the Power, at first lying asleep at the bottom of the spinal column, then waking up and ascending along the mystic Sushumna canal and through its six centres, or lotuses, to the Sahasrara, the thousand-petalled lotus in the top of the head. He further saw that as the Kundalini went upward the different lotuses bloomed. And this phenomenon was accompanied by visions and trances. Later on he described to his disciples and devotees the various movements of the Kundalini: the fishlike, birdlike, monkeylike, and so on. The awaken- ing of the Kundalini is the beginning of spiritual consciousness, and its union with Siva in the Sahasrara, ending in samadhi, is the consummation of the Tantrik disciplines.
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To develop the devotee's love for God, Vaishnavism humanizes God. God is to be regarded as the devotee's Parent, Master, Friend, Child, Husband, or Sweetheart, each succeeding relationship representing an intensification of love. These bhavas, or attitudes toward God, are known as santa, dasya, sakhya, vatsalya, and madhur. The rishis of the Vedas, Hanuman, the cow-herd boys of Vrindavan, Rama's mother Kausalya, and Radhika, Krishna's sweetheart, exhibited, respectively, the most perfect examples of these forms. In the ascending scale the-glories of God are gradually forgotten and the devotee realizes more and more the intimacy of divine communion. Finally he regards himself as the mistress of his Beloved, and no artificial barrier remains to separate him from his Ideal. No social or moral obligation can bind to the earth his soaring spirit. He experiences perfect union with the Godhead. Unlike the Vedantist, who strives to transcend all varieties of the subject-object relationship, a devotee of the Vaishnava path wishes to retain both his own individuality and the personality of God. To him God is not an intangible Absolute, but the Purushottama, the Supreme Person.
While practising the discipline of the madhur bhava, the male devotee often regards himself as a woman, in order to develop the most intense form of love for Sri Krishna, the only purusha, or man, in the universe. This assumption of the attitude of the opposite sex has a deep psychological significance. It is a matter of common experience that an idea may be cultivated to such an intense degree that every idea alien to it is driven from the mind. This peculiarity of the mind may be utilized for the subjugation of the lower desires and the development of the spiritual nature. Now, the idea which is the basis of all desires and passions in a man is the conviction of his indissoluble association with a male body. If he can inoculate himself thoroughly with the idea that he is a woman, he can get rid of the desires peculiar to his male body. Again, the idea that he is a woman may in turn be made to give way to another higher idea, namely, that he is neither man nor woman, but the Impersonal Spirit. The Impersonal Spirit alone can enjoy real communion with the Impersonal God. Hence the highest est realization of the Vaishnava draws close to the transcendental experience of the Vedantist.
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Sri Ramakrishna, as the monkey Hanuman, had already worshipped God as his Master. Through his devotion to Kali he had worshipped God as his mother. He was now to take up the other relationships prescribed by the Vaishnava scriptures.
--- RAMLALA
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Sri Ramakrishna, much impressed with his devotion, requested Jatadhari to spend a few days at Dakshineswar. Soon Ramlala became the favourite companion of Sri Ramakrishna too. Later on he described to the devotees how the little image would dance gracefully before him, jump on his back, insist on being taken in his arms, run to the fields in the sun, pluck flowers from the bushes, and play pranks like a naughty boy. A very sweet relationship sprang up between him and Ramlala, for whom he felt the love of a mother.
One day Jatadhari requested Sri Ramakrishna to keep the image and bade him adieu with tearful eyes. He declared that Ramlala had fulfilled his innermost prayer and that he now had no more need of formal worship. A few days later Sri Ramakrishna was blessed through Ramlala with a vision of Ramachandra, whereby he realized that the Rama of the Ramayana, the son of Dasaratha, pervades the whole universe as Spirit and Consciousness; that He is its Creator, Sustainer, and Destroyer; that, in still another aspect, He is the transcendental Brahman, without form, attribute, or name.
While worshipping Ramlala as the Divine Child, Sri Ramakrishna's heart became filled with motherly tenderness, and he began to regard himself as a woman. His speech and gestures changed. He began to move freely with the ladies of Mathur's family, who now looked upon him as one of their own sex. During this time he worshipped the Divine mother as Her companion or handmaid.
--- IN COMMUNION WITH THE DIVINE BELOVED
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The Brahmani was the enthusiastic teacher and astonished beholder of Sri Ramakrishna in his spiritual progress. She became proud of the achievements of her unique pupil. But the pupil himself was not permitted to rest; his destiny beckoned him forward. His Divine mother would allow him no respite till he had left behind the entire realm of duality with its visions, experiences, and ecstatic dreams. But for the new ascent the old tender guides would not suffice. The Brahmani, on whom he had depended for, three years, saw her son escape from her to follow the command of a teacher with masculine strength, a sterner mien, a gnarled physique, and a virile voice. The new guru was a wandering monk, the sturdy Totapuri, whom Sri Ramakrishna learnt to address affectionately as Nangta, the "Naked One", because of his total renunciation of all earthly objects and attachments, including even a piece of wearing cloth.
Totapuri was the bearer of a philosophy new to Sri Ramakrishna, the non-dualistic Vedanta philosophy, whose conclusions Totapuri had experienced in his own life. This ancient Hindu system designates the Ultimate Reality as Brahman, also described as Satchidananda, Existence-Knowledge-Bliss Absolute. Brahman is the only Real Existence. In It there is no time, no space, no causality, no multiplicity. But through maya, Its inscrutable Power, time, space, and causality are created and the One appears to break into the many. The eternal Spirit appears as a manifold of individuals endowed with form and subject to the conditions of time. The Immortal becomes a victim of birth and death. The Changeless undergoes change. The sinless Pure Soul, hypnotized by Its own maya, experiences the joys of heaven and the pains of hell. But these experiences based on the duality of the subject-object relationship are unreal. Even the vision of a Personal God
--
Totapuri, discovering at once that Sri Ramakrishna was prepared to be a student of Vedanta, asked to initiate him into its mysteries. With the permission of the Divine mother, Sri Ramakrishna agreed to the proposal. But Totapuri explained that only a sannyasi could receive the teaching of Vedanta. Sri Ramakrishna agreed to renounce the world, but with the stipulation that the ceremony of his initiation into the monastic order be performed in secret, to spare the feelings of his old mother, who had been living with him at Dakshineswar.
On the appointed day, in the small hours of the morning, a fire was lighted in the Panchavati. Totapuri and Sri Ramakrishna sat before it. The flame played on their faces. "Ramakrishna was a small brown man with a short beard and beautiful eyes, long dark eyes, full of light, obliquely set and slightly veiled, never very wide open, but seeing half-closed a great distance both outwardly and inwardly. His mouth was open over his white teeth in a bewitching smile, at once affectionate and mischievous. Of medium height, he was thin to emaciation and extremely delicate. His temperament was high-strung, for he was supersensitive to all the winds of joy and sorrow, both moral and physical. He was indeed a living reflection of all that happened before the mirror of his eyes, a two-sided mirror, turned both out and in." (Romain Rolland, Prophets of the New India, pp. 38-9.) Facing him, the other rose like a rock. He was very tall and robust, a sturdy and tough oak. His constitution and mind were of iron. He was the strong leader of men.
--
Totapuri asked the disciple to withdraw his mind from all objects of the relative world, including the gods and goddesses, and to concentrate on the Absolute. But the task was not easy even for Sri Ramakrishna. He found it impossible to take his mind beyond Kali, the Divine mother of the Universe. "After the initiation", Sri Ramakrishna once said, describing the event, "Nangta began to teach me the various conclusions of the Advaita Vedanta and asked me to withdraw the mind completely from all objects and dive deep into the Atman. But in spite of all my attempts I could not altogether cross the realm of name and form and bring my mind to the unconditioned state. I had no difficulty in taking the mind from all the objects of the world. But the radiant and too familiar figure of the Blissful mother, the Embodiment of the essence of Pure Consciousness, appeared before me as a living reality. Her bewitching smile prevented me from passing into the Great Beyond. Again and again I tried, but She stood in my way every time. In despair I said to Nangta: 'It is hopeless. I cannot raise my mind to the unconditioned state and come face to face with Atman.' He grew excited and sharply said: 'What? You can't do it? But you have to.' He cast his eyes around. Finding a piece of glass he took it up and stuck it between my eyebrows. 'Concentrate the mind on this point!' he thundered. Then with stern determination I again sat to meditate. As soon as the gracious form of the Divine mother appeared before me, I used my discrimination as a sword and with it clove Her in two. The last barrier fell. My spirit at once soared beyond the relative plane and I lost myself in samadhi."
Sri Ramakrishna remained completely absorbed in samadhi for three days. "Is it really true?" Totapuri cried out in astonishment. "Is it possible that he has attained in a single day what it took me forty years of strenuous practice to achieve? Great God! It is nothing short of a miracle!" With the help of Totapuri, Sri Ramakrishna's mind finally came down to the relative plane.
--
Sri Ramakrishna, on the other hand, though fully aware, like his guru, that the world is an illusory appearance, instead of slighting maya, like an orthodox monist, acknowledged its power in the relative life. He was all love and reverence for maya, perceiving in it a mysterious and majestic expression of Divinity. To him maya itself was God, for everything was God. It was one of the faces of Brahman. What he had realized on the heights of the transcendental plane, he also found here below, everywhere about him, under the mysterious garb of names and forms. And this garb was a perfectly transparent sheath, through which he recognized the glory of the Divine Immanence. Maya, the mighty weaver of the garb, is none other than Kali, the Divine mother. She is the primordial Divine Energy, Sakti, and She can no more be distinguished from the Supreme Brahman than can the power of burning be distinguished from fire. She projects the world and again withdraws it. She spins it as the spider spins its web. She is the mother of the Universe, identical with the Brahman of Vedanta, and with the Atman of Yoga. As eternal Lawgiver, She makes and unmakes laws; it is by Her imperious will that karma yields its fruit. She ensnares men with illusion and again releases them from bondage with a look of Her benign eyes. She is the supreme Mistress of the cosmic play, and all objects, animate and inanimate, dance by Her will. Even those who realize the Absolute in nirvikalpa samadhi are under Her jurisdiction as long as they still live on the relative plane.
Thus, after nirvikalpa samadhi, Sri Ramakrishna realized maya in an altogether new role. The binding aspect of Kali vanished from before his vision. She no longer obscured his understanding. The world became the glorious manifestation of the Divine mother. Maya became Brahman. The Transcendental Itself broke through the Immanent. Sri Ramakrishna discovered that maya operates in the relative world in two ways, and he termed these "avidyamaya" and "vidyamaya". Avidyamaya represents the dark forces of creation: sensuous desires, evil passions, greed, lust, cruelty, and so on. It sustains the world system on the lower planes. It is responsible for the round of man's birth and death. It must be fought and vanquished. But vidyamaya is the higher force of creation: the spiritual virtues, the enlightening qualities, kindness, purity, love, devotion. Vidyamaya elevates man to the higher planes of consciousness. With the help of vidyamaya the devotee rids himself of avidyamaya; he then becomes mayatita, free of maya. The two aspects of maya are the two forces of creation, the two powers of Kali; and She stands beyond them both. She is like the effulgent sun, bringing into existence and shining through and standing behind the clouds of different colours and shapes, conjuring up wonderful forms in the blue autumn heaven.
The Divine mother asked Sri Ramakrishna not to be lost in the featureless Absolute but to remain, in bhavamukha, on the threshold of relative consciousness, the border line between the Absolute and the Relative. He was to keep himself at the "sixth centre" of Tantra, from which he could see not only the glory of the seventh, but also the divine manifestations of the Kundalini in the lower centres. He gently oscillated back and forth across the dividing line. Ecstatic devotion to the Divine mother alternated with serene absorption in the Ocean of Absolute Unity. He thus bridged the gulf between the Personal and the Impersonal, the immanent and the transcendent aspects of Reality. This is a unique experience in the recorded spiritual history of the world.
--- TOTAPURI'S LESSON
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About this time Totapuri was suddenly laid up with a severe attack of dysentery. On account of this miserable illness he found it impossible to meditate. One night the pain became excruciating. He could no longer concentrate on Brahman. The body stood in the way. He became incensed with its demands. A free soul, he did not at all care for the body. So he determined to drown it in the Ganges. Thereupon he walked into the river. But, lo! He walks to the other bank." (This version of the incident is taken from the biography of Sri Ramakrishna by Swami Saradananda, one of the Master's direct disciples.) Is there not enough water in the Ganges? Standing dumbfounded on the other bank he looks back across the water. The trees, the temples, the houses, are silhouetted against the sky. Suddenly, in one dazzling moment, he sees on all sides the presence of the Divine mother. She is in everything; She is everything. She is in the water; She is on land. She is the body; She is the mind. She is pain; She is comfort. She is knowledge; She is ignorance. She is life; She is death. She is everything that one sees, hears, or imagines. She turns "yea" into "nay", and "nay" into "yea". Without Her grace no embodied being can go beyond Her realm. Man has no free will. He is not even free to die. Yet, again, beyond the body and mind She resides in Her Transcendental, Absolute aspect. She is the Brahman that Totapuri had been worshipping all his life.
Totapuri returned to Dakshineswar and spent the remaining hours of the night meditating on the Divine mother. In the morning he went to the Kali temple with Sri Ramakrishna and prostrated himself before the image of the mother. He now realized why he had spent eleven months at Dakshineswar. Bidding farewell to the disciple, he continued on his way, enlightened.
Sri Ramakrishna later described the significance of Totapuri's lessons:
"When I think of the Supreme Being as inactive — neither creating nor preserving nor destroying —, I call Him Brahman or Purusha, the Impersonal God. When I think of Him as active — creating, preserving, and destroying —, I call Him Sakti or Maya or Prakriti, the Personal God. But the distinction between them does not mean a difference. The Personal and the Impersonal are the same thing, like milk and its whiteness, the diamond and its lustre, the snake and its wriggling motion. It is impossible to conceive of the one without the other. The Divine mother and Brahman are one."
After the departure of Totapuri, Sri Ramakrishna remained for six months in a state of absolute identity with Brahman. "For six months at a stretch", he said, "I remained in that state from which ordinary men can never return; generally the body falls off, after three weeks, like a sere leaf. I was not conscious of day and night. Flies would enter my mouth and nostrils just as they do a dead body's, but I did not feel them. My hair became matted with dust."
His body would not have survived but for the kindly attention of a monk who happened to be at Dakshineswar at that time and who somehow realized that for the good of humanity Sri Ramakrishna's body must be preserved. He tried various means, even physical violence, to recall the fleeing soul to the prison-house of the body, and during the resultant fleeting moments of consciousness he would push a few morsels of food down Sri Ramakrishna's throat. Presently Sri Ramakrishna received the command of the Divine mother to remain on the threshold of relative consciousness. Soon there-after after he was afflicted with a serious attack of dysentery. Day and night the pain tortured him, and his mind gradually came down to the physical plane.
--- COMPANY OF HOLY MEN AND DEVOTEES
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"Sri Ramakrishna had not read books, yet he possessed an encyclopedic knowledge of religions and religious philosophies. This he acquired from his contacts with innumerable holy men and scholars. He had a unique power of assimilation; through meditation he made this knowledge a part of his being. Once, when he was asked by a disciple about the source of his seemingly inexhaustible knowledge, he replied; "I have not read; but I have heard the learned. I have made a garland of their knowledge, wearing it round my neck, and I have given it as an offering at the feet of the mother."
Sri Ramakrishna used to say that when the flower blooms the bees come to it for honey of their own accord. Now many souls began to visit Dakshineswar to satisfy their spiritual hunger. He, the devotee and aspirant, became the Master. Gauri, the great scholar who had been one of the first to proclaim Sri Ramakrishna an Incarnation of God, paid the Master a visit in 1870 and with the Master's blessings renounced the world. Narayan Shastri, another great pundit, who had mastered the six systems of Hindu philosophy and had been offered a lucrative post by the Maharaja of Jaipur, met the Master and recognized in him one who had realized in life those ideals which he himself had encountered merely in books. Sri Ramakrishna initiated Narayan Shastri, at his earnest request, into the life of sannyas. Pundit Padmalochan, the court pundit of the Maharaja of Burdwan, well known for his scholarship in both the Vedanta and the Nyaya systems of philosophy, accepted the Master as an Incarnation of God. Krishnakishore, a Vedantist scholar, became devoted to the Master. And there arrived Viswanath Upadhyaya, who was to become a favourite devotee; Sri Ramakrishna always addressed him as "Captain". He was a high officer of the King of Nepal and had received the title of Colonel in recognition of his merit. A scholar of the Gita, the Bhagavata, and the Vedanta philosophy, he daily performed the worship of his Chosen Deity with great devotion. "I have read the Vedas and the other scriptures", he said. "I have also met a good many monks and devotees in different places. But it is in Sri Ramakrishna's presence that my spiritual yearnings have been fulfilled. To me he seems to be the embodiment of the truths of the scriptures."
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Eight years later, some time in November 1874, Sri Ramakrishna was seized with an irresistible desire to learn the truth of the Christian religion. He began to listen to readings from the Bible, by Sambhu Charan Mallick, a gentleman of Calcutta and a devotee of the Master. Sri Ramakrishna became fascinated by the life and teachings of Jesus. One day he was seated in the parlour of Jadu Mallick's garden house (This expression is used throughout to translate the Bengali word denoting a rich man's country house set in a garden.) at Dakshineswar, when his eyes became fixed on a painting of the Madonna and Child. Intently watching it, he became gradually overwhelmed with divine e motion. The figures in the picture took on life, and the rays of light emanating from them entered his soul. The effect of this experience was stronger than that of the vision of Mohammed. In dismay he cried out, "O mother! What are You doing to me?" And, breaking through the barriers of creed and religion, he entered a new realm of ecstasy. Christ possessed his soul. For three days he did not set foot in the Kali temple. On the fourth day, in the afternoon, as he was walking in the Panchavati, he saw coming toward him a person with beautiful large eyes, serene countenance, and fair skin. As the two faced each other, a voice rang out in the depths of Sri Ramakrishna's soul: "Behold the Christ, who shed His heart's blood for the redemption of the world, who suffered a sea of anguish for love of men. It is He, the Master Yogi, who is in eternal union with God. It is Jesus, Love Incarnate." The Son of Man embraced the Son of the Divine mother and merged in him. Sri Ramakrishna krishna realized his identity with Christ, as he had already realized his identity with Kali, Rama, Hanuman, Radha, Krishna, Brahman, and Mohammed. The Master went into samadhi and communed with the Brahman with attributes. Thus he experienced the truth that Christianity, too, was a path leading to God-Consciousness. Till the last moment of his life he believed that Christ was an Incarnation of God. But Christ, for him, was not the only Incarnation; there were others — Buddha, for instance, and Krishna.
--- ATTITUDE TOWARD DIFFERENT RELIGIONS
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On January 27, 1868, Mathur Babu with a party of some one hundred and twenty-five persons set out on a pilgrimage to the sacred places of northern India. At Vaidyanath in Behar, when the Master saw the inhabitants of a village reduced by poverty and starvation to mere skeletons, he requested his rich patron to feed the people and give each a piece of cloth. Mathur demurred at the added expense. The Master declared bitterly that he would not go on to Benares, but would live with the poor and share their miseries. He actually left Mathur and sat down with the villagers. Whereupon Mathur had to yield. On another occasion, two years later, Sri Ramakrishna showed a similar sentiment for the poor and needy. He accompanied Mathur on a tour to one of the latter's estates at the time of the collection of rents. For two years the harvests had failed and the tenants were in a state of extreme poverty. The Master asked Mathur to remit their rents, distribute help to them, and in addition give the hungry people a sumptuous feast. When Mathur grumbled, the Master said: "You are only the steward of the Divine mother. They are the mother's tenants. You must spend the mother's money. When they are suffering, how can you refuse to help them? You must help them." Again Mathur had to give in. Sri Ramakrishna's sympathy for the poor sprang from his perception of God in all created beings. His sentiment was not that of the humanist or philanthropist. To him the service of man was the same as the worship of God.
The party entered holy Benares by boat along the Ganges. When Sri Ramakrishna's eyes fell on this city of Siva, where had accumulated for ages the devotion and piety of countless worshippers, he saw it to be made of gold, as the scriptures declare. He was visibly moved. During his stay in the city he treated every particle of its earth with utmost respect. At the Manikarnika Ghat, the great cremation ground of the city, he actually saw Siva, with ash-covered body and tawny matted hair, serenely approaching each funeral pyre and breathing into the ears of the corpses the mantra of liberation; and then the Divine mother removing from the dead their bonds. Thus he realized the significance of the scriptural statement that anyone dying in Benares attains salvation through the grace of Siva. He paid a visit to Trailanga Swami, the celebrated monk, whom he later declared to be a real paramahamsa, a veritable image of Siva.
Sri Ramakrishna visited Allahabad, at the confluence of the Ganges and the Jamuna, and then proceeded to Vrindavan and Mathura, hallowed by the legends, songs, and dramas about Krishna and the gopis. Here he had numerous visions and his heart overflowed with divine e motion. He wept and said: "O Krishna! Everything here is as it was in the olden days. You alone are absent." He visited the great woman saint, Gangamayi, regarded by Vaishnava devotees as the reincarnation of an intimate attendant of Radha. She was sixty years old and had frequent trances. She spoke of Sri Ramakrishna as an incarnation of Radha. With great difficulty he was persuaded to leave her.
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Totapuri, coming to know of the Master's marriage, had once remarked: "What does it matter? He alone is firmly established in the Knowledge of Brahman who can adhere to his spirit of discrimination and renunciation even while living with his wife. He alone has attained the supreme illumination who can look on man and woman alike as Brahman. A man with the idea of sex may be a good aspirant, but he is still far from the goal." Sri Ramakrishna and his wife lived together at Dakshineswar, but their minds always soared above the worldly plane. A few months after Sarada Devi's arrival Sri Ramakrishna arranged, on an auspicious day, a special worship of Kali, the Divine mother. Instead of an image of the Deity, he placed on the seat the living image, Sarada Devi herself. The worshipper and the worshipped went into deep samadhi and in the transcendental plane their souls were united. After several hours Sri Ramakrishna came down again to the relative plane, sang a hymn to the Great Goddess, and surrendered, at the feet of the living image, himself, his rosary, and the fruit of his life-long sadhana. This is known in Tantra as the Shorasi Puja, the "Adoration of Woman". Sri Ramakrishna realized the significance of the great statement of the Upanishad: "O Lord, Thou art the woman. Thou art the man; Thou art the boy. Thou art the girl; Thou art the old, tottering on their crutches. Thou pervadest the universe in its multiple forms."
By his marriage Sri Ramakrishna admitted the great value of marriage in man's spiritual evolution, and by adhering to his monastic vows he demonstrated the imperative necessity of self-control, purity, and continence, in the realization of God. By this unique spiritual relationship with his wife he proved that husband and wife can live together as spiritual companions. Thus his life is a synthesis of the ways of life of the householder and the monk.
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In the nirvikalpa samadhi Sri Ramakrishna had realized that Brahman alone is real and the world illusory. By keeping his mind six months on the plane of the non-dual Brahman, he had attained to the state of the vijnani, the knower of Truth in a special and very rich sense, who sees Brahman not only in himself and in the transcendental Absolute, but in everything of the world. In this state of vijnana, sometimes, bereft of body-consciousness, he would regard himself as one with Brahman; sometimes, conscious of the dual world, he would regard himself as God's devotee, servant, or child. In order to enable the Master to work for the welfare of humanity, the Divine mother had kept in him a trace of ego, which he described — according to his mood — as the "ego of Knowledge", the "ego of Devotion", the "ego of a child", or the "ego of a servant". In any case this ego of the Master, consumed by the fire of the Knowledge of Brahman, was an appearance only, like a burnt string. He often referred to this ego as the "ripe ego" in contrast with the ego of the bound soul, which he described as the "unripe" or "green" ego. The ego of the bound soul identifies itself with the body, relatives, possessions, and the world; but the "ripe ego", illumined by Divine Knowledge, knows the body, relatives, possessions, and the world to be unreal and establishes a relationship of love with God alone. Through this "ripe ego" Sri Ramakrishna dealt with the world and his wife. One day, while stroking his feet, Sarada Devi asked the Master, "What do you think of me?" Quick came the answer: "The mother who is worshipped in the temple is the mother who has given birth to my body and is now living in the nahabat, and it is She again who is stroking my feet at this moment. Indeed, I always look on you as the personification of the Blissful mother Kali."
Sarada Devi, in the company of her husband, had rare spiritual experiences. She said: "I have no words to describe my wonderful exaltation of spirit as I watched him in his different moods. Under the influence of divine e motion he would sometimes talk on abstruse subjects, sometimes laugh, sometimes weep, and sometimes become perfectly motionless in samadhi. This would continue throughout the night. There was such an extraordinary divine presence in him that now and then I would shake with fear and wonder how the night would pass. Months went by in this way. Then one day he discovered that I had to keep awake the whole night lest, during my sleep, he should go into samadhi — for it might happen at any moment —, and so he asked me to sleep in the nahabat."
--- SUMMARY OF THE MASTER'S SPIRITUAL EXPERIENCES
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Third, Sri Ramakrishna realized the wish of the Divine mother that through him She should found a new Order, consisting of those who would uphold the universal doctrines illustrated in his life.
Fourth, his spiritual insight told him that those who were having their last birth on the mortal plane of existence and those who had sincerely called on the Lord even once in their lives must come to him.
During this period Sri Ramakrishna suffered several bereavements. The first was the death of a nephew named Akshay. After the young man's death Sri Ramakrishna said: "Akshay died before my very eyes. But it did not affect me in the least. I stood by and watched a man die. It was like a sword being drawn from its scabbard. I enjoyed the scene, and laughed and sang and danced over it. They removed the body and cremated it. But the next day as I stood there (pointing to the southeast verandah of his room), I felt a racking pain for the loss of Akshay, as if somebody were squeezing my heart like a wet towel. I wondered at it and thought that the mother was teaching me a lesson. I was not much concerned even with my own body — much less with a relative. But if such was my pain at the loss of a nephew, how much more must be the grief of the householders at the loss of their near and dear ones!" In 1871 Mathur died, and some five years later Sambhu Mallick — who, after Mathur's passing away, had taken care of the Master's comfort. In 1873 died his elder brother Rameswar, and in 1876, his beloved mother. These bereavements left their imprint on the tender human heart of Sri Ramakrishna, albeit he had realized the immortality of the soul and the illusoriness of birth and death.
In March 1875, about a year before the death of his mother, the Master met Keshab Chandra Sen. The meeting was a momentous event for both Sri Ramakrishna and Keshab. Here the Master for the first time came into actual, contact with a worthy representative of modern India.
--- BRAHMO SAMAJ
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In 1878 a schism divided Keshab's Samaj. Some of his influential followers accused him of infringing the Brahmo principles by marrying his daughter to a wealthy man before she had attained the marriageable age approved by the Samaj. This group seceded and established the Sadharan Brahmo Samaj, Keshab remaining the leader of the Navavidhan. Keshab now began to be drawn more and more toward the Christ ideal, though under the influence of Sri Ramakrishna his devotion to the Divine mother also deepened. His mental oscillation between Christ and the Divine mother of Hinduism found no position of rest. In Bengal and some other parts of India the Brahmo movement took the form of unitarian Christianity, scoffed at Hindu rituals, and preached a crusade against image worship. Influenced by Western culture, it declared the supremacy of reason, advocated the ideals of the French Revolution, abolished the caste-system among its own members, stood for the emancipation of women, agitated for the abolition of early marriage, sanctioned the remarriage of widows, and encouraged various educational and social-reform movements. The immediate effect of the Brahmo movement in Bengal was the checking of the proselytizing activities of the Christian missionaries. It also raised Indian culture in the estimation of its English masters. But it was an intellectual and eclectic religious ferment born of the necessity of the time. Unlike Hinduism, it was not founded on the deep inner experiences of sages and prophets. Its influence was confined to a comparatively few educated men and women of the country, and the vast masses of the Hindus remained outside it. It sounded monotonously only one of the notes in the rich gamut of the Eternal Religion of the Hindus.
--- ARYA SAMAJ
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Keshab Chandra Sen and Sri Ramakrishna met for the first time in the garden house of Jaygopal Sen at Belgharia, a few miles from Dakshineswar, where the great Brahmo leader was staying with some of his disciples. In many respects the two were poles apart, though an irresistible inner attraction was to make them intimate friends. The Master had realized God as Pure Spirit and Consciousness, but he believed in the various forms of God as well. Keshab, on the other hand, regarded image worship as idolatry and gave allegorical explanations of the Hindu deities. Keshab was an orator and a writer of books and magazine articles; Sri Ramakrishna had a horror of lecturing and hardly knew how to write his own name, Keshab's fame spread far and wide, even reaching the distant shores of England; the Master still led a secluded life in the village of Dakshineswar. Keshab emphasized social reforms for India's regeneration; to Sri Ramakrishna God-realization was the only goal of life. Keshab considered himself a disciple of Christ and accepted in a diluted form the Christian sacraments and Trinity; Sri Ramakrishna was the simple child of Kali, the Divine mother, though he too, in a different way, acknowledged Christ's divinity. Keshab was a householder holder and took a real interest in the welfare of his children, whereas Sri Ramakrishna was a paramahamsa and completely indifferent to the life of the world. Yet, as their acquaintance ripened into friendship, Sri Ramakrishna and Keshab held each other in great love and respect. Years later, at the news of Keshab's death, the Master felt as if half his body had become paralyzed. Keshab's concepts of the harmony of religions and the motherhood of God were deepened and enriched by his contact with Sri Ramakrishna.
