3

And eke .Liij. ȝere / or seint Dunston was ibore
For þer was ordre of monkis  er seint Patrⁱk come
And er Seint austin brouȝt  to engelond crⁱstendome
And seint Patrik deied  CCCC ȝere  ⁊ lij. ȝere
Aftere our swete lady  our lord on erth bere
But monkes þer ner first  but as in hunting echon
As men þat drowe to wildernes  for drede of goddis foon
Seynt Dunston and seint Ethelwold  as our lord it say
Both were made prestis  boþ on one day
Ther aftere sone to Glastenbury  seint Dunston þo wende
Abot þer in he was made  his lif to amende
And for he nold by his will  no time ydelve
A prive smythie be his Celle  he gan hym byse
For whan he most of his preiers / rest for werynesse
To work he wold his hondis do / ⁊ flee all ydelnesse
Serue he wold poor men  þe whil he myght dure
Al daie for þe loue of god . he toke of hem no hure
And whan he satte at his werk  his hondis at his dede
And his hert on Ihesu crⁱst  his mouþ his bedis bede
So þat all at on tyme  he was on þre stedis
His hondis þer / his hert at god  his mouth to bede his bedis
Therfore þe deuel to him  had envie ⁊ onde
And on a tyme come to his smythy  him forto sonde
Right as þe sone a doun went  as he awomman were
And spak wiþ him of his werk  wiþ a leghing chere
And seide þat she had wiþ hym  a gret werk to don
Flitting she smote here ⁊ þere  in a noþer tale son
This holy man had gret wonder  þat she was here ⁊ þere
He sat and longe hym biþouȝt  who þat it were
He biþought him who it was  he drow forþ his tonge
And leide hem in þe hoot fuyr  ⁊ spak faire ful longe
Til his tongis were a fur  and sith stille inowe
He hent þe deuel by þe nose  ⁊ right fast hym drowe
He twynched him ⁊ shoke him wel  þat þe fuyr out blast
Þe deuel wrinched here ⁊ þer  ⁊ he helde euere fast
He ȝellid / and lept / ⁊ drowe aȝein  ⁊ made grisly chere
He nolde for all his wynnyng þat he had come þere
With his tongis he stroke his nose  ⁊ touched hym euere sore
Til it was in þe nyght  þat he mot se no more

And eke .Liij. ȝere / or seint Dunston was ibore
For þer was ordre of monkis  er seint Patrⁱk come
And er Seint austin brouȝt  to engelond crⁱstendome
And seint Patrik deied  CCCC ȝeres ⁊ Lii. ȝere
Aftere our swete lady  our lord on erth bere
But monkes þer ner first  but as in hunting echon
As men þat drowe to wildernes  for drede of goddis foon
Seynt Dunston and seint Ethelwold  as our lord it say
Both were made prestis  boþ on one day
Ther aftere sone to Glastenbury  seint Dunston þo wende
Abot þer in he was made  his lif to amende
And for he nold by his will  no time ydelve
A prive smythie be his Celle  he gan hym byse
For whan he most of his preiers / rest for werynesse
To work he wold his hondis do / ⁊ flee all ydelnesse
Serue he wold poor men  þe whil he myght dure
Al daie for þe loue of god . he toke of hem no hure
And whan he satte at his werk  his hondis at his dede
And his hert on Ihesu crⁱst  his mouþ his bedis bede
So þat all at on tyme  he was on þre stedis
His hondis þer / his hert at god  his mouth to bede his bedis
Therfore þe deuel to him  had envie ⁊ onde
And on a tyme come to his smythy  him forto sonde
Right as þe sone a doun went  as he awomman were
And spak wiþ him of his werk  wiþ a leghing chere
And seide þat she had wiþ hym  a gret werk to don
Flitting she smote here ⁊ þere  in a noþer tale son
This holy man had gret wonder  þat she was here ⁊ þere
He sat and longe hym biþouȝt  who þat it were
He biþought him who it was  he drow forþ his tonge
And leide hem in þe hoot fuyr  ⁊ spak faire ful longe
Til his tongis were a fur  and sith stille inowe
He hent þe deuel by þe nose  ⁊ right fast hym drowe
He twynched him ⁊ shoke him wel  þat þe fuyr out blast
Þe deuel wrinched here ⁊ þer  ⁊ he helde euere fast
He ȝellid / and lept / ⁊ drowe aȝein  ⁊ made grisly chere
He nolde for all his wynnyng þat he had come þere
With his tongis he stroke his nose  ⁊ touched hym euere sore
Til it was in þe nyght  þat he mot se no more