Sri Ramakrishna, dressed in a red-bordered dhoti, one end of which was carelessly thrown over his left shoulder, came to Jaygopal's garden house accompanied by Hriday. No one took notice of the unostentatious visitor. Finally the Master said to Keshab, "People tell me you have seen God; so I have come to hear from you about God." A magnificent conversation followed. The Master sang a thrilling song about Kali and forthwith went into samadhi. When Hriday uttered the sacred "Om" in his ears, he gradually came back to consciousness of the world, his face still radiating a divine brilliance. Keshab and his followers were amazed. The contrast between Sri Ramakrishna and the Brahmo devotees was very interesting. There sat this small man, thin and extremely delicate. His eyes were illumined with an inner light. Good humour gleamed in his eyes and lurked in the corners of his mouth. His speech was Bengali of a homely kind with a slight, delightful stammer, and his words held men enthralled by their wealth of spiritual experience, their inexhaustible store of simile and metaphor, their power of observation, their bright and subtle humour, their wonderful catholicity, their ceaseless flow of wisdom. And around him now were the sophisticated men of Bengal, the best products of Western education, with Keshab, the idol of young Bengal, as their leader.
--
Pratap Chandra Mazumdar, the right-hand man of Keshab and an accomplished Brahmo preacher in Europe and America, bitterly criticized Sri Ramakrishna's use of uncultured language and also his austere attitude toward his wife. But he could not escape the spell of the Master's personality. In the course of an article about Sri Ramakrishna, Pratap wrote in the "Theistic Quarterly Review": "What is there in common between him and me? I, a Europeanized, civilized, self-centred, semi-sceptical, so-called educated reasoner, and he, a poor, illiterate, unpolished, half-idolatrous, friendless Hindu devotee? Why should I sit long hours to attend to him, I, who have listened to Disraeli and Fawcett, Stanley and Max Muller, and a whole host of European scholars and divines? . . . And it is not I only, but dozens like me, who do the same. . . . He worships Siva, he worships Kali, he worships Rama, he worships Krishna, and is a confirmed advocate of Vedantic doctrines. . . . He is an idolater, yet is a faithful and most devoted meditator on the perfections of the One Formless, Absolute, Infinite Deity. . . . His religion is ecstasy, his worship means transcendental insight, his whole nature burns day and night with a permanent fire and fever of a strange faith and feeling. . . . So long as he is spared to us, gladly shall we sit at his feet to learn from him the sublime precepts of purity, unworldliness, spirituality, and inebriation in the love of God. . . . He, by his childlike bhakti, by his strong conceptions of an ever-ready motherhood, helped to unfold it [God as our mother] in our minds wonderfully. . . . By associating with him we learnt to realize better the divine attributes as scattered over the three hundred and thirty millions of deities of mythological India, the gods of the Puranas."
The Brahmo leaders received much inspiration from their contact with Sri Ramakrishna. It broadened their religious views and kindled in their hearts the yearning for God-realization; it made them understand and appreciate the rituals and symbols of Hindu religion, convinced them of the manifestation of God in diverse forms, and deepened their thoughts about the harmony of religions. The Master, too, was impressed by the sincerity of many of the Brahmo devotees. He told them about his own realizations and explained to them the essence of his teachings, such as the necessity of renunciation, sincerity in the pursuit of one's own course of discipline, faith in God, the performance of one's duties without thought of results, and discrimination between the Real and the unreal.
--
Sri Ramakrishna never taught his disciples to hate any woman, or womankind in general. This can be seen clearly by going through all his teachings under this head and judging them collectively. The Master looked on all women as so many images of the Divine mother of the Universe. He paid the highest homage to womankind by accepting a woman as his guide while practising the very profound spiritual disciplines of Tantra. His wife, known and revered as the Holy mother, was his constant companion and first disciple. At the end of his spiritual practice he literally worshipped his wife as the embodiment of the Goddess Kali, the Divine mother. After his passing away the Holy mother became the spiritual guide not only of a large number of householders, but also of many monastic members of the Ramakrishna Order.
--- THE MASTER'S YEARNING FOR HIS OWN DEVOTEES
Contact with the Brahmos increased Sri Ramakrishna's longing to encounter aspirants who would be able to follow his teachings in their purest form. "There was no limit", he once declared, "to the longing I felt at that time. During the day-time I somehow managed to control it. The secular talk of the worldly-minded was galling to me, and I would look wistfully to the day when my own beloved companions would come. I hoped to find solace in conversing with them and relating to them my own realizations. Every little incident would remind me of them, and thoughts of them wholly engrossed me. I was already arranging in my mind what I should say to one and give to another, and so on. But when the day would come to a close I would not be able to curb my feelings. The thought that another day had gone by, and they had not come, oppressed me. When, during the evening service, the temples rang with the sound of bells and conch-shells, I would climb to the roof of the kuthi in the garden and, writhing in anguish of heart, cry at the top of my voice: 'Come, my children! Oh, where are you? I cannot bear to live without you.' A mother never longed so intensely for the sight of her child, nor a friend for his companions, nor a lover for his sweetheart, as I longed for them. Oh, it was indescribable! Shortly after this period of yearning the devotees1 began to come."
In the year 1879 occasional writings about Sri Ramakrishna by the Brahmos, in the Brahmo magazines, began to attract his future disciples from the educated middle-class Bengalis, and they continued to come till 1884. But others, too, came, feeling the subtle power of his attraction. They were an ever shifting crowd of people of all castes and creeds: Hindus and Brahmos, Vaishnavas and Saktas, the educated with university degrees and the illiterate, old and young, maharajas and beggars, journalists and artists, pundits and devotees, philosophers and the worldly-minded, jnanis and yogis, men of action and men of faith, virtuous women and prostitutes, office-holders and vagabonds, philanthropists and self-seekers, dramatists and drunkards, builders-up and pullers-down. He gave to them all, without stint, from his illimitable store of realization. No one went away empty-handed. He taught them the lofty .knowledge of the Vedanta and the soul
--
But he remained as ever the willing instrument in the hand of God, the child of the Divine mother, totally untouched by the idea of being a teacher. He used to say that three ideas — that he was a guru, a father, and a master — pricked his flesh like thorns. Yet he was an extraordinary teacher. He stirred his disciples' hearts more by a subtle influence than by actions or words. He never claimed to be the founder of a religion or the organizer of a sect. Yet he was a religious dynamo. He was the verifier of all religions and creeds. He was like an expert gardener, who prepares the soil and removes the weeds, knowing that the plants will grow because of the inherent power of the seeds, producing each its appropriate flowers and fruits. He never thrust his ideas on anybody. He understood people's limitations and worked on the principle that what is good for one may be bad for another. He had the unusual power of knowing the devotees' minds, even their inmost souls, at the first sight. He accepted disciples with the full knowledge of their past tendencies and future possibilities. The life of evil did not frighten him, nor did religious squeamishness raise anybody in his estimation. He saw in everything the unerring finger of the Divine mother. Even the light that leads astray was to him the light from God.
To those who became his intimate disciples the Master was a friend, companion, and playmate. Even the chores of religious discipline would be lightened in his presence. The devotees would be so inebriated with pure joy in his company that they would have no time to ask themselves whether he was an Incarnation, a perfect soul, or a yogi. His very presence was a great teaching; words were superfluous. In later years his disciples remarked that while they were with him they would regard him as a comrade, but afterwards would tremble to think of their frivolities in the presence of such a great person. They had convincing proof that the Master could, by his mere wish, kindle in their hearts the love of God and give them His vision.
Through all this fun and frolic, this merriment and frivolity, he always kept before them the shining ideal of God-Consciousness and the path of renunciation. He prescribed ascents steep or graded according to the powers of the climber. He permitted no compromise with the basic principles of purity. An aspirant had to keep his body, mind, senses, and soul unspotted; had to have a sincere love for God and an ever mounting spirit of yearning. The rest would be done by the mother.
His disciples were of two kinds: the householders, and the young men, some of whom were later to become monks. There was also a small group of women devotees.
--
Suresh Mitra, a beloved disciple whom the Master often addressed as Surendra, had received an English education and held an important post in an English firm. Like many other educated young men of the time, he prided himself on his atheism and led a Bohemian life. He was addicted to drinking. He cherished an exaggerated notion about man's free will. A victim of mental depression, he was brought to Sri Ramakrishna by Ramchandra chandra Dutta. When he heard the Master asking a disciple to practise the virtue of self-surrender to God, he was impressed. But though he tried thenceforth to do so, he was unable to give up his old associates and his drinking. One day the Master said in his presence, "Well, when a man goes to an undesirable place, why doesn't he take the Divine mother with him?" And to Surendra himself Sri Ramakrishna said: "Why should you drink wine as wine? Offer it to Kali, and then take it as Her prasad, as consecrated drink
. But see that you don't become intoxicated; you must not reel and your thoughts must not wander. At first you will feel ordinary excitement, but soon you will experience spiritual exaltation." Gradually Surendra's entire life was changed. The Master designated him as one of those commissioned by the Divine mother to defray a great part of his expenses. Surendra's purse was always open for the Master's comfort.
--- KEDAR
--
Durgacharan Nag, also known as Nag Mahashay, was the ideal householder among the lay disciples of Sri Ramakrishna. He was the embodiment of the Master's ideal of life in the world, unstained by worldliness. In spite of his intense desire to become a sannyasi, Sri Ramakrishna asked him to live in the world in the spirit of a monk, and the disciple truly carried out this injunction. He was born of a poor family and even during his boyhood often sacrificed everything to lessen the sufferings of the needy. He had married at an early age and after his wife's death had married a second time to obey his father's command. But he once said to his wife: "Love on the physical level never lasts. He is indeed blessed who can give his love to God with his whole heart. Even a little attachment to the body endures for several births. So do not be attached to this cage of bone and flesh. Take shelter at the feet of the mother and think of Her alone. Thus your life here and hereafter will be ennobled." The Master spoke of him as a "blazing light". He received every word of Sri Ramakrishna in dead earnest. One day he heard the Master saying that it was difficult for doctors, lawyers, and brokers to make much progress in spirituality. Of doctors he said, "If the mind clings to the tiny drops of medicine, how can it conceive of the Infinite?" That was the end of Durgacharan's medical practice and he threw his chest of medicines into the Ganges. Sri Ramakrishna assured him that he would not lack simple food and clothing. He bade him serve holy men. On being asked where he would find real holy men, the Master said that the sadhus themselves would seek his company. No sannyasi could have lived a more austere life than Durgacharan.
--- GIRISH GHOSH
--
Pratap Hazra, a middle-aged man, hailed from a village near Kamarpukur. He was not altogether unresponsive to religious feelings. On a moment's impulse he had left his home, aged mother, wife, and children, and had found shelter in the temple garden at Dakshineswar, where he intended to lead a spiritual life. He loved to argue, and the Master often pointed him out as an example of barren argumentation. He was hypercritical of others and cherished an exaggerated notion of his own spiritual advancement. He was mischievous and often tried to upset the minds of the Master's young disciples, criticizing them for their happy and joyous life and asking them to devote their time to meditation. The Master teasingly compared Hazra to Jatila and Kutila, the two women who always created obstructions in Krishna's sport with the gopis, and said that Hazra lived at Dakshineswar to "thicken the plot" by adding complications.
--- SOME NOTED MEN
Sri Ramakrishna also became acquainted with a number of people whose scholarship or wealth entitled them everywhere to respect. He had met, a few years before, Devendranath Tagore, famous all over Bengal for his wealth, scholarship, saintly character, and social position. But the Master found him disappointing; for, whereas Sri Ramakrishna expected of a saint complete renunciation of the world, Devendranath combined with his saintliness a life of enjoyment. Sri Ramakrishna met the great poet Michael Madhusudan, who had embraced Christianity "for the sake of his stomach". To him the Master could not impart instruction, for the Divine mother "pressed his tongue". In addition he met Maharaja Jatindra Mohan Tagore, a titled aristocrat of Bengal; Kristodas Pal, the editor, social reformer, and patriot; Iswar Vidyasagar, the noted philanthropist and educator; Pundit Shashadhar, a great champion of Hindu orthodoxy; Aswini Kumar Dutta, a headmaster, moralist, and leader of Indian Nationalism; and Bankim Chatterji, a deputy magistrate, novelist, and essayist, and one of the fashioners of modern Bengali prose. Sri Ramakrishna was not the man to be dazzled by outward show, glory, or eloquence. A pundit without discrimination he regarded as a mere straw. He would search people's hearts for the light of God, and if that was missing he would have nothing to do with them.
--- KRISTODAS PAL
The Europeanized Kristodas Pal did not approve of the Master's emphasis on renunciation and said; "Sir, this cant of renunciation has almost ruined the country. It is for this reason that the Indians are a subject nation today. Doing good to others, bringing education to the door of the ignorant, and above all, improving the material conditions of the country — these should be our duty now. The cry of religion and renunciation would, on the contrary, only weaken us. You should advise the young men of Bengal to resort only to such acts as will uplift the country." Sri Ramakrishna gave him a searching look and found no divine light within, "You man of poor understanding!" Sri Ramakrishna said sharply. "You dare to slight in these terms renunciation and piety, which our scriptures describe as the greatest of all virtues! After reading two pages of English you think you have come to know the world! You appear to think you are omniscient. Well, have you seen those tiny crabs that are born in the Ganges just when the rains set in? In this big universe you are even less significant than one of those small creatures. How dare you talk of helping the world? The Lord will look to that. You haven't the power in you to do it." After a pause the Master continued: "Can you explain to me how you can work for others? I know what you mean by helping them. To feed a number of persons, to treat them when they are sick, to construct a road or dig a well — isn't that all? These, are good deeds, no doubt, but how trifling in comparison with the vastness of the universe! How far can a man advance in this line? How many people can you save from famine? Malaria has ruined a whole province; what could you do to stop its onslaught? God alone looks after the world. Let a man first realize Him. Let a man get the authority from God and be endowed with His power; then, and then alone, may he think of doing good to others. A man should first be purged of all egotism. Then alone will the Blissful mother ask him to work for the world." Sri Ramakrishna mistrusted philanthropy that presumed to pose as charity. He warned people against it. He saw in most acts of philanthropy nothing but egotism, vanity, a desire for glory, a barren excitement to kill the boredom of life, or an attempt to soothe a guilty conscience. True charity, he taught, is the result of love of God — service to man in a spirit of worship.
--- MONASTIC DISCIPLES
--
Even before Rakhal's coming to Dakshineswar, the Master had had visions of him as his spiritual son and as a playmate of Krishna at Vrindavan. Rakhal was born of wealthy parents. During his childhood he developed wonderful spiritual traits and used to play at worshipping gods and goddesses. In his teens he was married to a sister of Manomohan Mitra, from whom he first heard of the Master. His father objected to his association with Sri Ramakrishna but afterwards was reassured to find that many celebrated people were visitors at Dakshineswar. The relationship between the Master and this beloved disciple was that of mother and child. Sri Ramakrishna allowed Rakhal many liberties denied to others. But he would not hesitate to chastise the boy for improper actions. At one time Rakhal felt a childlike jealousy because he found that other boys were receiving the Master's affection. He soon got over it and realized his guru as the Guru of the whole universe. The Master was worried to hear of his marriage, but was relieved to find that his wife was a spiritual soul who would not be a hindrance to his progress.
--- THE ELDER GOPAL
--
Narendra was born in Calcutta on January 12, 1863, of an aristocratic kayastha family. His mother was steeped in the great Hindu epics, and his father, a distinguished attorney of the Calcutta High Court, was an agnostic about religion, a friend of the poor, and a mocker at social conventions. Even in his boyhood and youth Narendra possessed great physical courage and presence of mind, a vivid imagination, deep power of thought, keen intelligence, an extraordinary memory, a love of truth, a passion for purity, a spirit of independence, and a tender heart. An expert musician, he also acquired proficiency in physics, astronomy, mathematics, philosophy, history, and literature. He grew up into an extremely handsome young man. Even as a child he practised meditation and showed great power of concentration. Though free and passionate in word and action, he took the vow of austere religious chastity and never allowed the fire of purity to be extinguished by the slightest defilement of body or soul.
As he read in college the rationalistic Western philosophers of the nineteenth century, his boyhood faith in God and religion was unsettled. He would not accept religion on mere faith; he wanted demonstration of God. But very soon his passionate nature discovered that mere Universal Reason was cold and bloodless. His e motional nature, dissatisfied with a mere abstraction, required a concrete support to help him in the hours of temptation. He wanted an external power, a guru, who by embodying perfection in the flesh would still the com motion of his soul. Attracted by the magnetic personality of Keshab, he joined the Brahmo Samaj and became a singer in its choir. But in the Samaj he did not find the guru who could say that he had seen God.
--
During his second visit, about a month later, suddenly, at the touch of the Master, Narendra felt overwhelmed and saw the walls of the room and everything around him whirling and vanishing. "What are you doing to me?" he cried in terror. "I have my father and mother at home." He saw his own ego and the whole universe almost swallowed in a nameless void. With a laugh the Master easily restored him. Narendra thought he might have been hypnotized, but he could not understand how a monomaniac could cast a spell over the mind of a strong person like himself. He returned home more confused than ever, resolved to be henceforth on his guard before this strange man.
But during his third visit Narendra fared no better. This time, at the Master's touch, he lost consciousness entirely. While he was still in that state, Sri Ramakrishna questioned him concerning his spiritual antecedents and whereabouts, his mission in this world, and the duration of his mortal life. The answers confirmed what the Master himself had known and inferred. Among other things, he came to know that Narendra was a sage who had already attained perfection, and that the day he learnt his real nature he would give up his body in yoga, by an act of will.
--
Sri Ramakrishna was grateful to the Divine mother for sending him one who doubted his own realizations. Often he asked Narendra to test him as the money-changers test their coins. He laughed at Narendra's biting criticism of his spiritual experiences and samadhi. When at times Narendra's sharp words distressed him, the Divine mother Herself would console him, saying: "Why do you listen to him? In a few days he will believe your every word." He could hardly bear Narendra's absences. Often he would weep bitterly for the sight of him. Sometimes Narendra would find the Master's love embarrassing; and one day he sharply scolded him, warning him that such infatuation would soon draw him down to the level of its object. The Master was distressed and prayed to the Divine mother. Then he said to Narendra: "You rogue, I won't listen to you any more. mother says that I love you because I see God in you, and the day I no longer see God in you I shall not be able to bear even the sight of you."
The Master wanted to train Narendra in the teachings of the non-dualistic Vedanta philosophy. But Narendra, because of his Brahmo upbringing, considered it wholly blasphemous to look on man as one with his Creator. One day at the temple garden he laughingly said to a friend: "How silly! This jug is God! This cup is God! Whatever we see is God! And we too are God! Nothing could be more absurd." Sri Ramakrishna came out of his room and gently touched him. Spellbound, he immediately perceived that everything in the world was indeed God. A new universe opened around him. Returning home in a dazed state, he found there too that the food, the plate, the eater himself, the people around him, were all God. When he walked in the street, he saw that the cabs, the horses, the streams of people, the buildings, were all Brahman. He could hardly go about his day's business. His parents became anxious about him and thought him ill. And when the intensity of the experience abated a little, he saw the world as a dream. Walking in the public square, he would strike his head against the iron railings to know whether they were real. It took him a number of days to recover his normal self. He had a foretaste of the great experiences yet to come and realized that the words of the Vedanta were true.
--
Narendra began to talk of his doubt of the very existence of God. His friends thought he had become an atheist, and piously circulated gossip adducing unmentionable motives for his unbelief. His moral character was maligned. Even some of the Master's disciples partly believed the gossip, and Narendra told these to their faces that only a coward believed in God through fear of suffering or hell. But he was distressed to think that Sri Ramakrishna, too, might believe these false reports. His pride revolted. He said to himself: "What does it matter? If a man's good name rests on such slender foundations, I don't care." But later on he was amazed to learn that the Master had never lost faith in him. To a disciple who complained about Narendra's degradation, Sri Ramakrishna replied: "Hush, you fool! The mother has told me it can never be so. I won't look at you if you speak that way again."
The moment came when Narendra's distress reached its climax. He had gone the whole day without food. As he was returning home in the evening he could hardly lift his tired limbs. He sat down in front of a house in sheer exhaustion, too weak even to think. His mind began to wander. Then, suddenly, a divine power lifted the veil over his soul. He found the solution of the problem of the coexistence of divine justice and misery, the presence of suffering in the creation of a blissful Providence. He felt bodily refreshed, his soul was bathed in peace, and he slept serenely.
--
One day, soon after, Narendra requested Sri Ramakrishna to pray to the Divine mother to remove his poverty. Sri Ramakrishna bade him pray to Her himself, for She would certainly listen to his prayer. Narendra entered the shrine of Kali. As he stood before the image of the mother, he beheld Her as a living Goddess, ready to give wisdom and liberation. Unable to ask Her for petty worldly things, he prayed only for knowledge and renunciation, love and liberation. The Master rebuked him for his failure to ask the Divine mother to remove his poverty and sent him back to the temple. But Narendra, standing in Her presence, again forgot the purpose of his coming. Thrice he went to the temple at the bidding of the Master, and thrice he returned, having forgotten in Her presence why he had come. He was wondering about it when it suddenly flashed in his mind that this was all the work of Sri Ramakrishna; so now he asked the Master himself to remove his poverty, and was assured that his family would not lack simple food and clothing.
This was a very rich and significant experience for Narendra. It taught him that Sakti, the Divine Power, cannot be ignored in the world and that in the relative plane the need of worshipping a Personal God is imperative. Sri Ramakrishna was overjoyed with the conversion. The next day, sitting almost on Narendra's lap, he said to a devotee, pointing first to himself, then to Narendra: "I see I am this, and again that. Really I feel no difference. A stick floating in the Ganges seems to divide the water; But in reality the water is one. Do you see my point? Well, whatever is, is the mother — isn't that so?" In later years Narendra would say: "Sri Ramakrishna was the only person who, from the time he met me, believed in me uniformly throughout. Even my mother and brothers did not. It was his unwavering trust and love for me that bound me to him for ever. He alone knew how to love. Worldly people, only make a show of love for selfish ends.
--- TARAK
--
Jogindranath came of an aristocratic brahmin family of Dakshineswar. His father and relatives shared the popular mistrust of Sri Ramakrishna's sanity. At a very early age the boy developed religious tendencies, spending two or three hours daily in meditation, and his meeting with Sri Ramakrishna deepened his desire for the realization of God. He had a perfect horror of marriage. But at the earnest request of his mother he had had to yield, and he now believed that his spiritual future was doomed. So he kept himself away from the Master.
Sri Ramakrishna employed a ruse to bring Jogindra to him. As soon as the disciple entered the room, the Master rushed forward to meet the young man. Catching hold of the disciple's hand, he said: "What if you have married? Haven't I too married? What is there to be afraid of in that?" Touching his own chest he said: "If this [meaning himself] is propitious, then even a hundred thousand marriages cannot injure you. If you desire to lead a householder's life, then bring your wife here one day, and I shall see that she becomes a real companion in your spiritual progress. But if you want to lead a monastic life, then I shall eat up your attachment to the world." Jogin was dumbfounded at these words. He received new strength, and his spirit of renunciation was re-established.
--
Harinath had led the austere life of a brahmachari even from his early boyhood — bathing in the Ganges every day, cooking his own meals, waking before sunrise, and reciting the Gita from memory before leaving bed. He found in the Master the embodiment of the Vedanta scriptures. Aspiring to be a follower of the ascetic Sankara, he cherished a great hatred for women. One day he said to the Master that he could not allow even small girls to come near him. The Master scolded him and said: "You are talking like a fool. Why should you hate women? They are the manifestations of the Divine mother. Regard them as your own mother and you will never feel their evil influence. The more you hate them, the more you will fall into their snares." Hari said later that these words completely changed his attitude toward women.
The Master knew Hari's passion for Vedanta. But he did not wish any of his disciples to become a dry ascetic or a mere bookworm. So he asked Hari to practise Vedanta in life by giving up the unreal and following the Real. "But it is not so easy", Sri Ramakrishna said, "to realize the illusoriness of the world. Study alone does not help one very much. The grace of God is required. Mere personal effort is futile. A man is a tiny creature after all, with very limited powers. But he can achieve the impossible if he prays to God for His grace." Whereupon the Master sang a song in praise of grace. Hari was profoundly moved and shed tears. Later in life Hari achieved a wonderful synthesis of the ideals of the Personal God and the Impersonal Truth.
--
Subodh visited the Master in 1885. At the very first meeting Sri Ramakrishna said to him: "You will succeed. mother says so. Those whom She sends here will certainly attain spirituality." During the second meeting the Master wrote something on Subodh's tongue, stroked his body from the navel to the throat, and said, "Awake, mother! Awake." He asked the boy to meditate. At once Subodh's latent spirituality was awakened. He felt a current rushing along the spinal column to the brain. Joy filled his soul.
--- SARADA AND TULASI
--
Unsurpassed among the woman devotees of the Master in the richness of her devotion and spiritual experiences was Aghoremani Devi, an orthodox brahmin woman. Widowed at an early age, she had dedicated herself completely to spiritual pursuits. Gopala, the Baby Krishna, was her Ideal Deity, whom she worshipped following the vatsalya attitude of the Vaishnava religion, regarding Him as her own child. Through Him she satisfied her unassuaged maternal love, cooking for Him, feeding Him, bathing Him, and putting Him to bed. This sweet intimacy with Gopala won her the sobriquet of Gopal Ma, or Gopala's mother. For forty years she had lived on the bank of the Ganges in a small, bare room, her only companions being a threadbare copy of the Ramayana and a bag containing her rosary. At the age of sixty, in 1884, she visited Sri Ramakrishna at Dakshineswar. During the second visit, as soon as the Master saw her, he said: "Oh, you have come! Give me something to eat." With great hesitation she gave him some ordinary sweets that she had purchased for him on the way. The Master ate them with relish and asked her to bring him simple curries or sweets prepared by her own hands. Gopal Ma thought him a queer kind of monk, for, instead of talking of God, he always asked for food. She did not want to visit him again, but an irresistible attraction brought her back to the temple garden; She carried with her some simple curries that she had cooked herself.
One early morning at three o'clock, about a year later, Gopal Ma was about to finish her daily devotions, when she was startled to find Sri Ramakrishna sitting on her left, with his right hand clenched, like the hand of the image of Gopala. She was amazed and caught hold of the hand, whereupon the figure vanished and in its place appeared the real Gopala, her Ideal Deity. She cried aloud with joy. Gopala begged her for butter. She pleaded her poverty and gave Him some dry coconut candies. Gopala, sat on her lap, snatched away her rosary, jumped on her shoulders, and moved all about the room. As soon as the day broke she hastened to Dakshineswar like an insane woman. Of course Gopala accompanied her, resting His head on her shoulder. She clearly saw His tiny ruddy feet hanging over her breast. She entered Sri Ramakrishna's room. The Master had fallen into samadhi. Like a child, he sat on her lap, and she began to feed him with butter, cream, and other delicacies. After some time he regained consciousness and returned to his bed. But the mind of Gopala's mother was still roaming in another plane. She was steeped in bliss. She saw Gopala frequently entering the Master's body and again coming out of it. When she returned to her hut, still in a dazed condition, Gopala accompanied her.
She spent about two months in uninterrupted communion with God, the Baby Gopala never leaving her for a moment. Then the intensity of her vision was lessened; had it not been, her body would have perished. The Master spoke highly of her exalted spiritual condition and said that such vision of God was a rare thing for ordinary mortals. The fun-loving Master one day confronted the critical Narendranath with this simple-minded woman. No two could have presented a more striking contrast. The Master knew of Narendra's lofty contempt for all visions, and he asked the old lady to narrate her experiences to Narendra. With great hesitation she told him her story. Now and then she interrupted her maternal chatter to ask Narendra: "My son, I am a poor ignorant woman. I don't understand anything. You are so learned. Now tell me if these visions of Gopala are true." As Narendra listened to the story he was profoundly moved. He said, "Yes, mother, they are quite true." Behind his cynicism Narendra, too, possessed a heart full of love and tenderness.
--- THE MARCH OF EVENTS
In 1881 Hriday was dismissed from service in the Kali temple, for an act of indiscretion, and was ordered by the authorities never again to enter the garden. In a way the hand of the Divine mother may be seen even in this. Having taken care of Sri Ramakrishna during the stormy days of his spiritual discipline, Hriday had come naturally to consider himself the sole guardian of his uncle. None could approach the Master without his knowledge. And he would be extremely jealous if Sri Ramakrishna paid attention to anyone else. Hriday's removal made it possible for the real devotees of the Master to approach him freely and live with him in the temple garden.
During the week-ends the householders, enjoying a respite from their office duties, visited the Master. The meetings on Sunday afternoons were of the nature of little festivals. Refreshments were often served. Professional musicians now and then sang devotional songs. The Master and the devotees sang and danced, Sri Ramakrishna frequently going into ecstatic moods. The happy memory of such a Sunday would linger long in the minds of the devotees. Those whom the Master wanted for special instruction he would ask to visit him on Tuesdays and Saturdays. These days were particularly auspicious for the worship of Kali.
--
Finally, there was a handful of fortunate disciples, householders as well as youngsters, who were privileged to spend nights with the Master in his room. They would see him get up early in the morning and walk up and down the room, singing in his sweet voice and tenderly communing with the mother.
--- INJURY TO THE MASTER'S ARM
One day, in January 1884, the Master was going toward the pine-grove when he went into a trance. He was alone. There was no one to support him or guide his footsteps. He fell to the ground and dislocated a bone in his left arm. This accident had a significant influence on his mind, the natural inclination of which was to soar above the consciousness of the body. The acute pain in the arm forced his mind to dwell on the body and on the world outside. But he saw even in this a divine purpose; for, with his mind compelled to dwell on the physical plane, he realized more than ever that he was an instrument in the hand of the Divine mother, who had a mission to fulfil through his human body and mind. He also distinctly found that in the phenomenal world God manifests Himself, in an inscrutable way, through diverse human beings, both good and evil. Thus he would speak of God in the guise of the wicked, God in the guise of the pious. God in the guise of the hypocrite, God in the guise of the lewd. He began to take a special delight in watching the divine play in the relative world. Sometimes the sweet human relationship with God would appear to him more appealing than the all-effacing Knowledge of Brahman. Many a time he would pray: " mother, don't make me unconscious through the Knowledge of Brahman. Don't give me Brahmajnana, mother. Am I not Your child, and naturally timid? I must have my mother. A million salutations to the Knowledge of Brahman! Give it to those who want it." Again he prayed: "O mother let me remain in contact with men! Don't make me a dried-up ascetic. I want to enjoy Your sport in the world." He was able to taste this very rich divine experience and enjoy the love of God and the company of His devotees because his mind, on account of the injury to his arm, was forced to come down to the consciousness of the body. Again, he would make fun of people who proclaimed him as a Divine Incarnation, by pointing to his broken arm. He would say, "Have you ever heard of God breaking His arm?" It took the arm about five months to heal.
--- BEGINNING OF HIS ILLNESS
In April 1885 the Master's throat became inflamed. Prolonged conversation or absorption in samadhi, making the blood flow into the throat, would aggravate the pain. Yet when the annual Vaishnava festival was celebrated at Panihati, Sri Ramakrishna attended it against the doctor's advice. With a group of disciples he spent himself in music, dance, and ecstasy. The illness took a turn for the worse and was diagnosed as "clergyman's sore throat". The patient was cautioned against conversation and ecstasies. Though he followed the physician's directions regarding medicine and diet, he could neither control his trances nor withhold from seekers the solace of his advice. Sometimes, like a sulky child, he would complain to the mother about the crowds, who gave him no rest day or night. He was overheard to say to Her; "Why do You bring here all these worthless people, who are like milk diluted with five times its own quantity of water? My eyes are almost destroyed with blowing the fire to dry up the water. My health is gone. It is beyond my strength. Do it Yourself, if You want it done. This (pointing to his own body) is but a perforated drum, and if you go on beating it day in and day out, how long will it last?"
But his large heart never turned anyone away. He said, "Let me be condemned to be born over and over again, even in the form of a dog, if I can be of help to a single soul." And he bore the pain, singing cheerfully, "Let the body be preoccupied with illness, but, O mind, dwell for ever in God's Bliss!"
--
The Holy mother — so Sarada Devi had come to be affectionately known by Sri Ramakrishna's devotees — was brought from Dakshineswar to look after the general cooking and to prepare the special diet of the patient. The dwelling space being extremely limited, she had to adapt herself to cramped conditions. At three o'clock in the morning she would finish her bath in the Ganges and then enter a small covered place on the roof, where she spent the whole day cooking and praying. After eleven at night, when the visitors went away, she would come down to her small bedroom on the first floor to enjoy a few hours' sleep. Thus she spent three months, working hard, sleeping little, and praying constantly for the Master's recovery.
At Syampukur the devotees led an intense life. Their attendance on the Master was in itself a form of spiritual discipline. His mind was constantly soaring to an exalted plane of consciousness. Now and then they would catch the contagion of his spiritual fervour. They sought to divine the meaning of this illness of the Master, whom most of them had accepted as an Incarnation of God. One group, headed by Girish with his robust optimism and great power of imagination, believed that the illness was a mere pretext to serve a deeper purpose. The Master had willed his illness in order to bring the devotees together and pro mote solidarity among them. As soon as this purpose was served, he would himself get rid of the disease. A second group thought that the Divine mother, in whose hand the Master was an instrument, had brought about this illness to serve Her own mysterious ends. But the young rationalists, led by Narendra, refused to ascribe a
supernatural cause to a natural phenomenon. They believed that the Master's body, a material thing, was subject, like all other material things, to physical laws. Growth, development, decay, and death were laws of nature to which the Master's body could not but respond. But though holding differing views, they all believed that it was to him alone that they must look for the attainment of their spiritual goal.
--
The more the body was devastated by illness, the more it became the habitation of the Divine Spirit. Through its transparency the gods and goddesses began to shine with ever increasing luminosity. On the day of the Kali Puja the devotees clearly saw in him the manifestation of the Divine mother.
It was noticed at this time that some of the devotees were making an unbridled display of their e motions. A number of them, particularly among the householders, began to cultivate, though at first unconsciously, the art of shedding tears, shaking the body, contorting the face, and going into trances, attempting thereby to imitate the Master. They began openly to declare Sri Ramakrishna a Divine Incarnation and to regard themselves as his chosen people, who could neglect religious disciplines with impunity. Narendra's penetrating eye soon sized up the situation. He found out that some of these external manifestations were being carefully practised at home, while some were the outcome of malnutrition, mental weakness, or nervous debility. He mercilessly exposed the devotees who were pretending to have visions, and asked all to develop a healthy religious spirit. Narendra sang inspiring songs for the younger devotees, read with them the Imitation of Christ and the Gita, and held before them the positive ideals of spirituality.
--
It took the group only a few days to become adjusted to the new environment. The Holy mother, assisted by Sri Ramakrishna's niece, Lakshmi Devi, and a few woman devotees, took charge of the cooking for the Master and his attendants. Surendra willingly bore the major portion of the expenses, other householders contributing according to their means. Twelve disciples were constant attendants of the Master: Narendra, Rakhal, Baburam, Niranjan, Jogin, Latu, Tarak, the-elder Gopal, Kali, Sashi, Sarat, and the younger Gopal. Sarada, Harish, Hari, Gangadhar, and Tulasi visited the Master from time to time and practised sadhana at home. Narendra, preparing for his law examination, brought his books to the garden house in order to continue his studies during the infrequent spare moments. He encouraged his brother disciples to intensify their meditation, scriptural studies, and other spiritual disciplines. They all forgot their relatives and their
worldly duties.
--
Pundit Shashadhar one day suggested to the Master that the latter could remove the illness by concentrating his mind on the throat, the scriptures having declared that yogis had power to cure themselves in that way. The Master rebuked the pundit. "For a scholar like you to make such a proposal!" he said. "How can I withdraw the mind from the Lotus Feet of God and turn it to this worthless cage of flesh and blood?" "For our sake at least", begged Narendra and the other disciples. "But", replied Sri Ramakrishna, do you think I enjoy this suffering? I wish to recover, but that depends on the mother."
NARENDRA: "Then please pray to Her. She must listen to you."
--
The words were tender and touching. Like a mother he caressed Narendra and Rakhal, gently stroking their faces. He said in a half whisper to M., "Had this body been allowed to last a little longer, many more souls would have been illumined." He paused a moment and then said: "But mother has ordained otherwise. She will take me away lest, finding me guileless and foolish, people should take advantage of me and persuade me to bestow on them the rare gifts of spirituality." A few minutes later he touched his chest and said: "Here are two beings. One is She and the other is Her devotee. It is the latter who broke his arm, and it is he again who is now ill. Do you understand me?" After a pause he added: "Alas! To whom shall I tell all this? Who will understand me?" "Pain", he consoled them again, 'is unavoidable as long as there is a body. The Lord takes on the body for the sake of His devotees."
Yet one is not sure whether the Master's soul actually was tortured by this agonizing disease. At least during his moments of spiritual exaltation — which became almost constant during the closing days of his life on earth — he lost all consciousness of the body, of illness and suffering. One of his attendants (Latu, later known as Swami Adbhutananda.) said later on: "While Sri Ramakrishna lay sick he never actually suffered pain. He would often say: 'O mind! Forget the body, forget the sickness, and remain merged in Bliss.' No, he did not really suffer. At times he would be in a state when the thrill of joy was clearly manifested in his body. Even when he could not speak he would let us know in some way that there was no suffering, and this fact was clearly evident to all who watched him. People who did not understand him thought that his suffering was very great. What spiritual joy he transmitted to us at that time! Could such a thing have been possible if he had 'been suffering physically? It was during this period that he taught us again these truths: 'Brahman is always unattached. The three gunas are in It, but It is unaffected by them, just as the wind carries odour yet remains odourless.' 'Brahman is Infinite Being, Infinite Wisdom, Infinite Bliss. In It there exist no delusion, no misery, no disease, no death, no growth, no decay.' 'The Transcendental Being and the being within are one and the same. There is one indivisible Absolute Existence.'"
The Holy mother secretly went to a Siva temple across the Ganges to intercede with the Deity for the Master's recovery. In a revelation she was told to prepare herself for the inevitable end.
One day when Narendra was on the ground floor, meditating, the Master was lying awake in his bed upstairs. In the depths of his meditation Narendra felt as though a lamp were burning at the back of his head. Suddenly he lost consciousness. It was the yearned-for, all-effacing experience of nirvikalpa samadhi, when the embodied soul realizes its unity with the Absolute. After a very long time he regained partial consciousness but was unable to find his body. He could see only his head. "Where is my body?" he cried. The elder Gopal entered the room and said, "Why, it is here, Naren!" But Narendra could not find it. Gopal, frightened, ran upstairs to the Master. Sri Ramakrishna only said: "Let him stay that way for a time. He has worried me long enough."
After another long period Narendra regained full consciousness. Bathed in peace, he went to the Master, who said: "Now the mother has shown you everything. But this revelation will remain under lock and key, and I shall keep the key. When you have accomplished the mother's work you will find the treasure again."
Some days later, Narendra being alone with the Master, Sri Ramakrishna looked at him and went into samadhi. Narendra felt the penetration of a subtle force and lost all outer consciousness. Regaining presently the normal mood, he found the Master weeping.
--
The Holy mother was weeping in her room, not for her husband, but because she felt that mother Kali had left her. As she was about to put on the marks of a Hindu widow, in a moment of revelation she heard the words of faith, "I have only passed from one room to another."
0.00 - Publishers Note C, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 05, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
The present volume consists of three books: Light of Lights, Eight Talks and Sweet mother; there are also translations from Sanskrit, Pali, Bengali and French. These, along with the translations of the Dhammapada and Charyapada, have been mostly serialised in Ashram journals.
His original writings in French have also been included here. We are grateful to the Government of India for a grant towards meeting the cost of publication of this volume.
0.00 - The Book of Lies Text, #The Book of Lies, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
GOD the Father and mother is concealed in Genera-
tion.
--
The Brothers of A.'.A.'. are one with the mother of
the Child.(4)
--
Be thou the Bride; thou shalt be the mother here-
after.
--
the mother in the Tetragrammaton. See Chapter 0,
"God the Father and mother is concealed in genera-
tion".
--
Matter is the Noun; motion is the Verb.
Wherefore hath Being clothed itself with Form?
Wherefore hath Matter manifested itself in motion?
Answer not, O silent one! For THERE is no "where-
--
Babalon; these are called Father and mother, but
it is not so. They are called Brother and Sister,
--
In all the Universe this Swan alone is motionless; it
seems to move, as the Sun seems to move; such
--
Amen. motion is relative: there is Nothing that is
still.
--
word, stillness, so long as motion exists.
In a boundless universe, one can always take any
--
at rest, calculating the motions of all other points
relatively to it.
--
Law of motion. The key to infinite power is to reach
the Bornless Beyond.
--
mother; we create in our own image, which is theirs.
Let us create therefore without fear; for we can
--
IT moves from motion into rest, and rests from rest
into motion. These IT does alway, for time is not.
So that IT does neither of these things. IT does
--
V.V.V.V.V. is the motto of a Master of the Temple
(or so much He disclosed to the Exempt Adepts),
--
The number 41 is that of the Barren mother.
NOTE
--
The desire of the moth for the star at least saves him
satiety.
--
mother-letter {Aleph} is an inadequate solution of the Great
Problem. {Aleph} is identified with the Yoni, for all the
--
Could but Thy mother behold thee, O thou UNT!(37)
The Infinite Snake Ananta that surroundeth the
--
to binah, the mother.
Paragraph 6 whispers the ultimate and dread secret of initiation into his
--
and woe". It means motion and rest. The moral is the
conventional mystic one; stop thought at its source!
--
to express "the mother" instead of Epsilon ({Epsilon}), to show that She
has been impregnated by the Spirit; it is the rough breathing and
0.00 - THE GOSPEL PREFACE, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
He was an educationist all his life both in a spiritual and in a secular sense. After he passed out of College, he took up work as headmaster in a number of schools in succession Narail High School, City School, Ripon College School, Metropolitan School, Aryan School, Oriental School, Oriental Seminary and Model School. The causes of his migration from school to school were that he could not get on with some of the managements on grounds of principles and that often his spiritual mood drew him away to places of pilgrimage for long periods. He worked with some of the most noted public men of the time like Iswar Chandra Vidysgar and Surendranath Banerjee. The latter appointed him as a professor in the City and Ripon Colleges where he taught subjects like English, philosophy, history and economics. In his later days he took over the Morton School, and he spent his time in the staircase room of the third floor of it, administering the school and preaching the message of the Master. He was much respected in educational circles where he was usually referred to as Rector Mahashay. A teacher who had worked under him writes thus in warm appreciation of his teaching methods: "Only when I worked with him in school could I appreciate what a great educationist he was. He would come down to the level of his students when teaching, though he himself was so learned, so talented. Ordinarily teachers confine their instruction to what is given in books without much thought as to whether the student can accept it or not. But M., would first of all gauge how much the student could take in and by what means. He would employ aids to teaching like maps, pictures and diagrams, so that his students could learn by seeing. Thirty years ago (from 1953) when the question of imparting education through the medium of the mother tongue was being discussed, M. had already employed Bengali as the medium of instruction in the Morton School." (M The Apostle and the Evangelist by Swami Nityatmananda Part I. P. 15.)
Imparting secular education was, however, only his profession ; his main concern was with the spiritual regeneration of man a calling for which Destiny seems to have chosen him. From his childhood he was deeply pious, and he used to be moved very much by Sdhus, temples and Durga Puja celebrations. The piety and eloquence of the great Brahmo leader of the times, Keshab Chander Sen, elicited a powerful response from the impressionable mind of Mahendra Nath, as it did in the case of many an idealistic young man of Calcutta, and prepared him to receive the great Light that was to dawn on him with the coming of Sri Ramakrishna into his life.
--
There was an urge in M. to abandon the household life and become a Sannysin. When he communicated this idea to the Master, he forbade him saying," mother has told me that you have to do a little of Her work you will have to teach Bhagavata, the word of God to humanity. The mother keeps a Bhagavata Pandit with a bondage in the world!"
( Ibid P.36.)
--
After the Master's demise, M. went on pilgrimage several times. He visited Banras, Vrindvan, Ayodhy and other places. At Banras he visited the famous Trailinga Swmi and fed him with sweets, and he had long conversations with Swami Bhaskarananda, one of the noted saintly and scholarly Sannysins of the time. In 1912 he went with the Holy mother to Banras, and spent about a year in the company of Sannysins at Banras, Vrindvan, Hardwar, Hrishikesh and Swargashram. But he returned to Calcutta, as that city offered him the unique opportunity of associating himself with the places hallowed by the Master in his lifetime. Afterwards he does not seem to have gone to any far-off place, but stayed on in his room in the Morton School carrying on his spiritual ministry, speaking on the Master and his teachings to the large number of people who flocked to him after having read his famous Kathmrita known to English readers as The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna.
This brings us to the circumstances that led to the writing and publication of this monumental work, which has made M. one of the immortals in hagiographic literature.
--
Even as a boy of about thirteen, while he was a student in the 3rd class of the Hare School, he was in the habit of keeping a diary. "Today on rising," he wrote in his diary, "I greeted my father and mother, prostrating on the ground before them" (Swami Nityatmananda's 'M The Apostle and the Evangelist' Part I. P 29.) At another place he wrote, "Today, while on my way to school, I visited, as usual, the temples of Kli, the mother at Tharitharia, and of mother Sitala, and paid my obeisance to them." About twenty-five years after, when he met the Great Master in the spring of 1882, it was the same instinct of a born diary-writer that made him begin his book, 'unique in the literature of hagiography', with the memorable words: "When hearing the name of Hari or Rma once, you shed tears and your hair stands on end, then you may know for certain that you do not have to perform devotions such as Sandhya any more."
In addition to this instinct for diary-keeping, M. had great endowments contri buting to success in this line. Writes Swami Nityatmananda who lived in close association with M., in his book entitled M - The Apostle and Evangelist: "M.'s prodigious memory combined with his extraordinary power of imagination completely annihilated the distance of time and place for him. Even after the lapse of half a century he could always visualise vividly, scenes from the life of Sri Ramakrishna. Superb too was his power to portray pictures by words."
--
During the Master's lifetime M. does not seem to have revealed the contents of his diary to any one. There is an unconfirmed tradition that when the Master saw him taking notes, he expressed apprehension at the possibility of his utilising these to publicise him like Keshab Sen; for the Great Master was so full of the spirit of renunciation and humility that he disliked being lionised. It must be for this reason that no one knew about this precious diary of M. for a decade until he brought out selections from it as a pamphlet in English in 1897 with the Holy mother's blessings and permission. The Holy mother, being very much pleased to hear parts of the diary read to her in Bengali, wrote to M.: "When I heard the Kathmrita, (Bengali name of the book) I felt as if it was he, the Master, who was saying all that." ( Ibid Part I. P 37.)
The two pamphlets in English entitled the Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna appeared in October and November 1897. They drew the spontaneous acclamation of Swami Vivekananda, who wrote on 24th November of that year from Dehra Dun to M.:"Many many thanks for your second leaflet. It is indeed wonderful. The move is quite original, and never was the life of a Great Teacher brought before the public untarnished by the writer's mind, as you are doing. The language also is beyond all praise, so fresh, so pointed, and withal so plain and easy. I cannot express in adequate terms how I have enjoyed them. I am really in a transport when I read them. Strange, isn't it? Our Teacher and Lord was so original, and each one of us will have to be original or nothing.
--
About twenty-seven years of his life he spent in this way in the heart of the great city of Calcutta, radiating the Master's thoughts and ideals to countless devotees who flocked to him, and to still larger numbers who read his Kathmrita (English Edition : The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna), the last part of which he had completed before June 1932 and given to the press. And miraculously, as it were, his end also came immediately after he had completed his life's mission. About three months earlier he had come to stay at his home at 13/2 Gurdasprasad Chaudhuary Lane at Thakur Bari, where the Holy mother had herself installed the Master and where His regular worship was being conducted for the previous 40 years. The night of 3rd June being the Phalahrini Kli Pooja day, M.
had sent his devotees who used to keep company with him, to attend the special worship at Belur Math at night. After attending the service at the home shrine, he went through the proof of the Kathmrita for an hour. Suddenly he got a severe attack of neuralgic pain, from which he had been suffering now and then, of late. Before 6 a.m. in the early hours of 4th June 1932 he passed away, fully conscious and chanting: 'Gurudeva-Ma, Kole tule na-o (Take me in your arms! O Master! O mother!!)'
SWMI TAPASYNANDA
0.01 - Letters from the Mother to Her Son, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
object:0.01 - Letters from the mother to Her Son
author class:The mother
subject class:Integral Yoga
--
Letters from the mother to Her Son
Our community is growing more and more; we are nearly thirty
--
Written in connection with a newspaper article in which it was stated that the mother
had not slept for several months.
0.02 - II - The Home of the Guru, #Evening Talks With Sri Aurobindo, #unset, #Integral Yoga
The Master, the Guru, set at rest the puzzled human mind by his illuminating answers, perhaps even more by his silent consciousness, so that it might be able to pursue unhampered the path of realisation of the Truth. Those ancient discourses answer the mind of man today even across the ages. They have rightly acquired as everything of the past does a certain sanctity. But sometimes that very reverence prevents men from properly evaluating, and living in, the present. This happens when the mind instead of seeking the Spirit looks at the form. For instance, it is not necessary for such discourses that they take place in forest-groves in order to be highly spiritual. Wherever the Master is, there is Light. And guru-griha the house of the Master can be his private dwelling place. So much was this feeling a part of Sri Aurobindo's nature and so particular was he to maintain the personal character of his work that during the first few years after 1923 he did not like his house to be called an 'Ashram', as the word had acquired the sense of a public institution to the modern mind. But there was no doubt that the flower of Divinity had blossomed in him; and disciples, like bees seeking honey, came to him. It is no exaggeration to say that these Evening Talks were to the small company of disciples what the Aranyakas were to the ancient seekers. Seeking the Light, they came to the dwelling place of their Guru, the greatest seer of the age, and found it their spiritual home the home of their parents, for the mother, his companion in the great mission, had come. And these spiritual parents bestowed upon the disciples freely of their Light, their Consciousness, their Power and their Grace. The modern reader may find that the form of these discourses differs from those of the past but it was bound to be so for the simple reason that the times have changed and the problems that puzzle the modern mind are so different. Even though the disciples may be very imperfect representations of what he aimed at in them, still they are his creations. It is in order to repay, in however infinitesimal a degree, the debt which we owe to him that the effort is made to partake of the joy of his company the Evening Talks with a larger public.
***
0.02 - Letters to a Sadhak, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
subject class:Integral Yoga
--
I have noticed that even in cases where mother knows
our needs, She waits to be asked before granting them.
--
I feel a reserve while asking something from mother.
But in fact, there should be no reserve in our dealings
with mother; all movements should be movements of
joy, including the movement of asking. As this is lacking,
--
grey paint) A stool used by the mother has been painted
with "gris entretien". I had informed the stores not to
--
for mother's stool.
A rule is a rule and I do not see why my stool escaped the rule,
--
Extract from the mother's Prayers and Meditations, 18 June 1913.
It is good sometimes to look backwards for a confirmation of
--
The sadhak's prayer is composed of extracts from several prayers of the mother in
Prayers and Meditations,: paragraph one, 29 November 1913; two, 7 January 1914;
--
I was imagining that mother will throw away this book
in disgust, or that Sri Aurobindo will write two pages
--
from tomorrow. mother will say: this is the effect of
indulging himself so much in the morning! He deserves
--
O Sweet, Sweet mother, Thy Peace is in me, Thy Peace
is in me, Thy Peace is in me.
Sleep, child, sleep, with sweet mother in your heart!
Awake, child, awake, with sweet mother in your heart!
21 July 1932
--
I thirst for Thy consciousness, O Sweet mother, I become
one with Thee.
This thirst shall be quenched when this ("O Sweet mother, I
become one with Thee") is psychologically realised.
--
This evening when Y informed me that Z was ill, I exclaimed that she must have revolted against mother. He
asked me whether it was my belief that the cause for
--
an incident in which mother found defects in my work,
Prayers and Meditations, 29 January 1914.
--
Beloved mother,
As to my belief in the efficacy of prayer, I believe
in its efficacy only when it is addressed to the mother.
I mean that mother in that room who is there in flesh
and blood. If you refer your prayer to some unknown
--
help from an invisible and silent mother (who never contradicts
you openly) if he likes.
--
become conscious that he was working for mother and
feel the joy of it. After concentrating like this for about
--
A reservation: mother said this morning that it would
take one and a half months to finish the bathroom. I
--
my mind when I said Yes: (1) When mother says that it
will take one and a half months, naturally that should be
--
I pray to mother that there may be no unforeseen delays.
I hope so also - but I have seen that the work takes always
--
I feel I am contradicting mother. What should I do?
There is no contradiction in stating what you think. I am not
--
should be gone. So I replied, "Yes, mother, the last man
has gone." And lo, there he is, arranging the polishing
--
Sweet mother,
X told me this morning, "Do you see the plaster
--
Sweet mother,
"One must know how to soar in an immutable confidence; in the sure flight is perfect knowledge."9 I don't
--
Sweet mother,
I still cannot make a clear distinction between a
--
Sweet mother said, "There is still another method." I
was a bit perplexed as to how to apply Sweet mother's
words to the letter. I started following Her advice. I
--
Sweet mother,
The old servant X wants a job for her young son
--
Sweet mother,
The carpenter Y has taken ten days' leave in order to
--
him that mother approves neither of marriage - far less
of remarriage - nor of loans to encourage marriages.
He insists on asking Sweet mother.
Your orders please, mother wonderful!
What can we do? He is a good and regular worker, isn't he? I
--
Sweet mother,
The measuring tape: mere common sense shows that
--
I earnestly hope that mother will not disgrace me by giving
me one, for it would cover me with shame and embarrassment.
--
the mother."
12 September 1933
--
Sweet mother,
The blacksmith: an iron shaving got into his eye. Is
--
Enlighten me, Sweet mother.
These movements spring from desire and ignorance (X's desire
--
O mother divine,
I have started examining the details of the work with
--
Sweet mother,
How can people insult me so easily, I wonder. Is
--
Sweet mother,
This morning at pranam a prayer leapt up from my
--
Sweet mother,
Regarding the partition-cupboard in Y's room: I
--
What should I do, Sweet mother? I call for Your help.
You must be calm and concentrated, never utter an unnecessary
--
Sweet mother,
An exercise: If you notice that your voice is rising,
stop speaking immediately; call upon Sweet mother to
make you aware of the hidden deformation. Is it all right,
Sweet mother?
It is quite all right.
--
Sweet mother,
I have had a pain in the right side of my chest and in
--
communicating with mother. I can't find the solution.
I concentrate on mother, ask Her to guide me and find
the solution. This is not unusual. It has happened several
--
Sadhak: No, we meditate with mother.
Mr. Z: On what do you meditate?
--
(The mother underlined most of the remarks above
in red pencil.)
--
Sweet mother,
When I read a novel or anything in print I clearly understand, say, eighty per cent. But when someone speaks,
--
Sweet mother,
A prayer: Teach me the unfailing way to receive from
Sweet mother a healing and comforting kiss.
Why do you want an outward sign of my love? Are you not
--
Sweet mother,
I admit that I have much to learn from X. I bow to
Sweet mother in X. Make our relationship one through
which I may benefit and come to know you.
--
Sweet mother,
I have a confession to make. My mind is flooded
--
Sweet mother,
All the pain I have felt till tonight comes from my
reservations with regard to Sweet mother. Is my diagnosis correct? If so, how can I do away with these
reservations without seeming to contradict or embarrass
Sweet mother?
I am going to begin by telling you a very little story. Then I shall
--
O Sweet mother,
I am thirsting, thirsting for Your love!
--
Sweet mother,
This morning You said that when one has a feeling of
--
Sweet mother,
While inspecting the stores I found that the principle
--
Sweet mother,
X sent me a mason with a dismissal note this morning. Later, I learnt from X that the mason had laughed
--
Sweet mother,
I heard that one can know all the qualities of any
--
O Sweet mother,
I sing Your praises. I will never forget how You respond when one calls You with intensity, nor the marvel
--
I bow to You, Sweet mother. Be present in me always
and for ever.
--
Sweet mother,
I know that I was not obliged to give Y an explanation for my decision. In his expression, the question was
--
this weakness? O Sweet mother, how should one act in
such cases?
--
Sweet mother,
Listen to these two accounts of inner suggestions.
--
Sweet mother,
Please forgive me for my ambiguous reply to Z. I
--
without getting a headache, Sweet mother?
It may be the contradiction between these two movements which
--
Sweet mother,
What does "listening to the voice" mean? Is it like
--
distinguished, Sweet mother?
It was obviously an inner voice. One rarely hears the sound of
--
Sweet mother,
I have decided to adopt the following attitude towards Z. If I have any suggestion or remark to make
--
right. We shall both submit our views to mother and she will
decide."
--
Sweet mother,
You have made me aware of the subconscious movements governing my action. Whenever a similar opportunity arises, will You please make me more and more
--
O Sweet mother, I assure You, I promise You, that with
Your Grace I will be myself again within a short time.
--
use me even as You use Your feet, O Sweet mother.
I bow to You in joyful gratitude.
--
of someone's room, and wrote to the mother explaining
his decision.)
--
Sweet mother,
Yesterday X asked me whether the nails in his wall
--
on this point I said, "Ask mother." Later it was Sweet
mother who decided not to have them removed.
--
Sweet mother,
You wrote to me, "It is precisely because your refusal had no real cause that it did not have the power
--
Did I invent this for some other motive?
Look into your heart, in all sincerity, and you will see that
--
not supported by Sweet mother, and I firmly believe that
nothing whatever can hold true or be effective unless it
is supported by Sweet mother.
When we are in the presence of hostile forces, only the purity of
--
Enlighten me, Sweet mother.
Your argument seems right, but since its starting-point is wrong
--
When someone makes a remark, why does Sweet mother
blame me without even asking me for an explanation?
--
O Sweet mother,
"Penetrate all my being, transfigure it till Thou alone
--
Perhaps Sweet mother is displeased with me about something? I have no peace.
I am not at all displeased. But what a strange idea to let yourself
--
Sweet mother,
I don't know why I have lost my self-control and
--
Sweet mother,
I would like to take part in all the shuttering and
--
Sweet mother,
For the past few days, every time I meet X, he
--
O Sweet mother,
In spite of all my efforts at friendly collaboration
--
The remedy: surrender all that to "Sweet mother" completely and definitively.
With my loving solicitude and my blessings.
0.02 - The Three Steps of Nature, #The Synthesis Of Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
The immanence itself would have no credible reason for being if it did not end in such a transfiguration. But if human mind can become capable of the glories of the divine Light, human e motion and sensibility can be transformed into the mould and assume the measure and movement of the supreme Bliss, human action not only represent but feel itself to be the motion of a divine and non-egoistic Force and the physical substance of our being sufficiently partake of the purity of the supernal essence, sufficiently unify plasticity and durable constancy to support and prolong these highest experiences and agencies, then all the long labour of Nature will end in a crowning justification and her evolutions reveal their profound significance.
So dazzling is even a glimpse of this supreme existence and so absorbing its attraction that, once seen, we feel readily justified in neglecting all else for its pursuit. Even, by an opposite exaggeration to that which sees all things in Mind and the mental life as an exclusive ideal, Mind comes to be regarded as an unworthy deformation and a supreme obstacle, the source of an illusory universe, a negation of the Truth and itself to be denied and all its works and results annulled if we desire the final liberation. But this is a half-truth which errs by regarding only the actual limitations of Mind and ignores its divine intention.
0.03 - III - The Evening Sittings, #Evening Talks With Sri Aurobindo, #unset, #Integral Yoga
When Sri Aurobindo and the mother moved to No. 9 Rue de la Marine in 1922 the same routine of informal evening sittings after meditation continued. I came to Pondicherry for Sadhana in the beginning of 1923. I kept notes of the important talks I had with the four or five disciples who were already there. Besides, I used to take detailed notes of the Evening Talks which we all had with the Master. They were not intended by him to be noted down. I took them down because of the importance I felt about everything connected with him, no matter how insignificant to the outer view. I also felt that everything he did would acquire for those who would come to know his mission a very great significance.
As years passed the evening sittings went on changing their time and often those disciples who came from outside for a temporary stay for Sadhana were allowed to join them. And, as the number of sadhaks practising the Yoga increased, the evening sittings also became more full, and the small verandah upstairs in the main building was found insufficient. Members of the household would gather every day at the fixed time with some sense of expectancy and start chatting in low tones. Sri Aurobindo used to come last and it was after his coming that the session would really commence.
--
From 1922 to 1926, No. 9, Rue de la Marine, where he and the mother had shifted, was the place where the sittings were held. There, also upstairs, was a less broad verandah than at the Guest House, a little bigger table in front of the central door out of three, and a broad Japanese chair, the table covered with a better cloth than the one in the Guest House, a small flower vase, an ash-tray, a block calendar indicating the date and an ordinary time-piece, and a number of chairs in front in a line. The evening sittings used to be after meditation at 4 or 4.30 p.m. After 24 November 1926, the sittings began to get later and later, till the limit of 1 o'clock at night was reached. Then the curtain fell. Sri Aurobindo retired completely after December 1926, and the evening sittings came to a close.
On 8 February 1927, Sri Aurobindo and the mother moved to No. 28, Rue Franois Martin, a house on the north-east of the same block as No. 9, Rue de la Marine.
Then, on 23 November 1938, I got up at 2 o'clock to prepare hot water for the mother's early bath because the 24th was Darshan day. Between 2.20 and 2.30 the mother rang the bell. I ran up the staircase to be told about an accident that had happened to Sri Aurobindo's thigh and to be asked to fetch the doctor. This accident brought about a change in his complete retirement, and rendered him available to those who had to attend on him. This opened out a long period of 12 years during which his retirement was modified owing to circumstances, inner and outer, that made it possible for him to have direct physical contacts with the world outside.
The long period of the Second World War with all its vicissitudes passed through these years. It was a priceless experience to see how he devoted his energies to the task of saving humanity from the threatened reign of Nazism. It was a practical lesson of solid work done for humanity without any thought of return or reward, without even letting humanity know what he was doing for it! Thus he lived the Divine and showed us how the Divine cares for the world, how He comes down and works for man. I shall never forget how he who was at one time in his own words "not merely a non-co-operator but an enemy of British Imperialism" bestowed such anxious care on the health of Churchill, listening carefully to the health-bulletins! It was the work of the Divine, it was the Divine's work for the world.
0.03 - Letters to My little smile, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
subject class:Integral Yoga
--
worked for many years embroidering clothes for the mother and
later became one of her personal attendants. She began writing
to the mother at the age of seventeen.
My dear little smile,
--
Silence: the name given by the mother to the Wild Passion-flower (passiflora incarnata).
why and understanding the deeper cause of your happiness and
--
Dear mother,
I am sending You this rupee. Now I no longer need
--
Dear mother,
This subject was given for composition in our French
--
Dear mother,
I don't want tamas. Today I worked all day.
--
Dear mother,
I have noticed that in X's presence I dare not do certain things, such as talk in a loud voice or other impolite
--
Dear mother,
You know that the doctor asked me to look after Y.
--
that the others were listening to the mother playing the
organ for me, and it made me feel proud. I understood,
--
and sincere joy of a child near to its mother.
The nature is complex, and always the true and the false,
--
My mother, today it seems to me that my mind is not
calm enough to write anything to You. Today I worked
--
to me that I would have to write all this to mother and
suddenly the conversation stopped.
--
won't tell mother this or that, but rather say: I shall tell her
everything quite frankly.
--
Dear mother,
I am never satisfied, even though You have given me
--
Dear mother,
Nowhere do I find any progress. Even in my work I
--
Dear mother,
I have often noticed that when I wake up from sleep,
--
Dear mother,
... And as for X, now I think, "Why didn't I refuse
--
Dear mother,
If You want these imaginations to remain in me, let
--
Dear mother,
I think this is the last thing I shall write to You.
--
should never have wished to come here. mother, I wish
You would not tell me that I am rebelling, I do not like
--
I do not know, mother, why I have written all these
things. mother, please do not be angry with me, I have
nobody except You.
--
Dear mother,
"What should disappear will disappear; only what
--
Dear mother,
This morning after nine o 'clock X came to my room.
--
Dear mother,
Am I not Your child? Yes, I know that I am a naughty
--
Dear mother,
It seems to me that my mind (or rather myself)
--
Dear mother,
What is all this about psychological and physical
--
Dear mother,
Yes, I know that You know that now I can hide
--
without You, and this is why, mother, You like to see me
suffer as much as possible - isn't it so?
--
Dear mother,
For the past two days I have felt a great despair and
--
Dear mother,
You no longer call me "my child"? Am I so bad and
--
Dear mother,
You told me to write something to You every day.
--
Dear mother,
This morning I woke up at 5:45. I washed and
--
sleep, work and talk. mother, do You like reading the
same thing every day?
--
Your affectionate mother.
25 January 1933
My dear mother,
I have noticed that X has not stopped his bad habit.
--
My dear mother,
Today I prayed to You with my body2 for ten hours.
--
To pray with the body: to do one's work as an offering to the Divine. The mother has
written: "To work for the Divine is to pray with the body." Words of the mother - II,
CWM, Vol. 14, p. 299.
My dear mother,
I worked on the sari for ten hours. I think I shall
--
Dear mother,
Today I prayed to You with my body for nine hours.
--
My dear mother,
"Supramental beauty in the physical"3 - what does
--
The mother's name for a light golden-orange Hibiscus.
Series Three - To "My little smile"
--
My dear mother,
This morning You gave me a flower which signifies "Consciousness turned towards the supramental
--
The mother's name for a yellow-orange Sunflower (Helianthus).
My dear mother,
Have You seen my little roses on Your gown? Are
--
My dear mother,
Today I prayed to You with my body for nine hours.
--
My dear mother,
No, I don't want to take a rest. Today I prayed to
--
My dear mother,
Yes, X told me today that the frame would be completely ready this evening.
--
My dear mother,
Not only do I work all day, but I want to work as
--
dear mother? How will my dreams be fulfilled if I waste
my time?
--
My dear mother,
mother, do You know, it is I who ironed these two
--
have ironed a blouse. mother, give me a "bravo" for
this. Tomorrow I am going to start on the other grey
--
My dear mother,
This morning I cut a chemise for You - it is the first
--
My dear mother,
I think all the trouble I took for X was in vain. I
--
My dear mother,
I shall tell You how I usually spend my evenings.
--
My dear mother,
Today, August 15th, I didn't work; I will start from
--
My dear mother,
I have started fixing the sari on the embroidery frame
--
My dear mother,
Today also I was busy fixing the sari on the frame,
--
My dear mother,
I do not feel that I am working; I just play like a
child all day with the marvellous playthings my mother
has given me to play with all day. I don't know how to
--
My dear mother,
I am working on the grey sari. What else? What can
--
My dear mother,
You have a lot of work; I don't want to take up Your
--
My dear mother,
After the Darshan I was quiet and happy. At the
--
the sadhaks went before Sri Aurobindo and the mother to receive their blessings.
Series Three - To "My little smile"
--
then he said, "You are the mother's child, not Sri Aurobindo's." (It was just a joke, because I can read Your
handwriting but not Sri Aurobindo's.)
Don't you believe that when one is a child of the mother,
one is at the same time a child of Sri Aurobindo, and viceversa?
--
My dear mother,
Yesterday and today I worked all day on the "iris"
sari. I love to work for You. mother, I don't know what
to write. I have nothing to say.
--
My dear mother,
Today also I worked all day on the "iris" sari; I
--
My dear mother,
The "iris" flowers are very beautiful. mother, what
do they signify?
--
My dear mother,
Yesterday while ironing the blouse I scorched it in a
--
I become a naughty child, don't I, mother?
Not naughty, poor little one, only a little sad, and that distresses
--
heart. There are bad things too, as You know, mother
- I have told You about them.
But this little heart is full of love. mother, we are
going to burn all the bad things in this little heart. Then
--
The mother's name for the Tiger-claw plant, Heliconia metallica.
I have seen this blouse, I find that the bird-of-paradise
--
My mother, give me purity and constancy in my
aspiration.
--
My beloved mother,
You are already in my heart, it is true. But I don't
--
project outward." mother, when I feel something I feel
it in my heart (and I think everyone feels in his heart).
--
I want to lie on Your lap, mother.
Poor little one, I very gladly take you on my lap and cradle you
--
Tender love from your mother.
25 July 1936
--
Tender love from your mother.
30 July 1936
--
Your mother.
31 August 1936
0.03 - The Threefold Life, #The Synthesis Of Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
The characteristic energy of bodily Life is not so much in progress as in persistence, not so much in individual selfenlargement as in self-repetition. There is, indeed, in physical Nature a progression from type to type, from the vegetable to the animal, from the animal to man; for even in inanimate Matter Mind is at work. But once a type is marked off physically, the chief immediate preoccupation of the terrestrial mother seems to be to keep it in being by a constant reproduction. For Life always seeks immortality; but since individual form is impermanent and only the idea of a form is permanent in the consciousness that creates the universe, - for there it does not perish, - such constant reproduction is the only possible material immortality.
Self-preservation, self-repetition, self-multiplication are necessarily, then, the predominant instincts of all material existence.
--
It is for man to know her meaning, no longer misunderstanding, vilifying or misusing the universal mother and to aspire always by her mightiest means to her highest ideal.
3 Satya means Truth; Krita, effected or completed.
0.04 - Letters to a Sadhak, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
subject class:Integral Yoga
0.05 - Letters to a Child, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
subject class:Integral Yoga
--
began writing to the mother at the age of twelve.
Always do with pleasure the work you have to do.
--
My dear mother,
Today when I went to X for my music lesson I felt
--
O mother,
The disturbance still has not disappeared. I am in
--
Dearest mother,
I want to feel your touch in each and every one of
--
mother, O mother,
Have I done any wrong? Answer me please. If I have
--
with me? mother, make me yours.
Why this question? You have done nothing wrong and I am
--
My little mother,
Yesterday I told you that "we" had painted an envelope. By "we" I mean that there is me and you. I feel
--
Your little mother.
15 March 1934
My mother,
I do not want the vulgar joy of the world. Take me
--
Love from your little mother who is always with you.
15 March 1934
My little mother,
Peace, peace, give me your unalloyed peace and
--
Your mother.
16 March 1934
My little mother,
Why does this difficulty come? Do I open myself to
it or is it something else? mother, after having come so
close to you, why does it come?
--
Love from your mother.
17 March 1934
My dear mother,
My heart wants to run to your feet; it wants to lose
--
Love from your mother.
29 March 1934
Sweet mother,
I feel devoid of strength, will and energy. I don't
--
Your mother.
6 April 1934
My sweet mother,
May peace be with me always.
--
Love from your mother.
17 April 1934
--
Sweet mother,
Give me peace, energy and inspiration.
--
But don't you still have your mother's friendship? And also
all her love, and her solicitude for you?
--
My sweet mother,
Human contact has done me much harm, but I
--
My sweet mother,
You are everywhere. Remain with me always.
--
Your mother.
4 May 1934
--
knowing. That was my interest, even my passion. My mother,
who loved us very much - my brother and myself - never allowed us to be ill tempered or discontented or lazy. If we went
--
My mother was perfectly right and I have always been very
grateful to her for having taught me the discipline and the necessity of self-forgetfulness through concentration on what one
--
Your mother who loves you.
15 May 1934
--
Love from your mother.
22 May 1934
--
Your mother.
2 June 1934
--
My sweet mother,
I shall be what you want me to be. Dear mother,
accept my childlike prayer.
--
With your mother's blessings.
12 June 1934
--
I am your true mother who will give birth in you to the true
being, the being who is free, peaceful, strong and happy always,
--
Love from your mother.
25 July 1934
My dear mother,
Give energy and force to your child. Oh, take me
--
mother, my dear mother,
You know everything that I need. Take me into your
--
My dear mother,
I want to be like the lion on the envelope I am
--
Your mother.
21 August 1934
My dear mother,
Purify me. Dispel the shadows. I will not revolt any
--
to grieve your mother who loves you and wants only your own
good?
--
My dear mother,
I won't be irregular from today. You know very well
--
am going to the dining-room. My mother, I want to be
good. Everything has gone now. I want to be your little
--
My dear mother,
Have I done something that has displeased you?
--
Dearest mother,
I feel so tired, and my head hurts. mother, what shall
I do?
--
My dear mother,
I am not unhappy. All that is a falsehood.
--
My little mother,
Give me peace. Give me joy in work. Make me your
--
My little mother,
I want peace. I feel that everything is unquiet.
--
My dearest mother,
Won't you forgive me? mother, take me into your
arms.
--
My dear little mother,
Forgive the faults I have committed. Give me peace.
--
Dearest mother,
Stay with me always. You know everything.
--
My dear mother,
I want to feel you near to me always. I want peace.
--
Love from your mother.
1 February 1935
--
My sweet mother,
Fill my thoughts with you. Stay always with your
--
My sweet mother,
I don't know why something in me is sad. Even
--
My dear mother,
I don't know why I have lost all my happiness and
--
My sweet mother, what shall I do?
My dear child,
--
Sweet mother,
I want to be happy, but how? Sadness comes during
my work; I cannot forget it. My dear mother, be with
me always.
--
Love from your mother.
12 June 1935
My sweet mother,
I feel very tired; some part in me is not happy. I don't
--
My dear mother,
I feel very tired. I also have a slight headache.
--
Love from your mother.
6 September 1935
My sweet mother,
For three days I have been feeling sad in the evening.
--
Love from your mother.
16 December 1936
Sweet mother,
You told me that I am making progress. Did you
--
and all will be well; but you know, mother, nothing stays
in me.
--
Love from your mother.
26 July 1937
My dear mother,
No, I cannot do all those things. Why did you think
--
Love from your mother.
28 July 1937
My sweet mother,
You told me that you saw two things while I was
--
Love from your mother.
28 August 1937
--
Love from your mother.
9 September 1937
--
Love from your mother.
13 September 1937
--
Love from your mother who never leaves you.
15 May 1938
My sweet mother,
These last few days I felt that I was going down step
--
see whether I want this life or not? mother, if you don't
know what my path is, then who does?
--
Love from your mother.
29 May 1938
My sweet mother,
I feel completely suffocated. The struggle has become fiercer. How many days must I go on like this?
--
Love from your mother.
28 June 1938
--
Love from your mother.
10 July 1938
My sweet mother,
I want to ask you something concerning my poetry.
--
Your mother.
17 July 1938
--
My sweet mother,
Were you angry with me because I have decided to
--
Give me a chance, mother, please.
One thing I want to ask you: mother, will you
always be in my heart?
--
Love from your mother.
30 August 1938
--
Your mother who loves you.
30 March 1939
--
Your mother.
11 January 1940
--
O my sweet mother,
Accept my gratitude for having shown me the true
--
My sweet mother,
I want to be closer to you in my heart and in all my
--
My sweet mother,
The more I look into myself, the more discouraged
--
The mother underlined the words "all will be well" and wrote beside them: "This is
the voice of truth, the one you must listen to."
--
Sweet mother,
I feel that something is wrong and you are very
--
Sweet mother,
I pray, please do not be vexed by my letter. I on my
--
Love from your mother.
Your going away will not help in the least. Exterior means are
--
My little mother,
I shall be so happy when all the clouds and shadows
--
My mother,
It is a lack of energy that is preventing me from
--
Love from your mother.
My dear mother,
I don't know what to do. I want to open to you, but
--
Love from your mother who is always there ready to help
you.
My dear mother,
You are displeased with me, aren't you? I feel so sad.
--
Love from your mother.
My dear sweet mother,
Transform my whole nature. I shall be what you
--
heart. I cannot express everything in words, but, mother,
you know everything.
--
My sweet mother,
I want a deep peace - a very deep peace. I feel that
--
My sweet mother,
Light, more light. Enlighten me. Now I know that
you are the greatest power. My mother, take me into
your heart, dissolve the obstacles.
--
O my dear mother,
Take me into your heart. No, no, I don't want these
--
With all my love. Your mother.
My dear child,
0.05 - The Synthesis of the Systems, #The Synthesis Of Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
Strength, often unobserved and behind the veil, substitutes itself for our weakness and supports us through all our failings of faith, courage and patience. It "makes the blind to see and the lame to stride over the hills." The intellect becomes aware of a Law that beneficently insists and a succour that upholds; the heart speaks of a Master of all things and Friend of man or a universal mother who upholds through all stumblings. Therefore this path is at once the most difficult imaginable and yet, in comparison with the magnitude of its effort and object, the most easy and sure of all.
There are three outstanding features of this action of the higher when it works integrally on the lower nature. In the first place it does not act according to a fixed system and succession as in the specialised methods of Yoga, but with a sort of free, scattered and yet gradually intensive and purposeful working determined by the temperament of the individual in whom it operates, the helpful materials which his nature offers and the obstacles which it presents to purification and perfection. In a sense, therefore, each man in this path has his own method of
0.06 - Letters to a Young Sadhak, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
subject class:Integral Yoga
--
Beloved mother, every moment I feel a great transformation taking place in me. Isn't this true?
It is quite true. But it seems to me that even the outer forms,
--
I feel indignant, mother, for I cannot find my "self", as
soon as I try to do so, I find nothing but this body, which
--
I ask You once again, mother, what is it that divides my
being?
--
Beloved mother, guide my steps, illumine my mind, and
do not leave, I pray, any distance between You and me.
--
Divine must be broken. O mother, I don't know what I
ought to do.
--
My mother, with all my will and all my effort I want to
realise that love which You have foreseen in your divine
--
My dear mother, I do not say that I love You and belong
to You, I must prove it in my actions; without that these
--
O mother, take me with You; I shall seat You for ever in
my heart; I could not bear to lose You.
--
My beloved mother, if only I could convince my ignorant
being that it is possible to find You in the centre of my
--
Beloved mother, how shall I find the source of that
Love which will make me feel that the divine Presence is
--
nestles in its mother's arms, with a complete surrender; and of
the two the latter seems to me the easier.
My darling mother, if the Divine shows Himself to me
in exchange for my love for Him and the giving of my
--
My beloved mother, one day You wrote to me that I
must climb to the plane where You are, to be able to
--
to come down here. But mother, You are so great and
remain so high up that it seems to me almost impossible
--
My beloved mother, is it not possible to meet You on
some other plane than the physical? I don't mean by
--
Beloved mother, I must either be transformed or cease
to be.
--
My sweet mother, do You say that I ought to overcome
this desire to come to You physically?
--
Beloved mother, there are twenty-four hours in a day,
but I can't remain at Your feet for more than a few
--
Do not leave my heart empty, mother.
I am always in your heart.
--
What was this thing, mother?
Certainly it was the psychic being, but it became active only
--
I feel, mother, that I am a very frivolous fellow; won't
You change me?
--
Beloved mother, how to master this lethargy that overcomes me? I do not live, mother, I just exist in some way.
mother, I must find something which can divert me.
--
Sweet mother, I am happy because I love You and because I suffer a little in loving You.
I don't see the need of your suffering. Psychic love is always
--
My most beloved mother, the idea of separation opens
between You and me like a frightening abyss. I am not
--
All will be done, mother, but why is my heart becoming
more and more dry and hard?
--
My beloved mother, the whole day I thought of nothing
else except that red rose which signifies "Human passions changed into love for the Divine". I want to know
--
My most beloved mother, an introspection has revealed
to me many things. There is a jealousy in me which blinds
--
My sweet beloved mother, I read in the Conversations:
"Concentration alone will lead you to this goal." Should
--
Be with me, mother, without You I am weak, very weak
and fearful.
--
My adored mother, Sri Aurobindo's last letter made me
think much. The most obvious sign of the action of an
--
My beloved mother, can the adverse forces act effectively
against the terrestrial evolution without using a human
--
Sweet mother, if my company is not good for others,
should I not dissociate myself from everyone?
--
Beloved mother, do You grant that it is possible to do
without food?
--
My most beloved mother, I think it would be better to
avoid a party of this kind.
--
My beloved mother, I want to follow a systematic course
of metaphysics and ethics. I am also thinking of reading
0.07 - DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL, #Dark Night of the Soul, #Saint John of the Cross, #Christianity
2. And this going forth it says here that it was able to accomplish in the strength and ardour which love for its Spouse gave to it for that purpose in the dark contemplation aforementioned. Herein it extols the great happiness which it found in journeying to God through this night with such signal success that none of the three enemies, which are world, devil and flesh (who are they that ever impede this road), could hinder it; inasmuch as the aforementioned night of purgative20 contemplation lulled to sleep and mortified, in the house of its sensuality, all the passions and desires with respect to their mischievous desires and motions. The line, then, says:
On a dark night
0.07 - Letters to a Sadhak, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
subject class:Integral Yoga
--
surrender of self - oh, how difficult it is, mother!
There are many things wrong with me, I know. But
--
it, mother?
Nothing special to you. It is the same difficulty that exists for all
--
any real significance, mother?
Many things have been said on the subject but, as far as my own
--
From your mother you can always take, it is quite natural, especially when things are given to you full-heartedly - and am I
not your mother who loves you?...
3 January 1937
--
What a letter you have written to Y, mother! You will
turn my head some day, if it is not turned already! But,
--
Eternal mother,
I have sunk very low in my consciousness and you
seem farther away than ever. You are the Infinite mother
of all your creation and many are your children. But
--
Lead me to thy own home in Truth, mother. I offer
thee my will of progressive submission and increasing
--
Love, mother? How did you know it was the inmost
desire of my heart? You are very, very adorable and very,
--
child to you, O my beloved mother.
Yes, you are my child and it is true that of all things it is the most
--
you meant, dear mother. What kind of faith would you
like me to aspire for?
--
Dear, dear, dear mother,
Every day you are growing more and more lovable
--
dear mother, and in rare blessed moments I do sense that
we are always surrounded by your love. But as for a real
--
It is not as a Guru that I love and bless, it is as the mother who
asks nothing in return for what she gives.
--
the love of the mother who does not ask for anything
in return. That is all right for you, for yours is a selffulfilled life. But I have yet to achieve everything, yet to
--
But what a joy and love it is when both mother and son are
good!
--
egoism. But if my mother chooses to see only the good
in her child, that only speaks of the goodness of the
--
(The sadhak received a jar of pickles from the mother.)
You overwhelm me with your love, dear mother. I know
I do not deserve one iota of the kindness you show to
--
remember me and think, mother loves me...
Love and blessings to my dear child.
--
Dear, dear, dear mother,
I send you heaps and heaps of love. In the lotus of my
--
O Devi, O mother!
In the secret recesses of my heart's chamber I have
--
Avatar of the Divine mother whom I adore, but whom
I know not except by Her lotus-feet. That is the reason
--
Will you kindly tell me, dear mother, if you love me
truly and genuinely in spite of my poor humanity or
--
Dear mother,
I apologise humbly for my query yesterday and pray
--
What I offer you, my mother, is a turbid mixture of
which I am ashamed but which you alone can purify.
--
and say to myself, "The mother loves me." On the crest
of a great wave of love the gift came to me and I felt
--
kindness, my mother, and grateful too.
There is no contradiction that cannot be solved and harmonised
--
My dear loving mother,
In my birthday book Sri Aurobindo has written,
--
Why did the mother choose this frail vessel for Her
abode? I know that so long as She chooses to make her
--
Inside, outside and everywhere is the help of the mother...
with her love and blessings.
--
Dear mother,
Your love for poor me is still my lodestar and I am
--
Dear mother,
I thank you very much for all your kindness and
--
so, mother? Perhaps you do not approve of my tone;
perhaps you are dissatisfied with my disability; possibly
--
The sadhak asked if he could accept money sent to him by relatives. The mother
answered: "My dear child, you can be sure of my love and blessings."
0.08 - Letters to a Young Captain, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
subject class:Integral Yoga
--
Sweet mother,
What is the difference between the psychic change
--
Sweet mother,
How can one make one's psychic personality grow?
--
Sweet mother,
How can one draw energy into oneself from outside?
--
Sweet mother,
What are these other forms of Energy and how do
--
Sweet mother,
What is meant by "a subtle physical prolongation
--
Sweet mother,
How can one silence the mind, remain quiet, and
--
Sweet mother,
How can one eliminate the will of the ego?
--
Sweet mother,
Why has the Divine made His path so difficult? He
--
Sweet mother,
You have written that to enter into conscious contact
--
But, Sweet mother, I don't know how to do this. I find
it easier when I think of you, try to enter into contact
--
Sweet mother,
Is it possible to have control over oneself during
--
Sweet mother,
What is the role of the soul?
--
Sweet mother,
Is there anything like good luck and bad luck, or is
--
Sweet mother,
What do you give us in the morning at the balcony,1
--
During this period the mother stood for a while every morning on a balcony facing
the street and gazed at the sadhaks assembled below.
--
Sweet mother,
What is meant by the "silence of the physical consciousness"2 and how can one remain in this silence?
--
Sweet mother,
How can one enter into the feelings of a piece of
--
Sweet mother,
How can one distinguish between good and evil in
--
Sweet mother,
How should we read your books and the books of Sri
--
Sweet mother,
Why does meditation in front of different photos of
--
Sweet mother,
Why is the photo a fragmentary and limited presence?
--
Sweet mother,
What exactly are the subconscient and the inconscient?
--
Sweet mother,
What should one try to do when one meditates with
--
Sweet mother,
What is the work of the Overmind?3
--
Sweet mother,
What is meant by "a zone corresponding to the overmind" and how can one develop it in oneself? What is
--
Sweet mother,
What is Supernature?
--
Sweet mother,
Sri Aurobindo has written in The Life Divine:
--
normal subliminal parts."4 Sweet mother, now after the
descent of the Supermind,5 is it still like that?
--
On 29 February 1956 there took place, in the mother's words, "the manifestation of the Supramental upon earth"; "Then the supramental Light and Force and
Consciousness rushed down upon earth in an uninterrupted flow."
--
Sweet mother,
What is meant by the yoga of devotion and the yoga
--
Sweet mother,
What are the "supreme faculties"?
--
Sweet mother,
What are "the different psychological divisions of
--
Sweet mother,
Is it possible to have a correct conception of the
--
The mother
ii
0.09 - Letters to a Young Teacher, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
subject class:Integral Yoga
--
Sweet mother,
With what attitude should I read Sri Aurobindo's
--
others, mother? What good is life if the Divine does not
want us? I believe that in truth the Divine has chosen us
--
Sweet mother,
You have said that I do not think well. How can one
--
Sweet mother,
You have asked the teachers "to think with ideas
--
Sweet mother,
Sri Aurobindo speaks of a "central knot of desires"
--
Sweet mother,
One day in class you said, with your hands wide
--
Sweet mother,
It happens that when we love You deeply and are
--
Sweet mother,
It is much easier for me to approach You than to
approach Sri Aurobindo. Why? You are all that Sri Aurobindo is for us, as well as a divine and loving mother. So
is it necessary to try to establish the same relation with
--
a mother who is very close to you, who loves and understands
you; that is why it is easy for you to approach me with a loving
--
Sweet mother,
What exactly is the soul or psychic being? And what
--
Sweet mother,
You have said that once we have found our psychic
--
Sweet mother,
The soul individualises itself and progressively transforms itself into a psychic being. What are the best
--
Sweet mother,
Does an outer life of evil deeds and a base consciousness have an effect on the psychic being? Is there
--
Sweet mother,
How does the soul influence a being who is normally
--
Sweet mother,
Sri Aurobindo says that the voice of the ordinary
--
Sweet mother,
You have said that to be allowed to sit in Sri
--
Words of the mother - I, CWM, Vol. 13, p. 29.
Series Nine - To a Young Teacher
--
Sweet mother,
How are the messages that You give us on Blessings
--
Sweet mother,
Sri Aurobindo tells us: "First be sure of the call and
--
Sweet mother,
Sri Aurobindo tells us: "God's grace is more difficult
--
Sweet mother,
Why isn't it possible to live always on the same
--
What is it, mother?
It is because an individual is not made up all of one piece, but
--
Sweet mother,
Often it is possible to live moments of supreme
--
Sweet mother,
In the last question, I expressed myself very poorly
--
So now tell me, mother, if it is possible to have an
idea of the "Transcendent Divine".
--
Sweet mother,
Sri Aurobindo tells us: "God in his perfection embraces everything; we also must become all-embracing."
--
Sweet mother,
We are told that before the children came to the
--
Sweet mother,
Is it possible to love You perfectly, absolutely, before
--
Sweet mother,
In the New Year Message of 1961 You say: "This
--
Sweet mother,
How can one most effectively call this wonderful
--
Sweet mother,
When this delight comes down, what will the visible
--
Sweet mother,
These days they print your symbol and Sri Aurobindo's name on all sorts of things, on all the thousand
--
And then what can we do with these things, mother,
when we no longer need them? We can't throw them
--
Sweet mother,
Is there a dynamic and rapid way to find one's
01.01 - A Yoga of the Art of Life, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 03, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
In order to get a nearer approach to the ideal for which Sri Aurobindo has been labouring, we may combine with advantage the two mottoes he has given us and say that his mission is to find and express the Divine in humanity. This is the service he means to render to humanity, viz, to manifest and embody in it the Divine: his goal is not merely an amelioration, but a total change and transformation, the divinisation of human life.
Here also one must guard against certain misconceptions that are likely to occur. The transformation of human life does not necessarily mean that the entire humanity will be changed into a race of gods or divine beings; it means the evolution or appearance on earth of a superior type of humanity, even as man evolved out of animality as a superior type of animality, not that the entire animal kingdom was changed into humanity.
01.01 - The New Humanity, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 01, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
The world is in the throes of a new creation and the pangs of that new birth have made mother Earth restless. It is no longer a far-off ideal that our imagination struggles to visualise, nor a prophecy that yet remains to be fulfilled. It is Here and Now.
Although we may not know it, the New Man the divine race of humanity is already among us. It may be in our next neighbour, in our nearest brother, even in myself. Only a thin veil covers it. It marches just behind the line. It waits for an occasion to throw off the veil and place itself in the forefront. We are living in strenuous times in which age-long institutions are going down and new-forces rearing their heads, old habits are being cast off and new impulsions acquired. In every sphere of life, we see the urgent demand for a recasting, a fresh valuation of things. From the base to the summit, from the economic and political life to the artistic and spiritual, humanity is being shaken to bring out a new expression and articulation. There is the hidden surge of a Power, the secret stress of a Spirit that can no longer suffer to remain in the shade and behind the mask, but wills to come out in the broad daylight and be recognised in its plenary virtues.
01.01 - The Symbol Dawn, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
The heedless mother of the universe,
An infant longing clutched the sombre Vast.
--
Its chequered eager motion of pursuit,
Its fluttering-hued illusion of desire,
--
The universal mother s love was hers.
2.25
01.02 - The Issue, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
Its beginning lost, its motive and plot concealed,
A once living story has prepared and made
01.02 - The Object of the Integral Yoga, #The Integral Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
You must go inside yourself and enter into a complete dedication to the spiritual life. All clinging to mental preferences must fall away from you, all insistence on vital aims and interests and attachments must be put away, all egoistic clinging to family, friends, country must disappear if you want to succeed in Yoga. Whatever has to come as outgoing energy or action, must proceed from the Truth once discovered and not from the lower mental or vital motives, from the Divine Will and not from personal choice or the preferences of the ego.
01.03 - Mystic Poetry, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
The growth of a philosophical thought-content in poetry has been inevitable. For man's consciousness in its evolutionary march is driving towards a consummation which includes and presupposes a development along that line. The mot d'ordre in old-world poetry was "fancy", imaginationremember the famous lines of Shakespeare characterising a poet; in modern times it is Thought, even or perhaps particularly abstract metaphysical thought. Perceptions, experiences, realisationsof whatever order or world they may beexpressed in sensitive and aesthetic terms and figures, that is poetry known and appreciated familiarly. But a new turn has been coming on with an increasing insistencea definite time has been given to that, since the Renaissance, it is said: it is the growing importance of Thought or brain-power as a medium or atmosphere in which poetic experiences find a sober and clear articulation, a definite and strong formulation. Rationalisation of all experiences and realisations is the keynote of the modern mentality. Even when it is said that reason and rationality are not ultimate or final or significant realities, that the irrational or the submental plays a greater role in our consciousness and that art and poetry likewise should be the expression of such a mentality, even then, all this is said and done in and through a strong rational and intellectual stress and frame the like of which cannot be found in the old-world frankly non-intellectual creations.
The religious, the mystic or the spiritual man was, in the past, more or Jess methodically and absolutely non-intellectual and anti-intellectual: but the modern age, the age of scientific culture, is tending to make him as strongly intellectual: he has to explain, not only present the object but show up its mechanism alsoexplain to himself so that he may have a total understanding and a firmer grasp of the thing which he presents and explains to others as well who demand a similar approach. He feels the necessity of explaining, giving the rationality the rationale the science, of his art; for without that, it appears to him, a solid ground is not given to the structure of his experience: analytic power, preoccupation with methodology seems inherent in the modern creative consciousness.
--
Thy Maker's maker, and thy Father's mother;
Thou 'hast light in darke; and shutst in little roome,
01.03 - The Yoga of the King - The Yoga of the Souls Release, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
He has drunk from the breasts of the mother of the worlds;
A topless Supernature fills his frame:
--
The motives which from their own sight men hide.
He felt the beating life in other men
--
All-seeing, motionless, sovereign and alone.
There knowledge needs not words to embody Idea;
--
The superconscient realms of motionless Peace
Where judgment ceases and the word is mute
01.03 - Yoga and the Ordinary Life, #The Integral Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
In the Yoga practised here the aim is to rise to a higher consciousness and to live out of the higher consciousness alone, not with the ordinary motives. This means a change of life as well as a change of consciousness. But all are not so circumstanced that they can cut loose from the ordinary life; they accept it therefore as a field of experience and self-training in the earlier stages of the sadhana. But they must take care to look at it as a field of experience only and to get free from the ordinary desires, attachments and ideas which usually go with it; otherwise it becomes a drag and hindrance on their sadhana. When one is not compelled by circumstances there is no necessity to continue the ordinary life.
It is not helpful to abandon the ordinary life before the being is ready for the full spiritual life. To do so means to precipitate a struggle between the different elements and exasperate it to a point of intensity which the nature is not ready to bear. The vital elements in you have partly to be met by the discipline and experience of life, while keeping the spiritual aim in view and trying to govern life by it progressively in the spirit of Karmayoga.
01.04 - Motives for Seeking the Divine, #The Integral Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
object:01.04 - motives for Seeking the Divine
class:chapter
--
What your reasoning ignores is that which is absolute or tends towards the absolute in man and his seeking as well as in the Divine - something not to be explained by mental reasoning or vital motive. A motive, but a motive of the soul, not of vital desire; a reason not of the mind, but of the self and spirit. An asking too, but the asking that is the soul's inherent aspiration, not a vital longing. That is what comes up when there is the sheer self-giving, when "I seek you for this, I seek you for that" changes to a sheer "I seek you for you." It is that marvellous and ineffable absolute in the Divine that Krishnaprem means when he says, "Not knowledge nor this nor that, but Krishna."
The pull of that is indeed a categorical imperative, the self in us drawn to the Divine because of the imperative call of its greater Self, the soul ineffably drawn towards the object of its adoration, because it cannot be otherwise, because it is it and
01.04 - Sri Aurobindos Gita, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 03, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
The supreme secret of the Gita, rahasyam uttamam, has presented itself to diverse minds in diverse forms. All these however fall, roughly speaking, into two broad groups of which one may be termed the orthodox school and the other the modem school. The orthodox school as represented, for example, by Shankara or Sridhara, viewed the Gita in the light of the spiritual discipline more or less current in those ages, when the purpose of life was held out to be emancipation from life, whether through desireless work or knowledge or devotion or even a combination of the three. The Modern School, on the other hand, represented by Bankim in Bengal and more thoroughly developed and systematised in recent times by Tilak, is inspired by its own Time-Spirit and finds in the Gita a gospel of life-fulfilment. The older interpretation laid stress upon a spiritual and religious, which meant therefore in the end an other-worldly discipline; the newer interpretation seeks to dynamise the more or less quietistic spirituality which held the ground in India of later ages, to set a premium upon action, upon duty that is to be done in our workaday life, though with a spiritual intent and motive.
This neo-spirituality which might claim its sanction and authority from the real old-world Indian disciplinesay, of Janaka and Yajnavalkyalabours, however, in reality, under the influence of European activism and ethicism. It was this which served as the immediate incentive to our spiritual revival and revaluation and its impress has not been thoroughly obliterated even in the best of our modern exponents. The bias of the vital urge and of the moral imperative is apparent enough in the modernist conception of a dynamic spirituality. Fundamentally the dynamism is made to reside in the lan of the ethical man,the spiritual element, as a consciousness of supreme unity in the Absolute (Brahman) or of love and delight in God, serving only as an atmosphere for the mortal activity.
01.04 - The Intuition of the Age, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 01, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
All movementswhe ther of thought or of life, whether in the individual or in the massproceed from a fundamental intuition which lies in the background as the logical presupposition, the psychological motive and the spiritual force. A certain attitude of the soul, a certain angle of vision is what is posited first; all other thingsall thoughts and feelings and activities are but necessary attempts to express, to demonstrate, to realise on the conscious and dynamic levels, in the outer world, the truth which has thus already been seized in some secret core of our being. The intuition may not, of course, be present to the conscious mind, it may not be ostensibly sought for, one may even deny the existence of such a preconceived notion and proceed to establish truth on a tabula rasa; none the less it is this hidden bias that judges, this secret consciousness that formulates, this unknown power that fashions.
Now, what is the intuition that lies behind the movements of the new age? What is the intimate realisation, the underlying view-point which is guiding and modelling all our efforts and achievementsour science and art, our poetry and philosophy, our religion and society? For, there is such a common and fundamental note which is being voiced forth by the human spirit through all the multitude of its present-day activities.
--
Now, in order to understand the new orientation of the spirit of the present age, we may profitably ask what was the inspiration of the past age, the characteristic note which has failed to satisfy us and which we are endeavouring to transform. We know that that age was the Scientific age or the age of Reason. Its great prophets were Voltaire and the Encyclopaedists or if you mount further up in time, we may begin from Bacon and the humanists. Its motto was first, "The proper study of mankind is man" and secondly, Reason is the supreme organon of knowledge, the highest deity in manla Desse Raison. And it is precisely against these two basic principles that the new age has entered its protest. In face of Humanism, Nietzsche has posited the Superman and in face of Reason Bergson has posited Intuition.
The worship of man as something essentially and exclusively human necessitates as a corollary, the other doctrine, viz the deification of Reason; and vice versa. Humanism and Scientism go together and the whole spirit and mentality of the age that is passing may be summed up in those two words. So Nietzsche says, "All our modern world is captured in the net of the Alexandrine culture and has, for its ideal, the theoretical man, armed with the most powerful instruments of knowledge, toiling in the service of science and whose prototype and original ancestor is Socrates." Indeed, it may be generally asserted that the nation whose prophet and sage claimed to have brought down Philosophia from heaven to dwell upon earth among men was precisely the nation, endowed with a clear and logical intellect, that was the very embodiment of rationality and reasonableness. As a matter of fact, it would not be far, wrong to say that it is the Hellenic culture which has been moulding humanity for ages; at least, it is this which has been the predominating factor, the vital and dynamic element in man's nature. Greece when it died was reborn in Rome; Rome, in its return, found new life in France; and France means Europe. What Europe has been and still is for the world and humanity one knows only too much. And yet, the Hellenic genius has not been the sole motive power and constituent element; there has been another leaven which worked constantly within, if intermittently without. If Europe represented mind and man and this side of existence, Asia always reflected that which transcends the mind the spirit, the Gods and the Beyonds.
However, we are concerned more with the immediate past, the mentality that laid its supreme stress upon the human rationality. What that epoch did not understand was that Reason could be overstepped, that there was something higher, something greater than Reason; Reason being the sovereign faculty, it was thought there could be nothing beyond, unless it were draison. The human attri bute par excellence is Reason. Exactly so. But the fact is that man is not bound by his humanity and that reason can be transformed and sublimated into other more powerful faculties.
--
Certainly this does not go far enough into the motive of the change. The cosmic order does not mean mentalised vitalism which is also in its turn a section of the integral reality. It means the order of the spirit, it means the transfiguration of the physical, the vital and the intellectual into the supernal Substance, Power and Light of that Spirit. The real transcendence of humanity is not the transcendence of one or other of its levels but the total transcendence to an altogether different status and the transmutation of humanity in the mould of that statusnot a Nietzschean Titan nor a Bergsonian Dionysus but the tranquil vision and delight and dynamism of the Spirit the incarnation of a god-head.
***
01.04 - The Poetry in the Making, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
reefed or set, no slaves at the motived oars,
drove into and clove the wind from unseen shores. Swept
01.04 - The Secret Knowledge, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
Fixed, motionless like a marble monument,
Stone-calm, the body is a pedestal
--
Awake to a motion of all-seeing Force,
The slow outcome of the long ambiguous years
--
A playmate in the mighty mother s game,
One came upon the dubious whirling globe
--
She through his witness sight and motion of might
Unrolls the material of her cosmic Act,
--
With Matter's shapes and motives beyond thought
And the hazard of an unguessed consequence,
--
Of the great mother s wide uncharted will
And the rude enigma of her terrestrial ways
--
Or what secret mission the great mother gave.
In the hidden strength of her omnipotent Will,
--
There is a plan in the mother s deep world-whim,
A purpose in her vast and random game.
01.05 - The Nietzschean Antichrist, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 01, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Nietzsche as the apostle of force is a name now familiar to all the world. The hero, the warrior who never tamely accepts suffering and submission and defeat under any condition but fights always and fights to conquersuch is the ideal man, according to Nietzsche,the champion of strength, of greatness, of mightiness. The dominating personality infused with the supreme "will to power"he is Ubermensch, the Superman. Sentiment does not move the mountains, e motion diffuses itself only in vague aspiration. The motive power, the creative fiat does not dwell in the heart but somewhere higher. The way of the Cross, the path of love and charity and pity does not lead to the kingdom of Heaven. The world has tried it for the last twenty centuries of its Christian civilisation and the result is that we are still living in a luxuriant abundance of misery and sordidness and littleness. This is how Nietzsche thinks and feels. He finds no virtue in the old rgimes and he revolts from them. He wants a speedy and radical remedy and teaches that by violence only the Kingdom of Heaven can be seized. For, to Nietzsche the world is only a clash of forces and the Superman therefore is one who is the embodiment of the greatest force. Nietzsche does not care for the good, it is the great that moves him. The good, the moral is of man, conventional and has only a fictitious value. The great, the non-moral is, on the other hand, divine. That only has a value of its own. The good is nothing but a sort of makeshift arrangement which man makes for himself in order to live commodiously and which changes according to his temperament. But the great is one with the Supreme Wisdom and is absolute and imperative. The good cannot create the great; it is the great that makes for the good. This is what he really means when he says, "They say that a good cause sanctifies war but I tell thee it is a good war that sanctifies all cause." For the goodness of your cause you judge by your personal predilections, by your false conventionalities, by a standard that you set up in your ignoranceBut a good war, the output of strength in any cause is in itself a cause of salvation. For thereby you are the champion of that ultimate verity which conduces to the ultimate good. Do not shrink, he would say, to be even like the cyclone and the avalanche, destructive, indeed, but grand and puissant and therefore truer emblems of the BeyondJenseitsthan the weak, the little, the pitiful that do not dare to destroy and by that very fact cannot hope to create.
This is the Nietzsche we all know. But there is another aspect of his which the world has yet been slow to recognise. For, at bottom, Nietzsche is not all storm and fury. If his Superman is a Destroying Angel, he is none the less an angel. If he is endowed with a supreme sense of strength and power, there is also secreted in the core of his heart a sense of the beautiful that illumines his somewhat sombre aspect. For although Nietzsche is by birth a Slavo-Teuton, by culture and education he is pre-eminently Hellenic. His earliest works are on the subject of Greek tragedy and form what he describes as an "Apollonian dream." And to this dream, to this Greek aesthetic sense more than to any thing else he sacrifices justice and pity and charity. To him the weak and the miserable, the sick and the maimed are a sort of blot, a kind of ulcer on the beautiful face of humanity. The herd that wallow in suffering and relish suffering disfigure the aspect of the world and should therefore be relentlessly mowed out of existence. By being pitiful to them we give our tacit assent to their persistence. And it is precisely because of this that Nietzsche has a horror of Christianity. For compassion gives indulgence to all the ugliness of the world and thus renders that ugliness a necessary and indispensable element of existence. To protect the weak, to sympathise with the lowly brings about more of weakness and more of lowliness. Nietzsche has an aristocratic taste par excellencewhat he aims at is health and vigour and beauty. But above all it is an aristocracy of the spirit, an aristocracy endowed with all the richness and beauty of the soul that Nietzsche wants to establish. The beggar of the street is the symbol of ugliness, of the poverty of the spirit. And the so-called aristocrat, die millionaire of today is as poor and ugly as any helpless leper. The soul of either of them is made of the same dirty, sickly stuff. The tattered rags, the crouching heart, the effeminate nerve, the unenlightened soul are the standing ugliness of the world and they have no place in the ideal, the perfect humanity. Humanity, according to Nietzsche, is made in order to be beautiful, to conceive the beautiful, to create the beautiful. Nietzsche's Superman has its perfect image in a Grecian statue of Zeus cut out in white marble-Olympian grandeur shedding in every lineament Apollonian beauty and Dionysian vigour.
01.05 - The Yoga of the King - The Yoga of the Spirits Freedom and Greatness, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
The dumb great mother in her cosmic trance
Exploiting for creation's joy and pain
--
A nameless Marvel fills the motionless hours.
His spirit mingles with eternity's heart
01.06 - On Communism, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 01, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Communism is the synthesis of collectivism and individualism. The past ages of society were characterised more or less by a severe collectivism. In ancient Greece, more so in Sparta and in Rome, the individual had, properly speaking, no separate existence of his own; he was merged in the State or Nation. The individual was considered only as a limb of the collective being, had to live and labour for the common weal. The value attached to each person was strictly in reference to the output that the group to which he belonged received from him. Apart from this service for the general unit the body politicany personal endeavour and achievement, if not absolutely discouraged and repressed, was given a very secondary place of merit. The summum bonum of the individual was to sacrifice at the altar of the res publica, the bonum publicum. In India, the position and function of the State or Nation was taken up by the society. Here too social institutions were so constituted and men were so bred and brought up that individuality had neither the occasion nor the incentive to express itself, it was a thing that remained, in the Kalidasian phrase, an object for the ear onlysrutau sthita. Those who sought at all an individual aim and purpose, as perhaps the Sannyasins, were put outside the gate of law and society. Within the society, in actual life and action, it was a sin and a crime or at least a gross imperfection to have any self-regarding motive or impulse; personal preference was the last thing to be considered, virtue consisted precisely in sacrificing one's own taste and inclination for the sake of that which the society exacts and sanctions.
Against this tyranny of the group, this absolute rule of the collective will, the human mind rose in revolt and the result was Individualism. For whatever may be the truth and necessity of the Collective, the Individual is no less true and necessary. The individual has his own law and urge of being and his own secret godhead. The collective godhead derides the individual godhead at its peril. The first movement of the reaction, however, was a run to the other extremity; a stern collectivism gave birth to an intransigent individualism. The individual is sacred and inviolable, cost what it may. It does not matter what sort of individuality one seeks, it is enough if the thing is there. So the doctrine of individualism has come to set a premium on egoism and on forces that are disruptive of all social bonds. Each and every individual has the inherent right, which is also a duty, to follow his own impetus and impulse. Society is nothing but the battle ground for competing individualities the strongest survive and the weakest go to the wall. Association and co-operation are instruments that the individual may use and utilise for his own growth and development but in the main they act as deterrents rather than as aids to the expression and expansion of his characteristic being. In reality, however, if we probe sufficiently deep into the matter we find that there is no such thing as corporate life and activity; what appears as such is only a camouflage for rigorous competition; at the best, there maybe only an offensive and defensive alliancehumanity fights against nature, and within humanity itself group fights against group and in the last analysis, within the group, the individual fights against the individual. This is the ultimate Law-the Dharma of creation.
--
Now, a spiritual communism embraces individualism and collectivism, fuses them in a higher truth, establishes them in an intimate and absolute harmony. The individual is the centre, the group is the circumference and the two form one whore circle. The individual by fulfilling the truth of his real individuality fulfils also the truth of a commonality. There are no different laws for the two. The individuals do not stand apart from and against one another, the dharma of one does not clash with the dharma of the other. The ripples in the bosom of the sea, however distinct and discrete in appearance, form but a single mass, all follow the same law of hydrodynamics that the mother sea incarnates. Stars and planets and nebulae, each separate heavenly body has its characteristic form and nature and function and yet all fulfil the same law of gravitation and beat the measure of the silent symphony of spaces. Individualities are the freedoms of the collective being and collectivity the concentration of individual beings. The same soul looking inward appears as the individual being and looking outward appears as the collective being.
Communism takes man not as ego or the vital creature; it turns him upside downurdhomulo' vaksakhah and establishes him upon his soul, his inner godhead. Thus established the individual soul finds and fulfils the divine law that by increasing itself it increases others and by increasing others it increases itself and thus by increasing one another they attain the supreme good. Unless man goes beyond himself and reaches this self, this godhead above, he will not find any real poise, will always swing between individualism and collectivism, he will remain always boundbound either in his freedom or in his bondage.
01.06 - Vivekananda, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Such is Vivekananda, the embodiment of Fearlessnessabh, the Upanishadic word, the mantra, he was so fond of. The life and vision of Vivekananda can be indeed summed up in the mighty phrase of the Upanishads, nyam tm balahnena labhya. 'This soul no weakling can attain.' Strength! More strength! Strength evermore! One remembers the motto of Danton, the famous leader in the French Revolution:De l'audance, encore de l'audace, toujours de l'audace!
The gospel of strength that Vivekananda spread was very characteristic of the man. For it is not mere physical or nervous bravery, although that too is indispensable, and it is something more than moral courage. In the speeches referred to, the subject-matter (as well as the manner to a large extent) is philosophical, metaphysical, even abstract in outlook and treatment: they are not a call to arms, like the French National Anthem, for example; they are not merely an ethical exhortation, a moral lesson either. They speak of the inner spirit, the divine in man, the supreme realities that lie beyond. And yet the words are permeated through and through with a vibration life-giving and heroic-not so much in the explicit and apparent meaning as in the style and manner and atmosphere: it is catching, even or precisely when he refers, for example, to these passages in the Vedas and the Upanishads, magnificent in their poetic beauty, sublime in their spiritual truth,nec plus ultra, one can say, in the grand style supreme:
--
'Be and make', let this be our motto."
That is indeed the only way of securing a harmonious and
01.08 - Walter Hilton: The Scale of Perfection, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Here is the Augustinian mantra taken as the motto of The Scale of Perfection: We ascend the ascending grades in our heart and we sing the song of ascension1. The journey's end is heavenly Jerusalem, the House of the Lord. The steps of this inner ascension are easily visible, not surely to the outer eye of the sense-burdened man, but to the "ghostly seeing" of the aspirant which is hazy in the beginning but slowly clears as he advances. The first step is the withdrawal from the outer senses and looking and seeing within. "Turn home again in thyself, and hold thee within and beg no more without." The immediate result is a darkness and a restless darknessit is a painful night. The outer objects of attraction and interest have been discarded, but the inner attachments and passions surge there still. If, however, one continues and persists, refuses to be drawn out, the turmoil settles down and the darkness begins to thin and wear away. One must not lose heart, one must have patience and perseverance. So when the outward world is no more-there and its call also no longer awakes any echo in us, then comes the stage of "restful darkness" or "light-some darkness". But it is still the dark Night of the soul. The outer light is gone and the inner light is not yet visible: the night, the desert, the great Nought, stretches between these two lights. But the true seeker goes through and comes out of the tunnel. And there is happiness at the end. "The seeking is travaillous, but the finding is blissful." When one steps out of the Night, enters into the deepest layer of the being, one stands face to face to one's soul, the very image of God, the perfect God-man, the Christ within. That is the third degree of our inner ascension, the entry into the deepest, purest and happiest statein which one becomes what he truly is; one finds the Christ there and dwells in love and union with him. But there is still a further step to take, and that is real ascension. For till now it has been a going within, from the outward to the inner and the inmost; now one has to go upward, transcend. Within the body, in life, however deep you may go, even if you find your soul and your union with Jesus whose tabernacle is your soul, still there is bound to remain a shadow of the sinful prison-house; the perfect bliss and purity without any earthly taint, the completeness and the crowning of the purgation and transfiguration can come only when you go beyond, leaving altogether the earthly form and worldly vesture and soar into Heaven itself and be in the company of the Trinity. "Into myself, and after... above myself by overpassing only into Him." At the same time it is pointed out, this mediaeval mystic has the common sense to see that the going in and going above of which one speaks must not be understood in a literal way, it is a figure of speech. The movement of the mystic is psychological"ghostly", it is saidnot physical or carnal.
This spiritual march or progress can also be described as a growing into the likeness of the Lord. His true self, his own image is implanted within us; he is there in the profoundest depth of our being as Jesus, our beloved and our soul rests in him in utmost bliss. We are aware neither of Jesus nor of his spouse, our soul, because of the obsession of the flesh, the turmoil raised by the senses, the blindness of pride and egoism. All that constitutes the first or old Adam, the image of Nought, the body of death which means at bottom the "false misruled love in to thyself." This self-love is the mother of sin, is sin itself. What it has to be replaced by is charity that is the true meaning of Christian charity, forgetfulness of self. "What is sin but a wanting and a forbearing of God." And the whole task, the discipline consists in "the shaping of Christ in you, the casting of sin through Christ." Who then is Christ, what is he? This knowledge you get as you advance from your sense-bound perception towards the inner and inmost seeing. As your outer nature gets purified, you approach gradually your soul, the scales fall off from your eyes too and you have the knowledge and "ghostly vision." Here too there are three degrees; first, you start with faith the senses can do nothing better than have faith; next, you rise to imagination which gives a sort of indirect touch or inkling of the truth; finally, you have the "understanding", the direct vision. "If he first trow it, he shall afterwards through grace feel it, and finally understand it."
It is never possible for man, weak and bound as he is, to reject the thraldom of his flesh, he can never purify himself wholly by his own unaided strength. God in his infinite mercy sent his own son, an emanation created out of his substancehis embodied loveas a human being to suffer along with men and take upon himself the burden of their sins. God the Son lived upon earth as man and died as man. Sin therefore has no longer its final or definitive hold upon mankind. Man has been made potentially free, pure and worthy of salvation. This is the mystery of Christ, of God the Son. But there is a further mystery. Christ not only lived for all men for all time, whether they know him, recognise him or not; but he still lives, he still chooses his beloved and his beloved chooses him, there is a conscious acceptance on either side. This is the function of the Holy Ghost, the redeeming power of Love active in him who accepts it and who is accepted by it, the dynamic Christ-Consciousness in the true Christian.
--
The conception of original sin is a cardinal factor in Christian discipline. The conception, of sinfulness is the very motive-power that drives the aspirant. "Seek tensely," it is said, "sorrow and sigh deep, mourn still, and stoop low till thine eye water for anguish and for pain." Remorse and grief are necessary attendants; the way of the cross is naturally the calvary strewn with pain and sorrow. It is the very opposite of what is termed the "sunlit path" in spiritual ascension. Christian mystics have made a glorious spectacle of the process of "dying to the world." Evidently, all do not go the whole length. There are less gloomy and happier temperaments, like the present one, for example, who show an unusual balance, a sturdy common sense even in the midst of their darkest nights, who have chalked out as much of the sunlit path as is possible in this line. Thus this old-world mystic says: it is true one must see and admit one's sinfulness, the grosser and apparent and more violent ones as well as all the subtle varieties of it that are in you or rise up in you or come from the Enemy. They pursue you till the very end of your journey. Still you need not feel overwhelmed or completely desperate. Once you recognise the sin in you, even the bare fact of recognition means for you half the victory. The mystic says, "It is no sin as thou feelest them." The day Jesus gave himself away on the Cross, since that very day you are free, potentially free from the bondage of sin. Once you give your adherence to Him, the Enemies are rendered powerless. "They tease the soul, but they harm not the soul". Or again, as the mystic graphically phrases it: "This soul is not borne in this image of sin as a sick man, though he feel it; but he beareth it." The best way of dealing with one's enemies is not to struggle and "strive with them." The aspirant, the lover of Jesus, must remember: "He is through grace reformed to the likeness of God ('in the privy substance of his soul within') though he neither feel it nor see it."
If you are told you are still full of sins and you are not worthy to follow the path, that you must go and work out your sins first, here is your answer: "Go shrive thee better: trow not this saying, for it is false, for thou art shriven. Trust securely that thou art on the way, and thee needeth no ransacking of shrift for that that is passed, hold forth thy way and think on Jerusalem." That is to say, do not be too busy with the difficulties of the moment, but look ahead, as far as possible, fix your attention upon the goal, the intermediate steps will become easy. Jerusalem is another name of the Love of Jesus or the Bliss in Heaven. Grow in this love, your sins will fade away of themselves. "Though thou be thrust in an house with thy body, nevertheless in thine heart, where the stead of love is, thou shouldst be able to have part of that love... " What exquisite utterance, what a deep truth!
01.09 - The Parting of the Way, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 01, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
This passage from the self-conscient to the super-conscient does not imply merely a shifting of the focus of consciousness. The transmutation of consciousness involves a purer illumination, a surer power and a wider compass; it involves also a fundamental change in the very mode of being and living. It gives quite a different life-intuition and a different life-power. The change in the motif brings about a new form altogether, a re-casting and re-shaping and re-energising of the external materials as well. As the lift from mere consciousness to self-consciousness meant all the difference between an animal and a man, so the lift again from self-consciousness to super-consciousness will mean the difference of a whole world between man and the divine creature that is to be.
Indeed it is a divine creature that should be envisaged on the next level of evolution. The mental and the moral, the psychical and the physical transfigurations which must follow the change in the basic substratum do imply such a mutation, the birth of a new species, as it were, fashioned in the nature of the gods. The vision of angels and Siddhas, which man is having ceaselessly since his birth, may be but a prophecy of the future actuality.
01.09 - William Blake: The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
The earliest dream of humanity is also the last fulfilment. The Vedic Rishis sang of the marriage of heaven and earthHeaven is my father and this Earth my mother. And Blake and Nietzsche are fiery apostles of that dream and ideal in an age crippled with doubt, falsehood, smallness, crookedness, impotence, colossal ignorance.
We welcome voices that speak of this ancient tradition, this occult Knowledge of a high Future. Recently we have come across one aspirant in the line, and being a contemporary, his views and reviews in the matter will be all the more interesting to us.2 He is Gustave Thibon, a Frenchman-not a priest or even a religious man in the orthodox sense in any way, but a country farmer, a wholly self-educated laque. Of late he has attracted a good deal of attention from intellectuals as well as religious people, especially the Catholics, because of his remarkable conceptions which are so often unorthodox and yet so often ringing true with an old-world au thenticity.
0.10 - Letters to a Young Captain, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
subject class:Integral Yoga
--
of Physical Education. He began writing to the mother at the
age of nineteen.
Sweet mother,
On the night of Friday the 8th, I had a very peculiar
--
Sweet mother,
From time to time there is an upsurge of bad
--
Sweet mother,
Here our activities are so varied that it is difficult to
--
Sweet mother,
It really is a problem to know how to create interest
--
(Regarding the mother's message of March 1961 to the
captains; in it she asks them to "be the elite") We are very
--
Sweet mother,
I went to work only for one hour, because I had too
--
Sweet mother,
When I came to You this evening for "Prosperity",1
--
Sweet mother,
Today I did not have that feeling of apprehension
--
Sweet mother,
I want an electric lamp in the corridor of my room.
--
Sweet mother,
I have certain things to confess to You, but I cannot
--
Sweet mother,
You told us: "All of you here are taking life very
--
Sweet mother,
In Aphorism 95, Sri Aurobindo says that it is only
--
Sweet mother,
We speak very often of the psychic and the soul, but
--
Sweet mother,
I have noticed one thing: When I sit for a few minutes and make an effort to concentrate before going
--
Sweet mother,
I read them as a relaxation. In detective stories -
--
(After seeing the mother on Lakshmi Puja Day) I await
the day when this joy and this felicity will be established
--
Sweet mother,
I have noticed something which applies to all of us;
--
Sweet mother,
In Aphorism 133, Sri Aurobindo says that "the gods
--
Sweet mother,
For a long time I have noticed that I am rather shy.
--
Sweet mother,
You have often told us that our activities should be
--
For that to be possible, all egoistic motives and all egoistic
reactions must disappear.
--
Sweet mother,
I pray to You, on behalf of everyone, that this
--
Sweet mother, take our actions and guide us. You told
us You would be there - if only I had eyes to see You!
--
Sweet mother,
I am very lazy and I lack the fervour and perseverance to continue on the chosen path. I am like a flame
--
Sweet mother,
I was surprised to see this new ritual, "Sri Aurobindo sharanam mama",5 introduced into the cemetery
--
Sweet mother,
Sri Aurobindo says that five thousand years have
--
Sweet mother,
I can tell You this without vanity: I am much better
--
Sweet mother,
We have had a discussion among friends about the
--
unless the mother Herself intervenes.
It is impossible. Each one has his own taste and his own temperament. Nothing can be done without discipline - the whole of
--
Sweet mother,
Is it bad to go to the cinema in town?
--
Sweet mother,
There are too many tight knots in the immense organisation of this Ashram. When will the promised day
--
Sweet mother,
I heard this morning that X was very severely beaten
--
Sweet mother,
I had written a letter to the mother asking why She
had not given Her darshan to Z. But now I am afraid
that mother may be angry at my audacity in writing such
a letter. Because it is none of my business!
--
Sweet mother,
In a discussion with a friend about our physical
--
great musician?" Sweet mother, can you please say a
few words on the subject of this freedom?
--
Sweet mother,
What is the difference between meditating here in
--
Sweet mother,
I have received a certain sum of money. I want to
--
I have given You a little money. mother, what do You
want me to do?
--
Sweet mother,
Is it right to pray to the mother for little things and
selfish gains?
--
Sweet mother,
What is the true significance of marriage?
--
Sweet mother,
We see too many films these days and I fail to see
--
Sweet mother,
Each time I have encountered an obstacle in my
--
Sweet mother,
Can the lines of our hands reflect our past, present
--
Sweet mother,
I have often noticed that the work we do is done
--
Sweet mother,
Girls are always at a disadvantage: they cannot do
--
Sweet mother,
What is the best relationship between two human
beings? mother and son? Brother, friend or lover, etc?
All the relationships are good in principle and each one expresses
--
Sweet mother,
About the hero of the film Reach for the Sky, I said
--
Sweet mother,
There are moments when I feel it would be better
--
Sweet mother,
After a long time I had a beautiful dream in which I
saw the mother and received Her Blessings.
It is not a dream, but the result of the preceding meditation and
--
Sweet mother,
I have too much "grey" matter in my head, which
--
Sweet mother,
Man is so weak that he is influenced even by the
--
Sweet mother,
Most people here quote the mother to suit their own
convenience.
--
Sweet mother,
A few days ago I noticed something very odd in
--
Sweet mother,
I caused a sensation with my new clothes! Blue
--
Sweet mother,
There are moments when one feels a kind of emptiness within; one is dejected and lonely - it is because
--
Sweet mother,
I sit down every day to meditate, but I am afraid
--
Sweet mother,
This creation has a purpose - therefore is it possible
--
Sweet mother,
I have heard that You have written somewhere that
--
Sweet mother,
Suddenly I feel very happy, my heart is filled with an
--
The mother underlined the phrase "in his lifetime".
Series Ten - To a Young Captain
--
Sweet mother,
You have explained that this separation of girls and
--
Sweet mother,
What do You mean by "an ignorant goodwill and
--
Sweet mother,
Would it not be better to have a basic discipline here
--
Sweet mother,
Why do I hesitate to ask You for money? What prevents me from doing so? Am I still not intimate enough
--
Sweet mother,
I still lack confidence in my work. I am too shy.
--
Sweet mother,
X told us the favourite story of Dr. Y, the mathematics teacher: "A sculptor was working on a block of
--
Sweet mother,
Your remarks often amuse me.
--
Sweet mother,
This morning I saw a man with protruding ribs,
--
Sweet mother,
What does "Yoga" mean and how many among us
--
Sweet mother,
I feel miserable because I asked the mother for incense. It would be much better to buy it from the market,
for She does not like her children to beg.
--
Sweet mother,
Our teacher Y gave us a talk in a grave and significant tone: "Be prepared to go through hard tests, we are
--
Sweet mother,
I have again received an invitation for dinner. One
--
Sweet mother,
If I look at my whole life and its circumstances,
--
Sweet mother,
I often remember a poem by Francis Thompson and
--
Sweet mother,
I am not properly prepared for the 1st December
--
Sweet mother,
In Aphorism 172, Sri Aurobindo has said: "Law
--
Sweet mother,
Sri Aurobindo writes in one of his aphorisms:
--
subjection to the will of others."13 mother, I am one of
those. Will You take me and discipline me?
--
Sweet mother,
I have formed the bad habit of nearly always being
--
Sweet mother,
It seems that a list of books (English classics) was
--
the works of the mother and Sri Aurobindo to be read.
You have even remarked that to read these old classics
--
(Written by the mother at the beginning of a notebook
containing quotations from Sri Aurobindo's Savitri)
--
Sweet mother,
I am very irregular in my studies; I don't know what
--
Sweet mother,
The ardour of making an effort is waning. I feel
--
Sweet mother,
You blessed me that I may be born to the true life,
--
Sweet mother,
"Not to live for oneself" is understandable and one
--
Sweet mother,
Would it be possible to have an electric fan? X
--
Sweet mother,
Regarding the fan, I don't think it will help me to
--
Sweet mother,
One is often afraid of doing what is new; the body
--
Sweet mother,
Self-deception has a thousand faces and a thousand
--
Sweet mother,
What is the difference between pleasure, joy, happiness, ecstasy and Ananda? Can we find one in the
--
Sweet mother,
Your answers last week were very succinct. Isn't a
--
Sweet mother,
How can one know the other's need and help him?
--
Sweet mother,
Is it because we have defects in ourselves that we
--
Sweet mother,
Just as there are tangible and concrete bodily exercises and disciplines for physical culture, is there not
--
Sweet mother,
I thought that illness came from some impurity or
--
Sweet mother,
I am trying to concentrate in the heart and to enter
--
Sweet mother,
Until I am ready for a spiritual discipline, what
should I do, apart from aspiring that the mother may
pull me out of the slumber and awaken my psychic
--
Sweet mother,
When a stranger asks us what the Sri Aurobindo
--
Sweet mother,
Are there really any tragedies in life, since everything
--
Sweet mother,
People often say that our food does not contain
--
Beside this sentence, the mother wrote: "So much as that???"
Series Ten - To a Young Captain
--
Sweet mother,
There are times when I feel like abandoning all my
--
Sweet mother,
What is the most effective way of overcoming desires
--
Sweet mother,
When one is very sensitive, one easily suffers. Since
--
Sweet mother,
How can one know whether we are progressing or
--
Sweet mother,
I put my question badly last time. I did not mean
--
Sweet mother,
What is the use of Japa?15 Is it a good method to
--
Sweet mother,
I heard that an astrologer has predicted that in six
--
Sweet mother,
Is a mistake or a bad action pardonable if one is sure
--
Sweet mother,
There are moments when, in spite of myself, a little
--
Sweet mother,
People often ask us this question: "What are you doing for society or even for the people of Pondicherry? You
--
Sweet mother,
There are moments during meditation when I feel
--
Sweet mother,
Although one part of the being aspires and wants
--
Sweet mother,
We see many people leaving the Ashram, either to
--
Sweet mother,
I have a habit of blaming myself, of making myself
--
Sweet mother,
What is the meaning of one's birthday, apart from its
--
Sweet mother,
Often when I read Sri Aurobindo's works or listen
--
Sweet mother,
How can one empty the mind of all thought? When
--
Sweet mother,
Sri Aurobindo has said somewhere that if we surrender to the Divine Grace, it will do everything for us.
--
Sweet mother,
Often after a long meditation (an effort to meditate),
--
on water, motionless but relaxed.
Effort is never silent.
--
Sweet mother,
How can one make use of every moment of this
--
Sweet mother,
What is the eternal truth behind this sympathy or
--
Sweet mother,
You have said in Your New Year message for this
--
Sweet mother,
Does Your message for this year announce an Age
--
Sweet mother,
What does this extraordinary Asuric attack on the
--
Sweet mother,
Somebody asked me this question: "Is it not a great
--
Sweet mother,
What is the best way of expressing one's gratitude
--
Sweet mother,
When can one say with certitude that one has started
--
Sweet mother,
I aspire to live the yoga of Sri Aurobindo, the life
--
Sweet mother,
How can one distinguish a dream from an experience?
--
Sweet mother,
Just as there is a methodical progression of exercises
--
Sweet mother,
How can one increase single-mindedness and willpower? They are so necessary for doing anything.
--
Sweet mother,
You have written: "Of all renunciations, the most
--
Sweet mother,
You have written: "So long as you have to renounce
--
Sweet mother,
Why is India, which has such a rich past and the
--
Sweet mother,
Why did Sri Aurobindo advise India's leaders to accept the Cripps Proposal in 1942, when He knew fully
--
Sweet mother,
You say that to hope to partake of the new realisation, "you must feel that this world is ugly, stupid, brutal
--
Sweet mother,
When department heads or superiors make mistakes
--
Sweet mother,
Being far from the Truth-Consciousness, must one
--
Sweet mother,
The descent of the Supermind, which You announced on the 29th of February 1956, is still only
--
Sweet mother,
The resolutions I make lose their intensity and ardour after a time. How can I keep this enthusiasm and
--
Sweet mother,
You have written: "The force which, when absorbed
--
Sweet mother,
You speak (in Conversations) of the plunge we must
--
Sweet mother,
Are illnesses and accidents the result of something
--
Sweet mother,
Sri Aurobindo says: "If the transformation of
--
Sweet mother,
What do You mean by "to change the form of that
--
Sweet mother,
Once, in one of Your Wednesday classes, You said
--
Sweet mother,
Does every person who comes to earth have a definite goal he must achieve in this life, and does he achieve
--
Sweet mother,
People who come to the Ashram for the first time
--
of cooperation, etc. What do You say to all this, mother?
Sometimes it is like that, as a matter of fact, and sometimes it is
--
Sweet mother,
I really feel that there is a great lack of harmony
--
Sweet mother,
Sri Aurobindo writes in His Essays on the Gita: "The
--
Sweet mother,
In spite of Your message of September 16 to the
--
Sweet mother,
I often feel, and very concretely too, that You are
--
But I very often ask myself: "Why does mother protect
me and keep me in such happiness, I who so little deserve
--
Sweet mother,
One sees that the world as a whole is presently in
--
The Indo-Pakistan conflict ended in a cease-fire on September 22. The mother's
message, sent six days prior to the cease-fire, was: "It is for the sake and the triumph
--
Sweet mother,
We know that we should not do certain things and
--
Sweet mother,
About individual transformation and social transformation You say: "Since the environment reacts upon
--
Sweet mother,
Is there a hierarchicised group here in the Ashram?
--
Sweet mother,
Why does one feel afraid? Where does fear come
--
Sweet mother,
You write in Your Conversations: "Each time that
--
Sweet mother,
You write: "Each one here represents an impossibility to be solved."30 Could You explain to me what this
--
Sweet mother,
You told me to enter within, into the depths of my
heart, to find You seated there. But, mother, I cannot
manage to enter into the heart. I feel during meditation
--
Sweet mother,
What must we do to serve the Truth? Must it first of
--
Words of the mother - II, CWM, Vol. 14, p. 84.
Series Ten - To a Young Captain
--
Sweet mother,
There is a tendency among most of us here to conduct our lives and programmes according to the customs
--
Sweet mother,
Formerly, You were very strict about permitting people to come and live in the Ashram. Now it is no longer
--
Sweet mother,
I ask myself whether I am practising yoga! But the
--
Sweet mother,
You say that "by the very fact that you are living
--
Sweet mother,
When You say:
--
Sweet mother,
How can one increase one's receptivity?
--
Sweet mother,
There was a time when I used to see You often in my
--
Sweet mother,
We are supposed to be attempting something that
no one has ever tried before. But, mother, isn't it true
that we now tend to direct our lives and activities more
--
Sweet mother,
Isn't this immense freedom we are given dangerous
--
Sweet mother,
How should I prepare myself for the April 24th
--
Sweet mother,
Why does anger exist?
--
Sweet mother,
Two days ago I was with You in my dream and You
--
Sweet mother,
Are mental indifference and lack of curiosity a sort
--
Sweet mother,
How can one get out of this mental laziness and
--
Sweet mother,
Are the presence and intervention of the Americans
--
Sweet mother,
I had asked my last question from the spiritual point
of view and from Your answer I conclude that the American action is not at all justifiable. But, mother, isn't the
world in danger of being swallowed by the Communists
--
Sweet mother,
Some say that You have stated: "Among the 1500
--
Sweet mother,
I feel it is most shameful on our part to waste the
--
us here. But, mother, why do we do this? For, each one
of us has surely felt and enjoyed - at least once in his
--
Sweet mother,
I was very happy to receive Your reply and I have
--
Sweet mother,
May I have photographs of Sri Aurobindo and You,
--
Sweet mother,
One final note on this famous affair of the invitation which has created a lot of misunderstandings
--
Sweet mother,
India is supposed to be the Guru of the world in
order to establish the spiritual life on earth. But, mother,
in order to occupy this high position she must be worthy
--
Sweet mother,
Why this chaotic condition in our present government? Is it the sign of a change for the better, for the
--
Sweet mother,
How can one practise yogic disciplines without believing in God or the Divine?31
--
The mother replied to this question orally; she was speaking to someone other than
the captain.
--
Sweet mother,
How can we know that our acts, our thoughts and
--
Sweet mother,
In this integral yoga of Sri Aurobindo, work has a
--
Sweet mother,
In the story You wrote, "The Virtues", You describe
--
Sweet mother,
For several years now, we have been hearing that the
--
to time we clearly see this for ourselves. But, mother, we
also see extravagant spending by certain individuals and
--
Sweet mother,
Your reply explains nothing, for isn't it You who
--
Sweet mother,
When I heard that X was drowned in a lake at Gingee during the outing, I was unable to believe it or to be
--
was: How is it possible! mother knew we were at Gingee,
so Her protection was with us. Then how is it possible?
--
Sweet mother,
In the Darshan message of November 24th, Sri
--
Sweet mother,
What are the qualities needed for one to be called
--
Sweet mother,
It is said that nothing is in us, everything comes from
--
Sweet mother,
On the cards that You send to people on their birthdays, often You simply write: "Bonne fête to X, with
--
Sweet mother,
The ordinary man is often guided in life by his conscience, isn't he? So what becomes of one who has no
--
Sweet mother,
Why is it that whenever one thinks of You one feels
--
Sweet mother,
When one goes away from here, one feels a sort of
--
Sweet mother,
What do You mean by Your last answer? Doesn't
--
Sweet mother,
Normally, I feel quite happy with life as it is - time
--
Sweet mother,
People are saying many things about the 4th of
--
Sweet mother,
It is said that the vibrations of the being develop
--
The mother replied to this question orally; she was speaking to someone other than
the captain.
--
Sweet mother,
You are with us always and at every moment, only
--
Sweet mother,
Why is it that in the Ashram itself people feel the
--
Sweet mother,
Does the Divine punish injustice? Is it possible that
--
Sweet mother,
The other day I had a discussion with X about Sri
--
been done better, but that mother has to do Her work
with the instruments She has at her disposal. Finally he
--
more. Was that correct? mother, what actually is my
"business"?
--
Sweet mother,
I have read and heard much about past and future
--
this idea comes back to my mind very often. mother, is
this a narrowness of vision on my part, or what?
--
Sweet mother,
When You are physically stricken, I always feel very
--
Sweet mother, at times like this, how should we be?
What is the best attitude on our part?
--
Sweet mother,
I have the impression that Your Force responds according to the intensity of our prayer. But my case seems
01.13 - T. S. Eliot: Four Quartets, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
That is the lesson that our poet has learnt from the Gita and that is the motto he too would prescribe to the seekers.
Now, a modern poet is modern, because he is doubly attracted and attached to things of this world and this mundane life, in spite of all his need and urge to go beyond for the larger truth and the higher reality. Apart from the natural link with which we are born, there is this other fascination which the poor miserable things, all the little superficialities, trivialities especially have for the modern mind in view of their possible sense and significance and right of existence. These too have a magic of their own, not merely a black magic:
0.11 - Letters to a Sadhak, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
subject class:Integral Yoga
--
In 1958 the mother said, "If things go on advancing at
this speed, it seems more than possible, almost evident,
--
By "solar plexus", the mother is referring to the heart (not the navel) region; this is
clear from statements she has made elsewhere; see, for example, in Series Thirteen of
--
The mother, Prayers and Meditations, 24 August 1914.
This is how I understand the Purusha:
--
of view that the Ashram was born with the mother's
arrival?
--
Sweet mother, what does "thou wilt be my head"
mean?
--
The mother, Prayers and Meditations, 17 May 1914.
Series Eleven - To a Sadhak
--
way to do it, Divine mother?
It is quite possible, by concentrating on the hands when they are
--
being it." What does the mother say?
That is correct.
--
among us. Why is that, mother?
If I did say this (probably not quite in these words), it could only
--
India Radio, Pondicherry, 23 September 1967. Words of the mother - I, CWM, Vol. 13,
p. 367.
--
If the mother could make these two men honest
(even temporarily, long enough for them to settle this
--
The fragrance of the flowers given by the mother is often
something extraordinary.
--
When mother says that wealth should not be a personal
property, I understand that what should come is more
--
it to the mother.
But how can others do it? Can it be said that each
--
You, I said to a flower, "Oh, you are going to mother!"
and it really smiled. The same thing happened again
--
While speaking about the "Transcendent mother" (and
the upper petal of the Transformation flower), You said,
--
like a child made from the substance of its mother and that the
formation is like a living statue made out of a material external
--
it true, Sweet mother?
Yes, the land itself has a consciousness, even though this consciousness is not intellectualised and cannot express itself.
--
A mother's eyes are on them and her arms
Stretched out in love desire her rebel sons."9
--
Once mother spoke to me about total sincerity. What
does transparent sincerity mean?
--
In 1953 mother said: "Whatever the way one follows,
whether it be the religious way, the philosophical way,
--
It seems to me, mother, that when man does not accept the Divine, it is more out of ignorance than out of
wickedness. Isn't it so?
--
It seems to me, mother, that the flame that calls and the
flame that responds are one and the same.
--
Can one say, mother, that perfect receptivity comes only
with constant union with the Divine?
--
But still, mother, doesn't the soul chosen by the
Divine go through hell in a different way than others?
--
"The one original transcendent Shakti, the mother
stands above all the worlds and bears in her eternal
--
Similarly, can one say that the Supreme Divine carries the mother in his eternal consciousness?
Beyond all question.
--
Sri Aurobindo, The mother, SABCL, Vol. 25, p. 20.
Cannot the ego consent to its own abolition?
--
what, mother?
All pleasure is a perversion, by egoistic limitation, of the Ananda
--
In fact, mother, what is the yogi's attitude towards the
outward appearance?
--
Therefore, mother, the transformation of the body is
necessary even to live in the Integral Knowledge!
0.12 - Letters to a Student, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
subject class:Integral Yoga
--
To a student in the Sri Aurobindo International Centre of Education who began writing to the mother at the age of sixteen.
Sweet mother,
I used to have the habit of reading Savitri or one of
--
Sweet mother,
Each time I decide to work well, I see that my effort
--
Sweet mother,
How can one remember at every moment that whatever one does is for You? Particularly when one wants
--
Sweet mother,
I would like to know the true meaning of birthdays,
--
Sweet mother,
You wrote to me that it is not easy to come in contact
--
Sweet mother,
I have seen that I am not able to force my physical
--
like to know how I can force it. But, Sweet mother, is it
good to force one's body?
--
Sweet mother,
Why do we believe in rebirth? What were we before
--
Sweet mother,
When we are in the midst of Nature, what should
--
Sweet mother,
How can one get rid of, or rather correct, jealousy
--
Sweet mother,
At times I talk in my sleep. It is a sign that the mind
--
Sweet mother,
When the body is asleep, is it better for the mind to
--
Sweet mother,
What do You mean by "becoming conscious"? Is
--
Sweet mother,
Is our vital formed solely of desires, selfish feelings,
--
Sweet mother,
What does Sri Aurobindo mean when he speaks of
--
Sweet mother,
Why is it better to go to bed early and to get up
--
Sweet mother,
Do astrology and other studies always predict things
--
Sweet mother,
What are knowledge and intelligence? Do they play
--
Sweet mother,
In the new race, will our body change form?
--
Sweet mother,
What is the difference between sports and physical
--
Sweet mother,
What should our attitude be towards the captains
--
Sweet mother,
Why has the Creator made this world and human
0.13 - Letters to a Student, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
subject class:Integral Yoga
--
To a student in the Sri Aurobindo International Centre of Education who began writing to the mother at the age of sixteen.
Sweet mother,
Should one give money to beggars or not?
--
Sweet mother,
What does it mean, really, "to realise the Divine"?
--
Sweet mother,
When we sleep, our consciousness goes out, doesn't
--
Sweet mother,
Why is the night darker just before dawn - from
--
Sweet mother,
Why are the hours before midnight better for sleep
--
Sweet mother,
What is the difference between desire and aspiration,
--
Sweet mother,
How can one unify one's being?
--
Sweet mother,
What will be the result of changing the vital into
--
Sweet mother,
I have never discussed with my friends the question
--
Sweet mother,
Why and how does one lose one's spiritual gain by
--
Sweet mother,
Why should one take part in the sports' competitions
--
Sweet mother,
I would like to know the second step towards unifying one's being. You told me about the first step.
--
Sweet mother,
How should one spend the Darshan days, December
--
Sweet mother,
What is the difference between persons who have
--
Sweet mother,
Do you think it isn't good to visit the churches here
--
Sweet mother,
In The Hour of God Sri Aurobindo has written:
--
Sweet mother,
About what you told me yesterday: had the Divine
--
Sweet mother,
"The world is preparing for a big change. Will you
--
The mother's New Year Message of 1970.
Sweet mother,
How should the news of death be received, especially
--
Sweet mother,
How should we watch a film? If we identify with
--
Sweet mother,
How would we know what is happening in other
--
Sweet mother,
How can we know the truth of the facts when reading newspapers? What is the best way of knowing the
0.14 - Letters to a Sadhak, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
subject class:Integral Yoga
0 1951-09-21, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
0 1952-08-02, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
Note written by mother in French.
Note written by mother in French
***
0 1954-08-25 - what is this personality? and when will she come?, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
The following text is an extract from a 'Wednesday Class,' when every Wednesday mother would answer questions raised by the disciples and children at the Ashram Playground.
( mother reads to the disciples an excerpt from Sri Aurobindos THE motHER, in which he describes the different aspects of the Creative Powerwhat is India is called the Shakti, or the motherwhich have presided over universal evolution.)
There are other great Personalities of the Divine mother, but they were more difficult to bring down and have not stood out in front with so much prominence in the evolution of the earth-spirit. There are among them Presences indispensable for the supramental realization,most of all one who is her Personality of that mysterious and powerful ecstasy and Ananda1 which flows from a supreme divine Love, the Ananda that alone can heal the gulf between the highest heights of the supramental spirit and the lowest abysses of Matter, the Ananda that holds the key of a wonderful divines Life and even now supports from its secrecies the work of all the other Powers of the universe.
Sri Aurobindo, The mother
(A disciple:) Sweet mother, what is this Personality and when will It manifest?
My answer is ready.
--
It is true that at present, her presence is more rhetorical than factual, since so far She has had no chance to manifest. Yet even so, She is a powerful instrument in the Work, for of all the mothers aspects, She holds the greatest power to transform the body. Indeed, those cells which can vibrate at the touch of the divine Joy, receive it and bear it, are cells reborn, on their way to becoming immortal.
But the vibrations of divine Bliss and those of pleasure cannot cohabit in the same vital and physical house. We must therefore TOTALLY renounce all feelings of pleasure to be ready to receive the divine Ananda. But rare are those who can renounce pleasure without thereby renouncing all active participation in life or sinking into a stern asceticism. And among those who realize that the transformation is to be wrought in active life, some pretend that pleasure is a form of Ananda gone more or less astray and legitimize their search for self-satisfaction, thereby creating a virtually insuperable obstacle to their own transformation.
--
mother, even if we have not previously succeeded, cant we still try?
What? (the disciple repeats his question) Oh! You can always try!
--
But mother, if She came down, She must have seen a possibility!
She came down because there WAS a possibilitybecause things had reached such a stage that it was her hour to come down. But in truth, She came down because because I thought it was possible for her to succeed.
--
I think it was in 1946, mother, because you told us so many things at that time.
Right.
(A child:) Sweet mother, now that She has come, what should we do?
You dont know?
--
mother, there is not even one single man?
I dont know.
mother, you are wasting your time with all these Ashram people.
Oh! But you see, from an occult standpoint, it is a selection. From an external standpoint you could say that there are people in the world who are far superior to you (and I would not disagree!), but from an occult standpoint, it is a selection. There are It can be said that without a doubt the majority of young people here have come because it was promised them that they would be present at the Hour of Realization but they just dont remember it! ( mother laughs) I have already said several times that when you come down on earth, you fall on your head, which leaves you a little dazed! (laughter) Its a pity, but after all, you dont have to remain dazed all your lives, do you? You should go deep within yourselves and there find the immortal consciousness then you can see very well, you can very clearly remember the circumstances in which you you aspired to be here for the Hour of the Works realization.
But actually, to tell you the truth, I think your lives are so easy that you dont exert yourselves very much! How many among you have truly an INTENSE need to find their psychic beings? To find out truly who they are? To find out what their roles are, why they are here? You just let yourselves drift. You even complain when things arent easy enough! You just take things as they come. And sometimes, should an aspiration arise in you and you encounter some difficulty in yourself, you say, Oh, mother is there! Shell take care of it for me! And you think about something else.
mother, previously things were very strict in the Ashram, but not now. Why?
Yes, I have always said that it changed when we had to take the very little children. How can you envision an ascetic life with little sprouts no bigger than that? Its impossible! But thats the little surprise package the war left on our doorstep. When it was found that Pondicherry was the safest place on earth, naturally people came wheeling in here with all their baby carriages filled and asked us if we could shelter them, so we couldnt very well turn them away, could we?! Thats how it happened, and in no other way But, in the beginning, the first condition for coming here was that you would have nothing more to do with your family! If a man was married, then he had to completely overlook the fact that he had a wife and childrencompletely sever all ties, have nothing further to do with them. And if ever a wife asked to come just because her husb and happened to be here, we told her, You have no business coming here!
--
mother, what was the other thing you wrote?
I thought someone might ask me, Why doesnt She4 stay for your sake? Since She came here because you called Her, then why doesnt She stay for your sake?
--
Tell us, motherwe really want to know, Sweet mother!
For Her, this body is but one instrument among so many others in an eternity of ages to come, and for Her its only importance is that attri buted to it by the Earth and mankind the extent to which it can be used as a channel to further Her manifestation. If I find myself surrounded by people who are incapable of receiving Her, then for Her, I am quite useless.
--
mother received each disciple individually on his birthday.
The mother of Ananda, or the Creative Power's aspect of Joy.
W.W. Pearson, a friend of Rabindranath Tagore, who had come from Tagore's Ashram in 1923; mother had met him with Tagore in 1916 in Japan.
***
0 1955-03-26, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Letter to mother from Satprem)
Pondicherry, March 26, 1955
mother, once more I come to ask you for Mahakalis1 intervention. After a period when everything seemed much better, I again awake to impossible mornings when I live badly, very badly, far from you, incapable of calling you and, whats more, of feeling your Presence or your help.
I dont know what mud is stirring about in me, but everything is obscured, and I cannot dissociate myself from these vital waves.
mother, without Mahakalis grace, I shall never be able to get out of this mechanical round, to shatter these old formations, ever the same, which keep coming back. mother, I beg of you, help. me to BREAK this shell in which I am suffocating. Deliver me from myself, deliver me in spite of myself. Alone, I am helpless; sometimes I cannot even call you! May your force come and burn all my impurities, shatter my resistances.
Signed: Bernard2
Mahakali: the eternal mother in her warrior aspect, She who severs the heads of the demons.
Such was our old, meaningless name (except for its Germanic root: 'hard bear') until a certain March 3, 1957, when mother named us Sat-prem ('the one who loves truly').
***
0 1955-04-04, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Letter to mother from Satprem)
Pondicherry, April 4, 1955
mother, for more than a year now I have been near you and nothing, no really significant inner experience, no sign has come that allows me to feel I have progressed or merely to show me that I am on the right path. I cannot even say I am happy.
I am not so absurdly pretentious as to blame the divine, nor yourself and I remain quite convinced that all this is my own fault. Undoubtedly I have not known how to surrender totally in some part of myself, or I do not aspire enough or know how to open myself as needed. Also, I should rely entirely upon the divine to take care of my progress and not be concerned about the absence of experiences. I have therefore asked myself why I am so far away from the true attitude, the genuine opening, and I see two main reasons: on the one hand, the difficulties inherent in my own nature, and on the other, the outer conditions of this sadhana. These conditions do not seem to be conducive to helping me overcome the difficulties in my own nature.
--
I am not now going to renounce Sri Aurobindos Yoga, mother, for my whole life is based upon it, but I believe I should employ other meanswhich is why I am writing you this letter.
By continuing this daily little ant-like struggle and by having to confront the same desires, the same distractions every day, it seems to me I am wasting my energy in vain. Sri Aurobindos Yoga, which is meant to include life, is so difficult that one should come to it only after having already established the solid base of a concrete divine realization. That is why I want to ask you if I should not withdraw for a certain time, to Almora,3 for example, to Brewsters place,4 to live in solitude, silence, meditation, far away from people, work and temptations, until a beginning of Light and Realization is concretized in me. Once this solid base is acquired, it would be easier for me to resume my work and the struggle here for the true transformation of the outer being. But to want to transform this outer being without having fully illumined the inner being seems to me to be putting the cart before the horse, or at least condemning myself to a pitiless and endless battle in which the best of my forces are fruitlessly consumed.
--
mother, this is not a vital desire seeking to divert me from the sadhana, for my life has no other meaning than to seek the divine, but it seems to be the only solution that could bring about some progress and get me out of this lukewarm slump in which I have been living day after day. I cannot be satisfied living merely one hour a day, when I see you.
I know that you do not like to write, mother, but couldnt you say in a few words if you approve of my project or what I should do? In spite of all my rebellions and discouragements and resistances, I am your child. O mother, help me!
Signed: Bernard
--
Signed: mother
For a long time, Satprem took care of the correspondence with the outside, along with Pavitra, not to mention editing the Ashram Bulletin as well as mother's writings and talks, translating Sri Aurobindo's works into French, and conducting classes at the Ashram's 'International Centre of Education.'
Every evening at the Playground, the disciples passed before mother one by one to receive symbolically some food.
In the Himalayas.
0 1955-06-09, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Letter to mother from Satprem)
Pondicherry, June 9, 1955
mother, I cannot say that it is a nostalgia for the outside world that is drawing me backwards nor some attachment to a personal form of life, nor even some vital desire seeking its own satisfaction. That old world no longer attracts me, and I do not see at all what I would do there. Yet something is standing in my way.
If only I could see a distinct error blocking my path which I could clearly attack But I feel that I am not responsible, that it is not my personal fault if I remain without aspiration, stagnating. I feel like a battlefield of contending forces that are beyond me and against which I can do NOTHING. Oh mother, it is not an excuse for a lack of will, or at least I dont think so I profoundly feel like a helpless toy, totally helpless.
If the divine force, if your grace, does not intervene to shatter this obscure resistance that is drawing me downwards in spite of myself, I dont know what will become of me mother, I am not blackmailing you, I am only expressing my helplessness, my anguish.
During the day, I live more or less calmly in my little morass, but as evening and the moment to meet you draw near, then the forces pinning me to the ground begin raging beneath your pressure, and I feel at times an unbearable tearing that burns and constricts in my throat like tears that cannot be shed. Afterwards, Truth regains possession of me but the following day it all begins again.
mother, it is an impossible, absurd, unlivable life. I feel as though I have no hand in this cruel little game. Oh mother, why doesnt your grace trust that deep part in me which knows so well that you are the Truth? Deliver me from these evil forces since, profoundly, it is you and you alone I want. Give me the aspiration and strength I do not have. If you do not do this Yoga for me, I feel I shall never have the strength to go on.
There is something that must be SHATTERED: can it not be done once and for all without lingering on indefinitely? mother, I am your child.
Signed: Bernard
mother, this letter is a prayer.
***
--
Signed: mother
***
0 1955-09-03, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Letter to mother from Satprem)
Pondicherry, September 3, 1955
mother, it seems that for weeks I have been knocking against myself at every turn, as though I were in a prison, and I cannot get out of it. mother, I need your Space, your Light, to get out of this walled-in night that is suffocating me.
No matter where I concentrate, in my heart, above my head, between my eyes, I bang everywhere into an unyielding wall; I no longer know which way to turn, what I must do, say, pray in order to be freed from all this at last. mother, I know that I am not making all the effort I should, but help me to make this effort, I implore your grace. I need so much to find at last this solid rock upon which to lean, this space of light where finally I may seek refuge. mother, open the psychic being in me, open me to your sole Light which I need so much. Without your grace, I can only turn in circles, hopelessly. O mother, may I live in you.
Your child,
0 1955-09-15, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Letter to mother from Satprem)
Pondicherry, September 15, 1955
mother suddenly everything seems to have crystallizedall the little revolts, the little tensions, the ill will and petty vital demandsforming a single block of open, determined resistance. I have become conscious that from the beginning of my sadhana, the mind has led the gamewith the psychic behind and has held me in leash, helped muzzle all contrary movements, but at no time, or only rarely, has the vital submitted or opened to the higher influence. The rare times when the vital participated, I felt a great progress. But now, I find myself in front of this solid mass that says No and is not at all convinced of what the mind has been imposing upon it for almost two years now.
mother, I am sufficiently awakened not to rebel against your Light and to understand that the vital is but one part of my being, but I have come to the conclusion that the only way of convincing this vital is not to force or stifle it, but to let it go through its own experience so it may understand by itself that it cannot be satisfied in this way. I feel the need to leave the Ashram for a while to see how I can get along away from here and to realize, no doubt, that one can really brea the only here.
I have friends in Bangalore whom I would like to join for two or three weeks, perhaps more, perhaps less, however long it may take to confront this vital with its own freedom. I need a vital activity, to move, to sail, for example, to have friends etc. The need I am feeling is exactly that which I sought to satisfy in the past through my long boat journeys along the coast of Brittany. It is a kind of thirst for space and movement.
Otherwise, mother, there is this block before me that is obscuring all the rest and taking away my taste for everything. I would like to leave, mother, but not in revolt; may it be an experience to go through that receives your approval. I would not like to be cut off from you by your displeasure or your condemnation, for this would seem to me terrible and leave me no other recourse but to plunge into the worst excesses in order to forget.
mother, I would like you to forgive me, to understand me and, above all, not to deprive me of your Love. I would like you to tell me if I may leave for a few weeks and how you feel about it. It seems to me that I am profoundly your child, in spite of all this??
Signed: Bernard
0 1955-10-19, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
Note written by mother in French.
The three images of total self-giving to the Divine:
0 1956-02-29 - First Supramental Manifestation - The Golden Hammer, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
The following text was given by mother in both French and English.
FIRST SUPRAMENTAL MANIFESTATION
--
Later added by mother
***
0 1956-03-19, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
Note written by mother in French. At this period, mother's back was already bent. This straightening of her back seems to be the first physiological effect of the 'Supramental Manifestation' of February 29, which is perhaps the reason why mother noted down the experience under the name 'Agenda of the Supramental Action on Earth.' It was the first time mother gave a title to what would become this fabulous document of 13 volumes. The experience took place during a 'translation class' when, twice a week, mother would translate the works of Sri Aurobindo into French before a group of disciples.
AGENDA OF THE SUPRAMENTAL ACTION ON EARTH
0 1956-03-20, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
Note written by mother in French.
(Upon awakening)
--
mother appeared on her balcony daily at about 6 a.m. to give a few moments of meditation to her disciples before the beginning of the day's work.
***
0 1956-03-21, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
Note written by mother in French.
The age of Capitalism and business is drawing to a close.
0 1956-04-04, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Letter to mother from Satprem)
Pondicherry, April 4, 1956
mother, two months ago I had a clear mental perception of what was asked of me: to spend the rest of my life here. This is the source of my difficulties and of the inner hell I have been living through ever since. Each time I try to emerge, there is this image that rises up in me: your-whole-life and this casts me into a violent conflict. When I came here, I thought of staying for two or three years; for me the Ashram was a means of realization, not an end.
I understand now that as long as my whole being has not ACCEPTED that it must finish its life here, there is no way out nor any recovery possible. Through my mental force alone, this acceptance is impossible; I have been turning infernally in circles these past two months, and the mind is in league with the vital. Therefore, a force greater than mine must help me accept that my way is here. I need you, mother, for without you I am lost. I need you to tell me that the Truth of my being is indeed here and that I am truly ready to follow this path. mother, I beseech you, help me to see the truth of my being, give me some sign that my way is here and not elsewhere. I beg of you, mother, help me to know.
I also had a very clear sensation that you were abandoning me, that you had no further interest in me and I could just as well do as I pleased. Perhaps you cannot forgive some of my inner rebellions which have been so very violent? Am I totally guilty? Is it true that you are abandoning me?
--
Signed: mother
***
0 1956-04-20, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Letter to mother from Satprem)
Pondicherry, April 20, 1956
Sweet mother,
The difficulties of the past weeks have taught me that as soon as one strays from the true consciousness, in however trifling a way, anything may happen, any excess, any aberration, any imbalance and I have felt very dangerous things prowling about me. mother, you told me in regard to Patrick1 that the law of the manifestation was a law of freedom, even the freedom to choose wrongly. This evening, it has been my very deep perception that this freedom is virtually always a freedom to choose wrongly. I harbor a great fear of losing the true consciousness once again. I have become aware of how fragile everything in me is and that very little would be enough to carry me away.
Therefore, Sweet mother, I come to ask a great grace of you, from the depths of my heart: take my freedom into your hands. Prevent me from falling back, far away from you. I place this freedom in your hands. Keep me safe, mother, protect me. Grant me the grace of watching over me and of taking me in your hands completely, like a child whose steps are unsure. I no longer want this Freedom. It is you I want, the Truth of my being. mother, as a grace, I implore you to free me from my freedom to choose wrongly.
I am your child and I love you.
--
Signed: mother
A friend of Satprem's who died insane in a Japanese hospital in India
0 1956-04-23, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
mother takes a passage from Prayers and Meditations of September 25, 1914:
The Lord hast willed, and Thou dost execute;
0 1956-04-24, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
0 1956-05-02, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
Sweet mother, you said, The Supramental has come down on earth. What does this mean, exactly? You also said, The things that were promised are fulfilled. What are these things?
Oh, really! How ignorant! It has been promised for such a very long time, it has been said for such a very long timenot only here in the Ashram, but ever since the beginning of the earth. There have been all kinds of predictions, by all kinds of prophets. It has been said, There will be a new heaven and a new earth, a new race shall be born, the world shall be transformed Prophets have spoken of this in every tradition.
--
Sweet mother, what should be our attitude towards this New Consciousness?
That depends upon what you want to do with it.
--
mother, when the mind came down into the earth atmosphere, the ape did not make any effort to convert himself into a man, did he? It was Nature that supplied the effort. But in our case
But its not man who is going to convert himself into a superman!
--
mother, very recently a text has been circulating which says, What has just now happened, with this Victory, is not a descent but a manifestation. And it is no longer merely an individual event: the Supermind has sprung forth into the universal play.
Yes, yes, yes! I indeed said all that. I acknowledge it. And so?
--
mother is referring to the darshan of April 24, 1956. Four times a year, for 'darshan,' visitors increasingly poured into the Ashram to pass one by one before mother (and formerly, Sri Aurobindo) to receive her look.
***
0 1956-07-29, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
Note written by mother in French.
O Thou who art always therepresent in all I do, all I amnot for repose do I aspire, but for THY INTEGRAL VICTORY.
0 1956-08-10, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
Note written by mother in English.
My Lord, through me thou hast challenged the world and all the adverse forces have risen in protest.1
--
In fact, following the 'Supramental Manifestation' of February 29, 1956, all of mother's physical difficulties increased, as though all the obscurities in the physical consciousness were surging forth beneath the pressure of the new light. The same observation applies to the disciples who were around mother and undoubtedly to the world as a whole. A strange 'mysterious acceleration' was beginning to take hold of the world.
***
0 1956-09-12, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
This text was noted down by a disciple from memory. On the original manuscript submitted for her approval, mother wrote, 'This account is quite correct,' and She signed the text. Words added or corrected by mother are in italics.
(During the Wednesday class)
0 1956-09-14, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Letter to mother from Satprem)
Hyderabad, September 14, 1956
Sweet mother,
Scarcely has a moment gone by since I left that I have not thought of you, but I wanted to wait for things to be clear and settled in me before writing, for you obviously have other things to do than listen to platonic declarations.
--
These questions of money do not interest me. In fact, nothing interests me except this something I feel within me. The only question for me is to know whether I am truly ready for the Yoga, or if my failings are not the sign of some immaturity. mother, you alone can tell me what is right.
I feel a bit lost, cut off from you. The idea of going to the Himalayas is absurd and I am abandoning it. My friends tell me that I may remain with them as long as I wish, but this is hardly a solution; I dont even feel like writing a book any longernothing seems to appeal to me except the trees in this garden and the music that fills a large part of my days. There is no solution other than the Ashram or Brazil. You alone can tell me what to do.
--
Sweet mother, may I still ask for your Love, your help? For without your help, nothing is possible, and without your love, nothing has any meaning.
I feel that I am your child in spite of all my contradictions and failings. I love you.
--
Signed: mother
A former disciple who left the Ashram, and subsequently committed suicide.
0 1956-10-07, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
mother is referring to a strike by the salaried workers of the Ashram, one of the numerous internal and external difficulties constantly assailing Her.
***
0 1956-10-08, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(At about 6 a.m., before mother appeared on the balcony)
Be always at the height of yourself, in all circumstances.
0 1956-10-28, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Letter to mother from Satprem)
Pondicherry, October 28, 1956
Sweet mother, my birthday is the day after tomorrow, the 30th. I come to place my inner situation before you so that you may help me take a decision.
I am facing the same difficulties as before my departure to Hyderabad, and I have made the same mistakes. The main reason for this state is that, on the one hand, words and ideas seem to have lost all power over me, and on the other, the vital elan which led me thus far is dead. So upon what shall my faith rest? I still have some faith, of course, but it has become totally ABSTRACT. The vital does not cooperate, so I feel all withered, suspended in a void, nothing seems to give me direction anymore. There is no rebelliousness in me, but rather a void.
--
mother, I implore you, in the name of whatever led me to you in the first place, give me the strength to do WHAT HAS TO BE DONE. You who see and who can, decide for me. You are my mother. Whatever my shortcomings, my difficulties, I feel I am so deeply your child.
Signed: Bernard
--
Signed: mother
***
0 1956-11-22, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Letter to mother from Satprem)
Pondicherry, November 22, 1956
Sweet mother,
For weeks on end, I have been spending nearly all my nights battling with serpents. Last night, I was attacked by three different kinds of serpents, each more venomous and repugnant than the other???
0 1956-12-12, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Letter to mother from Satprem)
Pondicherry, December 12, 1956
mother, a letter from W. He is leaving Brazil and retiring from business for good.
mother, what can I do with my life? I feel absolutely alone, in a void. What hope remains since I have not been able to integrate into the Ashram? I am goalless. I am from nowhere. I am good for nothing.
I have wanted to remain near you, and I love you, but there is something in me that does not accept an Ashram ending. There is a need in me to DO, to act. But what? What? Have I something to do in this life?
--
I dont see a thing, nothing. Oh mother, I turn towards you in this void that is stifling me. Hear my prayer. Tell me what I must do. Give me a sign. mother, you are my sole recourse, for who else would show me the path to be taken, who else but you would love me? Or is my fate to go off into the night?
Forgive me, mother, for loving you so poorly, for giving myself so badly. mother, you are my only hope, all the rest in me is utter despair.
Your child,
0 1956-12-26, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Letter to mother from Satprem)
Pondicherry, December 26, 1956
mother, perhaps it would be good if I told you what is happening within me, as sincerely as I can:
I feel that this Truth of my being, this self most intensely felt, is independent from any form or institution. As far back as I can reach in my consciousness, this thing has been there; it was what drove me at an early age to liberate myself from my family, my religion, my country, a profession, marriage or society in general. I feel this thing to be a kind of absolute freedom, and I have been feeling within me this same profound drive for more than a year. Is this need for freedom wrong? And yet is it not because of this that the best in me has blossomed?
--
mother, this is the problem around which I have desperately been turning in circles. What is the truth of my destiny? Is it that which is urging me so strongly to leave, or that which is struggling against my freedom? For ultimately, sincerely, what I want is to fulfill my lifes truth. If I have ever had a will, then it is: LET BE WHAT MUST BE. mother, how can one truly know? Is this drive, this very old and very CLEAR urge in me, false??
Your child,
0 1957-01-01, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
0 1957-01-18, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Letter to mother from Satprem)
Pondicherry, January 18, 1957
Sweet mother,
The conflict that is tearing me apart is between this shadowy part of a past that does not want to die, and the new light. I wonder if, rather than escaping to some desert, it would not be wiser to resolve this conflict by objectify it, by writing this book I spoke to you about.
--
What do you see in me, mother? Is it through writing that I shall achieve what is to be achievedor does all this still belong to a nether world? But if so, then of what use am I? If I were good at something, it would give me some air to breathe.
Your child,
0 1957-03-03, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Letter to mother from Satprem)
3.3.57
--
Signed: mother
***
0 1957-04-09, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Letter to mother from Satprem)
Pondicherry, April 9, 1957
mother,
I would like to throw myself at your feet and open my heart to you but I cannot. I cannot.
For I SEE that, were I to give in now, I would be done forthere would be no alternative but to live out the rest of my days in the Ashram. But everything in me rebels at this idea. The idea of winding up as General Secretary of the Ashram, like Pavitra, makes my skin crawl. It is absurd, and I apologize for speaking this way, mother, for I admire Pavitra but I cant help it, I cant do it, I do not want to end up like that.
For more than a year now, I have been hypnotized by the idea that if I give in, I will be condemned to remain here. Once more, forgive me for speaking so absurdly, for of course I know it is not a condemnation; and yet a part of me feels that it would be.
Thus I am so tense that I do not even want to close my eyes to meditate for fear of yielding. And I fall into all kinds of errors that horrify me, simply because the pressure is too strong at times, and I literally suffocate. mother, I am not cut out to be a disciple.
I realize that all the progress I was able to make during the first two years has been lost and I am just as before, worse than beforeas if all my strength were in ruin, all faith in myself undoneso much so that at times I curse myself for having come here at all.
That is the situation, mother. I feel my unworthiness profoundly. I am the opposite of Satprem, unable to love and to give myself. Everything in me is sealed tight.
So what is to be done? I intend asking your permission to leave as soon as the book is finished (I am determined to finish it, for it will rid me of the past it represents). I expect nothing from the world, except a bit of external space, in the absence of another space.
--
Signed: mother
***
0 1957-04-22, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Letter to mother from Satprem)
Pondicherry, April 22, 1957
Sweet mother,
The book is finished.1 I would like to give it to you personally, if it would not disturb you, whenever you wish.
0 1957-07-03, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
It went something like this: somewhere, in the center of this enormous edifice, there was a room reservedas it seemed in the story for a mother and her daughter. The mother was a lady, an elderly lady, a very influential matron who had a great deal of authority and her own views concerning the entire organization. Her daughter seemed to have a power of movement and activity enabling her to be everywhere at once while at the same time remaining in her room, which was well, a bit more than a roomit was a kind of apartment which, above all, had the characteristic of being very central. But she was constantly arguing with her mother. The mother wanted to keep things just as they were, with their usual rhythm, which precisely meant the habit of tearing down one thing to rebuild another, then again tearing down that to build still another, thus giving the building an appearance of frightful confusion. But the daughter did not like this, and she had another plan. Most of all, she wanted to bring something completely new into the organization: a kind of super-organization that would render all this confusion unnecessary. Finally, as it was impossible for them to reach an understanding, the daughter left the room to go on a kind of general inspection She went out, looked everything over, and then wanted to return to her room to decide upon some final measures. But this is where something rather peculiar began happening.
She clearly remembered where her room was, but each time she set out to go there, either the staircase disappeared or things were so changed that she could no longer find her way! So she went here and there, up and down, searched, went in and out but it was impossible to find the way to her room! Since all of this assumed a physical appearanceas I said, a very familiar and very common appearance, as is always the case in these symbolic visions there was somewhere (how shall I put it?) the hotels administrative office and a woman who seemed to be the manager, who had all the keys and who knew where everyone was staying. So the daughter went to this person and asked her, Could you show me the way to my room?But of course! Easily! Everyone around the manager looked at her as if to say, How can you say that? However, she got up, and with authority asked for a key the key to the daughters roomsaying, I shall take you there. And off she went along all kinds of paths, but all so complicated, so bizarre! The daughter was following along behind her very attentively, you see, so as not to lose sight of her. But just as they should have come to the place where the daughters room was supposed to be, suddenly the manageress (let us call her the manageress), both the manageress and her key vanished! And the sense of this vanishing was so acute that at the same time, everything vanished!
So to help you understand this enigma, let me tell you that the mother is physical Nature as she is, and the daughter is the new creation. The manageress is the worlds organizing mental consciousness as Nature has developed it thus far, that is, the most advanced organizing sense to have manifested in the present state of material Nature. This is the key to the vision.
Naturally, when I awoke, I immediately knew what could resolve this problem which appeared so absolutely insoluble. The vanishing of the manageress and her key was an obvious sign that she was altogether incapable of leading what could be called the creative consciousness of the new world to its true place.
0 1957-07-18, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Letter to mother from Satprem)
Pondicherry, July 18, 1957
Sweet mother,
I have just received a letter from my friends in charge of the French Archaeological Expedition to Afghanistan. They need someone to assist them on their next field excavations (August 15 December 15) and have offered to take me if I wish to join them.
0 1957-09-27, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(A child's question concerning a vision in which mother had appeared to her in a luminous body)
Why have you come as we are?
0 1957-10-08, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Letter to mother from Satprem)
Pondicherry, October 8, 1957
mother,
I come to ask your permission to leave India. For more than a year now, I have been fighting not to leave, but this seems to be the wrong strategy.
--
Signed: mother
Of mother's French translation of these two books by Sri Aurobindo.
***
0 1957-10-17, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
0 1957-10-18, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Letter to mother from Satprem)
Pondicherry, October 18, 1957
Sweet mother,
This evening, you spoke of the possibility of shortening the path of realization to a few months, days or hours. And yesterday, when you talked to me about the freedom of the body, you spoke of the experience of the Kundalini, of this breaking of the lid that makes you emerge once and for all, above difficulties, into the light.
--
This unique method was to be the mantra, as mother herself would discover.
***
0 1957-11-12, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
0 1957-11-13, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
0 1957-12-13, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Letter to mother from Satprem)
Pondicherry, December 13, 1957
Sweet mother, this is what is rising from my soul: I feel in me something unemployed, something seeking to express itself in life. I want to be like a knight, your knight, and go off in search of a treasure that I could bring back to you. The world has lost all sense of the wonderful, all beauty of Adventure, this quest known to the knights of the Middle Ages. It is this that calls so relentlessly within me, this need for a quest in the world and for a beautiful Adventure which at the same time would be an adventure of the soul. How I wish that the two things, inner and outer, be JOINED, that the joy of action, of the open road and the quest help the souls blossoming, that they be like a prayer of the soul expressed in life. The knights of the Middle Ages knew this. Perhaps it is all childish and absurd in the midst of this 20th century, but this is what I feel, this that is summoning me to leavenot anything base, not anything mediocre, only a need for something in me to be fulfilled. If only I could bring you back a beautiful treasure!
After that, perhaps I would be riper to accept the everyday life of the Ashram, and know how to give myself better.
mother, I feel all this very strongly; I need your help to follow the true path of my being and fulfill this new outer cycle, should you see that it has to be fulfilled. I feel so strongly that something remains for me to DO. Guide me, Sweet mother.
Your child,
0 1957-12-21, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Note written by mother in connection with the conversation of December 21, 1957)
At the very top, a constant vision of the Supremes will.
0 1958-01-01, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
O Nature, Material mother,
thou hast said that thou wilt collaborate
--
Sweet mother, will you explain this years message?
There is nothing to explain. It is an experience, something that took place, and when it took place, I noted it down; and it so happens that it occurred just as I remembered that I had to write something for the new year (which at that time was the following year, that is, the year beginning today). When I remembered that I had to write somethingnot because of that, but simultaneouslythis experience came, and when I noted it down, I realized that it was the message for this year!
--
Then came these words: O Nature, Material mother, thou hast said that thou wilt collaborate, and there is no limit to the splendor of this collaboration.
And the radiant felicity of this splendor was perceived in a perfect peace.
--
(Then mother comments)
I have one thing to add: we must not misinterpret the meaning of this experience and imagine that henceforth everything will take place without difficulties or always in accordance with our personal desires. It is not at this level. It does not mean that when we do not want it to rain, it will not rain! Or when we want some event to take place in the world, it will immediately take place, or that all difficulties will be abolished and everything will be like a fairy tale. It is not like that. It is something more profound. Nature has accepted into her play of forces the newly manifested Force and has included it in her movements. But as always, the movements of Nature take place on a scale infinitely surpassing the human scale and invisible to the ordinary human consciousness. It is more of an inner, psychological possibility that has been born in the world than a spectacular change in earthly events.
0 1958-01-22, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
0 1958-01-25, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
Note written by mother in English (with a touch of irony so reminiscent of Sri Aurobindo).
(Concerning Pakistan)
0 1958-02-03a, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Letter to mother from Satprem)
Pondicherry, February 3, 1958
Sweet mother,
What you told me today at noon has left me stunned. I had decided to have my own way, but now I pray to be true.
--
mother, I am placing all this in your hands, sincerely.
I am your child.
0 1958-02-03b - The Supramental Ship, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Then mother speaks to the children)
There is a continuation to all this, which is like the result in my consciousness of the experience of February 3, but it seems premature to read it now. It will appear in the April issue [of the Bulletin], as a sequel to this.
--
Indeed, one of the people near mother had pulled Her out of the experience.
See Questions and Answers, (July 10, 1957).
0 1958-02-15, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
0 1958-02-25, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
0 1958-03-07, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Letter to mother from Satprem)
Kataragama, March 7, 1958
Sweet mother,
Since my departure, I have been feeling your Force continually, almost constantly. And I feel an infinite gratitude that you are there, and that this thread from you to me keeps me anchored to something in this world. Simply knowing that you exist, that you are there, that I have a goal, a centerfills me with infinite gratitude. On a street in Madras, the day after I left, I suddenly had a poignant experience: I felt that if that were not in me, I would fall to pieces on the sidewalk, I would crumble, nothing would be left, nothing. And this experience remains. Like a litany, something keeps repeating almost incessantly, I need you, need you, I have only you, you alone in the world. You are all my present, all my future, I have only you mother, I am living in a state of need, like hunger.
On the way, I stopped at J and Es place. They are living like native fishermen, in loincloths, in a coconut grove by the sea. The place is exceedingly beautiful, and the sea full of rainbow-hued coral. And suddenly, within twenty-four hours, I realized an old dreamor rather, I purged myself of an old and tenacious dream: that of living on a Pacific island as a simple fisherman. And all at once, I saw, in a flash, that this kind of life totally lacks a center. You float in a nowhere. It plunges you into some kind of higher inertia, an illumined inertia, and you lose all true substance.
As for me, I am totally out of my element in this new life, as though I were uprooted from myself. I am living in the temple, in the midst of pujas,1 with white ashes on my forehead, barefoot dressed like a Hindu, sleeping on cement at night, eating impossible curries, with some good sunburns to complete the cooking. And there I am, clinging to you, for if you were not there I would collapse, so absurd would it all be. You are the only realityhow many times have I repeated this to myself, like a litany! Apart from this, I am holding up quite well physically. But inside and outside, nothing is left but you. I need you, thats all. mother, this world is so horrifyingly empty. I really feel that I would evaporate if you werent there. Well, no doubt I had to go through this experience Perhaps I will be able to extract some book from it that will be of use to you. We are like children who need a lot of pictures in order to understand, and a few good kicks to realize our complete stupidity.
Swami must soon take to the road again, through Ceylon, towards March 20 or 25. So I shall go wandering with him until May; towards the beginning of May, he will return to India. I hope to have learned my lesson by then, and to have learned it well. Inwardly, I have understood that there is only you but its these problem children on the surface who must be made to toe the line once and for all.
Sweet mother, I am in a hurry to work for you. Will you still want me? mother, I need you, I need you. I would like to ask you an absurd question: Do you think of me? I have only you, you alone in the world.
Your child,
--
Signed: mother
Puja: Hindu temple ceremony.
0 1958-04-03, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Letter to mother from Satprem)
Kataragama, April 3, 1958
Sweet mother,
I was waiting for things to be well established in me before writing you again. An important change has occurred: it seems that something in me has clickedwhat Sri Aurobindo calls the central will, perhapsand I am living literally in the obsession of divine realization. This is what I want, nothing else, it is the only goal in life, and at last I have understood (not with the head) that the outer realization in the world will be the consequence of the inner realization. So thousands of times a day, I repeat, mother, I want to be your instrument, ever more conscious, I want to express your truth, your light. I want to be what you want, as you want, when you want. There is in me now a kind of need for perfection, a will to abolish this ego, a real understanding that to become your instrument means at the same time to find the perfect plenitude of ones personality. So I am living in an almost constant state of aspiration, I feel your force constantly, or nearly so, and if I am distracted a few minutes, I experience a void, an uneasiness that calls me back to you.
And at the same time, I saw that it is you who is doing everything, you who aspires in me, you who wants the progress, and that all I myself am in this affair is a screen, a resisting obstacle. O mother, break this screen that I may be wholly transparent before you, that your transforming force may purify all the secret recesses in my being, that nothing may remain but you and you alone. O mother, may all my being be a living expression of your light, your truth.
mother, from the depths of my being, I offer you a sole prayer: may I become your more and more perfect instrument, a sword of light in your hands. Oh, to get out of this ego that belittles everything, diminishes everything, to emerge from it! All is falsehood in it.
And I, who understood nothing of love, am beginning to suspect who Satprem is. mother, your grace is infinite, it has accompanied me everywhere in my life.
We are still in Kataragama, and we shall only go up to northern Ceylon, to Jaffna, around the 15th, then return to India towards the beginning of May if the visa problems are settled. Only in India, at the temple of Rameswaram, can I receive the orange robe. I am living here as a sannyasi, but dressed in white, like a Hindu. It is a stark life, nothing more. I have seen however, that truth does not lie in starkness but in a change of consciousness. (Desire always finds a means to entrench itself in very small details and in very petty and stupid, though well-rooted, avidities.)
mother, I am seeing all the mean pettiness that obstructs your divine work. Destroy my smallness and take me unto you. May I be sincere, integrally sincere.
With infinite gratitude, I am your child.
--
Signed: mother
***
0 1958-05-01, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
0 1958-05-10, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
I saw and understood very well that by concentrating, I could have given it the attitude of the absolute authority of the eternal mother. When Sri Aurobindo told me, You are She, at the same time he bestowed upon my body this attitude of absolute authority. But as I had the inner vision of this truth, I concerned myself very little with the imperfections of the physical body I didnt bother about that, I only used it as an instrument. Sri Aurobindo did the sadhana for this body, which had only to remain constantly open to his action.1
Afterwards, when he left and I had to do the Yoga myself, to be able to take his physical place, I could have adopted the attitude of the sage, which is what I did since I was in an unparalleled state of calm when he left. As he left his body and entered into mine, he told me, You will continue, you will go right to the end of the work. It was then that I imposed a calm upon this body the calm of total detachment. And I could have remained like that.
--
This last sentence was later added by mother in writing.
Tapasya: yogic discipline or askesis.
0 1958-05-11 - the ship that said OM, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
mother is referring to her 'Darshan' when four times a year She appeared on her balcony high above the assembled mass of disciples and visitors on the street below. The 'darshan days' were February 21, April 24, August 15 and November 24.
Tamas: in Indian psychology, inertia and obscurity.
0 1958-05-17, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
0 1958-05-30, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
0 1958-06-06 - Supramental Ship, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
0 1958-06-22, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
Note written by mother in English.
Do not ask questions about the details of the material existence of this body: they are in themselves of no interest and must not attract attention.
0 1958-07-02, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
0 1958-07-05, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
0 1958-07-06, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
Once someone even asked Santa Claus! A young Muslim girl who had a special liking for Father Christmas I dont know why, as it was not part of her religion! Without saying a word to me, she called on Santa Claus and told him, mother doesnt believe in you; you should give Her a gift to prove to Her that you exist. You can give it to Her for Christmas. And it happened! She was quite proud.
But it only happened like that once. And as for Ganesh, that was the end of it. So then I asked Nature. It took her a long time to accept to collaborate. But as for the money, I shall have to ask her about it; because for me personally, it is still going on. I think, Hmm, wouldnt it be nice to have a wristwatch like that. And I get twenty of them! I say to myself, Well, if I had that and I get thirty of them! Things come in from every side, without my even uttering a word I dont even ask, they just come.
--
Ganesh: a god with the head of an elephant; the son of Parvati, the Divine mother.
The room where, on the first of each month, mother distributed to the disciples their needs for the month.
Asuras: the demons or dark forces of the mental plane.
0 1958-07-19, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
0 1958-07-21, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
0 1958-07-23, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
0 1958-07-25a, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
0 1958-07-25b, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
0 1958-08-07, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
0 1958-08-08, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
0 1958-08-09, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
0 1958-08-12, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Letter from mother to Satprem, travelling)
8.12.58
--
Signed: mother
***
0 1958-08-29, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Note written by mother after an experience She had during a playground meditation when Swami J.J. was present. It was this swami with whom Satprem journeyed in the Himalayas to receive tantric initiation.)
[Satprem would later part company with this Swami and follow a thorough tantric discipline with another guru who will henceforth be called X in the Agenda.]
The mantra written upon each of the souvenirs1 from the Himalayas has a strong power of evoking the Supreme mother.
At the Thursday evening meditation, he appeared as the Guru of Tantric Initiation, magnified and seated upon a symbolic representation of the forces and riches of material Nature (in the middle of the playground, to my left), and he put into my hand something sufficiently material for me to feel the vibrations physically, and it had a great realizing power. It was a kind of luminous and very vibrant globe which I held in my hands during the whole meditation.
--
The Swami brought back various objects and souvenirs from the Himalayas which he presented to mother.
***
0 1958-08-30, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(In the presence of Pavitra and Abhay Singh, mother recounts a vision she had during the night)
[The disciple who managed the Ashram 'Atelier': mechanical workshop, maintenance garage, automobile service, etc.]
--
(Pavitra:) What was he holding in his hands, mother?
Huge tires He was standing there, like that, with a very majestic air. He was wearing his white outfit, those long pyjamas
0 1958-09-16 - OM NAMO BHAGAVATEH, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
For the moment, of all the formulas or mantras, the one that acts most directly on this body, that seizes all the cells and immediately does this (vibrating motion) is the Sanskrit mantra: OM NAMO BHAGAVATEH.
As soon as I sit for meditation, as soon as I have a quiet minute to concentrate, it always begins with this mantra, and there is a response in the body, in the cells of the body: they all start vibrating.
--
The physical seems to be more open to something that is repetitious for example, the music we play on Sundays, which has three series of combined mantras. The first is that of Chandi, addressed to the universal mother:
Ya devi sarvabhuteshu matrirupena sansthita
--
Yes, they are long. And he2 has not given me any mantra of the mother, so They exist, but he has not given me any I dont know, they dont have much effect on me. It is something very mental.
Thats why it should spring forth from you.
--
The different mantras or prayers that came to mother and which She grouped under the heading Prayers of the Consciousness of the Cells, are included as an addendum to the Agenda of 1959.
***
0 1958-09-19, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
0 1958-10-01, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
Later, mother added: 'Because I do not say everything; when I am in that state, there is a lethargy of expression!
***
0 1958-10-04, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
In this vision, the d. ceased tantric guru of the guru who initiated Satprem appeared to mother in a dark blue light and 'imposed' himself on her to tell her certain things.
The disciple's tantric guru.
We believe that mother used the word 'qualified' in the sense of restrict, limit Or modifya limitless Power.
The vastness beyond the creation or the cosmic manifestation, the solid base upon which all the rest can unfold.
0 1958-10-06, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
0 1958-10-10, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
On the one hand, there is what Sri Aurobindowho, as the Avatar, represented the supreme Consciousness and Will on earthdeclared me to be, that is, the supreme universal mother; and on the other hand, there is what I am realizing in my body through the integral sadhana.2 I could be the supreme mother and not do any sadhana, and as a matter of fact, as long as Sri Aurobindo was in his body, it was he who did the sadhana, and I received the effects. These effects were automatically established in the outer being, but he was the one doing it, not II was merely the bridge between his sadhana and the world. Only when he left his body was I forced to take up the sadhana myself; not only did I have to do what I was doing beforebeing a bridge between his sadhana and the world but I had to carry on the sadhana myself. When he left, he turned over to me the responsibility for what he himself had been doing in his body, and I had to do it. So there are both these things. Sometimes one predominates, sometimes the other (I dont mean successively in time, but it depends on the moment), and they are trying to combine in a total and perfect realization: the eternal, ineffable and immutable Consciousness of the Executrice of the Supreme, and the consciousness of the Sadhak of the integral Yoga who strives in an ascending effort towards an ever increasing progression.
To this has been added a growing initiation into the supramental realization which is (I understand it well now) the perfect union of what comes from above and what comes from below, or in other words, the eternal position and the evolutionary realization.
Then and this becomes rather amusing like lifes play Depending upon each ones nature and position and bias, and because human beings are very limited, very partial and incapable of a global vision, there are those who believe, who have faith, or to whom the eternal mother is revealed through Grace, who have this kind of relationship with the eternal mother and there are those who themselves are plunged in sadhana, who have the consciousness of a developed sadhak, and thereby have the same relationship with me as one has with what they generally call a realized soul. Such persons consider me the prototype of the Guru teaching a new way, but the others dont have this relationship of sadhak to Guru (I am taking the two extremes, but of course there are all the possibilities in between), they are only in contact with the eternal mother and, in the simplicity of their hearts, they expect Her to do everything for them. If they were perfect in this attitude, the eternal mother would do everything for themas a matter of fact, She does do everything, but as they arent perfect, they cannot receive it totally. But the two paths are very different, the two kinds of relationships are very different; and as we all live according to the law of external things, in a material body, there is a kind of annoyance, an almost irritated misunderstanding, between those who follow this path (not consciously and intentionally, but spontaneously), who have this relationship of the child to the mother, and those who have this other relationship of the sadhak to the Guru. So it creates a whole play, with an infinite diversity of shades.
But all this is still in suspense, on the way to realization, moving forward progressively; therefore, unless we are able to see the outcome, we cant understand a thing. We get confused. Only when we see the outcome, the final realization, only when we have TOUCHED there, will everything be understood then it will be as clear and as simple as can be. But meanwhile, my relationships with different people are very funny, utterly amusing!
--
For example, this question of PowerTHE Powerover Matter. Those who perceive me as the eternal, universal mother and Sri Aurobindo as the Avatar are surprised that our power is not absolute. They are surprised that we have not merely to say, Let it be thus for it to be thus. This is because, in the integral realization, the union of the two is essential: a union of the power that proceeds from the eternal position and the power that proceeds from the sadhana through evolutionary growth. Similarly, how is it that those who have reached even the summits of yogic knowledge (I was thinking of Swami) need to resort to beings like gods or demigods to be able to realize things?Because they have indeed united with certain higher forces and entities, but it was not decreed since the beginning of time that they were this particular being. They were not born as this or that, but through evolution they united with a latent possibility in themselves. Each one carries the Eternal within himself, but one can join Him only when one has realized the complete union of the latent Eternal with the eternal Eternal.
And this explains everything, absolutely everything: how it works, how it functions in the world.3 I was saying to myself, But I have no powers, I have no powers! Several days ago, I said, But after all, I KNOW WHO is there, I know, yet how is it that ? There, up to there (the level of the head), it is all-powerful, nothing can resist but here it is ineffective. So those who have faith, even an ignorant but real faith (it can be ignorant but nevertheless it is real), say, What! How can you have no powers? Because the sadhana is not yet over.
--
mother added: 'The most beautiful part of the experience is missing... When I try to formulate something in too precise a way, all the vastness of the experience evaporates. The entire world is being revealed in all its organization down to the minutest details but everything simultaneouslyhow can that be explained? It's not possible.'
***
0 1958-10-17, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
0 1958-10-25 - to go out of your body, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
When X does his puja, I clearly see the particular form of the mother he is invoking I see her descending.
Each one is in touch with the universal expression of an aspect or a will or a mode of the Supreme, and if one aspires for this, it is this that comes, with an extraordinary plasticity. And when that happens, I even become the Witness (not the witness in the way of the Purusha1: a witness far more infinite and eternal than the Purusha). I see what responds, why it responds, how it responds. This is how I know what people want (not here below, nor even in their highest aspiration). I see it even when the people themselves are no longer consciousor rather, not yet conscious (for me, its no longer, but anyway ), when they are not yet conscious of this identification somewhere. Even then I see it.
0 1958-11-02, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
mother is referring to the Ashram as a collectivity.
***
0 1958-11-04 - Myths are True and Gods exist - mental formation and occult faculties - exteriorization - work in dreams, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Shortly afterwards, the disciple again brings up the topic of August 9, where mother had said that the gods are a good deal worse than human beings)
It should be said that we are speaking of the Puranic gods, because the Christians, for example, do not understand what this can mean. They have an entirely different conception of the gods.
--
(Later, the disciple asks mother for some clarification on the essential difference between the occult reality and mental formations)
Once you have worked in this field, you realize that when you have studied a subject, when you have mentally understood something, it gives a special tonality to the experience. The experience may be quite spontaneous and sincere, but the simple fact of having known this subject and of having studied it gives a particular tonality; on the other hand, if you have learned nothing of the subject, if you know nothing at all, well, when the experience comes, the notation of it is entirely spontaneous and sincere. It can be more or less adequate, but it is not the result of a former mental formation.
--
In Sri Aurobindo's and mother's terminology, 'psychic' or 'psychic being' means the soul or the portion of the Supreme in man which evolves from life to life until it becomes a fully self-conscious being. The soul is a special capacity or grace of human beings on earth.
The film on August 5.
0 1958-11-08, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
And as soon as I had uttered, What is there at the bottom of this hole? I seemed to touch a spring that was in the very depthsa spring I didnt see but that acted instantly with a tremendous power and it cast me up forthwith, hurled me out of this crevasse into (arms extended, motionless) a formless, limitless vast which was infinitely comfortablenot exactly warm, but it gave a feeling of ease and of an intimate warmth.
And it was all-powerful, with an infinite richness. It did not have no, it didnt have any kind of form, and it had no limits (naturally, as I was identified with it I knew there was neither limit nor form). It was as if (because it was not visible), as if this vast were made of countless, imperceptible pointspoints that occupied no place in space (there was no sense of space), that were of a deep warm gold but this is only a feeling, a transcription. And all this was absolutely LIVING, living with a power that seemed infinite. And yet motionless.
It lasted for quite some time, for the rest of the meditation.
--
And I followed all this without objectifying it in the least; I was not aware of what it was nor of what was happening, nor of any explanation at all, nothing: it was like that. I was living it, thats all. The experience was absolutely spontaneous. And after this rather painful descent, phew!there was a kind of super-comfort. I cant explain it otherwise, an ease,4 but an ease to the utmost. A perfect immobility in a sense of eternity but with an extraordinary INTENSITY of movement and life! An inner intensity, unmanifested; it was within, self-contained. And motionless (had there been an outside, it would have been motionless in relation to that) and it was in a life so immeasurable that it can only be expressed metaphorically as infinite. And with an intensity, a POWER, a force and a peace the peace of eternity. A silence, a calm. A POWER capable of of EVERYTHING. Everything.
And I was not imagining nor objectifying it; I was living it with easewith a great ease. And it lasted until the end of the meditation. When it gradually began fading, I stopped the meditation and left.
--
Later mother added, 'stifling, suffocating.'
Later mother further explained: 'When one is exteriorized, this body-spirit retains a connection with the being that has gone out, and what has gone out has a power over itwhich is precisely why one isn't completely dead! The being that has gone out also has the power to make the body move.'
Later, mother explained: 'I don't mean an autonomous will (it is the being that has gone out which has the power to make the body move), it has only acquired, through training, the capacity to express the will of the being with which it has kept a relationship through this link of the body-spirit which is broken only at death.'
Original English.
0 1958-11-11, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
( mother arrives with a new change in her message for January 1, 1959: instead of 'an almighty spring that cast me up forthwith into a formless, limitless Vast, generator of the new world,' mother puts 'a formless, limitless Vast vibrating with the seeds of a new world')
The objectification of the experience came progressively, as always happens to me. When I have the experience, I am absolutely blank, like a newborn baby to whom things come just like that. I dont know what is happening, and I expect nothing. How much time it has taken me to learn this!
0 1958-11-14, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Letter to mother from Satprem)
Pondicherry, November 14, 1958
mother,
I feel disguised.1 And I detest hypocrisy I have many faults, but not that one.
--
Signed: mother
Due to the orange robes of the sannyasi.
0 1958-11-15, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Concerning an experience mother had on November 13 in regard to the disciple's difficulties)
Truly speaking, perhaps one is never rid of the hostile forces as long as one has not permanently emerged into the Light, above the lower hemisphere. There, the term hostile forces loses its meaning; they become only forces of progress, they force you to progress. But to see things in this way, you have to get out of the lower hemisphere, for below, they are very real in their opposition to the divine plan.
0 1958-11-20, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
0 1958-11-22, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
mother specified: 'The subconscious memory of the past creates a kind of irresistible desire to escape from the difficulty, and you recommence the same foolishness, or an even greater foolishness.'
The disciple wanted to leave for the forest, the Congo, to do the most unlikely things there.
0 1958-11-26, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
0 1958-11-27 - Intermediaries and Immediacy, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Concerning the disciple's karma and the tantric discipline that he is following to dissolve this karma, mother wonders why She herself had not been able to dissolve it directly and why it was necessary to resort to intermediaries)
I am used to seeing the process or the working of things more from a spiritual point of view, something more universal, whereas this needs to be seen from a detailed, occult point of view.
--
A few days later, the disciple left on a journey, then mother fell 'ill.' It was to be the first great turning in her yoga: the beginning of the yoga of the cells.
***
0 1958-11-28, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
0 1958-11-30, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Letter from mother to Satprem)
Sunday morning
--
Signed: mother
***
0 1958-12-04, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Letter to mother from Satprem)
Hyderabad, December 1958
Sweet mother,
I had come to Hyderabad intending to prepare for a trip to Africa, but when it came to actually doing it, I simply could not. It is stronger than I; I cannot leave India, I cannot live without my soul.
--
mother, I have made many mistakes, I have often been rebellious and fallen into many holes. Help me to pick myself up, give me nonetheless a little of your Love. This has to change.
I do not want to remain in Hyderabad. This is not the atmosphere I need, although everything is very quiet here.
--
mother, I need you, I need you. Forgive me and tell me what I should do.
Your child,
--
Signed: mother
***
0 1958-12-15 - tantric mantra - 125,000, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Letter to mother from Satprem)
Rameswaram, Monday 12.15.58
Sweet mother,
I have only now received your first letter which you had sent to Hyderabad. It arrived in time to do me some good, for I am living through critical moments.
--
mother, things are far from being what they were the first time in Rameswaram, and I am living through certain moments that are hell the enemy seems to have been unleashed with an extraordinary violence. It comes in waves, and after it recedes, I am literally SHATTEREDphysically, mentally and vitally drained. This morning, while going to the temple, I lived through one of these moments. All this suffering that suddenly sweeps down upon me is horrible. Yes, I had the feeling of being BACKED UP AGAINST A WALL, exactly as in your vision I was up against a wall. I was walking among these immense arcades of sculptured granite and I could see myself walking, very small, all alone, alone, ravaged with pain, filled with a nameless despair, for nowhere was there a way out. The sea was nearby and I could have thrown myself into it; otherwise, there was only the sanctuary of Parvati but there was no more Africa to flee to, everything closed in all around me, and I kept repeating, Why? Why? This much suffering was truly inhuman, as if my last twenty years of nightmare were crashing down upon me. I gritted my teeth and went to the sanctuary to say my mantra. The pain in me was so strong that I broke into a cold sweat and almost fainted. Then it subsided. Yet even now I feel completely battered.
I clearly see that the hour has come: either I will perish right here, or else I will emerge from this COMPLETELY changed. But something has to change. mother, you are with me, I know, and you are protecting me, you love me I have only you, only you, you are my mother. If these moments of utter darkness return and they are bound to return for everything to be exorcised and conqueredprotect me in spite of myself. mother, may your Grace not abandon me. I want to be done with all these old phantoms, I want to be born anew in your Light; it has to beotherwise I can no longer go on.
mother, I believe I understand something of all that you yourself are suffering, and the crucifixion of the Divine in Matter is a real crucifixion. In this moment of consciousness, I offer you all my trials and little sufferings. I would like to triumph so that it be your triumph, one weight less upon your heart.
Forgive me, mother, for all the pain I may have thrown on you, but I am confident that with your Grace I will emerge from this victorious, your child unobscured, in all the fibers of my being. Oh mother, how alone you are to bear all our suffering if only I could remember this in my moments of darkness.
I am at your feet. You are my mother, my only support.
Signed: Satprem
mother, may I not be swept away by one of these waves. Protect me. Love me! But EVERYTHING has to be faced NOW. I want to fight. I do not ask you to spare me, therefore, but to help me withstand the blow.
***
--
Signed: mother
Do not be troubled about my body it is well on the way to recovery.
--
Signed: mother
***
0 1958-12-24, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Integral Yoga
author class:The mother
author class:Satprem
--
(Letter to mother from Satprem)
Rameswaram, December 24, 1958
Sweet mother,
Your last letter was a great comfort to me. If you were not there, with me, everything would be so absurd and impossible. I am again disturbing you because Swami tells me that you are worried and that I should write to you. Not much has changed, except that I am holding on and am confident. Yesterday, I again suffered an agonizing wave, in the temple, and I found just enough strength to repeat your name with each beat of my heart, like someone drowning. I remained as motionless as a pillar of stone before the sanctuary, with only your name (my mantra would not come out), then it cleared. It was brutal. I am confident that with each wave I am gaining in strength, and I know you are there. But I am aware that if the enemy is so violent it is because something in me responds, or has responded, something that has not made its surrender that is the critical point. mother, may your grace help me to place everything in your hands, everything, without any shadow. I want so much to emerge into the Light, to be rid of all this once and for all.
I am following Swamis instructions to the letter. Sometimes it all seems to lack warmth and spontaneity, but I am holding on. I might add that we are living right next to the bazaar, amidst a great racket 20 hours a day, which does not make things easier. So I repeat my mantra as one pounds his fists against the walls of a prison. Sometimes it opens a little, you send me a little joy, and then everything becomes better again.
--
mother, love me. I have only you, I want to belong to you alone.
I am at your feet.
--
Happy New Year, Sweet mother.
***
--
Signed: mother
***
--- Overview of noun mot
The noun mot has 2 senses (no senses from tagged texts)
1. bon mot, mot ::: (a clever remark)
2. MOT, MOT test, Ministry of Transportation test ::: (a compulsory annual test of older motor vehicles for safety and exhaust fumes)
--- Synonyms/Hypernyms (Ordered by Estimated Frequency) of noun mot
2 senses of mot
Sense 1
bon mot, mot
=> wit, humor, humour, witticism, wittiness
=> message, content, subject matter, substance
=> communication
=> abstraction, abstract entity
=> entity
Sense 2
MOT, MOT test, Ministry of Transportation test
=> test, trial, run
=> attempt, effort, endeavor, endeavour, try
=> activity
=> act, deed, human action, human activity
=> event
=> psychological feature
=> abstraction, abstract entity
=> entity
--- Hyponyms of noun mot
--- Synonyms/Hypernyms (Ordered by Estimated Frequency) of noun mot
2 senses of mot
Sense 1
bon mot, mot
=> wit, humor, humour, witticism, wittiness
Sense 2
MOT, MOT test, Ministry of Transportation test
=> test, trial, run
--- Coordinate Terms (sisters) of noun mot
2 senses of mot
Sense 1
bon mot, mot
-> wit, humor, humour, witticism, wittiness
=> jeu d'esprit
=> bon mot, mot
=> esprit de l'escalier
=> pungency, bite
=> sarcasm, irony, satire, caustic remark
=> repartee
=> joke, gag, laugh, jest, jape
=> caricature, imitation, impersonation
=> cartoon, sketch
=> fun, play, sport
=> ribaldry
=> topper
Sense 2
MOT, MOT test, Ministry of Transportation test
-> test, trial, run
=> assay
=> clinical trial, clinical test
=> double blind
=> preclinical trial, preclinical test, preclinical phase
=> audition, tryout
=> field trial
=> fitting, try-on, trying on
=> MOT, MOT test, Ministry of Transportation test
=> pilot project, pilot program
=> Snellen test
--- Grep of noun mot
bergamot
black guillemot
bon mot
flying marmot
guillemot
hoary marmot
marmot
momot
mot
mot juste
mot test
motacilla
motacillidae
mote
motel
motel room
motet
moth
moth bean
moth miller
moth mullein
moth orchid
moth plant
mothball
mother
mother's boy
mother's daughter
mother's day
mother's milk
mother's son
mother-in-law
mother-in-law's tongue
mother-in-law plant
mother-of-pearl
mother-of-pearl cloud
mother-of-thousands
mother board
mother carey's chicken
mother carey's hen
mother cell
mother country
mother figure
mother fucker
mother goose
mother hen
mother hubbard
mother jones
mother lode
mother of thyme
mother seton
mother superior
mother teresa
mother theresa
mother tongue
mother wit
motherese
motherfucker
motherhood
motherland
motherliness
motherwell
motherwort
motif
motile
motilin
motility
motion
motion-picture camera
motion-picture fan
motion-picture film
motion-picture photography
motion-picture show
motion picture
motion sickness
motion study
motionlessness
motivating
motivation
motivator
motive
motive power
motivity
motley
motley fool
motmot
motoneuron
motor
motor aphasia
motor area
motor ataxia
motor city
motor control
motor cortex
motor end plate
motor fiber
motor home
motor horn
motor hotel
motor inn
motor lodge
motor memory
motor mower
motor nerve
motor nerve fiber
motor neuron
motor oil
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motor region
motor scooter
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motorbike
motorboat
motorbus
motorcade
motorcar
motorcoach
motorcycle
motorcycle cop
motorcycle policeman
motorcycling
motorcyclist
motoring
motorisation
motorist
motorization
motorized wheelchair
motorman
motormouth
motortruck
motorway
motown
motrin
mott
mottle
mottling
motto
pigeon guillemot
prairie marmot
whistling marmot
wild bergamot
yellowbelly marmot
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